The Squad Read online

  TOM PALMER

  PUFFIN

  Table of Contents

  MONDAY

  Falling Down

  World War Three

  Keeping Secrets

  Boys v. Girls

  Team Spirit

  Listening Devices

  Warhead

  The Hawk

  TUESDAY

  Attack

  Military Response

  Bore Draw

  Inuit

  Aerial Attack

  On the Edge

  Downhill

  By the Sea

  To the Top of the World

  WEDNESDAY

  The Ship Prison Cell

  The American

  Family

  Orders from Above

  Polaria

  Georgia

  Questions and Answers

  Debrief

  Lies

  Captain’s Table

  Dead End

  Ghosts

  THURSDAY

  Cold Town

  Human Prey

  Storm

  The Fall

  Jim

  Underwater

  FRIDAY

  Jigsaw Pieces

  England v. USA

  The Penalty

  The Bomb

  Baseball

  Tromsø Treaty

  All at Sea

  Thank Yous

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Tom Palmer is an author and football fan. He is a frequent visitor to schools and libraries to talk about reading, writing and football. He has also worked with the National Literacy Trust, the Reading Agency and the Premier League Reading Stars scheme in his quest to promote a passion for reading among boys.

  Tom is the author of the Football Academy and Foul Play series. He lives in Yorkshire with his family where he loves to watch football and run.

  Find out more about Tom and read his blog at www.tompalmer.co.uk. You can also access a free schools’ activity pack about the issues in White Fear at Tom’s website.

  Books by Tom Palmer

  THE SQUAD SERIES IN READING ORDER:

  BLACK OP

  WHITE FEAR

  FOUL PLAY SERIES IN READING ORDER:

  FOUL PLAY

  DEAD BALL

  OFF SIDE

  KILLER PASS

  OWN GOAL

  FOR YOUNGER READERS

  Football Academy series in reading order:

  BOYS UNITED

  STRIKING OUT

  THE REAL THING

  READING THE GAME

  FREE KICK

  CAPTAIN FANTASTIC

  To Rifleman Jim Sells

  MONDAY

  Falling Down

  Four children crouched motionless on the top of the tallest building in the most northern city in the world, waiting for the order to jump.

  Around them were some of the most spectacular views they had ever seen: vast snow-topped crags, deep gorges with fjords running through them, a row of black mountains in the distance. But they weren’t there to look at the scenery. The trip was strictly business, not pleasure.

  A fifth child – Lesh – sat in a wheelchair, waiting to relay that order and send the other four over the top. For Lesh, this was the first outing since his accident on their last mission. An accident that had left him paralysed from the waist downwards. So today he was determined to get everything right. To the second.

  ‘Remind me why we’re doing this?’ Adnan, a stocky Asian boy, murmured to the two girls crouching next to him.

  One was white with blonde hair. Lily.

  The other black with tight dark plaits. Hatty.

  ‘There’s someone we need to talk to,’ Kester, the fourth member of the group, said. ‘And this is the only way of reaching him.’

  ‘Who?’ Hatty asked.

  ‘I’m not allowed to say.’

  ‘Thirty seconds,’ Lesh said.

  ‘Why not?’ Hatty pressed.

  ‘Orders.’

  ‘And why do you know and we don’t?’

  ‘I’m the leader,’ Kester said firmly.

  ‘Twenty seconds,’ Lesh said, concentrating on his watch.

  Lily listened to the others bickering, but decided not to join in. She too was trying to work out what was going on.

  The point was that they were not supposed to meet or to be introduced to anybody new. The five of them were a secret. So secret, in fact, that only their commander and their commander’s commander knew about them.

  Their role?

  To travel around the world and carry out black-op missions to save British lives.

  Their name?

  The Squad.

  Five children who work for the British government, spying in the places that ordinary spies cannot reach.

  ‘Ten seconds.’

  ‘Bear in mind it’s windy,’ Kester warned. ‘As you fall, it will affect your descent.’

  Lily shifted her feet and prepared to move, her mind still whirring. Who, she asked herself, was this person they were going to meet? Why was he about to find out who they were? And why could they only meet him like this?

  ‘Five.’

  The four children stood as one.

  ‘Four.

  ‘Three.

  ‘Two.

  ‘One.’

  ‘Go,’ Kester said in a low voice.

  And, with that, four children threw themselves over the side of the building.

  Lily felt her rope tighten almost as soon as she began to fall. She released it, hand over hand, her three friends moving down at the same pace. Lily felt her feet bounce twice on the side of the building as she descended, then land on something solid.

  A balcony.

  Without wasting a second – a second in which they might be seen from below – the four children pushed open a pair of large glass doors and entered the warmth of a huge room, lavishly decorated with a large chandelier, oil paintings and a plush red carpet.

  ‘Shut the door,’ the woman facing them ordered.

  Adnan, the last one in, eased the door to and the four Squad members found themselves facing a man and the woman who had spoken. The woman, with bright copper hair, was no stranger to them. She was Julia, their commander. The man, however, was a surprise.

  Even though the four Squad members, as trained spies, were supposed to be able to mask their reactions and appear as if nothing could shock them, Lily heard at least two of her friends quietly gasp. Because they all knew exactly who the man was. His face was in the newspapers and on the TV every day. He was about as famous as you could be.

  They were looking at the British Prime Minister.

  And now they knew that this mission, high in the Arctic Circle, was going to be their most dangerous and most exciting to date.

  World War Three

  ‘Good morning … er … children,’ the Prime Minister said.

  They were standing in an astonishing hotel suite, all of them stunned into silence. It had three sofas, a giant TV screen and a large desk strewn with papers. The walls were decorated with a green and gold leaf pattern. Real gold. Beyond the desk was the massive window that opened out on to the amazing view they had seen from the roof: Norway’s northernmost city and its magnificent surroundings.

  Hatty was smiling. Smiling because she couldn’t believe that the Squad were meeting the British Prime Minister. This was the man who was in control of their country. If they were meeting him – and he was telling them what to do in person – whatever mission Julia had for them, it was going to be serious. Deadly serious.

  Face to face, the Prime Minister looked smaller than he did on the television. He also looked uneasy. His face was flushed. He was fidgeting with his hands. From the far end of the room he was watched by a young man who was holding a file of documents and wearing
a pair of expensive sunglasses.

  The Prime Minister cleared his throat. ‘We’ve brought you to the Arctic for a reason,’ he said. Then he paused, still seemingly unsure as to how he should talk to them. Hatty knew what this was about: the Prime Minister wasn’t used to giving orders to children.

  ‘Please, sir,’ Julia said. ‘Brief them as you would brief me. The children need to understand the sensitivity of the mission.’

  The Prime Minister looked at Julia, hesitated, then tried again.

  ‘This week there’s a very important conference taking place here in Norway,’ he said. ‘Let me explain. All the nations that have a claim to the seabed beneath the Arctic ice … the melting Arctic ice … well, they’re here … to discuss who owns which part of that seabed.’

  Kester understood what the PM meant. ‘Norway, Canada, Russia, the United States, Denmark, Iceland.’ He reeled off a list of the countries involved. ‘They need to work out how to divide the seabed up without a war starting.’

  The Prime Minister looked more relaxed. ‘To put it simply, yes. If we can convince them to sign a Tromsø Treaty – an agreement as to who owns what in the Arctic – then it will most definitely prevent a war.’

  ‘You’re chairing the conference because you’re neutral,’ Lily added. ‘I read about it in a Norwegian newspaper on the flight.’

  ‘A Norwegian newspaper? Do you know Norwegian?’

  ‘Lily knows several languages, sir,’ Kester clarified.

  ‘Very good,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘I’m impressed. You’ll know what’s really at stake here. The truth is that under the seabed, here in the Arctic, there are billions of pounds’ worth of oil and gas and other resources. Trillions in fact. Added to that – and as I’m sure you know – the world is fast running out of oil and gas. Therefore, whichever country can get its hands on that oil and gas will be rich and strong and far more powerful than any other nation. If one country does get the lion’s share, it will, effectively, rule the world.’

  ‘Which is why there might be a war,’ Hatty said, speaking for the first time. ‘Because oil means war.’

  The Prime Minister closed his eyes again and nodded. ‘Yes. You’re absolutely right. The chance of a war is growing by the day. But there doesn’t have to be a war. If we can stop the people who want to disrupt this conference, then we can – and we will – avoid it.’

  ‘We?’ Hatty asked.

  The Prime Minister smiled at Hatty. Lily smiled too: she was always interested to see how adults reacted to Hatty’s blunt questions and remarks. But that was Hatty for you.

  ‘You are the “we”,’ the Prime Minster said. ‘Look. I’m not happy that we’re using … I mean … working with … you … with children, but really we have no choice.’

  ‘We’re a very experienced unit, sir,’ Kester said.

  ‘Yes, so I’ve heard.’ The Prime Minister was looking at the four children as if he was trying to make sense of them. ‘But tell me how the football element of your cover works. I know about you, but very little about what you do.’

  ‘It started in Poland, sir,’ Kester explained.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We needed to be able to get into places without being identified as spies. Anywhere in the world. And no one would suspect a kids’ football team of espionage.’

  ‘That’s true. But what about the other players, your teammates?’ the Prime Minister asked. ‘Do they know about what you do?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘That must be very tricky. I mean, to hide it from them.’

  ‘We keep the two worlds separate,’ Kester said. ‘We take precautions. Like any spy ring.’

  The Prime Minister nodded. ‘Good. As you know, we’ve organized for you to be involved in a tournament here for just that purpose. USA, Canada, Norway and yourselves. I’m looking forward to seeing you play. I’m a huge soccer fan myself.’

  Lily winced. She hated to hear English people call football ‘soccer’. It made it seem like they didn’t know what they were talking about.

  ‘Sir,’ Julia broke in. ‘The conference. We need the children to understand the sensitivity of this mission.’

  ‘Indeed,’ the Prime Minister said, focusing.

  ‘Can I ask …?’ Kester interrupted.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, can I ask why anyone would try to disrupt the conference? I mean, why would they want to spoil the chance of a Tromsø Treaty?’

  ‘Julia?’ The Prime Minister passed the question on to the Squad’s commander.

  ‘We suspect several people,’ Julia explained. ‘We have intelligence to indicate that someone may be planning to undo the work the Prime Minister is doing here. That is, to make sure no agreement happens. Perhaps they think that, if there really is a war, then their country would get more oil than if everyone just made a group decision. It’s basic greed, really. We need you to find out what these people are planning.’

  ‘Who would want to do that?’ Hatty asked.

  ‘We’ll go into it later, Hatty,’ Julia said quickly. ‘Let’s not bother the Prime Minister with that now. The fact is someone is planning to undermine the conference. We know that.’

  ‘The who is related to the why.’ The Prime Minister interrupted Julia this time, glancing at his watch. ‘But the truthful answer is we don’t know which of them it is, so we don’t know why exactly they want to do it. But we do know that, if the Tromsø Treaty doesn’t come off, some of the countries involved are ready to start drilling now in places they shouldn’t be.’

  ‘For instance, sir?’ Julia pressed.

  ‘For instance? Well, Russia has a fleet of ice-breaking ships and massive oil-drilling ships that they could take to places that maybe aren’t Russian, and they may start drilling just to see what happens, to test how another country reacts.’

  ‘So why us?’ Hatty asked. ‘This is a big deal. Is it something suited to us? Surely this is down to politicians or adult spies. I don’t see why you need children to do this for you.’

  ‘That’s the point,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘The only adults allowed in this hotel to attend the conference are government officials. Like Mr Luxton over there.’

  The Prime Minister pointed at the silent young man holding the file in the corner.

  ‘There are going to be no maids to service the bedrooms, just to make sure no undercover officer from any country is posing as a hotel worker. Prime ministers are going to have to make their own beds! Therefore, no spies can be here. It’s the perfect way to keep things fair. In fact, the only people staying at this hotel, other than known government officials and the UN soldiers making sure that everyone sticks to the agreement, are you and the other three teams taking part in your football tournament. All of you children.’

  ‘And because we’re children,’ Hatty said, ‘no one will suspect us.’

  ‘Exactly,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘And all the Arctic Powers agree that having innocent children and sport around the conference sends a good message to the world.’

  ‘That we are the future,’ Lily said. ‘That you’re saving the world for the children.’

  ‘It’s good to think about the children.’ Adnan spoke before the Prime Minister could reply. ‘But isn’t this terrible for the planet? Surely more oil coming out of the seabed means more global warming. That’s no good for the polar bears.’

  The Prime Minister put his hand to his mouth and spoke again. ‘If we can encourage the countries involved to drill for oil in controlled and cleaner ways, then it’s the best we can hope for. More chaotic drilling or a war would make it far worse for the wildlife. Don’t you think?’

  There was an uneasy silence.

  ‘So, can you help me?’ the Prime Minister asked.

  All four children said yes as one.

  ‘Good.’ The Prime Minister smiled, stepping forward. ‘Now, please, do tell me your names.’

  None of the children spoke.

  Then Kester broke the silence.
‘It’s probably best, sir, that you don’t know our names.’

  After the children had shared a tray of soft drinks with the Prime Minister, Julia signalled that it was time to leave his elegant hotel suite.

  ‘Even if I’m not to know your names,’ the Prime Minister said, ‘I want to say thank you for the work that you do. You know that I’m serious about the possibility that the conference could end in a war between some of the greatest countries in the world. It would be such a global disaster that it may turn into World War Three. If …’ The Prime Minister hesitated. ‘If anyone was left to speak of it afterwards.’

  Keeping Secrets

  Once the Prime Minister had left them, walking briskly into the adjoining room to receive a call on his mobile phone, the Squad made to leave, eyeing the ropes still dangling on the balcony outside. But Julia stopped them.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘There’s more.’

  Kester, Lily, Adnan and Hatty moved into a tight cluster round their commander.

  ‘As you know, I am leaving Tromsø tonight,’ Julia said. ‘There are to be no adults here other than those strictly involved in the conference. You’ll be working alone, but I’ll remain mission commander … from a distance. So, before I go: any questions?’

  ‘Who are we looking for?’ Hatty asked, putting her hands on her hips. ‘And also why didn’t you want to talk about suspects in front of the Prime Minister?’

  Julia rolled her eyes. ‘Hatty, Hatty, Hatty …’

  ‘Yes, Julia?’

  ‘Your mind never rests, does it?’

  ‘Never,’ Hatty replied.

  ‘OK.’ Julia smiled, looking at her watch. ‘I’ll tell you. The first person is a Russian. He’s called Sergei Esenin. His father was a well-known spy.’

  ‘And you think he’s a spy too?’ Adnan jumped in.

  ‘We have no direct evidence that Esenin junior is a secret agent. That’s what we want you to discover,’ Julia said brusquely, checking her watch again. ‘The fact is that he’s here and, if he is a spy, or some sort of undercover operative, we need you to get evidence to prove it. But he has the credentials to be a genuine expert on oil drilling in the Arctic. It is possible he’s not a spy and never has been. OK?’