The Never Game by Jeffery Deaver

Author:Jeffery Deaver [Deaver, Jeffery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780525535942
Google: 3sKSDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B07HDSGVMQ
Barnesnoble: B07HDSGVMQ
Goodreads: 42041743
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2019-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

37.

Jimmy Foyle, the cofounder of Knight Time, was in his mid-thirties.

Shaw recalled that he was also the chief game designer, the “gaming guru.” Whatever that meant.

The compact man had straight black hair in need of a trim. His face was boyish and chin dusted with faint stubble. His blue jeans were new, his black T-shirt ancient and the short-sleeved plaid overshirt, faded orange and black, was wrinkled. No corporate uniform for him, presumably because, as the creator of fifteen quadrillion planets, he could wear whatever the hell he wanted to.

Shaw decided the look was Zuckerberg-inspired, though more formal, owing to the overshirt.

Foyle was fidgety, not in an insecure way but in the manner of those who are intensely smart and whose fingers and limbs move in time to their spiraling minds. He had joined Knight and Shaw at the table in the workstation room, and the three were alone. Knight had cleared the room of the keyboarding employees by shouting, “Everyone, get out!”

Shaw sipped the coffee, which was a fine brew, yet the Costa Rican beans didn’t live up to their claim of overshadowing the Salvadoran.

Foyle was listening to Shaw’s explanation about the kidnappings, sitting forward at an acute angle. The man seemed shy and had made no pleasantries, offered no greetings; he had not shaken Shaw’s hand. A bit of Asperger’s, maybe. Or perhaps because software code looped through his thoughts constantly and the idea of social interaction emerged briefly, if at all. He wore no wedding ring or other jewelry. His loafers needed replacement. Shaw recalled the article about the game designer and assumed if you spent eighty hours a week in a dark room, it was because you enjoyed spending eighty hours a week in a dark room.

When Shaw finished, Foyle said, “Yes, I heard about the girl. And on the news this morning the other kidnapping. The journalists said it was likely the same man but they weren’t sure.” A Bostonian lilt to his voice; Shaw supposed he’d acquired his computer chops at MIT.

“We think probably.”

“There was nothing about The Whispering Man.”

“That’s my thought. I told the investigators but I’m not sure how seriously they took it.”

“Do the police have any hope of finding the new victim?” His language was stiff, formal in the way that Shaw supposed computer codes were formal.

“They didn’t have any leads as of an hour ago.”

“And your thought is that either he’s some troubled kid who’s taken the game to heart, like those boys a few years ago, or—alternatively—someone has hired him to pretend he’s a troubled kid to cover up something else.”

“That’s right.”

Knight asked, “What do you think, Jimmy?” Unlike his dictatorial attitude toward the other minions, with Foyle the CEO was deferential, almost obsequious.

Foyle drummed his fingers silently on his thigh while his eyes darted about. “Masquerading as a troubled gamer to cover up another reason for a kidnapping? I don’t know. It seems too complicated, too much work. There’d be too many chances to get found out.”

Shaw didn’t disagree.

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