‘So why aren’t you there with him?’

  ‘He didn’t offer. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.’

  Ray released his grip on Zhou’s throat and pointed a warning finger at the man’s face. ‘If you’re lying to me, I’ll be back to rip you limb from limb, CCTV or no CCTV.’

  Zhou wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ‘It’s the truth.’

  Ray jabbed his finger at Zhou’s face again. ‘And if you warn Lee, I swear to God I’ll kill you. I’ll do it personally and I’ll do it with pleasure.’

  Zhou put up his hands. ‘I won’t tell him. It’s none of my business. This is between you and him and I want nothing to do with it.’

  Ray stared at Zhou for several seconds, then nodded slowly. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We’re good.’ Zhou flinched as Ray reached out to adjust his shirt and tie, then straightened the shoulders of his jacket. ‘No harm done, right? We’re good?’

  Zhou swallowed nervously. ‘Yes. We’re good.’

  Ray patted Zhou on the shoulder and he flinched again. ‘I’ll be on my way, then,’ he said. ‘You have a nice day.’

  Ray turned to go, then gestured at the television. Two commentators were discussing the match against the backdrop of the crowded stadium. ‘Have you got a bet on the match?’

  Zhou nodded.

  ‘Yeah? Who do you think’s going to win?’

  ‘Chelsea,’ croaked Zhou. ‘By two goals.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ said Ray, as he headed for the door.

  Service was carrying on as normal when Ray stepped into the restaurant. The three waiters turned to glare at Ray as he walked by but he ignored them. He looked at his watch. Two twenty. Kick off in forty minutes.

  CHAPTER 37

  McNamara let the Chelsea team go out to warm up first. He always let the visitors go ahead so that they would bear the full brunt of the home team supporters as they jeered and cat-called. The Chelsea fans were segregated in a corner section of the stadium, four and a half thousand in all and no matter how hard they cheered they would always be drowned out by the home fans. McNamara let Chelsea have the pitch to themselves for two minutes, then had the team line up in the tunnel. Gabe was at the head of the line, bobbing from side to side, the adrenaline coursing through his system. The coach patted him on the back. ‘Give them another minute,’ he said.

  Gabe grinned. He knew all to well how unpleasant it was to be on the receiving end of the naked hostility of tens of thousands of chanting fans. Eventually McNamara nodded and pointed down the tunnel. Gabe started jogging down the tunnel. As he reached the entrance, the crowd saw him coming and the stadium filled with roars and cheers. As always the hairs on the back of Gabe’s neck stood on end and he felt a chill run down his spine. There was no other feeling like it in the world, the open adoration of thousands of fans, many of whom loved the club almost as much as they loved their families.

  Gabe left the tunnel and jogged between the seats where the coaching staff and substitutes would sit, and on to the pitch. The sound was deafening, a vibration as much as a noise that had his stomach churning. He looked around at the sea of Walford United colours and forced a smile, He waved his right hand in salute and headed for the goalmouth to his left. The Chelsea team were passing a couple of balls around at the other end of the pitch and their goalkeeper was doing some warm up exercises.

  Gabe jogged on the spot, then did a few star jumps. The pre-match warm-up was more for marketing reasons than anything else. The players could do all the warming up they wanted in the changing rooms, but an on-pitch warm-up meant the club could sell advertising space on the training kit so all the players had to turn out and go through the motions.

  He heard his name being called and he turned to see Maplethorpe kicking the ball towards him. Gabe reacted instinctively, trapping the ball on his chest, dropping it down to the ground and kicking it back. He jogged on the spot then ran over to intercept a ball that Mancini had sent skidding across the grass. Gabe could feel the anticipation building. Kick off was just thirty minutes away. He looked up at the windows of the family box. That was where Laura and Ollie would usually be. Ollie would always wave and give him a thumbs up. But not today.

  CHAPTER 38

  Ray had the route to the stadium on the BMW’s SatNav but the traffic was bad on the route it selected so he ignored it and took a series of rat runs through east London. He took a left down a narrow road, then a hard right. A man on a bike shouted at him but Ray barely heard him over the roar of the engine. He took another left, then a right, then braked at a line of traffic stopped at a red light. Ray cursed and beat a rapid tattoo on his steering wheel.

  There was a knock on the driver’s window and Ray turned to look at an angry cyclist. ‘Oi, you cut me up back there.’

  Ray scowled at the man. He was in his thirties with a black and white swept-back helmet that had a small camera mounted on it. He was wearing a tight yellow shirt and even tighter black pants and bright blue gloves. Ray doubted that the man could see through the tinted windows of the BMW.

  ‘You owe me an apology for what you did back there!’ shouted the man. He knocked on the window again.

  Ray looked ahead. The lights were still on red.

  The cyclist knocked again, harder this time. ‘You’re on video, you know. Caught on camera. I’ll be downloading this on You-Tube when I get home.’ Ray stared straight ahead. ‘Come on, wind this window down and apologise or I’ll report you to the police.’

  The man had one of those whiney upper-class voices that suggested a lifetime of entitlement and he clearly wasn’t going to stop harassing Ray, so Ray opened the door and slammed it against the man’s leg. The man yelped and Ray pulled the door back and slammed it even harder the second time. He heard the satisfying crack of something breaking and the man and his bike toppled into the road. The man began sobbing like a little girl. Ray closed the door. The light turned green and the cars ahead of him began to move. Ray pounded on his horn, encouraging them to move faster. He looked at the clock on the dashboard. Kick-off was just fifteen minutes away.

  CHAPTER 39

  Laura pushed herself up the bed, using her heels against the duvet and rolling her shoulders. ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ She could hear her son but not see him.

  ‘I’m trying to sit up, honey. That’s all.’ The man who’d brought them water had refused to untie them. He had helped her sit up while he held the bottle to her mouth, and then did the same for Ollie. When he’d finished giving them water he had been about to replace the duct tape around their mouths but Laura had begged him not to. He’d agreed not to gag them, but promised that if he heard any noise, any noise at all, he’d be back upstairs.

  ‘I’m scared,’ said Ollie.

  ‘I know, but it’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Why are they doing this?’

  ‘They want daddy to lose his game today.’

  ‘That’s stupid,’ said Ollie. ‘Why would they want him to lose? Anyway, he’s not going to lose, is he?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Laura. She pushed herself again and managed to get her head against the headboard. She grunted and pushed harder and got her shoulders up and with a final shove forced herself into a sitting position. She could see Ollie lying on his back on the couch. ‘Ollie, over here,’ she said.

  Ollie turned to look at her. ‘Mum!’

  ‘Keep your voice down, honey,’ she said. ‘We don’t want the men to hear us.’ She looked around. To her left was a large window, the blinds drawn. Next to the window was a dressing table and facing her was the door. The couch was to the right of the sofa and above it, on the wall, was a flatscreen TV. To her right was an open door leading into a bathroom.

  ‘What are you going to do, mum?’ asked Ollie.

  ‘Let me think, honey,’ said Laura. She stared at the duct tape binding her feet. It was presumably the same tape they had used to bind her hands behind her. She needed something to cut through the tape. But what? She looked around. There was a comb on the dressing table but it was plastic and she doubted that would work. There was a framed photograph of a couple, a man and a woman. The frame looked as if it was made of metal, silver perhaps, but the edges didn’t look sharp enough to cut the tape. She looked over at the bathroom door. There might be something there she could use.

  ‘Mum?’ said Ollie.

  ‘Hush, honey,’ said Laura. ‘Let me think.’

  She rolled her legs over the side of the bed. They had taken her shoes off and her bare feet brushed the thick pile carpet. She stood up slowly. There was no movement in the tape around her ankles, she was going to have to jump and she had no idea how much noise she would make. She hopped forward a few inches and the floorboards creaked under the carpet. She stayed still, listening intently until she was sure no one was coming upstairs, and she jumped again. The boards creaked louder this time. She sat back on the bed. ‘Ollie, do you think you can sit up?’ she asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I need something to cut the tape,’ she said. ‘There might be something in the bathroom.’

  ‘Like scissors?’

  ‘Like scissors, yes. But we need to be quiet. Now can you stand up?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ he said.

  ‘Good boy.’

  CHAPTER 40

  Ray knew that parking anywhere close to the stadium was going to be impossible on a match day so he started looking for somewhere to leave the BMW once he got within half a mile. He saw a garage in a railway arch and pulled in. A mechanic in stained blue overalls was looking under the bonnet of a Mini Cooper and he straightened up as Ray climbed out. ‘Sorry, mate, I’m fully booked, you’ll need to come back on Monday,’ said the mechanic in a heavy Geordie accent.

  Ray took out his money clip. ‘Mate, I just need to leave my car here for an hour or so.’ He gave the mechanic a fifty pound note. ‘There’s another one in your hand when I pick it up.’

  ‘I’m shutting up at five,’ said the man.

  ‘If I’m not back by five, leave it on the street,’ said Ray. He tossed the keys to the man. ‘Just put them on the back nearside wheel.’

  The mechanic slipped the note into the pocket of his overalls. ‘Five sharp, mind,’ he said, but Ray was already running down the street towards the stadium.

  CHAPTER 41

  Chelsea finished their warm-up first and jogged back to the tunnel to a tirade of abuse from around the stadium. When the visitors had left the pitch, McNamara waved his team back to the changing rooms. They jogged off the pitch and down into the tunnel. Gabe was first into the changing room and he pulled open his locker and grabbed his phone. He stared at the screen but his heart fell when he saw that Ray hadn’t called, He flinched as McNamara blew on his whistle. ‘Five minutes, guys,’ shouted McNamara.

  The squad began stripping off their training kit and changing into their match shirts. They all had two shirts to choose from – one short sleeved and one long – but both covered with the same advertising, the brewing company that belonged to the Thai owner. Gabe went for the long sleeve version. He pulled on his shirt, then sat down and adjusted his laces and shin pads. Armati was checking his hair in his locker mirror, then used some gel to get his quiff just right. He looked across and saw that Gabe was watching him. ‘It’s important to look good,’ said the Italian.

  ‘Is it, though?’ said Gabe. ‘Or is it going to mean you fuck up the first time you head the ball?’

  ‘Head the ball?’ said Armati. ‘Why would I head the ball? This game, it’s called football, you know? Not headball.’ He finished adjusting his hair and nodded at his reflection, then blew himself a kiss. ‘Now I am ready,’ he said.

  Wood walked by and ruffled Armati’s hair. The Italian cursed and launched a kick at Wood’s backside but Wood was too quick for him and skipped away. ‘You bastard!’ shouted Armati. ‘You’re only jealous because you’re as bald as a…’ He struggled for the word and looked over at Gabe.

  ‘Coot,’ said Gabe.

  ‘Bald as a coot!’ shouted Armati, but Wood had already disappeared into the toilets. The Italian looked down at Gabe. ‘What is a coot?’

  ‘Some sort of bird.’

  ‘A bald bird?’

  ‘I guess so.’ Gabe shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ His phone rang inside his locker and he sprang to his feet. He pulled open the door and grabbed his phone. ‘Yes, Ray, what’s happening?’

  ‘I’m outside.’

  ‘Outside? Outside where?’

  ‘The stadium.’

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here? Laura and Ollie aren’t here.’

  ‘No, but CK Lee is. He’s got a box’

  ‘So we call the cops?’

  ‘No, that won’t work. If they arrest him there’s a good chance you’ll never see Laura or Ollie again. I’ll take care of it. But I can’t get inside.’

  ‘Which entrance?’

  ‘The main one.’

  ‘See if there’s a steward there called Gerry. Gerry McGee.’

  Gabe flinched as a whistle blew close to his left ear. He turned to see McNamara glaring at him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ shouted the coach.

  ‘This is important, Joe,’ said Gabe.

  ‘Important? Are you having a laugh?’ McNamara jerked a thumb at the door. ‘Out there is important. For the next ninety minutes that’s all that matters.’

  Gabe turned his back on the coach and walked away. ‘Which entrance are you at?’ he asked Ray.

  ‘The main one. At the front.’

  ‘Go left to the players’ entrance,’ said Gabe. ‘Find a steward called Gerry McGee and let me talk to him.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Ray. ‘Stay on the line, whatever you do.’

  McNamara walked around to stand in front of Gabe. He pointed his finger at Gabe’s face. ‘A grand. I’m fining you a grand.’

  Gabe put his hand over the phone. ‘Terrific. I’ll give you the cash the moment the game’s over.’

  ‘Put that bloody phone down!’

  Gabe glared at the coach, then pushed past him, kicked open the door and hurried into the corridor. He heard McNamara shouting after him but all that mattered was getting Ray into the stadium.

  CHAPTER 42

  Ray ran at full pelt, his arms pumping at his sides as his shoes slapped against the pavement, his phone clutched in his left hand. There were only a few latecomers still filing into the stadium but they all turned to watch him run. He flew by two stewards, missing one by inches, and the man swore at Ray’s back. He saw a sign saying ‘PLAYERS ENTRANCE’ and a steward in a fluorescent jacket standing in front of the turnstile. Ray ran up to the man. ‘Are you Gerry?’

  ‘Gerry?’

  ‘Gerry McGee.’

  The man shook his head. ‘Gerry’s inside.’ He was in his forties with receding ginger hair and a transceiver clipped to his belt.

  ‘Can you tell him I want a word?’

  ‘He’s busy, pal. There’s a game about to start, in case you didn’t know.’

  Ray resisted the urge to smack the man in the mouth and instead smiled and held up the phone. ‘I’m Gabe Savage’s brother,’ he said. ‘He’s on the phone. Says I have to talk to Gerry.’

  The steward looked at his watch. ‘Like fuck he is, the team is getting ready to go onto the pitch. The game’s about to start.’

  Ray thrust the phone at the man. ‘Speak to him yourself.’

  The steward took the phone, frowning, and put it to his ear. ‘Who is this?’ he said.

  He listened for a few seconds, then muttered ‘Yes, sure, no problem,’ and gave the phone back to Ray. ‘Fuck me,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

  The man used a keycard to operate the turnstile and disappeared into the stadium. He returned a couple of minutes later with another steward. ‘I’m Gerry,’ said the man. ‘You’re Gabe’s brother?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Ray held out the phone. ‘He wants to talk to you.’

  CHAPTER 43

  Gabe paced up and down the corridor as he waited for McGee. The door to the visitor’s changing room opened and players began to file out. The Chelsea captain appeared and grinned at Gabe. ‘I thought your boss fined you for using the phone,’ he said.

  Gabe turned his back on him and walked down the corridor. McNamara came out and pointed a finger at Gabe. He was about to shout at him when he realised the Chelsea team were watching so instead he stormed over to Gabe. ‘Put that fucking phone away,’ he whispered.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Gabe.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have to take this call, Joe. I just have to. I understand the rules, and you are going to have to do what you have to do, but I have to take this call. I’m sorry.’

  He heard Ray on the phone. ‘He’s here. Talk to him.’

  ‘One minute,’ Gabe said to the coach. ‘That’s all I need.’ McNamara looked as if he was going to argue, but then the fight went out of him. ‘One minute,’ he said. ‘Or you can get dressed and fuck off.’ He turned and walked away, slamming open the door to the changing rooms and disappearing inside.

  ‘This is Gerry,’ said the steward in his ear.

  ‘Gerry, mate, I need a big favour,’ Gabe said.

  ‘Sure, Gabe. No problem.’

  ‘My brother Ray’s there. Can you let him in? I didn’t have time to get him a ticket or put him on the list.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll do that, no problem. Do you want me to take him to the family box?’

  ‘He’ll be okay, Gerry, I know you’ve got a lot to do. Thanks for this. I owe you.’

  ‘Anything for you, Gabe. And good luck out there.’

  Gerry ended the call and hurried back into the changing room as the rest of the United team were filing out. McNamara threw Gabe a withering look as he rushed over to his locker and tossed the phone inside. He went back into the tunnel and took his place at the head of the line, taking deep breaths to steady himself. McNamara looked at his watch then gestured for Brett to open the door. ‘Here we go, lads. Let’s give it our best.’

 

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