said.
‘Repeat that,’ Knight said, sticking his finger in his ear.
‘The hair in Cronus’s envelope and Selena Farrell’s hair,’ Hooligan yelled. ‘They fuckin’ match!’
Chapter 38
‘WE’VE GOT CRONUS!’ Knight said in a hoarse whisper as he hung up. A powerful spotlight broke the darkness, fixing on a lone figure crouched in the middle of the stadium floor.
‘What?’ Jack Morgan said, surprised.
‘Or one of his Furies, anyway,’ Knight said, and then described the match. ‘Farrell’s house was razed to make way for this stadium. She said publicly that the people who did it to her were going to pay, and she completely flipped when we played the flute music for her.’
‘Call Pottersfield,’ Jack advised. ‘Have her go to Farrell’s house. Put her under surveillance until they can get a warrant.’
Out in the stadium a clarinet solo started and from the corner of his eye, Knight saw the figure on the stadium floor rise. He wore green and carried a bow. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back. Robin Hood?
‘Unless Farrell’s in the stadium,’ Knight said, anxiety rising in his chest.
‘They’ve got names attached to every ticket somewhere,’ Jack said. He started moving away from the window towards the exit, with Knight trailing after him.
Behind them the crowd roared as a spectacle designed by British film-maker Danny Boyle moved into high gear, depicting through song and dance the rich history of London. Knight could hear drums booming and music echoing in the long hallway outside the heavily guarded hospitality suite. He speed-dialled Elaine Pottersfield, got her on the third ring, and explained the DNA evidence linking Selena Farrell to Cronus’s letter.
Beside him, he heard Jack giving the same information to whoever was the watch commander of the moment inside the Olympic Park.
‘How did you come by Farrell’s DNA?’ Pottersfield demanded.
‘Long story,’ Knight said. ‘We’re looking for her inside the Olympic stadium at the moment. I suggest you start doing the same at her home.’
He and Jack Morgan both hung up at the same time. Knight glanced at the four armed Private operatives guarding the entrance to LOCOG’s hospitality suite.
Reading his thoughts, Jack said: ‘No one’s getting in there.’
Knight almost nodded, but then thought of Guilder and Mascolo, and said, ‘We can’t consider LOCOG members as the only targets. Guilder proved that.’
Jack nodded. ‘We have to think that way.’
The pair entered the stadium in time to see Mary Poppins launch off the Orbit, umbrella held high as she floated over the roof and the delirious crowd towards a replica of the Tower of London that had been moved onto the floor. She landed near the Tower, but disappeared in smoke when lights began flashing red and white and kettledrums boomed to suggest the London blitz during the Second World War.
The smoke cleared and hundreds of people dressed in a multitude of costume styles danced around the replica of the Tower, and Knight thought he heard someone say that they were depicting modern London and the diverse citizenry of the most cosmopolitan city in the world.
But Knight was not interested in the spectacle: he was looking everywhere in the stadium, trying to anticipate what a madwoman might do in a situation like this. He spotted an entryway on the west side of the venue.
‘Where does that go?’ he asked Jack.
‘The practice track,’ Jack replied. ‘That’s where the teams are getting ready for the parade of nations.’
For reasons that Knight could not explain he felt drawn to that part of the stadium. ‘I want to take a look,’ he said.
‘I’ll walk with you,’ Jack said. They crossed the stadium as the lights dimmed yet again except for a spotlight aimed at that Robin Hood figure who was now perched high above the stage at the venue’s south end.
The actor was pointing up at the top of the Orbit, above the observation deck where more spotlights revealed two armed members of the Queen’s Guard marching stiffly towards the cauldron from opposite sides of the roof. They pivoted and stood at rigid attention in their red tunics and black bearskin hats, flanking the cauldron.
Two more guardsmen appeared in the stadium at either side of the main stage. The music faded and an announcer said, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messieurs: Queen Elizabeth and the Royal Family.’
Chapter 39
THE LIGHTS ON the stage came up to reveal Queen Elizabeth the Second in a blue suit. She was smiling and waving as she moved to a microphone while Prince Philip, Charles, William, Kate, and various other members of the Windsor family flanked and followed her.
Knight and Jack slowed to gawk for several moments while the queen gave a short speech welcoming the youth of the world to London. But then they moved on towards that entryway.
As more dignitaries gave speeches, the two Private operatives reached the grandstand above the tunnel entry and had to show their corporate badges and IDs to get to the railing. Teams of armed Gurkhas flanked both sides of the tunnel below them. Several of the Nepalese guards immediately began studying Knight and Jack, gauging their level of threat.
‘I absolutely would not want one of those guys pissed-off at me,’ Jack said as athletes from Afghanistan started to appear in the entryway.
‘Toughest soldiers in the world,’ Knight said, studying the traditional long, curved and sheathed knives several of the Gurkhas wore at their belts.
A long curved knife cut off Denton Marshall’s head, right?
He was about to mention this fact to Jack when Marcus Morris shouted in conclusion to his speech: ‘We welcome the youth of the world to the greatest city on Earth!’
On the stage at the south end of the stadium, the rock band The Who appeared, and broke into ‘The Kids Are Alright’ as the parade of athletes began with the contingent from Afghanistan entering the stadium.
The crowd went wild and wilder still when The Who finished and Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones appeared with Keith Richards’ guitar wailing the opening riff of ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking?’
With a thousand camera flashes, London went into full Olympic frenzy.
Below Jack and Knight, the Cameroon team filed into the stadium.
‘Which one’s Mundaho?’ Jack asked. ‘He’s from Cameroon, right?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Knight said, searching among the contingent dressed in green and bright yellow until he spotted a tall, muscular and laughing man with his hair done up in beads and shells. ‘There he is.’
‘Does he honestly reckon he can beat Shaw?’
