Chapter 27

 

Milton headed straight to his room when he arrived back at the hotel. He threw his spare clothes into his bag and, as he pulled the zip across, he noticed the light was flashing on his bedside phone. It was a message from Lenny saying he was back already and that the rest of the guys - or at least those who had not been arrested - were to meet in his room.

Milton thought about turning his back on it there and then but knew the job was not complete yet. Jacks was still a free man and he had to know where he was.

Before arriving back at the hotel, Milton had contacted Waite, who confirmed that a team of officers were on their way over.

It seemed like an eternity to Milton as he travelled in the lift up the half dozen or so floors to Lenny’s suite. He did not even wait for the lift doors to open all the way, squeezing himself out and then running along the corridor to room 515.

He knocked and in an instant the door swung open sharply. It was Kirk.

“Hi Milton. Glad you made it out too,” he said in his strong Northern accident.

Lenny was stripped to his boxer shorts and was cleaning himself up in the bathroom and Chalky, Stardust and JT were sitting stone-faced and deadly silent around the TV set.

“What the hell happened out there?” said Milton to no one in particular. No one answered and Milton joined them by the TV.

“Pups is dead,” said Chalky without pulling his stare away from the breaking news.

The announcement had just been made that a German fan had been stabbed and had died in hospital from his injuries. His identity had not been revealed and the lads knew then that it was Pups. The men ensured that they carried no identification in case this sort of thing happened. They would rather die nameless than risk blowing the whole operation. Stardust was noting down the name of the hospital where Pups had been taken on the back of a cigarette packet. Milton couldn’t work out why.

The rest of the news broadcasted the success of the police operation, which had prevented a full-scale riot in the city’s main square. It said hundreds of fans had been arrested, including the ringleaders. Milton looked around the room and knew that this was far from the truth. Members of Expatriatedotcom had indeed been arrested, but certainly not the generals. They were larger than life and sitting with him in the hotel room. He just wished that Waite and the backup cavalry would arrive soon.

Hardly a word was said before the door swung open and Jacks entered the room. He was visibly upset and, judging by the scratches on his face, he had been through a scrape himself.

He grabbed a Coke from the fridge and sat on the corner of the bed. He soon replaced the TV as the centre of attention.

He described how EFTA had gone to the helicopter pick-up site and found that it was swarming with police.

“They were waiting for us. There were a lot of undercover guys there but they stuck out like sore thumbs,” he explained.

They had spotted the danger and retreated. By then, though, it was too late to get within communications range, thus leaving the men stranded.

Then he concluded something that sent a shiver down Milton’s spine.

“They knew we were coming so someone has stitched us up.”

Milton hoped his guilt wasn’t showing, otherwise his life was in danger. Kirk was standing by the bedroom door and there were five other highly trained killers in the room with him.

“You are right,” said JT. “We charged towards the square and it all seemed to be going well, but there was a cordon of riot police ready and waiting for us. We were sitting ducks. They even had the trailers there ready to throw us into. Someone grassed us up, Carson.”

Jacks got up from the bed to pace the room, only stopping to look at the scratches on his face as he walked past the mirror.

“It must have been someone quite high up among us. There’s no way one of the boys would have sold out. Life is too sweet for them.”

Milton was becoming increasingly agitated, a position not helped by Lenny who had suddenly stopped drying his face in the bathroom and was staring straight at Milton.

Jacks continued, “I thought I knew everyone at that company inside out. I thought I had gained the trust of everyone, but someone has turned on me.

“Some bastard who knew the plans relayed them all to the fuzz.”

Lenny had twigged. He walked slowly out of the bathroom and never broke his laser-like gaze at Milton.

Milton was shaking his head ever so slowly. He realised that Lenny had worked it out and in some way hoped he would maintain his silence.

The burly Lenny continued where Jacks had finished. “You mean someone who could be fairly new to the set-up, Carson? Someone who perhaps was not there from the start? Someone who just turned up out of the blue to join us?”

All the men looked at Lenny and then turned to Milton as they twigged on. Milton was in trouble. Big trouble.

Lenny grabbed Milton by the throat and threw him against the wall, maintaining a tight grip on Milton’s windpipe.

“Why Milton? Why have you done this?” screamed Lenny, spitting into Milton’s horrified face.

“Easy, Lenny. What are you talking about? Milton couldn’t have done it. He’s one of us,” said Stardust, realising that he was the man who had brought Milton into the fold in the first place.

“After I briefed the boys yesterday, I gave the papers to John to burn. It all makes sense now. He knew everything and has the evidence to throw the book at us. You are one dead duck, son.”

Milton knew the game was up. As Lenny squeezed his windpipe tighter, he managed to wrestle himself away and fell onto the bed.

Before Lenny could launch another barrage of violence, Jacks stepped in.

“Enough, Lenny,” he said.

Lenny retreated and Milton rubbed some life back into his throat.

“Why, John? Why have you sold us out?” he asked.

Milton looked up from the bed and, still rubbing his throat, spouted out the truth.

“My name is Detective Inspector John Milton of the Metropolitan Police’s anti-hooliganism task force and I have been searching for you men for almost 18 months,” he admitted.

You could have heard a pin drop as the men took a sucker punch straight to their stomachs, knocking the stuffing completely out of them.

They had grown to admire Milton as a friend and a comrade only to find that they had been welcoming the leader of the opposition. It would have been like Hitler’s war cabinet appointing Winston Churchill to the board.

How could they have been so stupid?

Jacks could feel the rage building from within, but he spoke with a calm voice.

“You’ve let us down, John. Have you understood nothing about what we have been trying to do here? We have been fighting for our country’s honour and future and you now tell us that you are on the other side helping to send England to the gutter? I liked you, John. I really thought we would be doing some marvellous things together, but I’m afraid you’ve let me down; you’ve let the lads down, but you’ve also let yourself down.”

Milton heard a click as Kirk flicked the lock on the door. The men rose to their feet and circled the bed. They felt as betrayed as their leader and it was time for retribution.

Milton felt like General Custer on his last stand, but he had one last throw of the dice to escape with his life.

“If you feel so passionate about England, Carson, why have you been ruining its chances of hosting the World Cup?” he pleaded.

“You know the score, John. We don’t want pictures of England going to the world in 2006. We will rise again as a powerful nation. A nation that is proud and says no to immigration, wasters, perverts, and any other growing band of losers calling it home at the moment.”

Milton had to speak fast as he was running out of time.

“So if you are so proud to be English, why have you been working for the Germans, Carson? Or should I call you Jackie?”

Jacks was stunned. Stardust was the first to speak.

“What the hell are you going on about, Milton?” he said. “What is he going on about, Carson?”

The men were well and truly confused.

Milton looked Jacks in the eye as he relayed the story of Jacks’s dealings with the Germans. The lack of interruption meant that his audience was listening. He even went back as far as what Jacks used to be called, but he did not go so far as to reveal the details of his ordeal in Turkey, that resulted in his dismissal from the Army.

Suddenly Jacks’s world was turned upside down. He was a beaten man and he knew it.

“Tell us this is not true, Carson. Tell us we haven’t been working for the fucking Krauts all this time,” Chalky pleaded with his fallen idol.

Jacks looked at the men, and for the first time Milton could see an emotional weakness within. His eyes welled up as he told them the whole story of how he was dismissed from the army; the Gulf War; and then how he was approached by the Germans regarding work for his redundant army.

“I carried on for you guys. You trusted me and if the Germans hadn’t come along you’d all be back in the UK standing on some nightclub door or watching out for thieves in Marks & Spencer’s. The company was not making money and, admit it lads, you were all getting bored. I love you guys. We have been through so much together and I couldn’t just sit by and watch you all go.”

If the men were horrified to find out that Milton was an undercover policeman, they were mortified to find out their beloved boss had double-crossed them too. They were too shocked to react.

Not a word was spoken as Kirk opened the door and tilted his head downwards. Jacks turned and walked through. Milton thought he should try to make some sort of arrest, but he was still unsure of his own position. He was stuck in a hotel room with men he had come to trust and love and he felt he owed them something in return.

“In the next few minutes, this place is going to be crawling with police. If you leave now, I will give you free passage and this incident never took place.”

It was not a tough decision for the men to make.

First Kirk, then Stardust and Chalky, then Lenny and finally JT filed out of the room and the heavy footsteps outside told Milton that each one beat a hasty retreat as soon as they entered the corridor.

Milton breathed a huge sigh of relief and lay back on the bed. He was absolutely drained. It was kind of over and yet it wasn’t.

Jacks’s army had been smashed, but at the same time he and his disciples were gone; they had disappeared into the darkness once more. But he was sure this time he was not going to see any of them again. Certainly not at a football match anyway.