Deep under London there is a prison filled with the most dangerous criminals of all. There has never been an escape because most of the criminals do not want to get out or are not able to. The latest arrival was intriguing. He was fairly normal as the prisoners went. Male, genius, between 25 and 45, viewing life as a game, always wanting to win. The biggest difference was that he was unreadable. None of the psychologists had been able to understand him properly and most had been scared away by what he said, for he could get into anyone’s mind and play with it. And he enjoyed it. He had never met anyone he couldn’t read. He was in prison for setting up the perfect traps to kill people. The police had anonymous tip offs, probably from him, in the form of clues and they would piece it together and invariably come out with the wrong answer and each time he would commit a bigger crime. Eventually the police had caught him, only to find out that he had been the diversion.
They didn’t know if he had something else planned so they were trying to get inside his mind. Unfortunately that was proving tricky. Several people believed that he wouldn’t be able to complete whatever plan he might have had because he couldn’t possibly have known where he would be housed after his capture. Others weren’t so sure.
The prisoner was led into another of the interrogation rooms. It was different to the others in several ways. It was slightly bigger than the others, the walls were a lighter grey, the floor was tiled rather than lino and the one way mirror was smaller. There was also a teenaged girl waiting inside. She was wearing an orange top and navy jeans, her blond hair was pulled back into a tight, high pony tail and she looked completely relaxed. She glanced up as he was brought in. “Not possible.” She said instantly.
“Why not?” The man in the suit, who had followed the prisoner in, asked.
“He’s studied psychology. Body language. He’s evil.” She cocked her head to one side. “Wait a minute. This could be interesting. He’s trying to read me.” She smiled slightly.
“O’Flynn,” The man in the suit snapped. The girl smiled at him. “Not a game. Find out what you can and get rid of the threat.”
“I will but I can’t do it without time. Psychology is not something to be rushed. Is it?” She looked at the prisoner out of the corner of her eye. “Can I see his file?”
“You never wanted to see a file before.” The man in the suit said, looking weary.
“Well this time I do. I want to see everything you have on him. And send the guards away. He won’t hurt me. He’s intrigued. That much I can tell.”
“Protocol is very clear in…”
“I know that but I don’t like protocol so send the guards away and get me the file.” The man in the suit sighed and nodded to the guards, leaving the room as well. “You can get rid of the people behind the glass as well. I don’t like hidden eyes watching me.” She called.
She sat still for several seconds, then smiled. “They’re gone. We can talk freely, not that you would care.”
“Who are you?” He asked.
“Anya O’Flynn. And you are...?”
“You have read my file. You already know.”
“No, I haven’t read it. I never do.” She grinned at him. “I don’t like my opinions to be coloured by anyone.” There was a knock on the door and it opened to show the man in the suit carrying a thick file. He placed it on the table and left, raising an eyebrow to her.
Anya flicked through the file and looked up at the man. “Alexander Henderson. You killed a lot of people and say you were only playing the game. Not a very nice game but not unusual here.” She flicked through the file again. “You’ve scared away five, no six other psychologists, one of whom is in hospital because of a mental break down. So, I dare you, get rid of me.” She leant forward slightly, smiling.