Dead Ball by Tom Palmer (snow like ashes series .txt) 📕

Tupolev had given him a room on the balcony, so he could watch from above, so he could see the England players, the FA officials, some of whom he knew well. And he had been enjoying watching them – reliving old times – until he had spotted a smaller figure.

A boy.

He had to look three times to be sure he had seen who he thought he’d seen.

If anyone had been looking at him, they would have seen that Sir Richard’s face looked shocked at first. But then they’d have seen it break into a smile. A maniacal beaming smile.

He had seen the boy who had forced him to give up his old identity. The boy who had taken on Sir Richard Gawthorpe and won.

Now he had a chance: for revenge.

*

Danny kept his eyes on the door until he spotted Holt coming back into the hall. He tried to read his face as Holt approached, but Holt was neither smiling nor frowning.

‘Well?’

‘They’re just talking, Danny. One of them speaks English.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah. I listened. They’re talking. About football, would you believe it?’

Danny wanted to argue with Holt. But there was no point. This was going nowhere. Holt knew things but wouldn’t tell Danny. Now what Danny had to do was get away from Holt. Do some finding out for himself.

And Holt gave him the opportunity within seconds.

‘I have to set up some interviews for tomorrow’s edition,’ Holt said. ‘Can you stay here? And not move?’

‘Sure,’ Danny said, trying not to sound too keen.

‘I’ll not be long. I just have to arrange times. That’s all. Don’t wander off.’

‘Yeah,’ said Danny. ‘I’ll have some food.’

When Holt had gone, Danny checked around the room to make sure no one was watching. Then he slipped out of the door he’d seen McGee and Holt go through.

THE CHASE

Outside it was dark. Now that the sun had gone down it felt even colder. Very cold. He could feel the air stinging his face.

Danny stood in the doorway to the courtyard where he’d seen McGee and the men in suits. There was no sign of them now. And yet none of them had come back into the reception.

The courtyard was empty.

Danny looked around, trying to take everything in. And he listened. He was as likely to hear people as see them.

It was quite a courtyard. Huge wooden doors on each of the four walled sides. Like the doors of a castle or a palace, studded with black metal. A slate roof. Cobbles on the ground. Through one of the doors – half open – Danny saw a row of cars. He went to have a closer look, to find it was a vast garage. He recognized a Ferrari. A Rolls-Royce. A Porsche. And another extreme sports car he remembered seeing on Top Gear. The man who owned this place certainly was loaded.

The garage smelled of oil and petrol fumes. But it was clean. Each car looking like it was polished daily.

As Danny entered the garage, he heard voices. Coming from the back.

Danny breathed in and took slow, quiet steps.

They were definitely English voices. One was a northern English voice. McGee. Unmistakably McGee. The other voice was Russian, but talking good English.

Danny ducked down and moved slowly to the first car. The Ferrari. He peeped over the top of it. He felt terrified. The sense that he could be caught. But he needed to know what was going on. He used that need to overcome his fear.

There were four men.

The two men in suits stood at a distance now from the pair who were talking. McGee and – Danny couldn’t quite believe it – Dmitri Tupolev. The man who’d made the speech.

What was Matt McGee doing talking to the Russian billionaire? And hidden away from all the other guests.

This was definitely not right.

Maybe Tupolev was tapping McGee up. That was what they called it. Trying to get him to sign for the Russian champions. To leave England.

Danny acted quickly. He didn’t need to weigh this one up. He got out his mobile phone, activated the video and held it just over the roof of the Ferrari. He squatted so as not to be seen and watched the scene through the mirror of the car, hoping he was pointing his camera at the people – and not just the roof.

The annoying thing was, he couldn’t hear what they were saying. All he could see was McGee nodding, then holding his hands up. The Russian made no gestures. He was just staring at McGee as he spoke.

Danny hoped his phone would pick up what was being said.

Then, suddenly, without any warning, the four men were walking towards Danny.

Danny had seen or heard no cues that this was about to happen. One minute they were talking, the next coming between the cars towards him.

Danny tucked his phone away and tried to roll under the Ferrari. But, of course, there was no room under the low-slung car. He felt panic rising in him and tried to calm himself down, tried to breathe deep and long. But it’s hard to keep a grip on your mind when you feel your life could be in danger.

He edged round the Ferrari and hid under the Rolls-Royce, just as eight feet came marching past him.

Danny held his breath. He didn’t dare breathe out or in. All the things Holt had said to him about Tupolev and how Danny should be really careful flooded his mind. Maybe he really was in danger. Why did he always get himself into situations like this?

Then the feet stopped. Right next to Danny. If he had wanted to, Danny could have reached out and touched the shoes that were closest to him. The strangest pair of shoes he’d ever seen. It was like they had scales. Danny wondered what they were made of. Snake skin? Or crocodile?

Danny took out his phone and began to film again, his hands trembling with fear.

The scaly shoes were facing the straightforward black shiny