The Edge (9 page)

‘Stop him!’ Jake shouted, but they just looked up, barely moving at all. Jake set off in pursuit. By the time he got to the entrance to the dorm block, his attacker had thirty metres on him and was sprinting along the track towards the admin building and the complex’s exit. Jake had shaken off the effects of the punch, and pounded after him.

You’re not getting away from me, you bastard!

A clutch of cyclists was heading the other way, four abreast. The guy in the hoodie went straight through the middle, and they veered aside, crashing into one another and crying out calls of abuse. Three seconds later, Jake leapt over a fallen rider, shouting his apologies.

The front gates came into sight, and Jake grinned. The guards were standing there, checking a driver’s ID. No chance anyone was getting out that way. The intruder must have seen it too, because he suddenly veered off, climbing a bank and ducking into some trees. Jake’s legs were feeling it now. He leapt up on to the grass verge then into the woodland. Branches whipped his face as he tripped over roots and tree stumps.

‘Stop!’ he shouted, but the guy didn’t let up. Did he even know where he was going?

They emerged on the other side by the rowing lake, and his attacker took the lakeside path towards the boathouses. Jake thought he’d made up ten metres. Two pairs of rowers were carrying their boats down to the water, hoisting them above their heads. The first couple planted their craft on the water, but those behind saw Jake coming and seemed to both pull separate ways. The attacker ducked beneath the boat, shoving one of the rowers out of the way. The rower fell backwards into the water with a scream, and the end of the boat smashed on to the stone jetty.

Jake steered a course round the outside, pursued by angry shouts. He saw a mesh fence ahead – the edge of the Olympic Advantage grounds. Beyond that was a patch of waste ground and then the car park for the town’s supermarket. The hoodie threw himself at the fence and started to clamber up. Jake launched off the ground, and grabbed his leg. As the guy turned, Jake saw his eyes. Blue, and wide with fear. The intruder drew back his free leg and kicked out, catching Jake’s knuckles. Jake fell back on to the ground with a thump, then watched his attacker scramble over the fence and into the car park beyond.

By the time Jake got to his feet, the hoodie was already
disappearing from sight among the cars. Jake had no chance of catching him now. He was panting for breath, and his jaw ached from the punch back in his room.

What the hell was all
that
about?
he wondered. One thing was certain – if someone would go to this trouble to warn him off, then the events at the camp were no coincidence. And he wasn’t giving up any time soon.

‘You win some, you lose some,’ he muttered to himself.

And now he was definitely late for practice.

Jake ran as quickly as he could to the football pitch. All the other players were passing balls between them, with Jake’s dad at the centre overseeing things. When he saw Jake, he blew his whistle for everyone to stop. Oz’s face broke into a malicious smirk.

‘Where’ve you been, Jake?’ he asked.

Jake wanted to get his dad on his own, to tell him what had happened. But he could just imagine what Oz and his pals would say to that.
Special treatment from the coach!
He’d have to take the flack.

‘I’m sorry, Coach,’ he said. ‘I –’

‘I don’t want to hear excuses,’ his dad interrupted. ‘Everyone else made it on time.’

Oz had crossed his arms across his chest and nodded in smug satisfaction.

‘Like I said, I’m sorry.’

‘Not good enough,’ his dad said, looking pained. ‘I can’t let this sort of attitude pass.’

Jake shrugged. ‘Fine.’

So, Jake spent the entire football practice running laps, then stuck in goal. By the end, he was mad. His dad hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself. In fact, he came down harder than he would have on anyone else to prove a point. Afterwards, he made Jake collect all the other players’ dirty kit and haul it in a sack to the laundry, even though they had the carts to do that. Well, Jake promised himself as he dumped the sack, when he finally cracked what was going on here, his dad would be sorry he hadn’t listened.

By the time he came out of the showers with a towel wrapped round his waist, everyone else had cleared out. He went to his locker, and a voice spoke behind him.

‘What I don’t get, Baby, is why you even need the money.’

Jake turned to see Oz leaning against the tiled wall, staring into space.

‘Get lost,’ said Jake. This was the last thing he needed right now.

Oz glared at him. ‘I mean, your dad’s loaded. It must be nice to have your life handed to you on a silver platter. Bet he bought you that pretty watch, didn’t he?’

Jake could feel his blood starting to boil. The mention of the watch – Popov’s watch – only made him angrier still. He turned back to the locker, and pulled on his shirt.

‘I know Phillips approached you too,’ he said.

He felt a shove in his back, and fell forwards against the locker.
He’s just trying to get a rise
, he told himself, turning to face his tormentor.

‘I suggest you tell Phillips you’re not interested,’ said Oz, shoving him again.

Jake snapped. He grabbed Oz by the collar, and yanked him round so his back was against the lockers. He pulled back his fist and slammed it into the locker door just to the right of Oz’s cheekbone. The sound echoed in the empty room.

‘Careful who you threaten,’ Jake said.

He heard noises out in the corridor, and Oz’s eyes flicked that way. Jake let go as a group of baseball players entered, carrying mitts and bats. Oz straightened his collar and smiled confidently.

‘Watch your back, daddy’s boy,’ said Oz, pushing past him and out of the door.

O
ver lunch Jake tried not to think too hard about his argument with Oz, and afterwards he had other things on his mind. Namely Veronika. In a swimsuit.

As part of the ‘working together’ ethos at the heart of Olympic Advantage, one day in each week was set aside for the athletes to cross-train in another discipline. It was a chance to try something new, and improve overall fitness. Jake had been about to choose baseball, but when he’d seen Veronika on the list for diving he’d changed his mind. He kidded himself that it was a chance to talk further about their investigations.

Now, balanced on the end of a diving board five metres up, he wished he’d chosen baseball after all. It looked a
long
way down. The water shimmered, and he could see the Olympic Edge logo detailed in tiles on the bottom of the pool.

‘When you’re ready, Jake,’ said the diving coach, an attractive Canadian woman in a tight tracksuit.

I’ll never be ready
, thought Jake.

Veronika was standing at the end of the pool, wearing her swimming cap and doing stretches while talking to a Brazilian diver, a short, sinewy brunette called BeBe. Beside her, folding his arms with a grin like a Cheshire Cat, was his dad. When Jake had seen him outside the pool building before the session was due to start, his dad had apologised for treating him harshly earlier. Jake said he understood, even though it still rankled.

‘Anyway, what are you doing here?’ he’d asked.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,’ his dad said.

Five metres above the pool, Jake took a deep breath, bounced once, and leapt off the board. Gravity snatched him down, and he turned one somersault in the air before hitting the water in what could only be described as a mess. Water filled his nose and bubbles exploded around his head. Jake came up spluttering. Veronika and BeBe were both clapping and cheering.

‘Go, Jake!’ Veronika called.

His dad was shaking his head in bemusement. ‘Very graceful,’ he said. ‘Almost swan-like.’

Jake felt himself go red with embarrassment, but laughed anyway. He front-crawled to the end of the pool, and pulled himself out.

‘Not bad,’ BeBe said, ‘but you must keep your arms close to your side. That way you will not splash so much.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Jake said, still shaking the water from his ears.

‘Seriously, I think you got water on the ceiling,’ his dad added.

‘Ha, ha,’ Jake said. ‘Your turn, Vron.’

Veronika walked to the other end of the pool, while a male diver took the steps up to the ten-metre board. With perfect poise, he executed a double twist and hit the water like a knife cutting through butter.

‘I’ve got a little way to go yet,’ Jake muttered.

His dad had wandered off and was talking with the diving coach.

Veronika walked along the board in small, tentative steps. Even in an all-in-one, she looked good: lithe and poised, with toned shoulders and legs that seemed to go on forever. Just the sort of athlete LGE would pay a fortune for.

‘Just take it easy,’ the coach called. ‘Nothing too elaborate.’

Veronika nodded, lifted her arms above her head, and jumped. She rolled backwards, hands straight by her sides, and opened out into a pretty straight dive. She came up beaming.

‘You’re a natural,’ BeBe called.

Veronika stepped out of the pool, and took off her
swimming cap, letting her hair drape over her shoulders.

‘We’ve got a pool at home,’ she said apologetically.

BeBe leant down, unzipped her bag and took out a water bottle filled with what looked like apple juice. She took a swig, then offered it to Veronika.

‘Try it. It is a special mix I put together. Ginseng, lemon and some few herbs.’

Veronika took a sip, and nodded. ‘It’s really good. Better than Olympic Edge.’

‘I hate that stuff,’ BeBe said. ‘If it is natural, then my grandmother was a mermaid.’ She held the bottle out to Jake. Before he could take it, another hand reached in and snatched it away. Dr Chow had appeared from nowhere, and glowered at them all.

‘I’ll take that,’ she said. ‘You all know the rules about unauthorised supplements at the camp.’ She opened the bottle and sniffed the contents. ‘A word please, BeBe.’

The diver rolled her eyes and followed Dr Chow towards the door to the changing rooms.

‘Dr Frankenstein strikes again,’ Veronika said. ‘Hey, you’re up, Jake.’

Jake climbed up to the board, determined to do better this time. From on high he could see the whole pool area. Veronika was cleaning her goggles. By the changing room,
Dr Chow was pointing to the bottle in her hand, and by her wild gestures Jake guessed the word she was having with BeBe wasn’t a quiet one. She opened a door to an office and beckoned BeBe inside. Jake’s gaze passed over the spectator stand, then fixed on one face in particular.

Igor Popov was sitting in the back row.

Jake’s dad hadn’t noticed the Russian. He leant in closer to the diving coach, who was playing with her hair. Jake forgot about his poise, and jumped off the board, hitting the water feet first. He swam as quickly as possible to the far end, scrambled out and ran to his dad.

The coach saw him coming. ‘Hey, no running in here!’

Jake ignored her. ‘Dad,’ he hissed, gripping his father’s arm. ‘Look!’

‘What is it?’ he asked, annoyed.

Jake pointed up at the stands. Popov was gone.

‘What’s the matter with you, Jake?’ his dad asked. He glanced at the diving coach apologetically.

‘Popov was there,’ said Jake under his breath.

‘Popov?’ his dad said, frowning, and cast a furtive glance from side to side. ‘Don’t be silly, Jake. Igor Popov’s in Russia.’

‘I swear,’ Jake said. ‘I saw him the other day too.’

‘If this is some sort of joke, it’s not funny.’

‘But –’

‘Enough,’ his dad said. He lowered his voice. ‘Not here. We can talk about this later.’ He turned back to the diving coach.

As Jake rejoined Veronika, his eyes kept searching the stands. Popov was definitely gone.
If he was ever there
, thought Jake. Perhaps the punch to the chin had messed with his head.

BeBe called over to them from the top of the ten-metre board. ‘Hey, guys, I will show you how to do it?’

‘Is it just me,’ Jake said, ‘or is BeBe a little bit annoying? I’d like to see her take a corner.’

‘Or serve and volley,’ Veronika laughed.

BeBe bounced on the balls of her feet once, twice, three times, then sprung upwards, a good four feet.

She’s too close to the board
, Jake thought. She turned a half-pike in the air, but as she came down her head hit the diving board with a crack that sounded across the hall and made Jake’s stomach turn. BeBe lost all shape in the air and slammed into the water side-on, her limbs sprawling. Someone screamed.

Jake was in the pool without thinking, swimming as fast as he could towards where the Brazilian was floating face-down. He swam through red-tinged water, and turned BeBe upright, doing his best to support her neck. Her eyes were closed, and blood poured over her face from a cut under her hairline.

‘Don’t touch her!’ the coach shouted. ‘Let the paramedics handle this.’

Jake waited, carefully cradling BeBe until the paramedics took over. They pulled BeBe from the water, and Jake pulled himself out, feeling numb.

Veronika rushed to his side. ‘Not again,’ she muttered.

The paramedics started mouth to mouth, and more people gathered in a hushed circle. BeBe was limp, her skin already bleached white. As her blood drained off over the slick poolside tiles, Jake knew she was dead.

V
eronika’s eyes filled with tears as Jake put his arm round her: Dr Chow knelt beside the body with the paramedics, feeling for a pulse. The towel under BeBe’s head was soaked pink with blood and water. They’d tried to resuscitate her for close to a quarter of an hour, but now Dr Chow shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, Mandy,’ she said to the diving coach. ‘She’s gone.’

The diving coach wailed, and placed a hand over her mouth.

‘I need everyone to leave,’ Dr Chow said. ‘Now.’

Jake and Veronika filed away to the changing rooms. At the door, she mumbled, ‘This can’t be happening.’

‘It is happening,’ Jake said, coming to his senses. ‘And I know who’s to blame. Igor Popov.’