Black Op Page 12

  Lily gasped for a second time, terrified the falling man might hit her friend, and shouting, ‘LESH … LOOK OUT!’

  The noise of Svid hitting the ground below was not right.

  Then another sound. Someone screaming.

  ‘LESH?’ she shouted.

  There was no reply. She sprinted down the steps, frantic with worry about her friend. Thirty metres down she found Svid. He was lying with his arms and legs twisted underneath him, his head smashed open.

  But she dismissed him from her thoughts. He was dead. And that was good. But it was Lesh she was worried about. Where was he? This was the place he should have been by her reckoning: right where the dead man was lying. And why was the wooden banister rail half torn off, if Svid was two metres away from it and hadn’t actually fallen on it?

  Lily knew the answer. It was obvious.

  She stepped over the dead body to stare down to the bottom of the clock tower.

  The Sculpture

  Kester, Adnan and Hatty ran across the square at the same time that Lily and Lesh entered the church. They had no idea where Svid’s cronies were, so they needed to get to the other side fast.

  But as the trio approached the far corner, Hatty, who was ahead, suddenly changed direction and ran to the side of a solitary tower that stood in one corner casting a great shadow across the square. The other two followed her unquestioningly, knowing she’d seen something.

  ‘Is that them?’ Kester asked, slightly breathless, pointing to two men wearing fake England tops in a cafe.

  ‘It is,’ Hatty confirmed.

  ‘How are we going to get them?’ Adnan asked. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘We need them in an enclosed space away from the public to use a grenade,’ Kester said. ‘A small room or an alleyway to use the tranquillizer gun.’

  ‘That’s impossible, so long as they’re in the cafe,’ Hatty said. ‘We have to wait for them to move on.’

  ‘Let’s at least get closer,’ Adnan suggested. ‘Take some photos of them.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Kester.

  ‘Look. See that sculpture thing there?’ Adnan went on, pointing at a giant head sculpture on its side between the tower and the cafe. ‘I saw it earlier. It’s hollow and its eyes are facing the cafe. I’ll go in it and take the photos from there.’

  ‘OK,’ Kester said, looking at the mic in his watch. ‘We’ll wait here and observe. Then we can always run back to help Lily if we’re needed. I just wish I could get her on this thing. Can you, Hatty?’

  ‘I’m getting nothing,’ Hatty said. ‘It’s like our comms system is down. This is insane. I mean, we can’t talk to Julia or Jim and now each other. Someone is doing this to us.’

  ‘We just have to go on,’ Kester said decisively.

  ‘I agree,’ said Adnan. ‘I’ll go and take some pictures of the men right now. Give me a grenade. Just in case.’

  ‘In case of what?’ Kester asked.

  ‘In case I get lucky,’ Adnan said.

  Kester gave him a quizzical look, but still handed Adnan his rucksack, which contained the camera and the grenades. ‘Take the whole bag,’ he said.

  Then the two of them watched as Adnan walked to the sculpture, keeping it between him and the two men, so they wouldn’t see him approaching.

  Once he was inside the sculpture, Adnan moved four or five metres to the far end and, on tiptoes, looked out of the higher eye. The gap was about the size of his head, perfect to put a camera through without being seen.

  But not being seen wasn’t part of Adnan’s plan. He’d had an idea, something that might work, but that Kester would never agree to. Something that would involve the gas grenade.

  Kester continued to watch the two men. They were smoking and drinking coffee under one of the cafe’s sunshades that were fluttering in the light wind. He wondered if Adnan was getting good photographs. He hoped so: they could be invaluable when tracking the men down later.

  Hatty was looking towards the church, checking to see any sign of what Lily and Lesh were up to. She hated this waiting around. Inaction was unbearable.

  And then the men in the cafe stood suddenly and pointed at the sculpture that Adnan was hiding in. Before Kester could even tell Hatty, they were up out of their chairs, moving quickly towards Adnan. Kester expected to see Adnan come running out of the statue, but all he could see was the flashing of a camera. Adnan’s camera. What was he doing? Was he mad? He was still taking photos as the men approached him.

  ‘Hatty. Adnan needs us.’

  But it was too late. As Kester and Hatty began to run towards their friend, they saw the two men were standing in the opening to the sculpture, that Adnan had moved right to the back and that now the men had gone in after him.

  What was going on?

  At the same time there were noises from the other side of the square. Applause. A crowd cheering.

  ‘The England team must be coming in,’ Kester said.

  Then he heard Hatty scream and watched her running over towards Adnan and the men.

  Wisps of gas were coming from the sculpture and people were backing away from it, some on their mobiles, others with scarves over their faces and mouths.

  And Kester knew that both the terrorists and Adnan would now be out cold. Adnan had let off the gas grenade.

  Never Again

  Lily sprinted down the next flight of steps, two images flashing through her mind.

  The first was what she had just seen when she’d looked down: Lesh lying twenty metres below, unconscious on the stone slabs at the bottom of the church tower.

  The second was Rob twisted in agony on the helicopter floor, just before he died. The hole in his leg. The blood. Knowing that he was going to die.

  It could not be happening again. Lily wouldn’t be able to bear it if Lesh was dead.

  ‘Lesh! Lesh!’ she shouted, finally reaching him, falling on her knees and grabbing his wrist.

  But he did not reply. His face was pale and his lips had turned a strange colour, so Lily put her ear to his mouth to see if he was breathing.

  He was not.

  Lily opened his mouth to check for blockages. Nothing. Next she tipped his head back and breathed two long breaths into him. Basic life support came to her easily. Then she pumped thirty times on his chest, trying to start his heart again.

  ‘It’s OK, Lesh. It’s going to be OK,’ she sobbed.

  As she worked, Lily felt a shadow fall over her. She looked up to see the priest who had been taking the church service. She breathed twice more into Lesh and saw the priest kneel beside her, put his hands together and murmur in a low voice.

  After thirty more pumps to his chest, Lily moved in to see if Lesh was breathing, putting her ear next to his mouth and – after too long a gap – felt her ear tickled by his breath.

  He was alive.

  ‘Ambulance,’ Lily said. ‘He’s breathing. But his pulse is weak.’

  The man nodded, pulled an iPhone out of his cassock and immediately began dialling. No questions. He just did what she asked. Lily tried to smile at him to say thank you, but she knew her face was a twisted mass of tears and fears.

  As the priest spoke to the ambulance service, Lily put Lesh into the recovery position, one leg straight, the other bent forward.

  ‘The ambulance will be here in five minutes,’ the priest said in Polish. ‘Is there anything more I can do?’

  ‘No. Thank you,’ Lily said, comforted by the man’s kindness. And by the fact that, as well as being able to feel Lesh’s pulse, she could also see his chest rising and falling.

  But now that she had dealt with one problem, another surfaced. She could hear the crowds cheering the England first team outside again. How was the ambulance going to get through? Everyone would be making sure the famous footballers were comfortable and happy, not worrying about an emergency vehicle that they probably thought was th
ere just in case a player needed it.

  ‘Lesh?’ she said. But there was no response. ‘Lesh. I’m going outside to make sure the ambulance finds us. OK?’

  Then she looked at the priest. ‘Please. Hold his hand.’

  The priest took Lesh’s hand and Lily knew he was safe. So long as she could get this ambulance.

  Outside the cathedral, in the bright piercing light, there was no sign of Kester, Adnan and Hatty. Only row after row of people and, next to a large luxury coach and behind some barriers, a group of men in blue suits. Lily recognized Theo Walcott, Joe Hart and Ashley Young right away. They looked strange in suits. She was so used to seeing them in their England or club strip.

  Beyond them, Lily saw the ambulance pulling into the square. Its light was flashing blue and white, but its passage was blocked off by the crowd. How was she going to get the ambulance through? Then she noticed a large stone bollard and, without a thought, she leaped on to it.

  Now she could see everything. The footballers. The crowd around them. The ambulance. She desperately wanted to call Kester, but their comms were still down. She needed another plan.

  ‘Theo!’ she shouted suddenly, targeting the nearest England player.

  Theo Walcott didn’t look round. A hundred people were shouting his name. Why would he look just at her? She had to get his attention. Then she knew. She’d use his middle name: she knew all the players’ middle names.

  ‘THEO JAMES WALCOTT! THEO JAMES WALCOTT!’

  Immediately she saw Theo Walcott turn towards her with a surprised look on his face. Her trick had worked. Now that he was looking her in the eye, she had to get it right.

  ‘THE AMBULANCE. HELP IT GET THROUGH. PLEASE.’

  Theo Walcott looked round and saw the ambulance. He stuck a thumb up to Lily, then acted quickly, speaking to his teammates, pointing at Lily, who watched in amazement as the England team fanned out in their blue suits, easing the crowd backwards, gradually making a perfect path for the ambulance to come through the crowd. It was like something out of a film and it filled her with hope that Lesh might live.

  With a clear path, the ambulance manoeuvred down the side of the church, its paramedics acting swiftly, finding and examining Lesh, then putting him into a moulded plastic stretcher that would support his neck and his back, in case he had injured them. They beckoned Lily to come with them.

  Lily was just getting into the ambulance when she saw Kester, Hatty and Adnan standing a little way back. Hatty and Kester seemed to be holding Adnan up. It looked odd. Lily wanted to know what had happened to them. Had they managed to get the other two men? Was everything safe now? Had they found Jim?

  As she stared – uncomprehending – at her friends, Lily saw Kester, Hatty and Adnan each stick up a thumb. The other two men had been dealt with: she knew that for sure. They had succeeded in stopping the attack.

  Mission accomplished.

  Lily tried to speak to Kester through her mic one more time, just to say well done, but it was no use. They would have to do that later. And, anyway, she had Lesh to worry about. This was no time for celebrating.

  And now the ambulance was ready to leave.

  Lily knew her duty was to Lesh and that the others could look after whatever else needed dealing with, so she turned and went to sit next to her friend in the ambulance, only to find someone else was sitting in there too, concealed from the others.

  Kester led Hatty and Adnan back to the hotel.

  For a couple of minutes the three Squad members edged through the crowds of people without speaking. They were shattered.

  Eventually Adnan spoke. ‘We should be celebrating. We stopped the attack.’

  Kester put his arm round his friend and smiled.

  ‘Not until we know Lesh is OK,’ Hatty said. ‘Not until we find Jim. We go back to the hotel and start looking.’

  Breaking and Entering

  Kester, Hatty and Adnan walked out of the city centre towards their hotel. It was a twenty-minute journey among the crowds of people heading back to their homes and offices, crowds who had seen the England players, unaware that a major terror attack on their city had just been averted.

  ‘What now?’ Hatty asked.

  ‘Try Jim again?’ Kester suggested.

  ‘No,’ said Hatty. ‘It’s time to call Julia.’

  Kester sighed. He knew she was right. They had tried Jim again and again. Julia was his commander too, so they needed to call her now. ‘Is your SpyPhone working yet?’ he asked the other two. Both shook their heads.

  ‘We need a public phone booth then.’

  They walked towards a cluster of apartment blocks near the Cracovia football stadium and quickly found a public phone. Kester dialled the emergency number Julia had asked them all to memorize before they headed off to Poland. He suddenly felt very tired: it had been a tough week.

  The phone rang three times, then the line went quiet. Kester tried the number again. Now the line was dead.

  ‘Nothing,’ he told Hatty and Adnan.

  ‘That’s it then,’ Hatty said. ‘No Jim. No Julia. No SpyPhones. No nothing. What do we do?’

  Kester sensed panic – or anger – in Hatty’s voice. He knew this was the time for him to be strong and calm, even though he felt exactly the same as she did deep inside. He led the other two out of the housing estate and into the open parkland as they talked.

  ‘We go back to the hotel,’ Kester said, understanding what they had to do now. ‘We look for Jim. If we can’t find him, we break into his room and search for something to tell us what’s going on.’

  Jim was not at the hotel. They knocked on his door, searched every public space and corridor, but there was no sign of him. So they went looking for the other footballers.

  As expected, Rio and Finn were playing FIFA 12 in Rio’s room. Neither had seen Jim either.

  ‘He wasn’t at breakfast – or here to take training,’ Rio explained.

  ‘Why don’t you take a training session, Rio?’ Kester suggested. ‘We’ll try and track down Jim.’

  Rio seemed pleased at that. ‘Do you think that’ll be OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kester replied. ‘Everyone looks up to you. And you’re the captain.’

  Rio immediately started organizing players for a training session.

  With Rio and the others out of the way, Kester could do what he wanted to do next. He stood at the turn in the hotel corridor and as Adnan covered a CCTV camera with a small piece of card, Hatty walked up to Jim’s room and, using her SpyPhone, decoded his door. A green light came on and Hatty was in.

  Kester watched as Hatty disappeared, listening to the bangs of cupboard doors and the creak of a bed being moved before he saw Hatty emerge from the room.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, when they were back on the fire exit staircase.

  ‘What?’ Adnan asked.

  ‘Jim’s room is empty. All his bags and clothes and everything. Gone.’

  Another silence. Kester closed his eyes. Then his earpiece crackled. Their comms were back on.

  ‘Kester?’ It was Lily.

  ‘Lily? What’s going on? Is Lesh OK?’

  ‘I’m in my room,’ she said. ‘You’d all best come in here.’

  The three children filed into Lily’s room. She looked grave and pale. They heard a flush coming from behind the bathroom door.

  ‘Lesh?’ Hatty said. ‘Is he OK?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘It’s not Lesh.’

  ‘Jim?’ Adnan asked.

  ‘No,’ Lily replied as the bathroom door opened and a figure appeared.

  ‘Julia!’ Kester gasped.

  After they had got over their initial shock, Julia asked the children to sit down.

  ‘We’ve a lot to get through,’ she said as they found chairs and window ledges to perch on and Julia flicked her scrambler on.

  ‘Lily? Update everyone on Lesh. Th
ey’ll want to know.’

  ‘Lesh is OK,’ Lily explained. ‘Well, he’s not OK. He fell inside the cathedral tower. It looks like he’s broken a leg and an arm. But they’re not sure yet. He –’

  ‘Lily saved his life,’ Julia interrupted. ‘She gave him mouth-to-mouth. She also stopped Svid from firing the rocket launcher. He’s dead.’

  ‘The other men have been arrested too,’ Kester said, leaning across and touching Lily on the shoulder.

  ‘Yes,’ Julia said. ‘I have some information from the Polish authorities, who found them inside a sculpture apparently. Who arranged that?’

  ‘Adnan did it,’ Kester said, grinning. ‘He was brave.’

  ‘It strikes me,’ Julia said, ‘that you’ve all been brave. You have achieved something amazing, this week. You stopped an attack on the England team. You made sure all three attackers were apprehended. You should all be very proud of yourselves.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kester said. ‘But what about …’

  ‘What about Jim Sells?’ Julia said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘No, he was working with Svid. He’s gone. I don’t think we’ll ever see him again.’

  The four children said nothing. They just stared at Julia.

  The Unthinkable

  ‘WHAT?’ Lily shouted.

  ‘He’s been … ?’ Hatty couldn’t finish her sentence.

  ‘Working with Svid,’ Julia confirmed.

  ‘No.’ Adnan was shaking his head. He felt sick.

  The four children stared speechlessly at each other, their eyes red.

  ‘You must have made a mistake,’ Kester said. ‘How can you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘HOW?’ Hatty shouted. She felt as if all the rules of how to behave with Julia had been shattered.

  ‘Jim contacted me,’ Julia said calmly. ‘To ask if you were all OK.’