Fair Game (3 page)

“I could get used to this,” Lennox grinned.

“Make the most of it,” I told him. “It's going to be very different on 156.”

It was. Even I was shocked at how bleak and dour the colony was. It really was the arse end of the universe. How could I ever have envied the men who had to spend their days here?

They put us up in the prison warders' complex. I'd never seen that bit of the prison before. It was no palace, but it was a lot nicer than the prisoners' cells.

I was told that Danny Marconi had asked to see me. “Sure,” I said. I couldn't wait to meet the old guy again. “Take me over.” I asked the warders to lead me out the back way. I wanted to meet Danny without all the cameras and stuff. They could do all that tomorrow.

Two warders led me down the tunnel to the cellblock. I knew them and we chatted a little. They didn't reckon I had any chance of beating Danny's men. “The betting's all against you,” one said.

“Well you should bet on me,” I said. “You'll get great odds.”

“We haven't got money to throw away,” the other man laughed. So no one thought I'd win. That was fine. I was happy being the underdog.

The warders took me into a secure area. They each had to have their fingertips checked, flash their passes and stare into a scanner before the door would open. Then they had to do it all again to open the next door.

At last we were in.

Danny Marconi was sitting at a metal table. His bald head was gleaming in the overhead light. His round, pumpkin face bore a warm smile. “Hello, Billy,” he said. “Good to have you back.”

“Hello, Danny,” I smiled back. I nodded in turn to the two men on either side of him. “Hi, Cog. Hi, Pablo.” One grinned back; the other scowled.

“Pablo's our skipper now,” Danny said. “He's better than when you were here.”

“He couldn't be worse,” I said. Pablo's scowl grew. Danny laughed.

“Your lot any good?” he asked.

I shrugged. “We'll see tomorrow.”

“You never were much of a talker, Billy, were you?” said Danny.

“You know me, Danny. I do my talking on the pitch,” I said.

“Yeah, and it's good, very good,” Danny nodded. He gave me a deep stare. “If we do this right, we could make football a proper sport again,” he said. “Like in my grandad's days.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That's the idea.”

“May the best team win, then,” Danny smiled. He held out his hand.

“Here's to a fair game,” I said and I shook his hand.

Danny made Pablo shake my hand, too. It was the quickest, most unfriendly handshake ever. Then I shook Cog's hand.

“How's it going?” I asked.

“Same old,” he replied with a sigh. “At least I can sleep now without your snoring…” He held on to my hand while we spoke. As he pulled it away I felt him press a piece of paper into my palm. I closed my hand around it.

“See you guys tomorrow,” I said. Danny nodded. Then the warders led me back to the others. I could feel Cog's note burning a hole in my hand.

I slept badly that night. It had nothing to do with the bed. That was comfy enough. It wasn't because I was nervous about the match, either. It was Cog's note that kept me tossing and turning. I'd read it so many times I knew every word by heart. ‘Gull's not taking bets on the match now. The bets are only on whether you will live to the end. Someone in the game's out to kill you. Watch out, Billy. Good luck.'

As if this news wasn't bad enough, Carl was sick all night and wouldn't be able to play. That meant we were down to the bare eleven. I
couldn't call the game off. There was too much at stake – including my life now, it seemed. My heart wasn't exactly dancing as I got changed into my kit. It got even heavier when we walked out under a sky that looked like it was stained with blood.

The venue for the game was the prison exercise yard. Some old goals had been put up. They even had nets. They looked prehistoric and were torn in places, but they were real goal nets. Tall stands had been built for the spectators, behind and above the yard walls. The prisoners sat on one side; the warders and press and guests on the other. There were cameras everywhere.

I saw Gull Reeves, his smile more crocodile-like than ever. Was he out to get me? Was I just a pawn in his game? I looked across at the other stand. Danny Marconi nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. Surely he wasn't in this plot to kill me? He couldn't be, could he? My eyes glanced round the pitch. ‘Someone in the game' Cog's note had said. But who? And on which side?

It could be anyone… I shivered. I'd have to be careful. I wanted to stay alive. But I also wanted to win this game.

The ref was one of the warders, Ricko. I knew him well. Everyone at the prison liked him. He was tough, but fair. He knew the rules and he'd make sure you kept to them. He was the ideal choice. Seeing him made me feel a little more hopeful.

At last the game started. There was a loud blast of music, followed by a huge cheer from the crowd. Then Ricko blew his whistle. I kicked the ball to Lennox and we were off.

It was clear from the start that I was a marked man. Two or three opponents closed on me every time I got near the ball. That didn't worry me. It felt like there was safety in numbers. I reckoned if someone was going to try to kill me, they wouldn't want witnesses. It helped our team, too. Lennox had more space – and he made good use of it. After only five minutes he
ran on to a pass from Quincy and smashed a shot into the net. We were ahead 1–0. Lennox did a double back-flip to celebrate. Our opponents weren't happy.

“Tell that cocky tool I'll kill him if he does that again,” Pablo spat at me as we walked back to the centre.

“You'll have to kill me first,” I said without thinking.

Pablo gave me an evil grin. “That would be a pleasure,” he said.

So, was it Pablo then? He was the obvious candidate. He hated me and had threatened to kill me before…

I didn't have time to worry about my fate, though. The game was fast and furious, end to end. Danny's team came back at us hard. Jackson was a rock in defence and Rob made some amazing saves. One was so good that I saw
Danny stand up and clap. That made me feel better, too. Danny cared about football more than anything. He liked a fair game. Killing me didn't fit with that.

Somehow we managed to hold on until half-time. They came close to scoring when Pablo crashed a shot against Rob's bar, but the ball didn't go in. At the break we were still 1–0 up. I wanted to just sit down and rest, but no such luck. A forest of microphones pushed into my face and I had to answer more dumb questions: “How do you feel?”; “Is this what you expected?”; “Can you hold on to win?” I didn't mind too much, though. I reckoned I was safe while the cameras were on me.

The loud music blared again. It was time for the second half to start.

“More of the same,” I told my team. “We can win this.”

I just hoped that I'd be alive at the end to see our victory…

The second half was even faster and harder than the first. Bodies crashed into one another. Hands shoved, arms pulled, feet kicked. Ricko had to be on his toes to stop the match turning into a war. I loved it. It was the most thrilling match I'd ever played. The crowd loved it, too. They shouted and screamed. They cheered and booed. They gasped and groaned. I hoped the millions watching on screens around the world were enjoying it as much. This was the best advert for playing football I could have asked for. This was the real thing.

I was playing for my life – literally. I used my speed and skill to stay out of trouble, keeping one step ahead of my opponents. I figured that if they couldn't get near me, then they sure as hell couldn't kill me. I stayed on my toes, playing the ball quickly. Lennox and I played lots of one-twos. One of these put him clean through on goal. I was sure he was going to score. So was he. Maybe he got too cocky. Instead of blasting the ball like he usually did, he tried a cute chip. It beat the goalie all right, but the ball landed on top of the bar. Lennox couldn't believe it. Nor could I.

Moments later, Danny's team drew level. Pablo hadn't really got into the game in the first half. But in the second half he was a demon. Danny was right about him getting better. He'd added new tricks and skills to his game. I suspected he was the one out to kill me. But he looked like he wanted to win the game first. After Lennox's miss, the ball came to Pablo in midfield. He sold Quincy a dummy, put the ball through Jackson's legs and sprinted round him. Rob came out
fast to narrow the angle. But Pablo sent him the wrong way with a clever step-over. Then he tapped the ball into the empty net.

The place went wild. The crowd yelled and roared. Danny smacked hands with the prisoners around him. Even Gull Reeves was up off his seat, hands in the air. I was upset that we'd lost our lead, but the atmosphere was amazing. This is what the world had been missing all these years. This was what real football was all about.

The last ten minutes of the match were breathless. One side attacked, then the other. There was nothing between us. I was having the time of my life – and I was still alive. I decided to take a risk. Jackson won the ball and slid it through to me. This time, instead of looking for the quick pass, I raced forwards. The sudden move took three opponents out of the game. I was still a long way out, but surprise was my weapon. I shot hard with the outside of my left foot. The ball looked like it was going too high and wide. But it swerved and dipped past
the diving goalie's hand. It hit the inside of the post and rolled back along the line. Everything seemed to stop for an instant. Where was the ball? Then I saw it, bulging in the net. The ref ‘s whistle blew for a goal. I'd scored! It was 2–1 and we were in the lead again.

When I ran back to the centre, I passed Pablo. He didn't say anything, but there was murder in his eyes. I knew I'd have to be really careful. I hadn't come this far to die now.

The last five minutes were crazy. They threw everything at us. I had one eye on the ball and one on Pablo. I tried to stay away from him. But it wasn't easy.

Somehow we held on. The minutes passed. Jackson won another header, Rob made another save. He punched the ball so hard it flew all the way up the pitch. He must have fists of rock, I thought.

Time was just about up… Pablo had the ball, when Lennox slid in and took his legs away. The ref blew for a foul. Their goalie waved everyone forwards. Our goal area was packed. I stood at the back post to defend.

I glanced across at Rob. He was pulling his glove down. I saw a glimpse of something on the underside of his wrist. It was a tattoo of some kind. It looked familiar, but I had no time to think about it because the kick came in. Everyone jumped. The ball bounced off the back of Jackson's head towards me. I jumped and so did Rob. I saw his stone hard fist take aim. And I suddenly got it. The black flower tattoo. The man who'd threatened me. The Protectors.…

Rob's fist was about to smash into my skull with deadly force … when, suddenly, wham! Pablo crashed into Rob, who banged headfirst into the goalpost. I headed the ball over the bar. Ricko blew the whistle for the end of the match. We'd won! And, against all the odds, I'd survived.

*

Extra time

Danny and I were sitting in the prison Governor's office.

“How ironic that Pablo saved you,” he laughed. “You should have seen his face when I told him. He looked sick as a dog.”

We'd found out that Rob was one of the Protectors. He'd had a thick metal block inside his glove. It would have broken my skull like an eggshell. They'd locked him in a cell.

The rest of the team were in the media lounge celebrating.

Gull walked in. “Well, gents, job done I'd say,” he grinned. “Everyone's a winner.”

“I thought you'd be disappointed I was still alive,” I said.