The Squad

by Tom Palmer

  A fishing boat had come in close to the hotel. The five kept a careful eye on it as a row erupted between the captain and a blue-bereted UN soldier.

  ‘Come on,’ Kester said. ‘We’re playing the Canada game in a couple of hours. But before that let’s review the mission. We have five minutes before Rio comes back. What do we know?’

  ‘Last night we discovered that the Russians, maybe Esenin, could be in possession of a warhead and bringing it here. Maybe …’

  ‘Maybe,’ repeated Lesh.

  ‘But it looks like a credible threat,’ Kester said.

  ‘Very credible,’ Lesh agreed. ‘And one we have to pursue. I’ve found out more about Esenin, who has to be our prime suspect for this line of enquiry. His father used to be in the army and the FSB – that’s the Russian Secret Service. But there’s no record of Sergei being involved. He seems to be on a one-man mission to forge a way for Russia and Europe to peacefully find oil and gas together.’

  ‘Sounds like a convenient front,’ Hatty said. ‘It’s highly likely that he’s pretending. Don’t we know that now? After what we found in his room. The images of the warhead. The maps. Everything to do with his father.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Lily said. ‘But bear in mind they might have been planted in his room. It’s unlikely, but we can’t rule it out.’

  ‘Esenin is our number-one suspect,’ Kester said, looking at the fishing boat in the foreground, almost touching the harbour wall, the captain and now three UN soldiers shouting at each other. ‘But we have to follow up the other leads. Lily’s right.’

  ‘What about Frank Hawk then?’ Adnan asked.

  ‘He’s everything he said he was last night,’ Lesh replied. ‘He’s got grandkids the same age as us. He used to be a politician. Now he gives talks about how drilling for oil and using it doesn’t create global warming. He’s also a director of several businesses. And he likes sports.’

  ‘What sort of sports?’ Lily asked, watching a girl about their age who was standing on the far side of the fishing boat.

  ‘Baseball’s his favourite. Shooting. Soccer,’ Lesh answered.

  ‘Soccer?’ Kester muttered.

  ‘Soccer.’ Lesh smiled. He knew Kester hated the word. ‘That’s football to you and me.’

  Kester screwed up his face.

  Then Lily interrupted. ‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘How can he be a loving granddad and not believe in global warming? Everybody knows about the ice melting and the polar bears losing their habitat. He must worry about the world his grandchildren will grow up in if global warming isn’t stopped.’

  But, before any of the others had a chance to respond, their voices were drowned out by a violent crashing, hissing sound.

  Lesh wheeled himself backwards as the other Squad members dropped to the floor to take cover behind the concrete barriers, all braced for what sounded like some sort of attack. They’d been trained for this.

  One. Protect themselves.

  Two. Analyse the situation.

  Three. Decide how to act.

  The Squad watched in horror as the top part of one side of the fishing boat they’d seen docking blew outwards, a wall of foaming water cascading across the harbour and towards the foyer of the hotel.

  Immediately, alarms went off and UN soldiers sprinted towards the scene, while other people ran in the opposite direction. There was water everywhere.

  ‘Do we act?’ Hatty shouted to Kester.

  Kester glanced over the barriers. In a second he took in the scene. It was strange. It had looked and sounded like a bomb, but there were no casualties, no fire, no smoke. Just a lot of water that was now flooding the hotel entrance.

  ‘Negative,’ Kester said. ‘Not as the Squad. There are plenty of UN soldiers to deal with it. This is no bomb. It’s just water. No explosives. But we need to get close. Let’s run up to try to help. Like we’re just … you know … kids. Agreed?’

  The children moved towards the hotel entrance. As they did, Lily took in several things. The huge amount of water pouring off the harbour. The bewildered look of several conference delegates as they comforted each other following the shock, their shoes and trouser bottoms soaked.

  And that girl – about their age – still there, filming the whole scene. The only person not moving to or from the source of the crisis.

  Lily, like the others, had been trained to notice unusual behaviour. Most days someone taking pictures in a beautiful setting would be normal. But – during what seemed to be some sort of attack or accident – the girl’s behaviour stood out.

  As the panic grew on the harbourside and around the hotel, Lily had to decide what to do. Their job now was to help anyone hurt, as well as gathering intelligence by being at the heart of the scene, trying to find out what was going on. A woman had been knocked over by the water and she needed help. But this girl was important.

  ‘Lesh,’ Lily whispered into her friend’s ear. ‘Take some images of that girl over there. She’s filming everything.’

  ‘Done,’ Lesh said, holding up his SpyPad.

  ‘Right. I’ll go and have a friendly chat,’ Lily added.

  But, as she made to leave, there was another terrible sound, an increasing roar that distracted Lily for a second and sent everyone into a panic, running in all directions.

  And Lily saw that the girl had vanished.

  Military Response

  Even before the children had made it to the cover of the hotel entrance, the second noise spread terror across the harbour.

  The air began vibrating, a thump-thump-thump becoming louder and louder, as four huge military helicopters appeared from behind one of the mountains, like something out of an action film.

  The Squad knew immediately what this was: a major military response. The air full of choppers. A dozen armoured vehicles parked in front of the conference hotel, spilling small squads of blue-capped UN soldiers on to the surrounding streets. There was chaos and confusion everywhere, but the Squad stood firm, looking carefully around, evaluating the threat, working out what to do next.

  When the noise of the helicopters and vehicles died down, they heard the announcement:

  PLEASE GO TO THE MAIN CONFERENCE

  HALL, WHICH HAS BEEN SECURED.

  PLEASE GO TO THE MAIN CONFERENCE

  HALL, WHICH HAS BEEN SECURED.

  PLEASE GO TO THE MAIN CONFERENCE …

  Kester ordered the Squad to head straight for the hall.

  ‘But what if …’ Hatty interrupted.

  ‘What if we can find something out?’ Kester countered. ‘We have to appear like normal kids. We mustn’t blow our cover. So just walk like everyone else to the main hall, but keep your eyes on everything. And remember it.’

  Hatty nodded. She understood that Kester had made the right call.

  Kester led them directly past where they had seen the water and ice spill off the boat, en route to the main hall. Everybody else was moving quickly towards the hotel entrance, stopping as if they were worried that the helicopters that were now hovering above the hotel were about to open fire on them.

  ‘Where’s that girl?’ Lily asked. ‘Can anyone see her?’

  ‘No,’ Lesh said. ‘She’s gone. But I do have photographs of her.’

  ‘That’s something,’ Lily said.

  ‘Come on,’ Kester urged. ‘Inside. Watch everyone. The girl might show up. Look out for people watching, not reacting like they’re scared. They’re the ones who might have something to do with the water attack.’

  The Squad entered the hotel foyer just as Rio and most of the rest of the England team did.

  ‘Come on!’ Rio shouted. ‘The main hall. Now. Those helicopters are coming.’

  ‘Yeah, come on!’ Georgia shouted. ‘We’re all going to get killed.’

  The Squad did as Rio suggested and ran with him, allowing him to take the lead. As they ran, Kester glanced at Hatty to see her screwing up her face.

  ‘Let them lead,’ he said quietly.

/>   ‘But they should know there’s no threat. They’re panicking.’

  ‘It’s OK. For now. Let them think it. We just need to look scared too. Or our cover will be blown.’

  Hatty grimaced, but did as Kester said.

  One minute later, all the children from the football teams staying at the hotel, all wearing team tracksuits, were in the main hall with dozens of men and women in smart, expensive clothes.

  It was a strange sight. Each set of people was behaving like sheep, grouping in small circles, moving around, chattering. All crowded into the grand dining hall with its wood panelling and oil paintings on the walls.

  In the English group, Georgia was making the most noise. ‘What’s going on? Look at the doors! There are armed men on all the doors. We’re going to be bombed. Can you hear the planes over us?’

  Hatty longed to tell Georgia that there was nothing to worry about. This was not a major attack but just a few barrels of water off a boat; the noises above were not planes about to bomb them but UN peacekeeping helicopters protecting the airspace.

  ‘What did you see?’ Hatty asked Rio, trying to sound panicked.

  ‘Some sort of bomb on a boat. Most of us were waiting outside the main entrance to the hotel. The bus had just drawn up. We got soaked.’ He pointed at his sodden trainers. ‘Then the helicopters came,’ Rio said. ‘But it’s gone quiet. Maybe the helicopters are here to protect us?’

  Hatty nodded vigorously, putting her hand on their captain’s arm. ‘I hope you’re right, Rio,’ she said, trying to look like any other teenage girl would when this kind of thing was happening. As she did, she surveyed the other team members – Johnny looked pale and shaken, Finn stood with his mouth agape, and some of the others just looked genuinely scared, two of them crying.

  Then a man appeared on the stage of the main hall, demanding silence.

  ‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. CHILDREN. DO NOT BE ALARMED. THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT OUTSIDE THE HOTEL, BUT WE ARE SAFE. THE UNITED NATIONS SOLDIERS ARE HERE AND IN CONTROL.’

  A few of the audience shouted out questions or comments. But the man carried on regardless.

  ‘WE HAVE ARRANGED FOR COACHES TO REMOVE YOU ALL FROM THE HOTEL. YOU WILL BE TAKEN IN MAXIMUM SECURITY TO TROMSDALEN, OUR NEIGHBOURING TOWN, OVER THE WATER. THERE IS TO BE A FOOTBALL MATCH THERE IN ONE HOUR. THE FIRST GAME OF THE INTERNATIONAL TOURNAMENT.

  ‘THE STADIUM IS A SECURE SITE. PLEASE. IT’S A SAFER PLACE THAN HERE FOR NOW. YOU WILL ALL PROCEED CALMLY. WE MUST SECURE THE HOTEL BEFORE YOUR RETURN.’

  ‘Great,’ Rio said once the announcement was made, raising his voice above those of the other people talking. ‘I was afraid this was going to mean our game was off.’

  Hatty looked at him and was impressed. Rio wasn’t panicking: he was thinking about football, just as some of the others thought they were about to be attacked. He was leading them by taking their minds off the danger.

  Hatty smiled. ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and play football.’

  Bore Draw

  Everyone staying at the hotel – the footballers and all those attending the conference – were evacuated across the water and secured within a ring of UN soldiers at the TUIL Stadium. This included the various prime ministers and their negotiating teams.

  As the line of five luxury coaches, with armed vehicles ahead and behind, passed over the bridge, a pair of military attack helicopters hovered level with the bridge and the coaches. Adnan looked into one of the cockpits and met the eyes of the pilot and a stern look of concentration. Adnan waved and grinned until Hatty stopped him with a slap.

  Behind them, Lesh was showing Lily something on his SpyPad. A film of the water attack on YouTube.

  ‘An environmental protest group has already put it up there,’ he whispered. ‘Called White Fear.’

  ‘Have you heard of them?’ Lily whispered back.

  ‘Yes,’ Lesh went on. ‘They’re against Arctic oil exploration. They’ve made a name for themselves by pulling off stunts to raise awareness of global warming.’

  ‘It must have been that girl,’ Lily said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The girl with the camera, making the film. She must be one of them, surely.’

  The TUIL Arena – home to Tromsdalen FC – had seating on both sides. A larger stand that could hold several hundred to the right, a smaller one to the left. Above the stands, steep mountains reached into the pale Arctic sky. A ribbon of cloud was drifting up the tight valley that led away from the fjord.

  All the politicians and footballers were directed into the main stand across a muddy track. Lesh wheeled his chair to the front of the stand. The rest of the England youth team sat behind him on plastic seats.

  ‘Can you believe what just happened at the hotel?’ Georgia gasped. ‘A bomb! We almost died!’

  ‘I think we were safe,’ Hatty said, aware she shouldn’t appear to be too relaxed about the incident.

  ‘What do you know about it?’ Georgia asked. ‘Are you an expert on explosions? I don’t think so.’

  Rio cut in. ‘What matters is we’re safe now.’

  Hatty held her tongue. But inside she really wanted to put Georgia in her place.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Kester asked Rio. ‘You were great back there.’ He wanted their captain to know that he thought he’d done well. During their last mission, Rio had been difficult; he and Kester had not hit it off. But now they were developing respect for each other. Exactly the sort of relationship that Kester needed with the team captain.

  Rio hesitated before replying, then nodded quickly.

  ‘You were right to get us to concentrate on the football,’ Kester went on. ‘It helped.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ Rio said, looking at Kester and smiling.

  When everyone was seated, a woman in a military uniform strode out on to the pitch and began to speak into a microphone. Behind her, a massive mountain rose high into the sky, covered in trees and with bare rock at its summit.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen and children,’ the military woman addressed them in faltering English. ‘I am Ana Hamsun. For security reasons we are bringing you here. Safety at the conference hotel is unclear and we bring you safely to here. But do not be alarmed. The hotel will soon be quite safe. We are making the last checks.’

  ‘So what was the damn explosion?’ a voice shouted out. Lily quickly identified the speaker as Frank Hawk.

  ‘It is just a stunt,’ Ana Hamsun replied. ‘There is never any danger. We have a claim from the White Fear, a world ecological group. They are releasing just water from their boat. No explosives. They are telling us this. It is a voice. A voice for your conference perhaps?’

  As she spoke, Ana Hamsun’s voice was drowned out by people arguing and some laughter.

  ‘Now.’ She raised her voice. ‘We play the first soccer game of our children’s Arctic tournament in no time. Canada and England. It is playing here for your relaxation. Please, stay and enjoy the game.’

  ‘But are we free to leave?’ someone asked from the back of the stadium.

  Ana Hamsun frowned, then consulted a woman at her side, who spoke into a radio. The audience watched a helicopter hover over the stadium, then swing high to the top of the mountain, as they waited for an answer.

  ‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘It is now all clear to return on the coaches to the hotel. But we would be happy if you to stay …’

  Immediately, half the people in the stadium stood up to leave, the woman’s voice drowned out by the sound of stomping boots and upturned seats.

  ‘Great,’ Adnan said. ‘It’s so good to see that world leaders like to support their young people and watch them play football.’

  Kester thought that the match was strange from the moment it kicked off. Maybe it was because of the bomb scare or the fact that there was still a pair of armed attack helicopters patrolling the mountainsides close to the pitch, but both the England and Canada teams were showing each other a lot of respect, almost as if it would be
rude to attack and score a goal.

  It was all passing. Short balls through the defence and midfield. But nothing adventurous. No long balls. Safe, Kester thought as the first half drew to an end. Safe and boring.

  At half-time Rio tried to use his captain’s role to inspire his players. They were sitting in a cramped dressing room, with wooden benches and a tiled floor.

  ‘I know this has been a strange day,’ Rio said. ‘And I know we need to keep things tight, but we also need to step up the pace, press the ball better. We’re safe at the back, but there’s no drive going forward. We need urgency.’

  ‘We need better balls from the defence,’ Georgia said, glaring at Hatty. ‘They’re just passing it about like it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Have we let a goal in?’ Hatty snapped. Georgia said nothing.

  ‘Have we?’ Still nothing.

  ‘No,’ Hatty pressed. ‘We’ve defended and not let a goal in. But, tell me, have you attackers scored?’

  Georgia scowled.

  ‘No one’s scored,’ Rio said, trying to calm the two girls, who were off their benches now, glaring at each other across the tiles.

  ‘So who’s doing their job and who’s not?’ Hatty pressed.

  Rio stood up and put his hands out. ‘Come on, let’s be a team again. That’s how we work best. This is what we need to do –’

  But there was no time for Rio to finish his speech as the dressing-room door burst open with a loud crack. Lesh, kicking the door open, wheeled himself in.

  ‘That was rubbish!’ he shouted. ‘You should be hammering this lot.’ The door slammed behind him.

  ‘You make me sick,’ he went on. ‘Look at you – all of you – with your two working legs. I could do better than you crawling around on my hands and knees. Get your fingers out! And you two can stop your bickering, Hatty. Georgia. It’s pathetic! You’re supposed to be teammates.’

  There was a long silence as the whole team looked at Lesh in guilty admission. How could they reply to that?

  But Lesh was ahead of them. ‘You have no idea what to say to me, do you?’