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?’
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.’