Foul Play

by Tom Palmer

  He would write a letter to him once all this was over. To apologize. To say that he’d never meant to cause him so much trouble.

  Most of all, Danny wished he could just go back to a normal life. No Sam Roberts. No Anton Holt. No Sir Richard. No nobody.

  His mobile buzzed in his pocket.

  What was this?

  A text. An unrecognized number.

  He immediately felt dread. Was this another anonymous message? Something malevolent.

  danny. want to meet up? charlotte xxx

  Danny smiled. Maybe there was one person he’d like to see after all. He felt happy for a half-second, lifted out of the mire he was stuck in.

  It was funny. All this stuff with Charlotte was nowhere near as frightening as it had been a few days ago. What was scary about liking a girl, wanting to meet up with her, after what he’d been through?

  He texted back:

  yes. when? where? danny

  Should he add a kiss? Even though she had added three, he didn’t dare.

  He pressed send and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Something nice to think about.

  It was then that he felt himself being lifted from behind. Pulled from under each arm. A violent jolt that tore at his shoulder muscles. He could smell smoke and stale alcohol. Danny struggled, managing to get his legs under the bench, to stop himself being lifted. But he was pulled with such force over the back of the bench, there was nothing he could do. His legs gave way. He was on the floor, then he felt a blow to his head – almost knocking him out – and he was being held by his shoulders and his legs. Two men were gripping him tightly. There was no escape. Then he saw the back of a small white van, open. And, of all things, he noticed a City sticker on the back window. They hauled him into the back of the van.

  Then one of the men followed him in. Danny lay with his eyes screwed up. He could feel hands going through his pockets. Painful jabs to his groin and legs.

  Then he was alone. The doors slammed shut. And locked.

  Two more slams as two shapes behind a metal grille got into the two front seats. The engine started and the van headed off, going through the gears in hard, short, jerky movements.

  Danny sat up, then fell over as the van lunged round a corner.

  He sat up again and felt his head. It felt wet. As if it was bleeding.

  It was Andy. Plus another. Maybe the other guy he’d seen the night he spotted Roberts, the one who looked like a banker? They were driving him who knew where. Not back to the stadium, he was sure of that. They were heading uphill, away from the stadium and away from the city.

  He tried the back door of the van. There was no lever to open it with. He lay on his back and pushed the doors with his legs, but it was no good.

  After a few minutes the ride became more bumpy. Danny knew what this meant. They’d come off the main road and were on a track. It certainly wasn’t a tarmacked street.

  His heart was pounding. He felt shaky. Of all the scrapes he’d got into over the last week, this was the only one he couldn’t see a way out of. Andy was taking him out to some remote spot. Maybe to shoot him.

  Danny vomited. The stench filled the small space of the back of the van.

  Danny looked up at the shapes of Andy and his companion. He could hear them talking. Laughing.

  Then the van stopped.

  This was it.

  Danny knew it.

  He told himself to be calm. Not to panic.

  There had to be a way out of this.

  The screen between the driver and Danny opened.

  ‘Hello again.’

  Two men. Danny stared. Neither was Andy.

  So who were they?

  Had Sir Richard called in some other henchmen to finish him off when he’d seen him leaving the stadium.

  No. That wasn’t it. This was nothing to do with Sir Richard.

  Danny almost laughed.

  The two men smiling at him from the front of the van were the burglars he’d met – or nearly met – on Friday. The shorter, moustached man on the left. An intelligent twinkle in his eye. The larger man. Heavy set. Hard looking. Not as confident as his friend.

  ‘You’re a TV star,’ the larger man said.

  ‘We were watching the newsflash. Cameras all over City. And there you are. Following some sad-case journalist who reckons he’s found Roberts. Different haircut, of course. But you all the same.’

  Danny kept quiet. He was their prisoner. Just like when Andy had had him, he had to be civil. Not annoy them.

  ‘So, you’re a City fan?’

  ‘Yes,’ Danny said. This was a chance. Maybe they’d go easy on him as he was a City fan.

  ‘That’s a shame, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, we might have to sort you out. And us being City fans too. It’s a shame. That’s all.’

  ‘But first things first,’ the smaller man said. ‘Have you got the footage?’

  ‘Yes,’ Danny said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At home.’ Danny was being as up front as he could. Trying to get them to take his word. He knew the film was his chance to escape. ‘You can have it.’

  ‘Damn right we can. And what else have you got?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just the notebook and the camera. And you’ve got the notebook.’ Danny remembered the chart and map on his wall, tracking the burglaries. He decided not to mention that.

  ‘So what are we going to have to do to get the film, Danny? And how do we know you’ll keep your mouth shut after that?’

  Danny could sense a threat coming. But he didn’t feel nervous. He actually felt elated. Had the van been driven by Andy, he’d be in a much worse situation than he was now. He felt sure he could get out of this one.

  ‘Because you’ll know where I live. I’ll take you there.’

  ‘Then there’s Charlotte too, of course,’ the smaller man said. ‘Nice text here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This text: “the leisure centre? in an hour? charlotte”. And three kisses, Danny. That sounds promising. If we let you go once we have the film, that is.’

  ‘And if you don’t have it,’ the other man said, ‘we could text Charlotte. Arrange for her to meet you. Except you wouldn’t be there.’

  Danny felt a rage coming over him. Were they threatening to do something to Charlotte? But he had to keep a lid on it. Think, he told himself. Think.

  And then it came to him. A way out of this. And out of everything else.

  Maybe he could turn this around and make his kidnap by these two burglars the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  Teamwork

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ Danny said.

  ‘Sure you can,’ said the larger man. ‘Then we’ll go to your house, get the film and, if you don’t have it, we’ll break your legs.’

  Danny closed his eyes, trying not to be overwhelmed by his fear. He looked into the front of the van to calm himself.

  ‘We don’t have time for this, Danny. We need get to your house, Danny.’

  ‘I know where Sam Roberts is,’ Danny said.

  For a second the two men were quiet.

  ‘Yeah? Well, go and collect the one million reward.’

  ‘I would. But I need your help.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here. This kid is starting to annoy me.’ It was the large man who spoke this time.

  ‘You can have the reward,’ Danny said.

  The big man started the engine. But the other put his hand up. ‘Hold on. Let’s hear him out, Neil. He was there today, remember.’

  Neil. Danny memorized the larger man’s name. It was a slip by the smaller man.

  The engine cut.

  ‘Go on.’

  Danny told them the story of the last few days. Beginning with his encounter with them. Both men listened. No interruptions. Danny tried to tell the story briefly. Not adding anything the men didn’t need to know. As he spoke he felt himself getting more and m
ore animated. He hated Sir Richard. He wanted these two men to help him get back at the man who’d nearly killed him.

  ‘I dunno. If you didn’t find him today, he’ll be long gone. And that’s if you’re not lying to us.’

  Danny nodded. It had been a long shot, expecting two burglars to change from wanting to do him over to joining him on what appeared to them to be a fool’s errand.

  ‘Wait a minute, Tony. I did see the people carrier he mentioned. That’s why I left him in the yard and ran for it. I thought it was one of them unmarked CID cars.’

  Tony. Tony and Neil. He had both their names now.

  ‘You saw it?’ Tony said.

  ‘I did. And I wondered why it was going into the stadium at that time.’

  Tony went quiet. Nobody interrupted his silence. ‘Let’s say it’s true,’ he said eventually. ‘Roberts was in the stadium. I can believe it of Gawthorpe. But by now he’s going to be long gone. Once Gawthorpe got wind of you, he’d have got him out of there. Right away.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Neil.

  ‘So if he has,’ said Danny, ‘then the stadium will be deserted. That gunman will be long gone too. But … if he is still there – and we can get in and do something about it – that’s one million pounds for you. Either way you can’t lose.’

  ‘So what did you do today?’ Danny’s dad said.

  The whole family was sitting round the table. Fish, chips and peas.

  Earlier, when the burglars had given him his phone back, Danny had texted Charlotte to put her off until tomorrow. He told her to watch the evening news, saying then she’d know he had a good excuse. This time he left a single ‘x’ after his name.

  ‘Nothing much,’ said Emily. ‘What about you, Danny? Did you have a good day? Did you see anyone nice?’

  Danny was staring out of the window, watching a squirrel walk upside down underneath a branch, a thousand thoughts whirling round his brain. He felt in his pocket for the small digital camera tape he’d put there.

  ‘No,’ said Danny.

  Danny’s mind was on 7 p.m. That’s when the burglars were coming to collect him two streets away. He’d agreed to hand over the film. Then they’d go to City Stadium together and find a way in.

  ‘I played football,’ Danny said.

  ‘Did you win?’ Danny’s mum asked.

  ‘No. We lost.’ Danny thought they’d be more likely to believe him if he said they’d lost.

  ‘But did you see her?’ Emily smirked.

  Danny’s parents said nothing.

  ‘No. But she texted me. Thanks for that, Emily.’

  Emily looked shocked Danny was being so up front.

  ‘We might meet tonight.’

  ‘In that case,’ Danny’s dad offered, ‘you can have an extended time tonight. Until eleven?’

  ‘No. We said ten and I’ll stick to it,’ Danny said.

  ‘Let’s say ten thirty,’ Mum suggested. ‘Then it gives you more time.’

  Emily laughed. Her mouth full. ‘To do what?’ she said, food spilling out on to the table.

  Danny waited on the corner of Foxglove Avenue and North Lane, standing back under a tree in the shadows. He was wearing all black clothes, as instructed by the burglars.

  Five past seven.

  Ten past seven.

  Quarter past seven.

  No sign of the burglars.

  As he waited, Danny’s mind started to drift.

  The first thing to occur to him was what on earth was he doing? Meeting up with two burglars who had only earlier today kidnapped him and threatened him. And now he was going with them to break into a place that had at least two people in it that wanted to see him dead.

  And why was he doing it?

  He wasn’t sure any more.

  Maybe it was because he wanted to be a private detective. Maybe it was because he wanted to save Sam Roberts. Maybe it was because he wanted to prove to Anton Holt that he was telling the truth. He didn’t know. He could give reason after reason. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to solve this mystery, even if he had to go back into that stadium.

  At last the van arrived. Danny sat in between the two men. He saw a baseball bat lodged between Neil’s knees.

  They drove for about ten minutes, then stopped, both staring at Danny.

  ‘Film,’ said Tony.

  Danny patted his pockets, found the film and handed it over.

  ‘And you’ve got your camera?’ Neil said.

  Danny nodded.

  ‘Let’s see it.’

  Danny handed it over.

  ‘Show us the film,’ Neil said, handing it back.

  Danny slipped the tape into the camera, pocketing the blank he’d put in there for tonight. Also as instructed.

  He searched and found the footage of the burglars. The three of them sat in the front seat of the van watching the small screen. Nobody spoke. The smaller man laughed at one point. Danny felt like he was watching one of those TV shows about dodgy workmen with his mum and dad, sat on the sofa.

  ‘That’s a good film, Danny,’ said Tony. ‘Very nice. You don’t have any copies, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How do we know that?’ said Neil. Hardness in his voice again.

  ‘You don’t,’ said Danny. ‘You’ll have to trust me.’

  Tony laughed. ‘Promise us, then.’

  ‘Promise?’ Neil said. ‘What’s that worth?’

  ‘I reckon it’s worth a lot to Danny,’ Tony said, with a hint of malice. ‘Eh, Danny?’

  ‘I promise I have made no copies. I promise that’s the only one,’ Danny said.

  ‘That’s good enough for me,’ said Tony, starting the engine. ‘Let’s go.’

  Neil pulled a face.

  They steered out on to the main road.

  ‘Right. Here’s the deal,’ Tony said. ‘We’re going to search the entire stadium.’

  ‘The whole stadium?’ Neil said.

  ‘That’s right. The two of us do all the work. Breaking in. Searching every room. Everything. And you, Danny, film it. That’s all you do. Got it?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Danny.

  ‘Then, if we do find anything, we’ve got the proof,’ Tony said. ‘And a nice little film to show the grandkids too.’

  Ten minutes later the stadium came into view, rearing up from behind rows of terraced houses.

  Danny felt anxious. This would be his third trip into the bowels of City Stadium. The last two times he could easily have been killed.

  ‘This is it, boys,’ Tony said, changing down a gear. ‘We’re going in.’

  The Company of Strangers

  In a car, parked in front of Hand of Cod, a man was waiting. He was in his late twenties and dark-haired. On one knee he had a notepad and a pen. On the other a mobile phone.

  Anton Holt.

  He was listening to Five Live. The commentary of England’s first pre-tournament warm-up game. Denmark away. England was dominating the game – like the tournament second favourites should – but they just couldn’t convert their dominance into goals. There was no one to put the ball in the back of the net.

  ‘England miss Roberts even more tonight,’ said the commentator. ‘The attack is short on goals, short on class.’

  When Holt saw the small white van go past the entrance to the stadium for a second time, he knew something was going on. He could tell it was the same van because of the City sticker in the back window. This was what he had been waiting for. He turned down the radio, so he could concentrate his mind.

  The van took a left up a side street. Holt waited, staring at the space between his car and where the van had disappeared. He was rewarded soon enough, seeing two men and a boy cross the road and go alongside a Portakabin yard.

  Holt smiled. There was something about Danny’s story that still had him gripped. He knew there was more to it than a boy’s overactive imagination.

  But what was Danny up to now?

  Danny pointed to the hole in the fence. He
saw Neil nod at him, smiling. This was where they’d first met. Danny had never dreamed they’d come here again. Together. He looked at Neil’s baseball bat and felt pleased they were on the same side tonight.

  Tony indicated that no one was to talk by putting his finger over his lips. Then he took a small pair of wire cutters out of his pocket and began to clip away at the wire fence until there was a hole big enough for all three of them to pass through, one by one.

  Then – as they’d agreed – Danny led them round the back of the Portakabins and the central yard, avoiding the sensors that would set off the security lights and give them away.

  They reached the fence on the far side of the yard and saw the stadium. There were no cars or vans in the car park. City Stadium looked empty.

  Danny was reminded of his first night here. Hiding from the two men who were with him now. Tonight it was warmer and lighter. The air smelled of pollen. Danny remembered the old woman’s garden nearby. He wondered if it was her flowers they could smell.

  Tony cut through the next fence quickly, making a gap they could just squeeze through, but that he could disguise as if it wasn’t there once they were on the other side.

  Neil went first. Down the grassy slope quickly, then hitting the hard tarmac of the car park at the bottom. Danny slipped and nearly sprained his ankle. But he didn’t cry out. He didn’t pull a face. He just paused, checked his footing and kept going.

  Everything had to be done in silence, as they’d agreed.

  Now they were behind the bins where Danny had hidden yesterday.

  Danny had told Neil about the door. How it worked. How he’d got in before. Tony went over to it, pushed the door gently and tried to get his fingers round the edge. But he came back quickly.

  ‘It won’t move. I’ll have to go in through a window, then come down and let you in.’

  Neil nodded.

  ‘A window?’ Danny said.

  ‘Start filming now,’ Tony said, putting a finger to his lips.

  Danny took out his camera and flicked it on.

  He filmed the smaller of the two men walking to the corner of the stadium. He was looking up at the window, his eyes scanning every part of the facade. He paced up and down, as if undecided. Then he stopped. Danny could just make out his mouth moving, as if he was talking to himself.