And Danny felt like there were a thousand eyes on him. ‘Yes.’
Holt nodded. They walked quickly, side by side until they reached a small white car.
‘Get in.’
Danny took the door handle and slipped into the car.
As Holt reversed the car, Danny looked up at St Basil’s. In the morning light it looked magnificent.
Its colours.
Its spiralling towers.
He couldn’t believe that he had hated it before. It was beautiful and now he could only think of it as one of his favourite places in the world.
TO THE LUZHNIKI
‘How did you know where I’d be?’ Danny asked, once Holt had eased the car into the mass of traffic streaming over a bridge, the gears crunching worryingly.
Holt shrugged. ‘It was a hunch. We talked about it being a place of sanctuary.’
‘Thanks.’
Holt paused. Then he said, ‘I’ve been up all night. Worrying sick. I sat in that bloody lobby for hours. I thought you were… I don’t know.’ He had his eyes on the road all the time he said this.
Danny felt ashamed. Although there was nothing he could have done. He thought about using his phone as an excuse, but there was no point.
The roads were tail-to-tail cars, vans, trucks, bikes, buses and more cars. It was impossible for Holt to move from one lane to another. Larger vehicles bullied their smaller car if he tried to move either left or right. Holt cursed as he missed his turning. Cars beeped.
He thrust a map into Danny’s hands. ‘I’m lost. Absolutely stuffed. Can you map read? Please. It’s enough trying to deal with this traffic.’
Danny nodded. He could map read. He spent most car journeys reading maps, whether his mum wanted him to or not.
Danny quickly worked out where they were. ‘Keep going along here,’ he instructed. ‘It splits. We need to move to the right, so we’re in a good lane.’ Danny knew where they were going: the Luzhniki Stadium. Where Russia played their home World Cup ties.
Holt nodded. ‘OK?’ he said.
‘I’m sorry.’ Danny looked behind them at a car beeping its horn. ‘About going missing.’
‘Nutters,’ Holt muttered.
‘What?’ Danny said, casting his eyes to the road behind them. And looking back, he saw what was on the back seat. Two files. One read TUPOLEV, DMITRI. The other GAWTHORPE, SIR RICHARD.
‘Why have you got those files on the back seat?’
There was a long pause.
‘I think it’s time to come clean,’ Holt said.
‘Why would you have a file on Sir Richard Gawthorpe?’ Danny asked.
‘Sir Richard,’ Holt said. ‘He’s in Russia.’
So it had been Sir Richard on the steps. Danny was not going mad. But what was the link, the missing piece in the jigsaw? It was whatever Anton was looking into – and had been hiding from Danny. That had to be it.
‘So why the files? Why are you looking into these two?’
Holt sighed again. ‘I should have told you,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I’ve been doing a piece on Tupolev and Sir Richard trying to buy City.’
‘You knew Sir Richard was around?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Holt corrected him. ‘I knew someone English was involved with Tupolev. But I did have my suspicions.’
Danny nodded.
‘So I was looking into it,’ Holt went on. ‘And I saw him. In a hotel. Two days ago. When I said I had to go and interview someone. I’m starting to put together a picture.’
‘They’re trying to buy City?’ Danny asked.
‘They will buy City,’ Holt replied. Then he braked suddenly and looked at Danny. ‘But there’s something else.’
‘What?’
‘Robert Skatie had an accident last night. He’s out of the game. And I’m sure it’s linked to all this.’
Danny nodded again. Vigorously. ‘It is linked.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘The whole thing. Tupolev. Sir Richard. McGee. Skatie. Even Finn.’
Holt said nothing.
‘McGee attacked Skatie,’ Danny said solemnly.
Holt shook his head. ‘No way.’
‘He did.’
‘You’ve no evidence.’
‘I saw it,’ Danny said. ‘I filmed it.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I did,’ Danny insisted. ‘That’s why I ended up in that cathedral. I was running from some of Tupolev’s men. They were there. And so was Sir Richard.’
Holt carried on driving. His eyes were flashing all over the road. ‘Look. Did you know? Skatie was named as keeper yesterday morning. For the match. That’d be why McGee did it – maybe?’
And suddenly it all clicked into place for Danny. Tupolev and Sir Richard. McGee and Skatie. And Finn.
‘Sir Richard wants City.’
‘Yeah.’ Now it was Holt’s turn to nod.
‘And he needs an investor.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Tupolev wants to invest in a Premiership team.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So Sir Richard gets him on his side – by promising to nobble the England keeper, so that Russia win the games against England.’
Holt slapped his hand to his forehead. ‘That’s it,’ he said.
‘So they get to Finn,’ Danny continued. ‘He refuses to give in – and as a result he’s involved in a car accident, where he could quite easily have been killed.’
‘Right.’
‘Then they get to McGee at the party.’
‘Yeah.’
‘But Skatie is picked to play in the game.’
‘Yeah!’
‘So McGee attacks Skatie.’
‘But that’s what I don’t get,’ Holt frowned. ‘Why does McGee attack Skatie so he can betray his country?’
‘That’s what I don’t get,’ Danny agreed, feeling uneasy. ‘It could be that he wanted whatever Tupolev and Sir Richard have offered him.’
‘Money,’ Holt said. ‘For his debts.’
‘I don’t know…’
‘It’s obvious.’
‘But when I saw McGee attack Skatie, McGee told me to run for it. He saved me. Sort of.’
Holt drove through some lights, glancing left, then right. ‘That doesn’t mean he’s not taking the cash,’ he said.
‘But it means he’s not all bad,’ Danny maintained. ‘There was something about him. I’m not sure he’s corrupt. We have to give him the benefit of the doubt.’
‘You reckon?’ Holt said. ‘That’s the last piece in the jigsaw for me. McGee attacking Skatie. I can finish my article now – get it in the papers tomorrow. They’ll give me the front page for this.’
‘Right.’
‘Hey?’
‘Right. Turn right.’
Holt took a sudden turn at some lights, careering across the path of several cars.
‘We have to give him a chance,’ Danny said, thoughtful for a second. ‘He gave
