Close Range

by Nick Hale

  ‘Nice one, Little Bastin,’ Robbie said.

  The sound of clapping made them all look round. Standing on the sideline, and wearing a short dress showing slashes of bare skin, was Abri.

  ‘Hey, Jake,’ she called over. ‘You’re pretty good.’

  All the players looked at him in amazement. He could tell they were itching to say something.

  ‘What is this?!’ shouted Ebner. ‘Put your tongues away. No drooling on my pitch – it’s not good for the turf. Jake, if you want to speak with your girlfriend, give up the ball!’

  The players all laughed as Jake trotted off to the sidelines.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘He didn’t mean that, about the girlfriend …’

  ‘What?’ said Abri. ‘You mean you wouldn’t want to go out with me?’

  ‘No … I …’ he began.

  Her face broke into a wide smile. ‘I know what you meant,’ she said. ‘I was just teasing.’

  Jake was sweating a bit anyway, but he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. What was it about this girl that made him a stammering wreck?

  ‘How’s it all going?’ he asked.

  ‘Boring,’ said Abri. ‘And hot!’ She fanned herself. ‘All this make-up in the middle of summer is not a good call.’

  Jake took the opportunity to inspect her outfit more closely. ‘You look good.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ she said. ‘Don’t know why we need to practise, though. I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other since I was a year old.’

  Jake laughed. Were all supermodels this cool? ‘I’m sure there’s more to it than that.’

  Jake was aware that someone in a pale suit was walking up towards them. The last thing he wanted was an interruption. Not when things were going so well.

  ‘Hi there,’ said the man in an American accent. He flicked out his hand, which held a card. ‘Randy Freemore, pleased to meet ya.’

  Abri gave an amused frown.

  ‘Hello,’ said Jake as warmly as he could manage. He took the card. ‘Jake Bastin.’

  ‘I know who you are. Let’s just say a little bird told me Bastin Junior would be training today.’

  Jake hardly knew what to say. Was this guy a scout? He straightened his shoulders. ‘I’m just practising with the team,’ he said. ‘I’ve not gone pro yet.’

  ‘Really?’ said the man. ‘Well, that kinda makes you exactly what I’m looking for.’

  Jake looked at the card. On it was Freemore’s name, above the words ‘Talent Manager'. The head of the card read: ‘Olympic Advantage: Be the Best.’

  ‘I’ll catch you later, Jake,’ said Abri, giving a little wave.

  ‘No, wait,’ he said. ‘I …’

  ‘See you at the church with your mum this afternoon. You’ll be there, won’t you?’

  Jake hadn’t been planning to, but he changed his plans in an instant.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he said.

  Abri winked and strode off. Jake watched her for longer than he should have, then turned his attention back to the smooth-talking American.

  ‘What’s Olympic Advantage?’ he asked.

  Freemore smiled. ‘I knew you’d be interested. It’s a specialist training camp, based in Florida. Starts in a month’s time. We get the best young amateur athletes from around the world, bring ‘em to the States, then give ‘em a two-week intensive course in physical education. They train with others in their chosen sport, then cross-train with world-class athletes from other disciplines. The idea is to establish ourselves as the stable of the sporting future. We take control of everything – sleep patterns, diet, training. Kind of a one-stop shop for physical excellence.’

  Jake wasn’t sure about Freemore, but the camp sounded interesting. If his parents wouldn’t help him become a professional footballer, maybe this was the next best thing.

  ‘Let me think about it,’ he said.

  ‘Sure,’ said Freemore, clicking his tongue. ‘But don’t think too long, kid.’

  The sound of the tannoy split the air.

  ‘Extra security to pitch-side immediately.’

  Jake and the players all looked to the far side of the pitch. A crowd of around thirty people were climbing from one of the tunnels over the top of the seats. They made it down to the advertising hoardings and scrambled over. Even from a hundred metres away, Jake could make out the T-shirts he’d seen in the car park, bearing anti-Granble slogans. A few of the protestors wielded pieces of wood. One swung a crowbar. Another had ripped up a chair and held it above his head. A dozen security guards came streaming out of the players’ tunnel and threw themselves into the onrushing mob, and Jake saw one protestor brutally punched until he keeled over. But it wasn’t enough.

  The remainder screamed abuse like a war cry as they charged across the pitch towards the catwalk platform. Towards Abri.

  And Jake’s mother.

  9

  ‘Back to the dressing room now!’ Ebner shouted.

  The players began to file off the field, casting confused looks at each other. Not all went, though. Robbie, Price and Mark Fortune came with Jake. They ran towards the catwalk where his mum and the models were sitting ducks up on the runway.

  ‘Slow down the protestors,’ Jake shouted. ‘I’ll get the others to safety.’

  Granble’s people were standing around looking professionally useless, and Jake even noticed the Granble reps from the church scurrying off down the tunnel.

  More security came out to face the charge along with the players, but Jake could see it still wouldn’t be enough. They met in a scrum near the centre circle.

  Jake remembered what his mum had said about this group – the lengths to which they were willing to go. He sprinted up to where the wheeled runway jutted out from the tunnel. Abri, Sienna and Monique were already pushing it around sideways on and Jake threw his weight into it too. Together they tipped the structure over. It crashed on to the turf, forming a barrier between the tunnel and the pitch.

  ‘Climb over,’ shouted Jake.

  Monique went first, scrambling up the platform and heaving herself over the top. Then Sienna.

  There was a shout behind as two of the protestors came running through the melee in the centre circle.

  ‘Diamond thieves!’ one shouted. Jake saw that he had some sort of metal piping in his hand, and a wild look in his eyes that said he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. As Jake went forwards to meet him, his mother screamed.

  ‘Jake, no!’

  The man lifted the pipe but Jake rammed into him before he could swing, charging with his shoulder. They went down together, and Jake pressed his forearm into the attacker’s face. He howled. The second one ran on, and Jake scrambled up just in time to see Abri drive a foot into his groin. With a cry of agony, the protestor fell into the upturned flooring of the catwalk, and curled into a ball.

  Sienna and Monique pulled Jake’s mum to safety behind the overturned platform. A few more protestors had broken through, and were approaching fast. Their eyes were crazed with anger.

  ‘Abri, get over!’ said Jake, picking up the piping dropped by the other protestor.

  ‘You first,’ she said.

  Jake looked at her in amazement. This girl had guts!

  ‘We’ll go together,’ he said. Jake hurled the pipe towards their attackers, who ducked out of the way. It gave them enough time to scramble over the other side of the platform barricade.

  ‘Is everyone OK?’ Jake asked. A glass bottle flew over the top and smashed on the artificial turf that lined the tunnel. Suddenly there were hands and feet pounding the other side. Someone appeared at the far end, trying to climb over.

  Jake rushed at him, and pushed him back. The man fell with a cry.

  ‘Get down the tunnel,’ Jake said. ‘Find help.’

  The crack of a gunshot brought silence.

  Everyone froze. Jake stared at his mother in horror.

  She was pale. ‘What happened? Has someone been shot?’

  ‘It was probabl
y just a warning,’ said Jake, hoping he was right.

  He pulled himself up to look over their self-made barrier. Armed security guards were shepherding the protestors into the centre circle at gunpoint. No one was resisting any more. And there was no sign of anyone badly injured.

  Mark Fortune and the other players who’d stayed on the pitch to help were now standing well back on the far side of the pitch with the assistant coach. They’d done a brave thing coming out to stop the protestors.

  ‘It looks like everything’s calmed down,’ Jake said, sliding back to join his mother and the models.

  ‘You saved us,’ Abri said, slipping her arm around him.

  ‘You saved yourselves,’ he replied. ‘I just helped.’ He drummed his hand on the wooden surface of the catwalk. ‘That was quick thinking to turn this over. Stopped them getting behind the stands, wreaking more havoc.’

  ‘Guess we’re more than just pretty faces,’ Sienna said sarcastically.

  Jake heard footsteps pounding down the tunnel. His pulse quickened. Was it more protestors? Then he saw who it was. His dad – moving so fast, he’d forgotten he faked a limp.

  ‘Jake! Hayley! Are you all right?’ he called, gasping for breath. ‘God, I saw it from the commentary box.’

  He wrapped Jake’s mum in his arms and she pressed her head into his chest. After the businesslike kiss at the airport, the sudden show of affection knocked Jake off-balance.

  ‘It’s lucky Jake was here,’ said Abri. ‘We’d have been caught up in the worst, otherwise.’

  His dad nodded gravely at him. The look wasn’t much, but Jake knew what it meant: You did well.

  ‘Hay,’ said his dad. ‘You could have been seriously hurt. This has to stop, don’t you think? Time to sit it out.’

  Jake’s mother pulled away, disentangling herself. ‘Just because of this?’

  Jake’s dad shrugged. ‘It’s risky. These people are serious.’

  ‘It’ll take more than a few protestors to stop the Granble shoot,’ Jake’s mum said.

  His dad tried to reach for her arm. ‘Hay, I care about you –’

  She shook him off.

  ‘I can look after myself, Steve.’

  Jake could feel a fight brewing. Did they have to do this in front of Abri?

  ‘All I’m saying,’ said his dad, ‘is that there’ll be other assignments. Safer ones.’

  Jake saw blood rushing to his mum’s face, but she held it together.

  ‘I’ll be careful,’ she said. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  Jake’s dad looked at the ground, his shoulders sagging.

  I guess now’s not the time to mention Olympic Advantage, Jake thought to himself.

  A painful silence descended, until Steve turned round and trudged back up the tunnel. A few moments later, his mum followed.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Jake said to Abri. ‘My parents don’t really get on.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘That’s life. It’s worse for you, stuck in the middle.’

  You don’t know the half of it, Jake thought.

  10

  Jake’s mum drove to the church more slowly this time. He thought she must still be in shock.

  ‘Maybe you should listen to Dad,’ Jake said. ‘Granble can find another photographer, can’t he?’ He rushed to add, ‘Not as good as you, obviously.’

  ‘Reputation counts for everything in this business, Jake. You quit one job, prove yourself unreliable, no one will hire you again.’

  Jake dropped it.

  ‘Anyway,’ his mum continued, smiling, ‘enough about me. You and Abri seem to be getting on pretty well.’ Jake felt his cheeks redden. ‘And from that blush, I’m guessing you quite like her.’

  Jake rolled down the window. ‘I’ll do you a deal, Mum. I won’t mention Granble, if you don’t mention Abri.’

  ‘Sounds fair,’ she said, laughing to herself. ‘But what shall we talk about?’

  This is my chance, Jake thought.

  He fished Randy Freemore’s card out of his pocket. ‘Have you heard of Olympic Advantage?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Jake went on to explain how Mr Freemore had been at the San Siro, and had given him the card. ‘It’s like a camp for athletes of the future, in Florida. Really intensive – they teach you everything.’ Jake was getting excited just talking about it. ‘Not just the sport itself, but lifestyle, nutrition, physio …’

  ‘A football camp?’ interrupted his mum.

  ‘Yes, sort of, but so much more …’

  ‘In Florida?’ She said the word like it was the moon, or something. Jake could see from her frown that she didn’t share his enthusiasm.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

  They’d reached the church and she pulled up outside, killed the engine and looked straight at Jake.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m happy about you heading so far on your own.’

  ‘I won’t be on my own. There’ll be other players, from all over the world …’

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ she said. ‘Football’s big business. Everyone wants a piece of the pie. I’m not sure I want you being that pie, Jake.’

  ‘Mum, what are you talking about? This is a chance of a lifetime!’

  ‘Let me talk to your dad about it, eh?’

  Oh, so you’ll work together when you’re trying to stop me doing something!

  Jake climbed out of the car to let his temper cool. He was afraid of saying something he shouldn’t.

  There were a few crushed cigarette butts on the ground by the side door of the church, but no sign of Hector or the other electricians. In their place stood two security guards in polonecks and pale blazers. If they had guns, they were hidden. They eyeballed Jake and his mother as they approached. Jake wondered why they weren’t watching the front door, but he guessed it was probably bolted shut. One way in, one way out. Easy to guard.

  They were waved inside.

  Jake was immediately disappointed: no sign of Abri or the other models. Jake couldn’t see Granble anywhere, but there were plenty of his lackeys rushing around, and his chief goon, Jaap, stood motionless, still handcuffed to the briefcase.

  One hundred million dollars worth of diamonds was a lot to lose.

  ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’ said his mum. Jake hung back out of the way, while she unpacked her camera and rearranged the supplementary lighting and screens near the altar. Jaap came forwards with the case, fiddled with the code and clicked it open. Jake, along with everyone else, found himself stepping closer to see.

  Marissa stepped forwards, and took off what looked like a protective cover.

  A collective gasp sounded across the sanctuary.

  Jake had seen diamonds before, in jewellery shop windows, and on wedding rings, but nothing compared to the contents of the case. These weren’t even rocks – they were boulders!

  The case was lined with black velvet. Laid out against it was a necklace strung from stones the size of Jake’s thumbnail and bracelets made with hundreds of delicate diamonds. Other smaller pieces surrounded a stone as big as Jake’s palm.

  He didn’t even know diamonds came that big.

  ‘Move away, please,’ said Marissa.

  As people fell back, she donned a pair of white cloth gloves, like a surgeon about to perform an operation. She took out the necklace and placed it carefully against the black altar cloth.

  Slowly the room returned to normal. Jake heard the soft electrical clicks of his mother’s camera as she took shots from different angles, at one point standing on a pew to get a better vantage. After each position, she’d consult Marissa, who seemed to be ticking things off on a list. They whispered to each other, as though there was a real church service going on.

  Jake was soon bored, and the pew was uncomfortable. When would Abri get here? At least then he’d have someone to talk to. His mum was looking at the viewfinder, going back over old shots, while Jake fingered the Olympic Advantage card.


  He’d have to make sure he spoke to his dad before his mum had a chance. If anyone would understand what this meant to Jake, it would be his dad. He’d have to stress all the positives – the structured tuition, the responsible coaches, the healthy elements – it was a chance to grow as a person as well as a player blah, blah, blah …

  His mum leant closer to the diamonds and took a few more quick shots. Suddenly, Jake was aware of the quickstep of heels on stone behind him.

  ‘Stop that!’ shouted Marissa. ‘No, no, no!’

  Granble’s assistant rushed past Jake with Jaap just behind her, while Jake’s mum straightened up, a look of alarm on her face. ‘What is it?’

  Marissa tapped the clipboard and turned it to face his mum.

  ‘Only the shots on the approved list, remember?’ she shouted. ‘Jaap, delete them.’

  The henchman stepped forwards and reached for the camera. Jake’s mum pulled it out of the way. ‘Hey!’

  Jake was up in a second and at his mother’s side.

  ‘You can’t do that!’ he said.

  Marissa looked at him with a curl of her lip, then addressed his mum.

  ‘Miss Maguire, do I need to remind you of my employer’s very strict instructions? There are to be no close-ups of the diamonds under any circumstances. If you cannot stick to the stipulations in the contract – or keep your son under control – I’m sure Mr Granble will see that contract terminated forthwith.’

  Jake’s mum relaxed and unlooped the camera strap from her neck. Jaap unceremoniously snatched it from her hand and began deleting the photos. When he handed it back, Jake stepped up to him, nose to nose.

  ‘You shouldn’t be so rough,’ he said.

  Jaap didn’t say anything. His glance flicked to Marissa, and in his peripheral vision Jake saw her give a tiny shake of her head. Jaap backed away.

  ‘That’s enough, Jake,’ said his mum, putting a hand on his arm. ‘It was just a misunderstanding. Let’s carry on with the shoot.’

  ‘Yes, let’s,’ said Marissa, looking pointedly at Jake, ‘but I think we should get rid of any non-essential personnel, don’t you?’