by Tom Palmer
‘I don’t think we have enough evidence, sir,’ Hatty said to the Prime Minister, backing Lesh up. ‘Like Lesh said, there’s still a lot of guesswork involved. We could be wrong. I think what we need to do is focus all our attention on Esenin. If we make a mistake, it could be bad news for the conference – and the world.’
‘No,’ the PM said. ‘I’ve got British Special Forces in the mountains. I can have them come in and do a quiet job. We have too much to lose.’
‘With respect, sir,’ Hatty said sharply, remembering that this was what adults sometimes said to each other when they were going to say something without respect, ‘we need more time. There’s nothing else to suggest Esenin is behind any real threat to the conference. Bringing in Special Forces would ruin the whole conference and the UK would never be trusted again.’
The room went silent. Even the noise of the wind buffeting off the top of the hotel seemed to stop. The Prime Minister looked at Hatty. It was clear to her that he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. But the thing about Hatty was she didn’t care. The most important thing in the world to her was that she should speak her mind, whoever she was talking to, whether it was a five-year-old child or the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. And, at this point, she wasn’t sure what the difference was between the two.
‘Twelve hours,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘That’s all you have. Then I call the SAS in.’
‘And start a world war?’ Hatty muttered under her breath.
‘I’m sorry?’ the Prime Minister said.
Lesh spoke up. ‘Hatty said, “Thank you for giving us more.” More time, that is. But we need to go now, sir.’ He glanced at his SpyPad. ‘Esenin is on the move.’
‘That was so cool,’ Adnan said in the service lift as the children descended to the ground floor. ‘You just cornered the Prime Minister. I wish Lily and Kester had been here to see that.’
‘There’s no time to worry about them,’ Hatty said. ‘What are we going to do about Esenin?’
‘Follow him. Search his room. Bug him,’ Lesh said, glancing at his SpyPhone. ‘He left his room while we were with the PM. He’s gone with a coat on and a map of the town. He’s … where is he now? Right now … he’s walking south towards the Polaria Museum. Sightseeing maybe?’
‘Or,’ Adnan suggested, ‘if you follow the Prime Minister’s logic – he’s gone to pitch the world into war.’
‘Maybe.’ Lesh smiled grimly.
‘I have to say,’ Adnan went on, ‘I sort of agree with the Prime Minister. I think Esenin is planning something. I’d have the SAS in here sharpish.’
‘You made that clear in there,’ Hatty said, gently pushing Adnan against the side of the lift. ‘I think you like the Prime Minister.’
‘Maybe I do,’ Adnan said. ‘He’s a bit like my dad was.’
Hatty paused as the lift slowed. She couldn’t help thinking, as she knew Adnan now was, about his chance of a new family with his uncle from Pakistan. She put her arm round him. ‘Your dad was way better than him,’ she said.
The lift doors opened and the trio walked quickly through a large kitchen area, finding a door out on to the harbourside, to be hit with a blast of cold air.
‘The forecast said that the weather was about to change,’ Lesh grumbled as he tightened his scarf and drew his collar round his neck.
‘Come on then,’ Hatty said. ‘Let’s move it. We need to follow him, see what he’s up to. If we don’t, then our glorious leader will have the SAS charging down that hill before we know what’s hit us.’
Polaria
Adnan studied the Polaria Museum building as the three children made their way towards it.
‘I hate museums,’ Hatty muttered. ‘They’re boring.’
‘I love them,’ retorted Adnan.
‘You would.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means,’ Hatty explained, ‘that you’re the kind of person who likes boring things, Adnan.’
‘Thanks,’ Adnan said. ‘I like to think of myself as someone who’s interested in the big wide world. Someone who wants to know more than he already knows. I wonder if that makes me boring – or someone else?’
‘Yawn,’ Hatty said.
‘You’re the yawn, Hatty.’
As they reached the door of the museum, Adnan shoulder-barged Hatty. Playfully. Hatty glared back at him. Less playfully.
Polaria was a strange-looking building. It appeared like a stack of blocks of ice, falling like giant white dominoes, as if they were going to tumble into the fjord. The entrance was a massive sheet of glass, revealing everything inside. A shop. A cafe. The museum itself.
‘There’s fish,’ Adnan said.
‘What?’ Hatty asked.
‘Fish,’ Adnan went on. ‘In the museum. Fish to look at.’
‘I hate fish too,’ Hatty said, turning to see that Lesh had stopped his wheelchair and was eyeing the museum warily.
‘What’s up?’ Adnan said. ‘Do you hate fish too?’
‘Be serious, Adnan,’ Lesh snapped. ‘There’s something in there that Hatty hates even more than fish and museums,’ he explained.
‘Eh?’ Adnan looked blankly at him.
‘In there.’
‘What?’ Hatty joked. ‘Georgia?’
Then, to her horror, she saw that Lesh was nodding. And smirking. ‘She’s in the shop.’
Hatty put her hand to her head. ‘Oh no. I have to go in a fish museum that has Georgia in it. This could not get any worse.’
After paying their entrance fee – and before they were allowed into the main museum – they were directed into a cinema to watch a short film about the Arctic. Ignoring the film, they made their way through a set of tanks filled with fish and seals, then past some interpretation boards and a model of a fishing boat, quickly closing in on the cafe.
‘Any sign of Georgia?’ Hatty asked.
‘Negative,’ Lesh said. ‘She’s not in the shop. It looks like she’s gone.’
‘Is Esenin still here, more importantly?’
‘Yes. In the cafe, by the look of it.’
‘Let’s go up there then. See what he’s doing. OK?’
‘OK.’
There was a set of stairs to the left that led up to the cafe, which was over the museum shop. And a lift. The children bundled into it and started to ascend. When the lift door opened and they saw the cafe and everyone in it, none of the three said a word, although each was reeling in shock at what met their eyes. There were about ten people in there, most sitting drinking coffee. Some were eating. At the table in the far corner, overlooking the car park, was Sergei Esenin.
He was sitting – and talking – to another person.
Georgia.
Georgia
Hatty, Lesh and Adnan sat at the table nearest the lift.
‘Act normal,’ Hatty said. ‘Adnan, get some drinks and cakes or something.’
Adnan stood up and walked towards the counter and the array of cakes and open sandwiches displayed in a glass case.
Hatty observed Georgia. The blonde girl followed Adnan with her eyes, like she was looking at a stranger, then she returned her attention to the Russian, without even acknowledging Hatty.
‘She knows we’re here,’ Hatty whispered to Lesh.
‘She does.’
‘So what’s she doing?’
‘No idea.’
‘I do,’ Hatty spat. ‘She knows about us. You know? What we do! She must do.’
‘No way,’ Lesh said, angling the SpyPad so that he could film the pair as evidence.
‘She does. Or she thinks we’re up to something. But why’s she talking to him? How could she possibly know him? She has no idea of the danger she’s in. This could completely wreck our mission. She could easily end up dead.’
Hatty watched the pair closely. Georgia was wearing clothes and make-up that made her look at least eighteen.
When Adnan came back with three cans of Coke and some biscuits, Hatty drew
him close.
‘What did you see?’ she asked.
‘A man who likes the attention,’ Adnan said. ‘He loves that she’s listening to him talk.’
‘Urghhh!’ Hatty grimaced.
‘So what do we do?’ Adnan asked.
‘We wait,’ Hatty said, looking at Lesh for approval. He nodded.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, Hatty was still fuming. She was desperate to get her hands on the other girl. She wanted to throttle her. Georgia was about to blow their mission by meddling with their key target. But then Georgia stood up and smiled at the man, pointing back down the stairs.
‘She’s going to the toilet,’ Hatty muttered. ‘I’ll go after her.’
Hatty watched as the Russian stood politely, then sat down smiling after Georgia had gone. She counted to twenty, then followed the other girl down the staircase, across the museum floor and into the Ladies. As she left, Lesh grabbed her arm.
‘What?’
‘Go easy,’ Lesh said. ‘This is sensitive. Don’t let how you feel about Georgia get in the way of what we need to achieve here.’
Hatty pulled her arm away, then breathed out, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she touched Lesh on the shoulder. ‘OK,’ she agreed. Then she was off.
All the way down the stairs, Hatty kept telling herself to be calm. Yes, she hated Georgia, but Georgia was involved now. There was no getting away from it. Lesh was right. Hatty couldn’t blow this. She pushed open the door of the toilet. It was bright and white inside. She took a deep, calming breath.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she shouted.
‘What do you mean?’ Georgia answered. ‘I’m just talking to a guy.’
Hatty checked all the cubicles, keeping her eyes on Georgia, who was standing at the mirror. All the toilets were empty.
‘Why?’ Hatty asked.
‘Why what?’
‘Why are you talking to this man?’
‘He’s nice, interesting.’
‘Why this man?’ Hatty insisted.
‘You’re asking me why?’ Georgia said.
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s look at this another way.’ Georgia was smiling now. ‘Why are you following him?
For a few seconds Hatty was speechless. She had absolutely no idea how Georgia knew they were pursuing Esenin. But she knew she had to speak, to act as if that was not what they were doing.
‘We’re not.’
‘You are. Don’t lie. I saw you coming here from the hotel, looking around for someone. There’s no way you’d be looking for me. I’ve seen you snooping round the hotel too, like you’re private detectives or something. I watch you all the time. You’re rubbish at it.’ Georgia stopped and faced Hatty without blinking.
Hatty felt like punching Georgia in the mouth at this point. The whole mission was in jeopardy here. No, it was more than that. The entire future of the Squad was at risk. They’d been compromised – by this stupid little princess – and that was the truth of it.
The problem was that Hatty, for once, didn’t know what to say. She was genuinely shocked. And that gave Georgia a further chance to fill the silence.
‘I said there was something about you lot at the football yesterday,’ she said. ‘I’ve been watching you. Ever since the five of you showed up in Poland, I’ve known that you’re more than footballers. You’d have to be because you’re rubbish at football. I think you’re undercover detectives. Something like that. What is it? Investigating football? And I think I’m about to find out more, thanks to Sergei up there. And, when I know more, I think I’d like to join you to be honest. I’ve always liked detective stories.’
Hatty smiled. So Georgia wanted to be a detective? Maybe that was how she could sort out this situation. Could she get away with that? Let the other girl think she was helping them with detective work? For now it felt to Hatty like her only option. There was no other way she could get out of this conversation and try to keep tabs on Esenin, both of which needed doing urgently. So long as she could say they were undercover football detectives, then she wouldn’t have to admit that they were spies. Yes, it was true that spies and detectives are a little similar, but Hatty felt it would be a result not to have to admit exactly what they were.
‘OK,’ Hatty said.
‘OK what?’
‘You’re right.’
‘Right about what?’
‘We’re undercover. We’re detectives.’
‘Ha! I knew it.’
‘I need to be honest about something else,’ Hatty said.
‘Yeah?’ Georgia looked really cocky now, like she was clever and she knew it.
‘You know that I put on this act that I don’t like you?’ Hatty said.
‘Yeah?’
‘That’s not an act. I don’t like you.’
‘Thanks,’ Georgia said, looking slightly wounded.
Hatty hoped she’d not gone too far. Say something to hurt the other girl, then tell her lots of nice things about herself. It was a technique they’d been trained in. A way of making someone join you, rather than be against you.
‘But …’
Georgia remained silent.
‘But, regardless of that, we do need you to join us. We do need your help. You’ve managed to get to our target where we’ve failed. And, though it’s hard for me to say it, I admire you for that. I underestimated you. Without your help, we can’t complete our operation.’
Georgia was smiling now. Broadly. Hatty tried to smile too, but all the time she knew this was a colossal risk. Something that could backfire terribly. A gamble. A terrible gamble.
‘Please,’ Hatty said, putting her doubts to one side. ‘Will you help us?’
Exactly three minutes after Georgia had left the cafe, closely followed by Hatty, the two boys saw Georgia coming back up the stairs. The Russian had his back to her as he tapped his mobile phone.
Georgia took the opportunity to wink at Lesh and Adnan, then she flicked her hair and rejoined the Russian. Neither boy reacted. They just looked at each other, puzzled. They had expected Hatty to persuade the other girl to leave. This was not how they thought the situation would develop. And then Hatty was sitting back down with them, accompanied by the sound of Georgia laughing at the Russian man’s latest remark.
‘What?’ asked Lesh.
Hatty frowned. ‘I’ve recruited Georgia,’ she said calmly and quietly. ‘She’s wired. She’s going to ask him about the warhead. I’ve briefed her about the case. But I’ve told her that we’re detectives, OK? That’s the story.’
‘Wired?’
‘Yes, she’s got a pin mic on her top.’
Lesh and Adnan said nothing. But both their jaws were hanging open.
‘Are you mad?’ Lesh asked eventually. ‘She’s just a girl. She’s not trained. She’s not anything.’
‘She’s clever,’ Hatty said grudgingly. ‘And, frankly, we had no choice. Come on, Lesh. Adnan, you stay up here. Lesh and I are going to listen in to what she gets him to say.’
Questions and Answers
‘I love the mountains,’ Georgia said.
Her voice was clear through the headphones both Lesh and Hatty were listening through, sitting underneath the cafe next to a model of a fishing boat. Hatty knew what Georgia was up to mentioning mountains. She’d briefed her about extreme walking, exploration, even the warhead. All to see if Georgia could get Esenin to open up about his own experiences.
‘Yes. Very beautiful,’ the Russian replied.
‘My friends and I,’ Georgia went on, ‘we’re planning to walk across them. In the snow. It’ll be exciting.’
‘No, no,’ Esenin warned. ‘It is too dangerous. There can be ice. One slip and can be death.’
‘You talk like you’ve had an accident yourself,’ Georgia said, sounding scared.
A pause. Hatty held her breath. She wondered if their new recruit had gone too far. She was already pushing the Russian for information about his hiking trip with his father. N
ot softening him up first. Georgia really wasn’t cut out for this. But Hatty was mistaken.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This is true.’
‘Tell me more.’
Hatty frowned. She could just imagine Georgia now, hanging on to his every word, like he was the most interesting man in the world. The thought appalled her. But she knew it was the right tactic. Georgia was playing him like a true spy.
‘When I am young. Your age. My father takes me on an … how do you say … expedition. To Greenland. Do you know it?’
‘Yes. It’s near Canada. Was it icy?’
‘Yes.’ Esenin laughed loudly. ‘Icy. Very icy. We walk on ice for days. We carry our items … our foods … on sledges behind us. Ice, ice, ice.’
‘Wow,’ Georgia gushed. ‘All by yourself?’
‘Yes.’ Esenin sounded excited now. ‘My father says I must carry everything for me. He will not help me. He says it is to make me a man.’
‘Well, he was right,’ Georgia said, making Hatty wince. ‘Did the trip go well?’
‘Very well. My father …’ The Russian faltered. ‘I don’t know if to tell you. It is not good.’
Hatty pricked up her ears. Could this be what they were after? She swallowed and began to think that recruiting Georgia had been a good idea. A risk, yes, but it was looking like it might pay off.
‘Please tell me,’ Georgia said.
‘No. This is a bad thing. I am not proud of this. It is a thing from the past. Not something for now.’
‘Please. You can’t shock me.’
Hatty could hear a slight edge of fear in the man’s voice. Like he was not sure he was comfortable talking about what Georgia was asking, but, at the same time, he wanted to tell her, impress her.
‘OK,’ Esenin said. ‘My father … he … he shoots a polar bear.’
‘How exciting,’ Georgia said.
Hatty hoped Georgia was acting. What could be exciting about shooting an amazing animal like a polar bear?
‘But then the weather changes and it becomes dangerous. It is as if the killing of the bear is a bad thing against nature. The storm comes. We hoped to head north. But we are driven back. We are rescued in the end. By a Russian boat.’
