by Tom Palmer
The whole team shook their heads.
‘Well, I don’t want to hear words. I want to see action on the pitch. I’ve been analysing you. Your pass completion is poor. Especially in the last third. You’ve not had enough shots on goal. You’re doing all the basics wrong.’
Another stunned silence.
‘He’s right,’ Rio said quietly.
The second half was better. Far better. Thanks to Lesh’s rocket.
The England team played with pace and precision, knocking the ball about at speed. The Canadian players couldn’t live with it.
Rio set up the first goal. A long ball to Georgia’s feet as she sprinted into the penalty area to clip it home.
1–0.
The second goal came from deep in the defence. Adnan bowled a ball out to Kester, who knocked it to Hatty. Hatty ran with it, played it wide to Johnny who, after a one-two with a teammate, crossed it on to Georgia’s head.
2–0.
Although Hatty was pleased they were winning, she hated seeing Georgia score all the goals. It was just a matter of time before the other girl said something to her about it.
And she was right. After firing in a third goal, Georgia avoided the embraces of her other teammates and ran over to confront Hatty.
‘Who’s not doing their job now?’ she shouted.
Hatty closed her eyes and counted to ten. Remember this is a cover story, she said to herself. You’re a spy and making Georgia think you’re just an ordinary girl is part of that cover.
‘Well done, Georgia,’ Hatty smiled. ‘You’ve done brilliantly.’
Georgia shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do,’ said Hatty. ‘I want to win this game as much as you do. I’m sure you’d like to congratulate us defenders for not letting a goal in.’
‘Not really,’ Georgia laughed as the rest of the team caught up with her and jumped on her back.
Hatty was really struggling now. Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her get to you, she was saying under her breath, over and over. She desperately needed something to take her mind off Georgia and Lily provided it.
As it was 3–0 and the game was as good as over, Canada brought on three substitutes.
‘Look,’ Lily said to Hatty under her breath.
‘What?’
‘Canada’s number sixteen.’
It was a girl, aged about thirteen, dark hair, strikingly beautiful.
‘The girl from the harbour. The one who was filming,’ said Lily. ‘Those films she took: they must be the ones that are on the Internet already. And you know that an environmental group – White Fear – is claiming credit for the films. That must mean she’s involved.’
‘But she’s a footballer,’ Hatty said as Adnan joined them.
‘And there’s no way anyone could be a footballer and a spy, is there?’ Adnan added.
‘Very helpful, Adnan. Lily, tell Kester. We need to have a word with that girl after the game. I’ll just go and update Lesh.’ Hatty jogged over to Lesh, who handed her a bottle of water.
‘What is it?’ he said quietly.
‘That number sixteen. She’s the girl from the fishing boat earlier,’ Hatty said. ‘Didn’t you get a photo of her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you do some face recognition? Quickly.’
‘Consider it done,’ Lesh said. ‘I’ll find out everything I can.’
Inuit
Tromsdalen Football Club hosted a party after the game, for the teams that took part and for the crowd who had stayed. It was held in a large room underneath the main stand, a row of white-cloth-covered tables running along one of the walls, bearing food and drink.
Once changed, the England team joined everybody else. Hatty, Lily and Adnan ahead. Kester wheeling Lesh in through the bottom of the stand, keeping back so they could talk. They both looked out towards the city to see that the impressive security operation was ongoing. A perimeter of armed vehicles was still there, along with dozens of troops.
‘Is she still here?’ Kester muttered, leaning into Lesh.
‘I didn’t see her leave,’ Lesh said. ‘I stayed outside to check.’
As they entered the function room, Kester stood on tiptoe to look round the room.
But it was Lesh who saw her first. ‘There she is,’ he spoke quietly into his mic. ‘Far corner. Underneath the stone steps. On her own.’
Hatty and Adnan – who were wired up to Lesh – saw the girl and walked across the room to intercept her as she started to move towards the door. They needed to find out who she was and why she’d been filming just as the attack took place. Of course they couldn’t ask her directly, but they could find out more about her.
Kester spoke into his mic as he walked. ‘Anything coming up on face recognition, Lesh?’
‘She doesn’t come up as known on the system,’ Lesh reported as Hatty and Adnan closed in on her. ‘But what I can tell you is that her facial features match those of a Canadian Inuit. What people used to call Eskimos. So she might have some sort of reason to be here: to protect Canada? There’s every chance she’s linked to White Fear. Keep that in mind.’
Hatty, now fully informed, had reached the girl.
‘Hello,’ the girl said in a friendly voice. ‘Well done this afternoon. You were very good.’
‘Thank you,’ Hatty said, noticing how dark the girl’s hair was and how beautiful she looked up close. Hatty was also surprised at the girl’s friendliness and that she hadn’t needed to engineer a conversation herself.
‘I’m Katiyana,’ the girl said, beaming. ‘I saw you at the hotel before the accident.’
Hatty smiled now. This girl wasn’t hiding anything. She’d not expected her to draw attention to that. The conversation began to feel more like a game.
‘We saw you too,’ Adnan cut in. ‘I’m Adnan. This is Hatty. So you’re from the Canada team?’
‘Yes. But we did not play well today.’
‘I don’t think anyone did,’ Adnan said. ‘It’s been a strange day.’
Then suddenly, and before they had the chance to talk any more, the girl’s expression changed completely, from smiling and chatty to something much darker. Adnan was worried it was aimed at him. That he had said something to offend, or worse, alert her, but then he heard Lesh’s voice in his earpiece.
‘Frank Hawk. Right behind you, Adnan.’
It happened quickly. ‘Hello, children. I’m Frank Hawk. I’m with the American negotiating team. I wanted to say thank you for the game today. It was very entertaining.’
‘Thanks,’ Hatty said, studying the man’s short grey hair, spotting a tiny shaving cut on his neck. Why had he come over when they were all talking – just as he had with Lily and Lesh? Had he chosen that moment especially – or was it a coincidence? Did he suspect the Squad? And did that mean that they should suspect him of something?
‘I should probably want Canada to win, being American,’ Hawk went on. ‘But my great-grandfather was from England, so I was rooting for you kids today.’
Adnan nodded. The American was being friendly, but he noticed Katiyana was not.
‘Well, thanks again for the entertainment, kids,’ the American finished. ‘Keep playing well … until you play the USA.’
The three children stayed quiet for a few seconds as Frank Hawk moved away to speak to some other people. Katiyana was still scowling.
‘Do you know him?’ Adnan asked, wanting to understand why the girl’s manner had changed so dramatically.
‘I know of him,’ Katiyana replied. ‘He’s not a good man.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘Why? What’s he done wrong?’
‘You know who he is?’ the Canadian girl said after a long pause.
‘No,’ Hatty said. ‘Should we?’
‘He’s Frank Hawk. He’s a businessman. He likes people to think he’s trying to help the world by talking at conferences, like the one they’re having here. But all he’s
interested in is making money from his oil companies.’
‘Oil?’ Adnan asked, feeling Hatty elbow him in the ribs. He was showing too much specific interest.
‘Yes, oil. And the more oil he drills and burns, the more the ice melts up here – and in Canada. He says he’s an expert about the Arctic. He says the ice isn’t melting. He lies. I live in the Arctic. I know. He only says these things so that he can drill for more oil. He pays scientists to lie and to say that they’ve done experiments that prove there’s no such thing as global warming.’
Lesh – who could hear the conversation in his earpiece – made mental notes. Things he wanted to find out more about. As much about the girl as Frank Hawk. She was a suspect now too.
‘Have they proved that there is global warming though?’ Hatty asked, trying to sound rude, so that the girl might react badly to her and give something away.
‘Yes, they have. I have,’ the girl said. ‘I live in Nunavut in Canada. People are losing everything where I live. The ice is melting and that means the way we live and make our money is coming to an end. Our way of life is disappearing. People who say it’s not true have no idea. No idea at all.’
‘You sound like you’d do anything to change people’s minds,’ Hatty said, deliberately trying to provoke Katiyana further.
Suddenly Hatty heard a familiar voice behind her.
‘Hi.’ It was Rio. Rio with Finn.
‘Hello.’ Katiyana smiled sweetly, making her look even more beautiful than ever.
‘I’m Rio. I’m the England captain.’
‘I know.’ Katiyana blushed. ‘I saw you on the pitch. You were good.’
And Hatty realized that their conversation was over.
The five Squad members chose to walk back to the hotel from the TUIL Arena. Their route took them through a housing estate and past a modern white cathedral to the Bruvegen Bridge. They needed to go over the bridge from Tromsdalen back to Tromsø.
The air was cooling. Once they were on the bridge, the wind that passed down the channel buffeted them. A cold, icy wind. They could feel the bridge shuddering as the air currents moved around it. With no mountainsides or buildings to shield them from the Arctic weather, they were very exposed. But it was a beautiful setting, so the wind didn’t worry them.
The children saw two things as they walked across the bridge. The first was a huge red-and-white boat heading in from the south, HURTIGRUTEN written on its side. As they saw it, they heard it too: its horn filled the fjords with a deep blast of sound that echoed from mountainside to mountainside.
‘That’s the Hurtigruten,’ Lesh explained. ‘It’s a boat service that runs up and down the Norwegian coast. There are a few boats going north and south at any one time. It takes a week to travel the length of the country.’
The other thing they all saw from the bridge was a man standing exactly halfway across, hundreds of metres above the choppy water. And he looked familiar.
‘Isn’t that …?’ Kester asked.
‘Sergei Esenin,’ Lesh confirmed. ‘No question. Just like he looks in the photos we saw.’ ‘What’s he doing here?’ Lily asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Kester replied. ‘But is it normal to stop on a bridge and just stare into the water?’
‘Well, we’re doing it,’ Hatty pointed out.
‘True,’ Kester conceded.
The Squad carried on talking as they moved past Esenin, covering the sort of trivia they knew would sound normal. Football. Who was winning and who was losing back in England.
The Russian’s eyes were so fixed on the channel of water beneath him that he didn’t seem to notice them anyway. He looked young and extremely fit. Not at all how they imagined a scientist to be.
When they were safely past him, Kester asked the question everybody had lodged in their minds. ‘What was he looking for?’
‘Something in the water?’ Lily suggested.
‘Or under it?’ Lesh added. ‘A Russian submarine?’
‘The warhead,’ Hatty said. ‘He knows it’s coming in and he’s monitoring it. Maybe.’
‘I think it’s time we reported back to the Prime Minister,’ Kester concluded. ‘We’re starting to get some ideas about what’s going on – and who might be involved.’
The five children picked up their pace, heading towards the conference hotel, as a vicious hailstorm swept off the mountains.
Aerial Attack
The Prime Minister was already running late.
He’d been speaking on the telephone to the American President, the call running over into the time when he should have been round the table with all the representatives of the Arctic Powers.
His adviser called a lift for him, then asked, ‘Shall I come down with you, sir?’
‘No, it’s fine, Luxton. This hotel is safer than Downing Street.’
‘I could call a UN soldier?’
‘Really. Don’t worry. I’ll be OK.’
The Prime Minister entered the lift and pressed the button to take him directly to the ground floor. The doors slid shut and he could feel the floor of the lift dropping. He’d be downstairs in seconds.
Then the lift stopped dead. The Prime Minister pressed the ground-floor button again.
Nothing.
Knowing he was vulnerable, he pressed the alarm button without hesitating.
Still nothing.
Then, to his horror, a large panel in the roof of the lift opened. The most powerful man in Britain was helpless. He could do nothing. He was unarmed and had no means of calling for help. He could only watch as a lone figure dropped to stand next to him.
‘Hello, sir,’ Hatty said soothingly, seeing how anxious the Prime Minister looked. ‘I’m sorry to frighten you. This was really the only way.’
‘I wasn’t frightened,’ the Prime Minister snapped.
Hatty felt like contradicting him, but knew she had to get down to business. ‘I need to report to you, sir. Julia wanted us to – in person – when we had information that might help you.’
The Prime Minister nodded and straightened his tie, which didn’t need straightening.
‘Yes?’ he said, clearly still in shock.
‘We’ve been keeping an eye on three people,’ she started.
‘Three? I thought it was two.’
‘It’s three now, sir. The first is Esenin, the Russian. We’ve been into his room and found some papers. Images of a nuclear warhead and charts of the waters around Tromsø.’
‘The Russians!’ The Prime Minister shook his head gravely. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘We also saw him scanning the fjord earlier, from the Bruvegen Bridge up there.’
‘And what do you think that means?’
‘The warhead looks like one from the 1960s,’ Hatty said. ‘It’s one that went missing – the Americans lost it in Greenland.’
‘Lost it? I find that hard to believe.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s well documented.’ Hatty hesitated. ‘We think it’s possible that he – or someone – is bringing it here to use.’
‘But it’s not here yet?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I can help with that. I can arrange for satellites to monitor the waterways around here. He’ll struggle to get it in. Who are your other suspects?’
‘Frank Hawk,’ Hatty said, pleased the Prime Minister seemed to be relaxing and taking her seriously.
‘Frank?’ the PM asked. ‘What about him? Are you working with him?’
‘No. He’s a suspect.’
‘What?’ The Prime Minister looked cross. ‘He’s not a key player here. Just an adviser to the Americans. I was just talking to the President about him. In fact, Frank has even told me he’s met you kids. He likes you.’
‘We like him too, sir,’ Hatty said. ‘But we’ve had some information about him and his interests. About his position against global warming. Something doesn’t feel quite right. We’ve been into his rooms and …’
‘His rooms? No. Why? What did you fi
nd?’
‘Nothing, sir. We were nearly caught, but we, well, we hid …’
The Prime Minister shook his head. ‘Please. That’s too much detail. Just forget Frank. He’s a good man. He’s on our side – I really believe that.’
‘Sir,’ Hatty spoke. ‘We know you’re uneasy about working with children, but we also know what we’re doing.’
‘I know you do,’ the Prime Minister said, ‘but it will never stop me feeling uneasy. You’re children. It’s not right. Not legal. But if you are the only way we can stop the worst things happening, then I know we must. I’ve got two SAS units half an hour from here in the mountains if we should need them. But I can’t use them unless it’s absolutely necessary. It would cause an international scandal.’
‘You can rely on us, sir.’
‘I have no choice,’ the Prime Minister confessed. ‘But I really do think you’re wrong about Frank. Forget him. Tell me, who’s your third suspect?’
‘An Inuit girl from Canada.’
‘A girl? How old?’
‘Fourteen maybe?’
‘What? A fourteen-year-old Canadian girl? This just gets more absurd. Maybe I should speak to Julia about this. I’m becoming less happy about what you and your friends are doing.’
‘It’s a small matter at the moment, sir,’ Hatty went on. ‘She was around when the attack happened this morning. She was filming it. And now the footage is all over YouTube. We suspect she is an activist of some sort. Someone to keep an eye on.’
‘Right,’ the Prime Minister said, glancing at his watch. ‘Look, I’m not happy about any of this, Frank especially. But I have to be at my next meeting. I’m already dreadfully late. Tell me, what are your plans right now?’
‘To track all three,’ Hatty said. ‘Focusing on Esenin and Hawk. We have bugs in some of their clothes and in their rooms, so we’re managing to listen in to some of their conversations.’
‘OK.’ The Prime Minister paused. ‘If it were me, I’d focus on the Russian. They have a history of making trouble. They’ve already tried underhand things to get their hands on the oil and gas up there. By all means, keep an eye on the Americans, but I’m convinced Hawk is clean.’
