We present an extract from The Helpdesk, the new thriller by Shane Dunphy.
Someone is always watching James Fitzpatrick is a high-profile partner in one of London's most successful law firms. He's married to Bella. She's beautiful and clever, a teacher at one of London's most prestigious schools. They have the perfect lives. But then, one night, a career-ending error sees James contact the IT helpdesk in desperation. A woman called Charlotte answers his call, setting in motion a series of events that would shatter James' and Bella's lives. But who is the woman at the other side of the computer screen? And why is she out for revenge?
By midway through the afternoon I had forgotten about the uncomfortable situation with Charlotte, the IT Helpdesk Support worker I had just been forced to ghost after regretting a night we'd spent together.
Surely she wouldn’t be too hurt or angry, would she? We didn’t really know one another, and it had just been one date and one night of pretty decent sex, but these days hook-ups are common, and there hadn’t been any talk of an ongoing relationship.
I didn’t need to feel guilty, did I?
I mean, Charlotte is a grown-up. And she asked me out. I bet she went out with guys all the time. To be clear, I did not think that in a judgemental way – I’m not a s**t-shaming kind of guy. I just meant that she wouldn’t be bereft if she didn’t hear from me again.
I kept myself busy by drafting an amendment to a vital share purchase agreement and attempted to log into my email in order to send it to a client.
I couldn’t get in. I tried using the 'forgot your password’ protocols, but they wouldn’t recognise any password I entered, each time I did I was told there was a problem, so I finally gave up.
I realised, at that point, that I had access to the email account of Mark Johnson, a junior associate on my team. I rang him quickly, and asked if I could send the agreement from his account, as I’d been locked out of mine, and that it was urgent.
Like a good junior, he didn’t question me.
I uploaded the file, wrote a brief cover-email, and clicked send.
It seemed to send, but then a second later a message popped into Johnson’s inbox, informing him (and me) that there had been a problem sending the email. I scanned down through it, but none of it made sense to me.
You do not have the authority to send this message. Please try again when you have made better life choices.
What? Surely that had to be a joke!
I tried again and got the same message.
Sighing, I grabbed my phone. I remembered Charlotte mentioning she wasn’t working today, which would make the call an easier experience.
‘Hi James,’ the voice that answered was immediately familiar. My heart sank.
‘Charlotte,’ I said. ‘I thought you had the day off today.’
I know I did not sound happy, but she didn’t let on she noticed.
‘I got drafted in after all,’ she said. ‘Luckily, I didn’t have any plans. So how can I help you?’
I told her, and read out the failed email message, wondering as I did so if this was all quite the coincidence it seemed.
‘That’s an odd one, isn’t it?’ she asked brightly.
‘Very strange,’ I agreed.
‘Let’s see if we can get things moving for you again, shall we?’
‘I’d appreciate that.’
Keys clattered. She was humming. For a moment I couldn’t place it, but then I did. It was a Gillian Welch song: ‘The Way It Will Be’. One of my favourites.
‘Mark Johnson’s email account is fine and shouldn’t encounter any more error messages, but you’ll need to reset your password,’ she said after a minute or two. ‘I’ve given you a new one for the moment. Would you like to write it down?’
‘Yes. I have a pen here. What is it?’
‘It’s f**kboy1.’
I froze, pen still hovering over the page.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Would you like me to spell it for you?’
‘No, thank you. I think I’ve got it.’
‘Is there anything else Tech Helpdesk can do for you this afternoon, James?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Would you be open to taking a brief survey for us about your experience?’
‘You know,’ I said, ‘I don’t think I would today.’
‘That’s quite alright. Thanks for calling us.’
‘Okay. Goodbye, Charlotte.’
‘Bye for now. I’ll catch up with you again, yeah?’
‘Charlotte…’
But she was gone.
I went into my work account and put my email back to what it usually is, but then thought better of it and changed it for a random selection of letters and numbers, which I scribbled on a bit of paper and put in my desk drawer for easy access.
I was pretty sure it wouldn’t keep Charlotte out – she could probably reset it with very little effort. But as far as I knew, to do that she’d need to at least enter the current password, and I wasn’t going to make it unnecessarily easy for her.
I sent the document, and this time it went without any problems or weird error messages.
Then I sat staring at the screen, wondering just how much trouble I had brought on myself. And what my wife would think if she ever found out.
The Helpdesk by S.A Dunphy is published by Hachette Ireland
