‘Shit.’ Adam involuntarily looks around him again, checking the sky, the woodland. It’s far worse than he imagined. Far worse.

  ‘It appears to be a play-to-earn blockchain game, with real-time bidding,’ Ji continues.

  ‘For what?’ Adam can barely bring himself to ask.

  ‘Where’s Tania?’ Ji says, ignoring the question.

  ‘At her parents’.’ Why won’t Ji tell him what people are bidding for?

  ‘She needs to turn off the baby monitor,’ Ji says. ‘The audience is currently watching your two children asleep.’

  Adam’s stomach twists so violently, he thinks he’s going to be sick. He can just about cope with the thought of himself as a target, but not his family. Not Freddie and Tilly.

  ‘What the—’

  ‘Send her a text, Adam. Right now.’

  ‘OK.’

  Fingers shaking, Adam manages to send Tania a message.

  Call me from the garden. Urgent.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here, Ji?’ he asks. ‘I thought you said if I went dark, everything would be OK.’

  ‘The audience can’t see you, so they’ve switched to filming your family, to keep viewers interested and to draw you back in front of the cameras, centre stage. It’s not just the baby monitor. Tania needs to turn off everything in that house, Adam. If Louis is using Shodan, he will find and access any domestic device that’s connected to the internet. Everything must be disconnected – home-security software, computers, TVs, radios, smart thermostats. But she needs to turn them off subtly, not let on that we know they’re watching. It’s our only advantage.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Adam says. ‘Tania’s dad loves his gadgets.’

  ‘And if anyone sees or hears the drone again,’ Ji continues, ‘they must stay indoors, keep away from the windows. We need to starve your audience of content. Bore them so rigid they’d prefer to watch paint dry. It’s the only way this game is going to stop.’

  Adam paces up and down between the trees, glancing over to the house as he waits for Tania to call. He feels so helpless up there on the hillside. The thought of people on the dark web watching his children as they sleep is too painful to contemplate. He should contact the police again, the cyber-crime unit, show them the site on the dark web that’s live-streaming his life, but they won’t be interested. Not after Tania’s already been told off for wasting police time. As for the sexting allegation, it’s still a matter for the General Medical Council. At best, the police might ask why someone would want to film Adam and his family, question whether they are in real and imminent danger, but all he’d be able to tell them is what Tania’s already said. If they were to ask him about a possible motive, would he reveal his strange pact with Louis twenty-four years earlier? He would not. He can’t say anything to anyone. The police would dismiss the deal – his soul in exchange for twenty-four years of his life – as a pretentious student prank, and Louis would release the film of him pushing Lecter to his death.

  He turns in despair to look down at the house, running his hands through his hair. Only he can sort this problem. Dusk is falling, but he spots the reassuring figure of his wife, walking away from the back of the house.

  ‘Everything OK?’ she asks, when she calls on her burner phone. ‘Sorry, I haven’t been able to come up yet. Freddie’s been—’

  ‘You need to turn off the baby monitor,’ Adam says, interrupting her, shocked by the alarm in his own voice.

  ‘What? Why?’

  Adam takes a deep breath. Tania has stopped in her tracks. He should be down there to comfort her.

  ‘Adam? Tell me what’s happening.’

  Adam’s instinct is to shield Tania from the news, but she needs to be aware of the very real danger they’re now all in. So he tries to explain what Ji has just told him, that his life is being live-streamed on the dark web as a form of depraved entertainment. It sounds even more unreal saying it out aloud. When he’s finished – he didn’t mention red rooms, or that people were currently bidding for bad things to happen to them – Tania stays quiet for a while.

  ‘How do we stop the game?’ she says.

  ‘By turning everything off in the house that’s connected to the internet. Starting with the baby monitor.’

  The monitor was given to them by Crispin after Tilly was born, to try and give his daughter a break, some peace of mind. It’s state of the art, with a microphone and camera, allowing parents to see and listen to their child from another room. From another house, if necessary, as it uses the internet. Which means it’s hackable.

  ‘Are they really watching the kids?’ she asks.

  Adam can hardly bring himself to reply. ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘Adam, I’m scared.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’m coming down now. I’ll meet you at the back of the lawn. But first you need to—’

  ‘I spoke to Mum,’ she says. ‘After what you said earlier about your fear of being filmed.’

  At last his wife is onside and has switched to hyper-efficiency mode. It’s her way of coping in a crisis.

  ‘She’s already turned off the security cameras. Mum’s never liked them. I didn’t think about the baby monitor. I’m so sorry. Freddie was tired and Tilly fell asleep after a feed, so I put them to bed. I know it’s early but…’

  ‘It’s OK, it’s not your fault.’ Adam’s mind is whirring as fast as Tania is talking. They are both on edge. ‘You’ve done well. You need to trip the main fuse in the house first. It’s in a cupboard by the front door. Then turn off the monitor in the kids’ room and switch everything on again at the mains. They mustn’t suspect that we know they’re watching us.’

  ‘OK,’ she says.

  It’s good to be talking practicalities. It makes Adam sound calmer. Tania too.

  ‘Dad might get to the fuse box before me,’ she continues. ‘He’s a bit obsessed with electricity. Watches their energy consumption on an app.’

  ‘Do what you can,’ Adam says. Christ, is there a piece of home technology that Crispin doesn’t have? ‘Just say the baby monitor was playing up earlier and you think that’s what might have tripped the main circuit. And see if you can get your mum to turn off the Wi-Fi. There might be other devices connected to it. I’ll see you in ten minutes. Everything’s going to be OK, Tania. We have to deprive these people of what they want. I’ve got to go. Ji’s on the other line.’

  Adam hangs up and connects to Ji as he makes his way down across the fields towards the house, stumbling as he runs. He’s left his rucksack hidden in the woods, but he’s carrying the box with Freddie’s car in it.

  ‘Where are you?’ Ji asks.

  ‘Heading down to Tania’s parents’ house.’

  He’s out of breath, finding it hard to speak. It must be the adrenaline. He thought he was relatively fit, but he’s only jogged five hundred yards and he’s already knackered. The house ahead is illuminated in the twilight, floodlit front and back. Too well illuminated. Adam tries not to think that it looks like a filmset as he aims for a cluster of Scots pines at the far end of the lawn. It is a filmset. Tania has gone back inside, but she’ll meet him there once she’s turned off the monitor.

  ‘Be careful,’ Ji says. ‘I’m looking at the screen now and they’ve got multiple cameras, as I feared, not just the baby monitor.’

  ‘How’s that even possible?’ Adam asks. ‘Tania’s about to disconnect the monitor. Her mum’s already turned off the security cameras, indoors and out. Tania’s trying to shut down the Wi-Fi too.’

  ‘Does anyone have smartphones?’

  ‘Tania’s using a burner I gave her – it’s not a smartphone. But her parents both have iPhones.’

  ‘The iPhones have been hacked – get them turned them off.’

  By Pegasus – or a rival. Shit. What if Louis is using Ji’s spyware? What if it was Ji who personally sold it to him? Adam dismisses the thought as quickly as it arrived. Ji’s an old friend, loyal to the core.

  ‘One’s providing a reasonable audio feed, the other must be in the kitchen,’ Ji continues. ‘It’s not a great picture from the camera, but it’s live. Figures moving in and out of shot. Voyeuristic. That’s all these people care about. No live stream, no bids.’

  ‘Is anyone actually bidding?’ Adam asks, shocked by the mere thought of it.

  He remembers what Ji said about the other game he’d come across in Warsaw, the options on offer to destroy an innocent man’s life. How much would someone actually pay to arrange for an arson attack on his home? The kidnapping of his child? A near-fatal car crash?

  ‘I’m coming down to join you,’ Ji says.

  ‘Is that a yes, then? Someone’s bidding?’ Adam asks, trying to ignore what Ji’s just said, that things are so serious he’s planning to drive from London.

  ‘They’re bidding now, but no one’s reached the reserve yet.’

  The reserve? ‘On what, Ji? For Christ’s sake, you’ve got to tell me.’

  It’s a while before Ji answers. ‘On your soul, Adam,’ he says. ‘The game ends tonight.’

  60

  Adam closes his eyes, trying not to dwell on what Ji’s just told him, the urgency in his friend’s voice, the hatred Adam feels right now for Louis. Because of him and their foolish deal, his obsession with Clio, the student play he once performed in when he should have been studying, his life is due to end tonight.

  Ah, Faustus,

  Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,

  And then thou must be damn’d perpetually!

  ‘You must keep away from the house,’ Ji continues, ‘however much you want to protect them. Nothing can happen to you – to your family – if they can’t see anything. These people bid to watch. Watch to bid. That’s how it works. Now please tell me where you are and I will come to join you.’

  Adam gives him his location, thinking again about the deadline.

  ‘My driver will bring me down,’ Ji says, hanging up.

  Seconds later, the house ahead plunges into darkness. Tania’s tripped the mains. Adam sighs with relief. It’s ironic, but the property seems so much safer in the dark, without the lights. Without the security cameras. Unplugged. His family seem safer too. No one can see Freddie and Tilly asleep any more. He stands still, breathing in the night air. It’s a big, clear sky, spray-painted with stars. After a minute, the lights come on again as Tania appears outside the back door. She looks around and heads across the lawn towards him.

  They hug in silence in the shadow of the pine trees, holding each other tightly.

  ‘I’ve turned the monitor off,’ Tania says. ‘And Mum will switch off the Wi-Fi when they go to bed. She’s been wanting to do that for years, thinks it fries their brains while they’re asleep. They just had an argument about it.’ She looks hopeful. ‘That’s good, right? If Louis is listening, he’ll put the Wi-Fi going off down to a domestic.’ Her voice drops. ‘Were they really watching our babies?’

  ‘I think so,’ Adam says. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve got the car for Freddie.’

  He pulls back and gives her the box.

  ‘He’ll be so happy.’ Tania wipes away a tear. ‘I know it’s not right, a child being fixated on one thing, and maybe I should be tougher on him, but he just loves this stupid bloody car.’

  ‘It’s OK. And hey, at least it’s a Ferrari. It could have been worse. A Trabant or something.’

  Tania humours him with a smile, which fades quickly when a twig snaps in the woods behind them.

  ‘Just a deer,’ Adam says, catching sight of a muntjac snuffling for food. ‘Ji’s on his way down from London to help – he’s managed to get onto the site where they’re showing the live stream.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘It’s so horrible. But if the monitor’s off, can’t you come into the house now?’

  ‘Your parents’ smartphones are still on. One’s transmitting audio, the other video. We need them turned off.’

  ‘Mum’s will be easy. She hardly uses it.’ Adam hopes that’s the one in the kitchen, transmitting video. ‘I’ll do Dad’s when they go to bed. He lives on his.’

  ‘Do it subtly. Remember, they can’t suspect we know they’re watching us.’

  ‘Then you can come in? I don’t want to be left on my own, Adam. I’m sleeping in the children’s bedroom tonight.’

  ‘That sounds good. And Ji’s here to help. He knows about this world. I’ll go back up, see what he says, and come down again when I can, I promise. Leave your burner phone on, and put the key by the back door, under the usual pot, in case you’re asleep. And can we turn off those outdoor security lights?’

  He glances in the direction of the house, which is still illuminating the darkening sky.

  ‘I’ll try to switch them to motion only,’ she says, ‘but Dad might notice.’

  ‘Ji’s bringing his laptop, so we can check that we’ve starved these people of their viewing. It’s going to be OK, I promise. We’ll be watching the house from up there.’

  Tania shakes her head again in disbelief. ‘What about the press?’ she asks. ‘Is the story running tomorrow? Are we going to be hounded by journalists too?’

  ‘I’ve denied it,’ Adam says. ‘I’m not sure what else I can do.’

  ‘You could have hired a lawyer, threatened them with legal action. Like a big person.’

  She’s right. Her father would have fought fire with fire, issued writs in all directions if he’d been accused of sending inappropriate texts. Maybe it’s a legacy of Adam’s different background. His life as a successful London doctor, happily married with two children, has always seemed a bonus for the boy from Newlyn, who, like Faustus, is of parents base of stock.

  ‘Actually, I think Dad believes you,’ Tania says, opening the box to look at Freddie’s car. ‘Mum told me tonight that something similar once happened to him, soon after they got married. A female colleague made up all these bullying allegations about him. Sexism, sexual harassment, you name it. Went to the papers with her story.’

  ‘What happened?’ Adam watches as Tania puts the Ferrari carefully back in its box.

  ‘Dad hired a lawyer, hit back hard, and the paper pulled the story. That was the end of it. Apart from the fact that he now hates all journalists.’

  It wouldn’t surprise Adam if Crispin had been a sexual bully at work. There were very few women in most surgical disciplines when he was practising, and it’s not that much better now. There’s still a lot of prejudice.

  ‘I guess the only difference is that he hadn’t made a stupid deal at university with a man intent on destroying his life,’ he says. ‘I’m happy to talk to your dad, but I can’t tell him why all this is really happening.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Tania says. ‘At least I think I do. I just want this all to end, Adam. I better get back. They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone.’

  ‘He knows not to answer the door, though – your dad – if journalists come knocking tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve tried to tell him, but he’s—’

  ‘Wait, did you hear that?’ Adam asks, holding up a hand.

  They both stand still and listen. It’s the telltale whine of a small drone somewhere high above them. Tania looks at him with unvarnished fear in her eyes.

  ‘Quick, you need to get back inside,’ Adam says. ‘Make sure all the curtains are drawn. Turn their phones off as soon as you can. And those lights. I’ll call you once Ji’s arrived.’

  He kisses her and they both head off in opposite directions.

  61

  Cambridge,

  December 1998

  Cambridgeshire in the winter is a bleak place, cold, north-easterly winds blowing in uninterrupted from Russia. And Huntingdon’s town hall is no exception. It’s where I’ve spent the last two days, attending the coroner’s inquest into Lecter’s death. Out of respect, I’ll call him by his real name here: Brandon.

  There was a pre-inquest review hearing back in June, at the end of the Easter term, where the coroner outlined the evidence that would be considered, and we already knew that the police had arrested and charged a man with the possession and supply of a controlled drug. Plus the toxicology report following the post mortem had confirmed the presence of LSD and Ecstasy in Brandon’s body. So there was a feeling that the inquest would be a formality in terms of its findings but an important part of the healing process for Brandon’s friends and family, who had flown over from America. It was a chance for them to better understand the circumstances of their son’s tragic death in Britain.

  I was one of the first to give evidence in person and more nervous than I’ve been in my life. There was a jury, at the request of the senior coroner, a lot of press, and various interested parties, mainly Brandon’s family, who were to be allowed to put questions to the witnesses, under the guidance of the coroner. Ji came along to give me moral support and we listened, spellbound, as Louis’ witness statement was read out. The coroner had granted Louis an exemption not to appear, based on chronic ill health – I hadn’t seen or heard from him since our paths crossed in the Treliske, and he wasn’t expected to resume his PhD at Cambridge. Louis kept to the agreed script – no mention of his own drugs stash in the bathroom drawer or of the footage he’d filmed in the bathroom – but every sentence was a challenge to my conscience. Had I given Brandon the Ecstasy pill that killed him? Had I pushed him out of the window, as Louis seemed sure I had?

  And then it was Clio’s turn. I hadn’t seen her in the town hall and I held my breath, eyes fixed on the witness box, waiting for her to appear, but her statement was also read out. She was now apparently living in France with her mother, having completed her degree in the summer, and the coroner had granted her an exemption too. Did she really kill her own father or was Louis lying about that too? I never had the chance to ask her before she left Cambridge, before she gave me the feather on the doorstep of her room, before she kissed me, told me to be careful.

  Her statement described how Brandon had been pestering her in an increasingly aggressive manner throughout the evening of the party and thanked me by name for my intervention. Maybe it was because she knew his family would hear it, but she put Brandon’s behaviour that night solely down to the drugs he’d taken, adding that he was normally a gent.