Page 19

11.55 A.M.

I check my watch as they speed away from the car park and look around to make sure that no one is watching me. Everyone is too busy standing in groups discussing the events of the morning. No doubt they will recount the story to anyone who will listen throughout the day; at Sunday lunch, teatime, a quick call to a relative to tell it again before bed. I am the creator of it all, and yet no one has noticed me in the shadow of an oak tree behind a low branch that’s already shedding leaves onto cars.

I shake my head. Irresponsible. Those branches should have been trimmed back years ago.

I check my watch again and tut out loud. They are late leaving. I hide my dismay. My instructions were clear. Assemble a team. I shouldn’t have had to state that it needed to be a good team. There will be no pleasure in it if they can’t keep up. I need worthy opponents or else the game is worthless. I’ll find out if they measure up. If not, I will demand a new team, and I will get it.

People are finally getting into their cars and leaving, and I am still invisible. Not one person has looked my way. Not surprising. It’s been the story of my life.

I fight down my rage and focus on the positives: the anticipation, the pleasure I will get when we reach the end of the game and my name is linked to the police chasing their own tails. Those kids who didn’t invite me on their treasure hunts will recognise my name and know that I won. I made them look stupid, I made the police look stupid and I made the press look stupid.

What will Frost’s first article say? I wonder. Will it delight in my devilishness? Will it capture the skill and intelligence of my efforts? Will it praise me? Will it vilify me? I don’t know, but I’m excited. This time I’ll make the papers for sure, and however invisible I am right now, in thirty-six hours’ time, none of them will ever forget my name.