Bubble(48)

It took a while for his eyes to get used to the gloom.

In one corner of the barn he could see several large white plastic sacks, and beside them a row of pallets full of old tyres, a couple of oil-drums and random clutter. A bit further away stood a bit of rusty agricultural machinery. The place looked like it hadnt been used for the past ten, fifteen years.

Maybe longer than that.

Hello, and welcome!

Hi, he muttered, without looking Manga in the eye.

Follow me  …

Manga skirted round a couple of stalls to reach a door at one end of the barn. The others followed him, with HP bringing up the rear.
 
 

 

Just mind your feet, the floor isnt that great.

Manga opened the door and they headed down a short corridor to a small kitchen.

The room smelled of fresh coffee and damp.

HP had a sudden flashback to Ermans little cottage out in the bush. But that had been in a considerably better state than this place. Old wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and in a couple of places water had come through the yellowing ceiling. Here and there the floorboards had given way, revealing dark holes. A camping table with five folding chairs had been set up in the middle of the room.

So this is where youve been hiding, HP muttered, pointing at the camp bed and sleeping bag in one corner. Has Betul chucked you out then, or what?

Manga shrugged his shoulders.

Right now its safest like this  …  he said. Theres coffee, if anyone wants any  …

He took a paper cup and got himself some coffee from the thermos in the middle of the little table. While the others followed his example Manga sat down. He took out a small laptop, opened it up and then turned it so that everyone could see what was on the little screen.

Okay, everythings ready. Operation Puncture starts in exactly  …

He looked at his watch.

 …  nine hours, twenty-seven minutes and eleven seconds  …

Everyone except HP adjusted their watches.

Well take the van, and leave my car here.

No, well need both  …  Jeff interrupted him in an authoritative voice. I did a recce. The last bit by the cliffs is just a soft forest track, and the van will get stuck. Unless we want to carry everything the last five hundred metres, well have to load it all into the Polo. Its a lot lighter, and its front-wheel drive, so there shouldnt be any problems there.

But, er  …  Manga sounded like he was trying to protest, then changed his mind. Okay, thats what well do. Good thinking!

He nodded at Jeff, who smiled with satisfaction.

Lets go through the whole thing one more time, Manga went on. Then I suggest that we get changed and make sure were familiar with everything, say for half an hour before we set off. But we have plenty of time to kill. Its an hour and fifty-three minute drive from here, then twenty minutes to unload. If anyone wants to take a walk, theres a lake round the back. And there are sandwiches and cold drinks in the fridge over there  …

He pointed to one corner.

The toilet doesnt work, but theres an old outdoor privy behind the farm.

Ah, old-school shithouse  …  HP grinned, but got no response.

Humourless tossers!

But what the hell  …  He had seven hours to work out who in here was a friend and who an enemy. It would be just as well to make a start.

He had a whole load of mysteries to unravel, and not just concerning the gang he was with.

Who was the Carer? And what was the Luttern labyrinth, where it looked like the bomb was going to be placed? Who was it going to be aimed at?

And, maybe most important of all: how did Becca fit into all of this?

The letter was lying on her doormat beside the morning paper.

A window envelope with her name on, and at first she thought it was a bill. So she didnt open it until she had poured a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa. But when she opened the envelope she found that it contained something very different. The sheet of A4 with her name at the top consisted of just two lines. The first was the address of a web page. The second contained two sad smileys.

Manga. It could hardly be anyone else.

Taking the letter with her, she went and sat in front of the computer, typed in the web address and pressed enter.

A log-in window with boxes for username and password appeared. After a bit of hesitation she typed in her full name in the top line. But she had no idea what password the page wanted. She turned the envelope inside out, but couldnt find any clues.

Manga, she finally wrote, and pressed enter.

Wrong password, the site informed her.

Shit!

She tried again, this time with Henke as the password.

Wrong password, one attempt left.

Only one more chance.

She went out into the hall to check that she hadnt received another letter containing the login details. But there was nothing there.

Just to make sure, she read the letter again, holding both it and the envelope up to the light in an attempt to see if there were any hidden messages.

But the only unusual thing she found was that the sender had spelled her first name with ck instead of cc.

Surely Manga of all people ought to be able to spell her name?

Unless  …

She typed Rebecka into the password box and pressed enter. The window changed colour and suddenly she was in.

The site looked like a Wikipedia page, in fact was so similar that it was hard to see the difference. But she was pretty sure this particular page wasnt available on the online version.

The Game

also known as the Circus, the Event or the Performance  –  is the name of a secret military project that was set up in the USA, probably sometime during the 1950s.

The Game was originally a subordinate part of the so-called MK-ULTRA Project which was established to conduct research into various forms of brainwashing and mind control (see also Manchurian candidate).

Unlike the MK-ULTRA Project, which used different types of drug and compulsion to force its subjects to act in certain ways, the researchers involved in the Game applied a diametrically opposite methodology.

By using various forms of powerful positive stimuli, including affirmation, praise and idolatry, researchers successfully encouraged many of their subjects to carry out actions which they had declared at the outset of the experiment that they would never do.

In the Game, the research subjects  –  who all demonstrated narcissistic personality characteristics  –  were placed in different types of scenario suited to their individual psyches.

Some were led to experience the feeling of taking part in a sporting occasion, others of being in a film or a significant political event. What all the subjects had in common was that they were treated like stars, and that they were manipulated into believing there was a large audience watching and admiring their actions and following every step they took.

By enhancing the test subjects exaggerated self-image in various ways, and making them the central characters in a larger context, the researchers soon managed to persuade many of them to shift their boundaries voluntarily and carry out numerous dramatic actions.

Some members of the military personnel connected to the project even began to bet on how far each test subject would be prepared to go, hence the origins of the name the Game.

Both MK-ULTRA and its subsidiary projects were shut down in the 1970s, but there is evidence to indicate that the Game escaped and developed a life of its own.

This evidence suggests that the Game, led by an individual known as the Game Master, has used various forms of advanced psychological manipulation to persuade apparently ordinary people to carry out inexplicable and occasionally drastic tasks. The same sources indicate that the Game has recruited a cadre of assistants, so-called Ants, to provide information and carry out simpler tasks. They prepare the ground for the more active participants, who are known as Players.

There are several well-known events which are occasionally attributed to the Game, including murders, arson, sabotage or theft, but, as with most other conspiracy theories, there is a lack of conclusive evidence  …
 
 

 

This absence of proof is believed to be the result of the Game devoting much of its energy to ensuring that it remains hidden. As a result, this very lack of evidence is  –  paradoxically  –  taken by some as an indication in itself of the existence of the Game.

Rebecca read the page three times, then did a screen-dump and printed out several copies.

It all fitted perfectly with Henkes fragmentary descriptions and her own observations, but also with the information that Uncle Tage had confided to her.

There really was a Game, which manipulated people into carrying out various acts. Which could incite people to do completely insane things.

Poor, self-obsessed fools who didnt think the world properly appreciated their unique talents and significance, and were prepared to do almost anything to get a bit of approval.

People just like Henke.

And her dad  …

But whose version of the story was the right one?

Uncle Tage had helped her, in the aftermath of events in Darfur when she was under suspicion of gross misuse of office, but also with the weapons licence and, most recently, the recording from the bank vault.

He had told her about her dads dark past, and  –  even though shed had to drag it out of him  –  he had finally revealed more confidential information to her than he should have.

On the other hand, she had known Manga all her life, and the idea that he might be a criminal mastermind still felt unreal, to put it mildly. But Manga had demonstrably lied to her face, and had admitted as much himself. All he had given her was the information on the webpage, information which didnt actually prove anything.