by Scott Innes
With a spring in my step for the task ahead, I headed to the Compound Square.
*
‘Right then,’ Gerry said as we sipped the hot chocolates he’d bought from the Costa on the corner. I noticed that he’d added marshmallows to his and not mine. I’d remember that. ‘Where do we start?’
‘To catch a spy,’ I said, trying to sound like I had the first clue what I was talking about, ‘you have to think like a spy.’
‘Agreed,’ Gerry said. ‘So how does a spy think?’
‘Dunno,’ I said eventually.
‘Sorry we’re late!’ came a voice from behind us.
‘All right, Rodway?’ Gerry said. ‘Not often we see you up and about this early.’
My star striker brushed off Gerry’s dig and breathed on his hands to warm them up. Behind him stood Barrington12, looking around vacantly, as per.
‘Come to join the hunt?’ I asked, feeling proud that they had both stepped up to the plate. The other boys were notable by their absence, but then again, we couldn’t exactly stake out any suspects with fifteen people in tow.
‘WE ARE HERE TO HELP CATCH AND TERMINATE THE SPY FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY,’ Barrington12 announced in his foghorn voice.
‘No, no, no, son,’ I told him. ‘We’re not terminating anybody. You’re like the killer robot in that film who goes around terminating people; what’s it called again, Gerry?’
‘Gorillas in the Mist, I think,’ Gerry said, scratching his chin.
‘Listen, Barrington12, we’re not here to kill anyone. I can’t emphasise that enough. Violence is never the answer. I’m on record about that – it once cost me and Nigel Martyn victory at the FA’s end-of-season quiz night, but I stand by it.’
‘I AM SORRY, KEVIN KEEGAN,’ Barrington12 said sadly, lowering his head with a mechanical buzz. ‘I WILL ADJUST MY OBJECTIVES ACCORDINGLY.’
‘Good lad,’ I said. ‘Glad to have you both on board.’
‘We were just discussing where we should start,’ Gerry told them. ‘I was thinking of maybe handing out flyers – “Are You the Spy?” – and then seeing if anyone says yes. If they do, I think that’s our guy.’
‘No, that won’t work,’ I said. ‘This spy is clever – they’ll see right through that. We need to think… what does a spy want?’
‘Money,’ Gerry suggested.
‘Well, yeah,’ I shrugged. ‘That’s probably the ultimate objective. But I mean, in order to obtain secrets and learn about their environment, what would they need?’
‘Information,’ Rodway said. I nodded affirmatively. Gerry looked disappointed.
‘That was going to be my next guess,’ he muttered dejectedly.
‘Correct,’ I said. ‘Information.’
‘So… where do we go?’ Gerry asked.
‘It’s like Graeme Le Saux said in the dressing room after my England boys qualified for Euro 2000 and wanted to celebrate in style. Gentlemen: to the library! Though let’s grab an early lunch first. I’m starving.’
As we entered the vast and musty old library building with its high glass-domed roof and stacks of shelving stretching as far as the eye could see, I decided we’d be better off splitting up.
‘It’s a big old place,’ I said, ‘and we’ll cover more ground that way. Plus, we need to remain inconspicuous. For all we know, the spy could very well be in the library right now.’
‘Keep your eyes peeled for anyone acting suspiciously and if you see any books that might be of interest to someone with treachery in mind – anything on the Palangonian Compound itself, or biographies of key figures like Laika or anyone the L’zuhl would be interested in taking down – let me know. If we can find out who borrowed them and cross-reference a few key titles to look for the same name, we might well be on to something.’
‘The library won’t tell you who’s previously borrowed their books though, Kev,’ Gerry insisted. ‘I took out a book on fly fishing last month and some thug had drawn these doodles in the margins. I asked for the names of all previous readers so I could go and box their ears but they said it was confidential.’
My heart beat a little faster. I was sure I’d erased those doodles (drawn accidentally when I went over the edge of my scrap paper while spending an idle evening trying to list my top 50 Bryan Adams songs. Listen, there’s not a lot to do here in deep space).
‘Probably just someone with too much time on their hands,’ I said accurately. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’
An hour or so later, Rodway and Barrington12 had returned, their arms straining under the weight of the books they’d picked out. I’d stayed in the restaurant area for a coffee but obviously my brain was doing a lot of heavy lifting of its own as I devised a plan.
‘Where’s Gerry?’ I asked.
‘Still searching, I think,’ Rodway said. I rolled my eyes.
‘Fine, we’ll start without him,’ I said. ‘Let’s get those names.’
I headed over to the counter to see a familiar face, engrossed in her computer screen.
‘Hiya,’ I said, rapping my knuckles amiably on the desk. ‘Remember me?’
Caroline looked touchingly pleased to see me as she lifted her glasses from her nose and perched them on her forehead.
‘I do indeed!’ she said. ‘Kevin Keegan, who definitely didn’t have a bit of a meltdown on TV that time.’
‘Bang on,’ I said.
‘For a while there I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘There were some ugly headlines in the Compound Chronicle this past week.’
‘The General stitched me right up,’ I said, annoyed by the memory. ‘I’m totally innocent, they just took their time realising it.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she said, and it seemed like she really meant it, which in turn meant a lot to me.
‘How is your…’ I trailed off with a wince.
‘Sister?’ Caroline suggested. I nodded, relieved that she hadn’t left me hanging. ‘She’s… well, I have no idea. Leigh rejected my application to leave and with the lockdown in place, very little information is coming in or out of the Compound. I’d like to think I’d have heard if… the worst had happened. But for now, I just have to sit here and stew. It’s so difficult, it really is. I’m itching to be with her.’
‘He’s an absolute bin of a man,’ I said sadly.
‘It’s great to see you anyway,’ Caroline said, changing the subject. ‘Can I help you look for anything in particular?’
‘Well, not exactly. I’m here on other business.’
‘Oh…? Like what exactly?’
‘I can’t tell you that,’ I whispered, tiptoeing around the subject, ‘but let’s just say the reason I was imprisoned… well, I want justice to be done. I really can’t elaborate more than that; I’m sorry to be so cryptic.’
‘You want to find the real spy,’ Caroline said immediately. Christ, was I really that transparent? I thought I was being so enigmatic, when in fact she’d seen right through me like I was Gordon Strachan on a sunny day.
‘How did you…?’ I trailed off and glanced hurriedly behind me to make sure no one was listening in.
‘Hey, believe me, I won’t blow your cover,’ Caroline said reassuringly. ‘I want the spy found too – it’s the only way I’m going to see Angela.’
I stared at her blankly.
‘Who’s Angela?’
‘My sister.’
Bugger.
‘Oh, right, yeah, of course. Well, good. Because I might need your help. I mean, if that’s okay.’
‘Count me in,’ she replied in a determined voice. ‘Let’s just catch the bastard.’
‘That’s exactly the advice I used to give to David James before a match,’ I said. She frowned in confusion but I waved a hand to say it didn’t matter. ‘My associates here have some items we’d like you to look at.’
Rodway and Barrington12 placed the books on the counter and the hunt began.
CLUES
> Mustering all my reserves of patience I watched and paced while Caroline scanned the barcode of each book onto the system.
‘Right,’ said Caroline. ‘That’s all of Rodway’s books done. We’re getting there. Now let’s cross-check them with… I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’
‘HELLO, CAROLINE KELLY. I AM BARRINGTON12. I AM FLUENT IN OVER SIX MILLION FORMS OF FOOTBALL FORMATIONS AS WELL AS—’
‘All right, put a cork in it, she doesn’t need to know your life story,’ I said, a little more grumpily than I’d intended. Barrington12 paused while he processed this request.
‘KEVIN KEEGAN, PLEASE REPEAT AND SPECIFY WHERE THE CORK MUST BE INSERTED,’ he said quizzically. ‘ALSO, BARRINGTON12 DOES NOT OWN A CORK. PLEASE ADVISE.’
‘Just be quiet a minute,’ I said with a sigh. Immediately, he stood frozen in place staring at the bare wall opposite, as though a switch had been flicked.
‘Wow, a 12-series model,’ Caroline said, staring at him with great interest. ‘I thought they’d been scrapped years ago.’
‘They were,’ I muttered, ‘and he most definitely should’ve been.’ But then I felt bad. Barrington12 had given up his Friday to help us find the spy – I owed him better than that. ‘He’s just tired,’ I said, more sympathetically. ‘He’s not been charged up all day, so his batteries will be running on air.’
‘Actually I saw him using one of the library charge points while we were book-hunting earlier,’ Rodway said.
‘There’s normally a fee for that,’ Caroline muttered under her breath. Little wonder she and Gillian got on so well – both such sticklers for the rules. Mind you, I’m one to talk. I once heard a commentator describe a relegation scrap as ‘a real six-pointer’. I was disgusted – it’s three points for a win; you cannot just go about changing things like that so late in a season. The FA never even replied to my letter about it, which tells you everything you need to know about that shower.
‘Right,’ Caroline said when she was logged in. ‘What’s the next title?’
Rodway handed over one of the books Barrington12 had found – The Unexplored Country by Bartholomew Modge. I frowned.
‘What’s this when it’s at home?’ I asked.
‘It is at home,’ Rodway said. ‘It’s about our home. Part of it, anyway. It details the geography of several planets in this nebula, including Palangonia. Good call, Barrington12.’
The robot didn’t respond as he continued staring into space as instructed.
‘Professor Modge’s speciality is documenting the more forgotten and overlooked areas of the galaxy,’ Caroline explained. ‘And prior to the establishment of this human colony, Palangonia was certainly one of those. This might have some important info on escape routes and points of expansion, underground tunnels and caves, that kind of stuff.’
I was distracted – there was still no sign of Gerry. I clicked my fingers at Barrington12 and told him to go and retrieve him. Dutifully, he woke up and clanked away.
Methodically, Gillian worked through the rest of the list – Weapons of the Alliance by JB Pilfer, Camouflage Techniques by Liz Lassiter, Hiding in Plain Sight: My Life as an MI5 Operative by Craig Revel Horwood, several others. The names were a blur and Caroline scrolled down too quickly for me to get a handle on anything.
‘Well, there are a lot of names who only appear once with no duplication,’ she said, jotting the last few down. ‘So we can put them right at the bottom of the maybe list. If our spy has indeed been using the library to advance their knowledge, I’d say it’s unlikely to be any of those.’
Caroline started crossing out names from the list, people who had borrowed only one of the books from our pile. Her face took on a darker hue as she looked at the remaining name, someone who had borrowed at least three of the books in question.
‘What is it?’ I asked, finding it near impossible to read her handwriting. She’d clearly missed her true calling as a doctor with penmanship like that.
‘It’s… well, this is unexpected,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if I should—’
‘Go on,’ I prompted.
‘There’s one name that keeps coming up,’ she said carefully. ‘I mean, it could just be a coincidence, it doesn’t mean they’re actually the spy…’
‘Just tell me,’ I said.
She sighed unhappily.
‘It’s—’
‘KEVIN KEEGAN,’ came a voice from behind us, startling me to the point that it probably took a decade off my life. We all whipped round in unison and saw Barrington12 waving a metal arm at us frantically from the corner of a row of shelves. ‘THERE IS A PROBLEM.’
‘What’s wrong, son?’ I asked, fearing the answer.
‘THERE IS A MAN,’ he said, bending forward slightly, as though trying to catch his breath – no doubt something he’d seen and copied from watching the lads in training. It was kind of sweet in its own way – almost as though he wanted to be one of us. ‘IN BIOGRAPHY AND MEMOIR. HE IS PINNED BEHIND SOME SHELVING.’
‘Gerry!’ I cried. ‘It has to be!’
‘I REGRET THAT I MUST ALSO ADD,’ Barrington12 said, as gravely as a dispassionate machine can, ‘THAT ON FIRST OBSERVATION THERE IS A CHANCE THE MAN MAY HAVE PERISHED.’
GOODBYE, ENGLAND’S ROSE
With a stitch burning in my side, I tore after Barrington12 as he led the way through the library. Not Gerry, it couldn’t be. He had so much yet to live for. I mean, there was nothing specific coming to mind, but still. He was my friend. My loyal number two. And Jesus Christ, this would be such a stupid way to die as well. Typical bloody Gerry.
And then I saw him. There, his face contorted in a purple mask of agony, flanked on either side by the cheerful covers of the biographies of Paul O’Grady (cracking bloke) and George Orwell (never heard of him), was my Gerry. I gripped the edge of the shelving but I couldn’t budge it even an inch. It was hopeless.
‘PLEASE, KEVIN KEEGAN,’ said Barrington12, ‘ALLOW ME TO TRY.’
Without waiting for approval, he tugged the shelf with what seemed only minimal force and it tumbled forward, scattering its contents onto the carpet at our feet. Now no longer pinned between the shelving and the thick stone wall, Gerry’s body flopped onto the floor at an undignified angle like some kind of knackered ragdoll. I noticed his fly was half undone. He’d have been disappointed with that.
‘Gerry,’ I said, kicking the books from my path and kneeling down beside him. I took one of his hands in mine – it was cold and clammy. Rigor mortis was probably already beginning to set in. Oh, Gerry, why now? When we were so close to finding the spy and getting Palangonia FC back.
‘I can’t do this without you, Gerry,’ I said, and suddenly found that I was crying. I couldn’t help myself. It was all finally catching up with me – losing my club, my livelihood, my dignity in Leigh’s prison cell, and now my best friend. It had been the worst week I’d had since Mr Al-Fayed quarantined the Fulham training ground after becoming convinced that one of us was a shapeshifter in the employ of the royal family.
‘Oh, Kevin,’ said a voice, Caroline’s, and she squeezed my shoulder.
‘He didn’t deserve this,’ I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘He’s a good man. A pure football man. Oh, not like this, Gerry! Not like this…’
‘We’ll all miss him, gaffer,’ said Rodway. How awful that he should have had to witness such a scene.
I placed a hand on Gerry’s chest, my palm flat. He still felt warm underneath his tight shirt.
‘Goodbye, England’s rose,’ I whispered, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead.
I stood up and sniffed back my remaining tears. A sombre silence descended for some moments, until Barrington12 raised a hand.
‘KEVIN KEEGAN, I FEEL IT IS MY DUTY TO REPORT THAT MY SENSORS INDICATE FOUR INDIVIDUAL LIFE SIGN READINGS IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY.’
‘Good for you,’ I said absently.
‘No, wait, hang on…’ Caroline whispered, crouching down bes
ide Gerry’s corpse. ‘Oh my God – your robot’s right. Gerry’s still breathing!’
‘He is?’ I exclaimed happily, kneeling beside her and staring at him. ‘How can you tell?’
‘Because I can see him breathing,’ Caroline replied. ‘Look.’
She took out her phone and held it under Gerry’s nose – it seemed an odd thing to do at first but then I saw: Gerry’s breath was steaming up the blank screen. He was alive!
‘Get in there, Gerry, lad!’ I cried, patting him on the belly enthusiastically. ‘This is just like scoring late doors in a cup final!’
Whether as a result of my manhandling him or pure coincidence, Gerry suddenly opened his bloodshot eyes and sat bolt upright. He looked at each of us in turn, his eyes finally resting on me.
‘Kev…’ he groaned, rubbing his back and wincing. ‘What… happened?’
‘You died is what,’ I said. ‘But luckily it wasn’t fatal. You’re all right, son. It’s going to be okay.’
‘Who did this to you?’ Caroline asked, standing and offering an outstretched hand. Gerry looked at her a little suspiciously, squinting.
‘She’s all right,’ I explained, remembering that Gerry had gone off gallivanting through the library before I’d got chatting to her. ‘This is Caroline, she works in the library. She’s helping us out.’
‘So what did happen, Gerry?’ Rodway pressed.
‘I… don’t remember,’ said Gerry unhelpfully, rubbing the back of his head. ‘I was looking for a book on Fleetwood Mac for Kev’s birthday. I thought it’d be a nice surprise.’