Black Op

by Tom Palmer

  At first, Hatty feared it was a wolf, stalking them, and was – strangely – relieved to see a man stumbling down the hill.

  Had he seen them? Who was he? How had they missed him? Were there more?

  Hatty watched him stopping to zip up his fly, then falling back on to the tree trunk and laughing. He was so close that she could smell the sour alcohol coming from him.

  He’s drunk, she thought. That’s probably good. He’s less likely to notice us.

  Neither Lily nor Hatty spoke. They kept every muscle tense to avoid the slightest movement. The next thirty seconds were vital.

  Was this man actually going to leave?

  And then he belched.

  Hatty curled her lip in disgust, then she watched as Lily took a further risk, easing a night-vision camera out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. If she could just get an image of him, it might help.

  Lily lifted the camera slowly, taking care not to raise the lens so high that it might reflect even starlight, then silently snapped a single image, hoping she’d got his face in the frame.

  As Lily did all this, Hatty watched her closely. Sometimes Hatty felt that Lily was soft or too nice, a girly girl. And Hatty did not like girly girls. But when they were out in the field like this, she was always reminded – and surprised – that Lily was focused, intelligent and strong-minded. Like now, taking the photo. A great move, a great risk and a great person to be working alongside.

  Up above, the three boys had been watching everything. No one moved. No one spoke. They just waited for the man to go. It was clear that he had not seen Lily and Hatty, so everyone knew instinctively, and without discussing it, that the best option was to sit it out and wait, hoping he’d not spot them.

  But the moment went on for ages.

  Hatty still felt disgust for, rather than fear of, the man.

  He’s definitely drunk, she thought. Really drunk. He wouldn’t notice if we were sitting here next to a campfire toasting marshmallows. But all the same, she knew it was the right thing to sit it out.

  As they waited for him to move, Lily’s mind was burning with her new knowledge. About the voices she’d heard. The men were speaking Russian. Now she was desperate to get this piece of intelligence out of the quarry, through the woods and the darkness and back to Jim. Because she knew it meant everything.

  Late

  Jim Sells was standing behind the rest of the footballers when the Squad came down to the hotel breakfast room the next morning. Behind him were a row of counters filled with cereals, meat, fruit and bread, food that the children were finding unusual because there were none of the brands they knew from home. Bright lights illuminated the white tables where the other players sat.

  Jim looked furious.

  Because Lesh, Lily, Hatty, Kester and Adnan were late. Very late.

  They had returned to the hotel at 3.55 a.m. Less than four hours ago. Adnan had said he’d get them all up in time, but had slept through his alarm. Now they were absolutely shattered, as well as flustered because they were late.

  ‘Had a good lie-in?’ Jim shouted, making the staff behind the counters stop what they were doing in shock.

  ‘Sorry, Jim,’ Adnan said in a quiet voice, hoping to take the flak for the others.

  ‘Sorry isn’t good enough, children!’ Jim shouted. ‘When I say breakfast at seven, I mean breakfast at seven. Breakfast at seven: training at nine. It’s our first game today. Remember that? This afternoon?’

  ‘Sorry,’ the other four Squad members said, all fully aware that Jim had used the word ‘children’ to make them feel even smaller.

  Kester scanned the rest of the youth team, most of whom were just looking at their plates, not wanting to get involved when someone else was being told off. But three of them were staring back at the Squad, their faces full of glee.

  Rio.

  Georgia.

  Finn.

  ‘We’re sorry to the rest of you too,’ Kester said, meaning it.

  ‘You might be sorry,’ Jim cut in, ‘but this is not acceptable. Nor was the brawl between you and Rio. Tomorrow – win, lose or draw today – I want you down here for breakfast at six.’

  Lesh saw Rio and Georgia grin, then Finn laugh.

  Jim heard the laugh and turned sharply. ‘And that’s all of you. Not just the ones who were late. All of you will be here for breakfast at six.’

  Kester watched the smile drop instantly from Rio’s face, then saw, under the table, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  More trouble brewing, Kester thought. He’d had quite enough of that last night.

  After they had avoided the belching man and gathered together away from the quarry, it had taken the Squad two hours to get back from the woods, returning the way they’d come.

  Back at the hotel, they were desperate to go to sleep, but they gathered dutifully in Kester’s room, sitting round the lounge table for a debrief with Jim.

  After every mission it was the drill to debrief as soon as was possible, before any mission details were forgotten. They told Jim everything in full detail, leaving nothing out. They showed him the images and films they’d taken, the exact positions of the men, objects they had with them, readings for radioactivity and the presence of explosives.

  Jim took the information in, his face calm and his voice unchanged, until he heard the news that the voices were Russian. Then his mood changed.

  ‘Are you sure, Lily?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Really sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, that changes everything,’ Jim said gravely.

  ‘But there’s more,’ Lily intervened.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I saw a box. It looked like it could contain some sort of weapon.’

  Lily watched Jim nod gravely.

  ‘But I didn’t see what it was. It was too far off,’ Lily went on. ‘To get any closer would have jeopardized the overall mission.’

  ‘OK,’ Jim said. ‘You made the right choice, but did you notice anything about it? Metal? Wood? Any writing on it?’

  ‘Metal, I think,’ Lily said, disconsolate. ‘Lesh took some images, but they don’t show anything worthwhile.’

  ‘Not to worry, Lily.’ Jim smiled. ‘You’ve done really well.’

  ‘I did manage to get a photo of the man,’ Lily volunteered.

  Jim clapped his hands together. ‘Now you’re talking. Well done, Lily.’

  Lily smiled at their commander as she showed him the image. But Jim did not return the smile. His face twitched, then he went pale.

  ‘What is it, Jim?’ Kester asked, looking at the image of a man with dark eyes and a screwed up, lined face.

  ‘I need to talk to London,’ Jim spluttered.

  The five children looked at each other.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Hatty demanded.

  ‘Calling London?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It means this mission and the threat to England’s security are suddenly a whole lot more serious and dangerous.’ He stood up.

  ‘So who’s the pretty boy in the photo?’ Adnan joked.

  ‘An old friend,’ Jim said grimly. ‘No. I should say an old enemy. His name is Boris Svidrigaylov. Svid for short.’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Kester.

  ‘There are bad men in this world,’ Jim growled. ‘Killers. Torturers. Those kinds of people. But there are worse. There are men who would happily encourage wars and conflict and chaos just because they have some twisted grudge against a country or a person. Svidrigaylov is one of those men.’

  ‘And you knew him?’ Hatty asked.

  ‘He was around when I was in Moscow. He worked for the KGB, the Russian spy service. But he was too evil for them, so he was kicked out. That was when he started to commit even more appalling acts.’

  The children looked at Jim
, waiting to hear more, but he was done.

  ‘I need to call London,’ he said. ‘Bed. All of you. You’ve done a great thing tonight. Well done.’

  They’d finally got to bed at five. All with a firm handshake and an enthusiastic thank you from Jim. He was delighted with them.

  Which was why the over-the-top telling-off at breakfast was so hard to take.

  Jim was pretending to be furious with them so that the others didn’t sense that they had a special relationship. ‘I’ll be harder on you than them,’ he had said the day before. Now they knew he meant it.

  When the telling-off was over, Lily grabbed toast and jams from the breakfast bar for everyone. Lesh got some fruit. Hatty yoghurts. Kester juices. And Adnan sorted coffees, whether they wanted it or not. It would help to keep them awake. As they gathered their food, they muttered more apologies to the others.

  Once Jim – still pretending he was furious – had gone, Rio stood up. He positioned himself behind the rest of the footballers, facing the Squad, making out he represented all their feelings.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he complained.

  Kester knew this was his question to field. He carried on chewing his piece of toast, but looked up to see what mood Rio was in. Was he going to fight or just shout?

  Rio was staring straight at Kester, his eyes bulging, losing his cool as he waited for a response. Next to him Georgia had her arms folded across her chest. She looked calmer and, in a way, more dangerous than Rio.

  The room was quiet now. The temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees.

  ‘I said, “What’s going on?”’ Rio repeated.

  ‘We said we’re sorry,’ Kester said clearly and calmly. ‘And we are. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘That’s not good enough!’ Rio shouted, the veins on his neck standing out. ‘You were late. Thanks to you we have to be up for six tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not getting up at six,’ Georgia spat.

  Kester shrugged. Rio was really losing it, getting angry instead of thinking clearly. Kester could handle him better when he was like this. So long as it didn’t turn into another fight.

  But then Georgia was speaking in a controlled voice. ‘No. There’s more to it than that,’ she said slowly, like she was just working something out.

  Kester sensed the other footballers register what Georgia had said. They’d stopped chewing or were holding their mugs in mid-air. And Kester knew this was it: the challenge. The moment that they knew they would have to deal with when they had to convince everyone they were just normal footballers. The mission depended on it. This was dangerous. Not as immediately dangerous as stalking three Russians in the night woods, but just as threatening to the mission’s success.

  ‘We were late,’ Kester said, matching Georgia’s calm. ‘I was meant to get the others up. I slept in. I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s it. That’s what worries me,’ Georgia said. ‘How come you’re all so close? You said, when you came here, that you’d never met before. But you’re like lifelong mates. Look at just now: you all knew exactly what each of you wanted for breakfast. Things like that are weird.’

  Kester looked up. He saw all the other footballers looking quizzically at him now, like they were questioning the Squad and who they really were. He knew he was meant to speak next, to say something that would put all their minds at rest.

  But what could he say? Kester needed inspiration.

  ‘It’s all part of Jim’s master plan,’ Lily cut in.

  Kester kept his eyes on the footballers. He had to go with what Lily said, whatever it was, so he nodded, pretending to know exactly what she was about to say.

  ‘It’s Jim’s orders,’ Lily explained. ‘Forward players, like most of you, are team members, but you also have individual flair.’ She paused, hoping they’d like that. ‘But defenders have to work together. We’re not individuals. We’re one line of defence.’ Lily was getting into her stride now. ‘Our strength is in how we work as a unit. How we can rely on each other. That’s why we got each other’s breakfast. As a team. That’s why we rely on each other to wake up. Jim did this sort of thing with Real Madrid. You’re right to say that we’ve not known each other long. We haven’t. So we’re doing everything we can to compensate for that.’

  Kester wanted to laugh. Lily was a genius. What an answer! He saw most of the footballers nodding. All except Rio and Georgia.

  ‘Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,’ Rio said, scowling.

  ‘Come on.’ A voice from the doorway. Jim. ‘Time to get on to the training fields. Just a gentle hour session this morning. We’ve a game in seven hours. Train. Rest. Eat. Then on the bus to the stadium. OK?’

  Everyone was on their feet and walking to the exit, excited now the game was only a few hours away, forgetting the argument and the secrets Rio and Georgia had been close to uncovering.

  But Kester noticed that Rio was hanging back, wanting to be the last to leave the room. So Kester stayed back too. He needed to know what Rio had to say.

  ‘I suppose we’re about to see how good a defence you are now then, aren’t we?’ Rio sneered.

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Kester, trying to sound as confident as he could. But he didn’t like the look on Rio’s face at all. Rio was not satisfied by what he’d heard. He was a boy who wanted answers.

  England V Faroe Islands

  What with training and the mission, there had not been much time for the five Squad members to think about representing their country at football.

  But now the full realization of what was happening hit them: they were walking in a line of footballers kitted out in white opposite another team wearing blue, coming out from under the stand on to the massive green football pitch of Wisła’s stadium. For the Squad this was their second visit to the Wisła Stadium, but it was different in that there was a crowd of 500 people watching in the main stand, their applause bouncing around to create the unusual atmosphere of a stadium neither full nor empty.

  Hatty and the others felt excited, anxious and confused, but that was normal for them. Every mission they went out on was dangerous. They could be exposed at any time or they could be shot at. Part of their job was to mask their fears and carry on doing what they needed to do. This was just the same. No one would actually die out there on the football pitch, but if they went out of the competition, and therefore had to leave the country, the England team could die. They’d faced stakes just as high when they had gone into the Ukrainian woods the night before.

  Jim gathered the team in a circle before kick-off.

  ‘This is not going to be easy,’ he said. ‘You might think the Faroe Islands are a weak country, but their players know each other. They’ve trained and played together much more than we have.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Rio snorted.

  ‘What was that, Rio?’ Jim asked sharply.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘OK,’ Jim continued. ‘So I want you to play to your strengths. Forwards, attack. You have the flair and the skill. Defenders, get the ball to the forwards quickly. Don’t pass it to and fro. Keep it simple.’

  Everyone nodded.

  ‘And remember,’ Jim finished. ‘This is a game we have to win. Lose and we go straight home.’

  Once Jim was off the pitch, Rio kept them in their circle and started talking. ‘I don’t know about all of you, but I want to meet the England team. Jim said we’d meet the players if we get to the final, so that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Do we all understand?’

  Several of the players said ‘yes’, including Squad members, even though what Rio was saying sounded like a threat.

  Then Georgia, fixing her hair behind an Alice band, spoke. ‘If I don’t get to meet the players, there will be serious trouble. It’s a big opportunity for me.’

  Hatty shook her head, catching Lily’s eye. Lily was stifling a laugh. They both knew what
Georgia was thinking: that she was going to meet one of the younger players and he was going to fall in love with her, marry her and she’d be the next Victoria Beckham or Cheryl Cole.

  Hatty did absolutely nothing to hide her smirk.

  The game started well. Lesh was half-pleased and half-dismayed to note that Rio was a superb footballer and was completely dominating the midfield while doing a lot to protect the defence. He was also brilliant at creating goals.

  After three minutes, Rio drew two defenders towards him and slotted a ball through for Hatty to run on to and score England’s first goal; she received a hug or a pat from every one of the team except Georgia.

  Twenty-nine minutes in, Rio put a free kick perfectly on to Johnny’s head for him to grab England’s second goal.

  And ten minutes after half-time, Rio ran the ball solo through four tackles, then chipped it over the keeper. England’s third. Rio was the captain, the best player and the source of everything good about the team going forward.

  The problems were at the back.

  Like the young Wisła players the day before, it didn’t take long for the Faroe Islands team to expose the England defence. A couple of short passes were enough to open up huge gaps between Hatty, Lesh, Lily and Kester’s backline.

  In the first hour the Faroes had run the ball through the England defence a dozen times, to find themselves clear on goal. Five of those times they’d missed the target. Three of those times Adnan had made superb saves. But four of those times they’d scored.

  So, with only a few minutes left, it was England 3 Faroe Islands 4.

  Rio was going mental. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouted at the defenders. ‘Every time it’s the same. Track the players. Don’t lunge in and tackle. Wait. They’re making monkeys out of you.’

  Hatty watched Rio getting more and more cross. She understood what was at stake for him. Football was his life and that was reflected in his attitude.

  With three minutes left, Rio was playing deeper and deeper, trying to stop the defence conceding again. But that was not going to do them any good at all and Hatty knew it. His actions were causing the whole England team to play that way, making them focus on defence, not attack. Their weakness, not their strength.