Striker Boy Kicks Out (19 page)

Jobson and Carigio both looked totally shaken. They stood with all eyes on them, got their things together and shuffled out of the changing room. Carigio turned back to the rest of the team and managed a small wave goodbye. Jobson didn't look back. A few seconds later they were gone.

The room stayed deathly silent until Fox spoke again.

“Believe me, lads, I didn't want to do that, but I have no choice. I can't have those two squabbling for the whole world to see – it's not just bad for PR, it's bad for everyone's morale. It means our squad is now slimmed down to sixteen and we've lost two first-rate internationals, but it's a point of principle, and maybe we can come out on the other side of this with Jobson and Carigio having finally put their feud to rest. If they can't do that, then I'm afraid I'm going to transfer-list them and buy replacements.”

The silence deepened.

“With them gone,” went on Fox, “there will be some good opportunities for the rest of you. I know I said before the tournament that I wanted to establish a solid first eleven but sometimes events take over. We now need to be more flexible. Play well, show commitment and you never know what might happen.”

The manager's eyes rested on Nat for a split second.

Is he talking about me? I definitely delivered tonight and with those two gone, who knows?

By the time the players walked out of the changing room, the celebratory air had been tempered by the removal of Jobson and Carigio from the squad. It wouldn't be long before the story hit the wires and the British press would be all over it.

Evans ushered the players into the warm Spanish night. A few stopped to sign autographs for Hatton Rangers fans, and for them they kept up their expressions of good cheer and bonhomie. When the fans found out about Jobson and Carigio, they wouldn't be too pleased with Ian Fox, irrespective of the penalty fiasco.

Nat was about to climb onto the bus behind Kelvin, when something suddenly caught his eye.

It was the man – the one he'd seen in the stands in the first training session.

A tremor shot through Nat. The man was just about to walk down into an underpass at the end of the street about a hundred metres away.

Nat thought fast. Should he tell Fox and Evans? He looked over his shoulder. They hadn't come out of the stadium yet. Should he grab a policeman? There were a couple by the entrance to the turnstiles, chatting good-naturedly to Lazio fans. He could approach them, but his Spanish was nowhere near good enough to explain the situation, and besides, even if he could, what reason would he give them for chasing the man? That he'd seen him once before at training and didn't like the look of him?

No, there was only one thing for it. Nat dropped his bag and ran.

Thoughts of Tanner and Chris Webb flooded into his mind as he pounded the pavement. He remembered Tanner picking up a gun. He remembered the bottle he'd grabbed from the cleaning trolley and sprayed in Tanner's face. That spray had saved his life. If this man was
connected in any way to Tanner or the people behind the match-fixing scheme, he had to be careful. He couldn't have this thing hanging over him, but if things looked too dangerous he would have to stop and call for help.

A few stalls selling snacks were dotted along the pavement. Nat sprinted past these and spied a small gaggle of Hatton Rangers fans up ahead on the kerb, trying to wave down a taxi. One of them spotted him and stepped in his way.

“Sorry, I can't stop,” said Nat, skirting round him. The lad shouted after him, but he couldn't hear what he said.

The man Nat was chasing had now disappeared into the subway.

I might have a chance of reaching him if I'm fast!

Onwards Nat's feet took him. He nearly sent an elderly man flying, but managed to skid out of his way at the last second. He was almost at the entrance to the subway, and as he reached it, he grabbed the railings, pulled himself round and leapt down the stairs, four at a time.

At the bottom was a long tunnel, lit by the dim glow of some faint yellow lights, similar to the ones used on the London Underground. The man was about sixty metres away, but as Nat charged forward he took a sharp left and vanished from view.

Increasing his pace, Nat rushed past a woman with a pram who was talking on her mobile and overtook two teenage girls who were laughing loudly. Finally he reached the spot where the man had turned left.

He stopped abruptly. In front of him were three new
tunnels, each one turning sharply and so preventing Nat from seeing down them. He stamped his foot in frustration and made an instant decision – he plunged into the left one, following its curve round. But to his disappointment, when it straightened out, the only person ahead of him was an elderly woman pulling a battered shopping trolley behind her.

Nat retraced his steps and sprinted into the middle tunnel, but this was empty. Back again he ran and entered the tunnel on the right. This curved, led under the road and then ascended back up to street level. Nat rushed up the steps and frantically looked in all directions.

There was no sign of the man.

Damn!

Nat winced with frustration and started walking back to the team bus and his fellow players. They'd be wondering why on earth he'd raced off in such a hurry, but he was in no mood to tell them anything about the chase.

When he reached the bus, Stan Evans was standing at the door checking his watch.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Kelvin said that one minute you were about to get on the bus and the next you raced off somewhere.”

“I just thought I saw someone I knew,” panted Nat, stepping past Evans and climbing onto the bus.

“Who was it?” enquired Evans, following him on.

“Just someone I met at my host's house. It doesn't matter.”

Nat was sorely tempted to share his suspicions with
Stan, but once again he remained silent. Even though he was scared, fear of making himself look like a paranoid madman held him back.

“Whatever you say,” replied Evans, whose mind was now on ensuring that all of his players and staff were on board.

On the journey back to the team hotel, Nat tried to concentrate on the conversation he was having with Kelvin and Emi, but his mind kept darting back to the mystery man.

Who is he, and is he connected to Tanner and the match-fixing scam?

The team bus dropped him off on the coastal road and he walked the rest of the way back to Inés's place. It was quiet when he got in. The light in Inés's room was off but a line of light spilled out from under José's door.

Nat went on to his room and picked up his book. A few pages in and he'd been drawn back into the twists and turns of the lightning-paced plot, and after forty minutes he felt his eyelids drooping. The book slipped out of his hand onto the floor and he was just about to flick off his bedside light when he heard soft footsteps outside his window.

Must be a fox or some other kind of night creature.

But the footsteps were too loud for an animal. Out of curiosity, Nat checked his watch. It was 12.28 a.m. Who was wandering around at this hour? Although his body screamed out for him to ignore it and go to sleep, he forced himself out of bed, crossed the room and pulled back the
blinds. There was José, walking away from the house with a small rucksack on his back.

Nat knew he should just climb back into bed but he was intrigued. José looked as if he was setting off on a hike . . . well after midnight. Without really knowing what he was doing, Nat tiptoed out of his room and hurried down the corridor, letting himself out of the front door as quietly as he could. He left the door on the latch so that he'd be able to get in again.

He crept out into the warm night, walking quickly through the courtyard to the back of the house. José was climbing the bare hill about thirty metres ahead of him. When José looked round, Nat threw himself onto the ground, hoping he hadn't been seen. But when he raised his head, José was gone. Nat tutted in frustration and started running silently up the hill. When he came to its brow, at first he couldn't see José, but then he spied him walking along a narrow path onto a patch of scrubland. After fifty metres, José knelt down on the ground. Nat held back, crouching down by the base of an olive tree. But a few moments later, José had completely disappeared from view – it was as if the scrubland had swallowed him.

Making as little noise as possible, Nat quickly stole over to where José had been crouching. There on the ground was an open wooden trapdoor. It must have been buried beneath some earth. That's what José had been doing when he knelt down – he'd been moving the dry mud to reveal the door. Nat peered down into the hole but couldn't see anything.

What on earth is he doing down there?

He then heard the scraping of feet. José was coming back. If José spotted him it would undoubtedly lead to a very unpleasant scene. José had been furious with his mother for talking to Nat about him. He'd surely go completely crazy if he discovered Nat had followed him out here. But as Nat's brain was computing his next move, an unsettling thought suddenly hit him. He'd left the front door on the latch – he had to get back to the villa first otherwise José would see this and also notice that Nat's bedroom door was open. He should have shut it!

But the scrubland was very open. The moon was bright enough to illuminate it and José would be appearing in a few seconds – he'd surely see Nat running ahead. That left only one option. Nat would have to sprint to the fence at the left side of the land, which was quite near, get over it, and somehow cut back to the villa, hoping there were no major obstacles in the way and he could beat José there.

As José reached up to the door to pull himself back out, Nat sprinted towards the fence. He looked back for a second and saw José's head emerging. Luckily he was facing the other way or he'd have seen Nat. Nat spotted several red discs spread out along the fence. It was electrified. He didn't fancy getting a high-voltage shock, but it was too late to change his mind – José would definitely see him if he turned round now. So Nat sped up, clenched his teeth, made his best Olympic-hurdles-style jump and cleared the fence by a few millimetres. He landed in a clump of thorny bushes,
and to his horror saw that the whole field was covered in these shrubs. But that was tough luck – he
had
to get back before José. He sprinted in the general direction of the villa, the thorns snagging him. His hands took quite a few hits but he powered on, finally reaching another fence, also electrified. But this time he wasn't jumping from flat ground, he was jumping from a field full of thorn bushes.

As a result, his leap wasn't as powerful and his left trainer got caught on the wire. He crashed to the ground and felt his leg yanking him back. The bottom of his pyjama trousers was pulled up and his shin came into contact with the metal. A large jolt of electricity fizzed through him. In panic he grabbed his leg and pulled. Luckily, his twisting movement released his trainer and his leg fell down to join the rest of his body.

The effect of the shock was still fizzing, but he managed to pull himself up and, to his relief, saw the field he was now in had no bushes – it was just scrubland. And there, up ahead, was the villa. He raced forwards, looking to his right, where José should be appearing in a few seconds. And sure enough, it wasn't long before José's figure came into view at the top of the hill. Nat hurried on, hoping José couldn't see him as he crashed down towards the villa. He ran round to the front door, slipped inside, took the door off the latch and closed it quickly.

“Nat?” Inés's voice made him jolt with shock.

She flicked a switch and light flooded into the hallway. Nat instinctively placed his hands behind his back to
hide the scratches he'd picked up from the vicious thorn bushes.

“I was just going to the bathroom,” explained Nat.

“You've gone past it,” Inés pointed out.

“You know how it is when you wake up in a place you don't know that well?” he bluffed.

She arched an eyebrow suspiciously, and watched as Nat hurried towards the bathroom. She turned off the corridor light as he entered the bathroom. Once inside, he switched on the bathroom light. Nat listened for the sound of José returning.

But José didn't come back.

Did he see me outside?
thought Nat frantically.
Or did he see the corridor light and now the bathroom light go on? Maybe he's waiting for all of the lights to go out?

Nat took a deep breath, flushed the toilet and walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light as he went. He returned to his room and lay in the darkness, waiting for José's footsteps. But they didn't arrive, or at least he didn't hear them, before he fell asleep.