Black Op

by Tom Palmer

  ‘This is crazy,’ Lily said. ‘I thought the …’

  ‘… the world of him,’ Hatty said. ‘So did I.’

  ‘He phoned me,’ Julia continued. ‘From somewhere in Ukraine, I think.’

  ‘Are you saying he was behind all this and he wants to know if we’re OK? I …’

  ‘He was working with Svid?’ Kester whispered. ‘How? Why?’

  ‘He was working with Svid and against us. But maybe not you. If you think about it, he meant you to be miles away when all the trouble happened. That’s why you ended up by Lake Roznowskie, when all the action was going on in Krakow. I understand he tried to stop the helicopter coming to get you. That’s what gave me a hint that something was going on. But I think he was trying to protect you.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Hatty snorted. ‘But he’s happy for the England team to be killed?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Julia, ‘it seems like he was happy for that to happen.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Adnan said. ‘He’s English. He played for England.’

  Lily was shaking her head. ‘But why? How could anyone want that?’

  Julia stepped forward and put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. ‘It’s perhaps not that he wanted it to happen. It might be more like he couldn’t stop it happening.’

  ‘Yes, he could,’ Lily spat. ‘If he knew about it, he must have been part of it.’

  ‘Lily, he’s a spy,’ Julia said. ‘Or an agent. We don’t even know who for. It’s a complex world.’

  ‘There’s nothing complex about killing people!’ Lily shouted. ‘People with families. What’s complex about that?’

  ‘Lily’s right,’ Hatty said. ‘It’s disgusting. It’s like you think this is OK, Julia.’

  ‘No,’ Julia said, her voice calm. ‘If we see him, we will have to deal with him. I’m just trying to say that, as spies, we have to understand why he did what he did from his point of view.’

  ‘We’ve been so stupid,’ Lily growled.

  ‘No, Lily.’ Julia raised her voice for the first time. ‘I’m the one who was stupid actually. I was the one who took on Jim to command this mission. I vetted him and he was as clean as a whistle. My intelligence failed. Jim is as good a sleeper agent as there could be. And as bad a traitor. What you, Lily, should be telling yourself is not that you let everyone down, but that you saved the day. You were at the sharp end of all the missions. You terminated Svid. You saved Lesh’s life. You saved the England team from being blown up.’

  ‘This is awful,’ Lily said.

  Now Julia was shouting. ‘What was the purpose of your mission?’

  The Squad reeled. Julia never shouted.

  ‘To stop the attack on the –’ Adnan started.

  ‘To stop the attack on the England team and make sure all those involved were caught,’ Julia interrupted. ‘And did you achieve that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kester answered.

  ‘So your mission was successful. A hard mission. Made harder by your commander in the field being against you from the start. This should be a time to celebrate,’ Julia said, staring at Lily. ‘You have done an amazing thing for your country.’

  ‘I don’t feel like celebrating,’ Lily said sullenly. She looked at Kester and Hatty and Adnan. ‘Do you want to celebrate?’

  All three shook their heads, frowning.

  ‘Well,’ Julia said, softening her tone, ‘take it from me, you are national heroes. You might not feel like it now, but you are and one day I hope you will celebrate.’

  ‘I might celebrate if I hear that Jim is dead,’ Lily said, her voice wobbling. ‘All I want now is to get out of here and go back to England.’

  ‘That might be so,’ Julia said.

  ‘What does that mean?’ Hatty asked. ‘Can’t we go home now?’

  ‘There’s unfinished business,’ Julia smiled.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The game against Russia.’

  ‘No way,’ Hatty said. ‘We’re not playing that.’

  Team Players

  ‘WHAT’S GOING ON?’

  Georgia was shouting at the back four: Kester, Hatty, Lily and Johnny, who had been slotted in to take Lesh’s place. England versus Russia. The Russian players were heading for the dressing rooms, applauded by the two thousand or so fans who had come to watch the final of this international youth tournament.

  It was England 0 Russia 2. Half-time.

  ‘It’s hard,’ Kester said to Georgia as the other players gathered round in a circle on the pitch, ‘without Lesh. We’re struggling. We need more support from the midfield.’

  But he knew it wasn’t true. The fact was the Squad were shattered after days and nights of football and missions – and confused by everything to do with Jim and Julia and Lesh. They’d told the footballers Lesh had had a fall in the church. Nothing else.

  ‘No, you don’t need more support from the midfield!’ Georgia yelled. ‘You’re playing like you did against the Faroes. Really, really badly. Like you’ve never played football before in your lives. This is the final of a major tournament. We could have won something today. There’s a trophy. We’re representing our country. We’ve already lost and it’s not even half-time …’

  Rio put his hand on Georgia’s shoulder. ‘Cool it, Georgia. We’re missing Lesh. He was badly injured. And Jim’s gone, so we’ve no coach. Let’s not get too upset with each other about this.’

  Hatty nodded as Rio spoke. She couldn’t believe how mature he was being.

  ‘Not too upset?’ Georgia shouted. ‘Look over there.’

  The team watched as a row of men in blue suits emerged from one of the executive boxes and listened as the fans in the stadium began to applaud them. The full men’s England team. Wayne Rooney. Theo Walcott. And the rest.

  ‘We’re meeting them after the game!’ Georgia shouted. ‘How do you think that’s going to go when we’ve been slaughtered? It’ll be embarrassing. I can’t believe this.’

  Kester watched Georgia with interest, then Rio and the others. They all looked crestfallen. Kester knew this was the biggest moment of their lives, playing in this final, watched by the proper England team. And, at the same time, he was conscious that the game meant nothing to him and the Squad members. Not after everything that had gone on.

  Having said her piece, Georgia stormed off the pitch towards the dressing room, followed by the rest of the footballers. Kester held back, indicating that Lily, Hatty and Adnan should too. He had something to say.

  But Hatty was the first to speak. ‘I hate Georgia. She’s such a –’

  ‘Yes,’ Kester interrupted, ‘she’s annoying, but think about it.’

  ‘Think about what?’

  ‘This is her big moment. She’s a young girl who’s good at football, her heroes are about to watch her play and she’s on the losing team.’ Kester paused. ‘And take Rio. He could get picked up by a Premier League team if one of the coaches watching sees him do well. And look at Johnny and Finn and all the others. The reason we’re losing is because the four of us can’t be bothered.’

  ‘So tell them what we’ve been through,’ Hatty said.

  ‘We can’t,’ said Kester. ‘You know that. We never tell people about what we do. We stick together as a small team and try to get things right for each other. Now I think we need to stick together as a larger team, as a football team. Maybe we should forget about our problems and do something for them. Julia said we should celebrate. But we know we can’t, not after everything with Jim and Lesh. How about we celebrate by beating Russia at football?’

  Kester looked at the other three, then at Hatty alone. He could see that Hatty was thinking about Georgia and how she hated her, but also about how they maybe owed the footballers something.

  ‘I’m sorry to say,’ Hatty muttered, ‘that you’re right.’ She stood up. ‘We need to do this for Rio, for the team. Even for Georgia.’ />
  Something changed in the second half, a new electricity running through the team.

  The key to it was Rio and Hatty. Now that Hatty was supporting Rio, Rio was supporting her. They had the centre of the pitch completely sewn up.

  There was only going to be one result in the game now.

  Goal one came eleven minutes into the second half. Johnny knocked a pass back to Hatty. Hatty drew a couple of defenders and laid a slide-rule pass in to Rio, who flipped the ball into space for Georgia to hit it at the Russian keeper. The keeper spilled it and there was Finn clipping in the loose ball.

  1–2.

  No one celebrated. Rio just grabbed the ball out of the net and put it back on the centre spot.

  Goal two was all Rio’s. Taking the ball from Hatty again, he ran through six Russian tackles, and blasted the ball in off the crossbar.

  2–2.

  Again there were no celebrations. This time Hatty got the ball and tossed it to the referee for the restart. But she did glance up at the men’s England team watching to see that they were all on their feet clapping. Hatty jogged past Georgia and pointed it out. She was surprised to see Georgia actually smile.

  Having been two up and now losing the advantage, the Russian team looked more and more ragged. Bad tackle after bad tackle came in, ugly challenges that the referee had no choice but to deal with strictly. Russia lost one defender for two pushes on England players. And another who received a straight red for trying to decapitate Lily with a two-footed aerial tackle.

  Russia were down to nine players: England utterly on top.

  With fifteen minutes to go, Hatty ran another ball into Rio’s feet, their new-found partnership cutting Russia to ribbons. But this time, rather than holding back, she ran on into the space that the missing players had left in the defence. Rio held the ball, then released it just as she was level with the defenders.

  Hatty couldn’t have asked for a better pass.

  She steadied the ball with her first touch and was about to shoot when she saw Georgia running in beside her. Hatty hesitated, then slid the ball into the path of Georgia, who hit it hard.

  The shot was unstoppable. It almost ripped the net.

  3–2.

  When the final whistle went, all the England players – Squad and non-Squad – ran into a huddle, their arms waving above their heads, punching the air, screaming. Kester saw Lily, Hatty and Adnan celebrating wildly, then ran to join them, jumping on their backs.

  This was celebrating. If only the others knew just what they were really celebrating.

  Then, as the furore died down, Kester noticed that Rio was not among them. He looked across the pitch towards the tunnel and saw their captain. He had his shirt off and was among all the Russian players, shaking their hands, then swapping his shirt with their captain.

  Ten minutes later, Rio had another captain’s role to perform as he led the team towards the trophy that had been put in front of the main stand on a presentation table. The crowd applauded loudly, including the full England team in the executive boxes.

  Hatty watched as she saw the beaming smiles on the footballers’ faces when they were presented with their winners’ medals. She knew now that Kester had been right: they’d owed the footballers this.

  When they all had their medals, the trophy was handed to Rio, who lifted it high above his head. Kester, Adnan, Hatty and Lily joined the other players dancing around under a shower of ticker tape that was coming down on them, just like you’d see when the Champions’ League trophy is presented.

  Sitting in disguise, Julia watched from the seats. She smiled. It was good to see the four members of the Squad celebrating something, even if they were too upset to celebrate the successful service they had done for their country.

  Then she glanced at her watch. The Squad were due on a flight that departed in three hours’ time. She needed them back in England: a serious threat to the UK and the world was developing and she wanted them back in training as soon as possible.

  But first there was the matter of the footballers meeting the England men’s team.

  Thank Yous

  I’d like to thank several people for helping me to write this novel. In schools I am often asked do I get help writing my books. The answer is yes.

  My first reader is my wife. She reads each book through as I am writing it and then tells me where it needs a bit more work. She’s got a really good eye for it and is always very very honest. Her comments allowed me to make massive changes after the first draft so, thanks to my wife, the book is a lot stronger.

  My daughter helps me too. We talk through ideas for the story and she helps me name the characters. I also read parts to her to see what she thinks of them. I always listen to what she says.

  Black Op is dedicated to Jim Sells: the real one. The real Jim is not a double-crossing double-agent evil spy. The real Jim Sells is a friend of mine who helps encourage millions of children to read every year through his work for the National Literacy Trust, and who also knows a lot about miltary matters. He gave me lots of good military ideas for the story, as well as telling me where I had made stupid mistakes. Jim is – in real life – a West Ham fan, but we remain friends even so. He is also a great dad to his children.

  I am in a writers’ group. I meet with James, Rachel and Anna in Todmorden every few weeks and we critique each other’s books. It is very helpful. I still think I would not have been published if I had not been in this group, so thanks to the group’s members, present and past.

  Thanks too to David Luxton, my agent and friend. And Diane Baker, a teacher I work with a lot (who is also a friend).

  Puffin is an amazing publisher. Dozens of people work at Puffin to make the books happen. They have lots of different roles, from editing the book to distributing it to bookshops and libraries around the world. Thank you to Puffin, especially the book’s editor, Alex, who worked hard to make me work harder.

  Thanks finally to the 100,000+ readers that I meet every year in schools, libraries, bookshops, festivals and online. I have asked them lots of questions about this book as I was working on it. Their answers helped me make it as good as I could.

  PUFFIN BOOKS

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  First published 2012

  Text copyright © Tom Palmer, 2012

  Cover photograph by Tetra Images / Photolibrary. Cover illustration by Paul Young

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  British Library Cataloguing in Pu
blication Data

  ISBN: 978-0-141-33780-7