‘It’s ok,’ said Gabe, a lie as his knee felt as if it was on fire.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ asked Lawrence. The medic looked over his shoulder towards McNamara, who was standing at the touchline.

  ‘I’m fine, just let me up,’ said Gabe.

  ‘This is what I was worried about,’ said Lawrence. ‘Your knees can’t take damage like this, Gabe. You’re going to end up in a wheelchair, I swear to God.’

  ‘I just twisted it when I fell,’ said Gabe. ‘I’m good to go.’

  The referee walked over. ‘What’s the story?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m just assessing the damage,’ said Lawrence.

  ‘You’re going to have to make a call,’ said the referee, looking up at the scoreboard.

  ‘I’m okay,’ said Gabe. ‘Just let me up.’

  Lawrence removed the icepack and put it in his medical bag, then offered Gabe his hand. Gabe grabbed it and Lawrence pulled him to his feet. Gabe tested the leg carefully, placing his foot flat on the ground and pressing down slowly. A bolt of pain lanced up from his knee and he winced.

  ‘You need to come off,’ said Lawrence. He waved over at McNamara.

  ‘No!’ said Gabe. ‘Give me a second.’

  ‘Gabe, I’m not going to be responsible for you hurting yourself,’ said the medic. ‘You’ve done your bit, there’s half an hour to go and you’ll be holding the team back trying to play like this.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Brian, I’m fine,’ Gabe protested. He tried the leg again. This time it didn’t hurt quite so much. ‘I can play.’

  Lawrence picked up his medical bag. ‘I think you’re making a big mistake.’

  Gabe bounced up and down, ignoring the searing pain in his left knee and forcing a smile. ‘I’m fine, look.’

  Lawrence shook his head sadly. The referee blew his whistle and pointed at the spot where the free kick was to be taken. ‘I’m taking it!’ shouted Gabe.

  ‘No fucking way!’ said Babacar, picking up the ball.

  ‘I’m the fucking captain and I say I’m taking the kick,’ said Gabe.

  Babacar shook his head and kept the ball out of Gabe’s reach.

  Lawrence was listening on his headset, his right hand up by his ear. ‘Gabe, Joe wants you off,’ he said. ‘And he wants Omar to take the kick,’ he added. He pointed over at the sideline. Gabe turned and saw McNamara waving his arms. Next to him was the fourth official holding up an electronic board with Gabe’s number on it – 10 – and the number of the player United wanted to substitute. Behind them was Piero Guttoso, his hands in the pockets of his overcoat.

  The supporters had marked the arrival of the United manager with a chant of ‘WHO ATE ALL THE PASTA, WHO ATE ALL THE PASTA?’ Gabe cursed under his breath. The referee blew his whistle and pointed for Gabe to leave the pitch.

  ‘Let me talk to him,’ said Gabe, reaching for Lawrence’s headset.

  Lawrence slapped his hand away. ‘You know it doesn’t work like that,’ he said. ‘You’ve been treated for an injury, you have to leave the pitch.’

  ‘I need to talk to him.’

  ‘Then go and talk to him. He wants you off anyway.’

  The referee blew his whistle again. ‘Go, or you’re booked,’ he said.

  ‘Tell Joe I’m coming off, but no substitution,’ said Gabe.

  ‘Gabe, you have to leave the pitch anyway. You know that. You’re treated for an injury and you have to leave. That’s the rule. No argument.’

  Gabe looked pleadingly at the medic. ‘Please, just tell him that, will you?’

  Lawrence turned away and spoke to McNamara. He listened and nodded, then waved at Gabe. ‘Off,’ he said.

  Gabe looked over at the sideline. The fourth official had lowered the electronic sign. He jogged over towards McNamara, trying to ignore the shooting pains in his knee.

  CHAPTER 91

  The Porsche was trying to get by the coach, but there were cars coming the other way and each time the driver edged out to overtake he was forced back by oncoming traffic. Ray accelerated and came up behind the SUV. He could see the back of Laura’s head, but not Ollie. The heavy on Laura’s left twisted around in his seat and for a second locked eyes with Ray. Ray pulled out and overtook, drawing level with the driver. The driver looked to his right, saw Ray and flicked the steering wheel to try to hit the bike. Ray saw the move coming and rolled the bike to the side. A car was heading straight for him. He braked hard but realised he wouldn’t have time to tuck in behind the Porsche. There was layby to his right so he swerved in front of the oncoming car, drove along the layby and then cut across the road back into the correct lane again.

  As he came up behind the Porsche the window behind the driver opened and a handgun emerged. The gun barked twice but both bullets went high. He braked and tucked in behind the Porsche. The heavy with the gun turned and aimed at the bike through the rear window. Ray doubted that the man would try to fire through the window but then the glass exploded in a shower of cubes and a bullet smacked into the bike’s fairing.

  Ray braked as the man fired again and the change in speed threw off his aim so the bullet went wide. The heavy leaned through the broken window and used both hands to steady his arm. Ray twisted the accelerator hard and the bike leaped forward. Ray leant to the right and overtook the Porsche.

  There was a red fire extinguisher clipped to the inside of the fairing. He ripped it out with his left hand and flicked off the cover that prevented the trigger being pressed accidentally. The heavy with the gun was twisting around in his seat again. Ray slowed the bike and pointed the fire extinguisher into the window. He pressed the trigger and white foam sprayed through the gap. It hit the man in the face, blinding him and getting into his mouth making him cough and splutter. Ray accelerated and drew level with the driver. The driver twisted the wheel again but Ray saw the move coming and rolled to the right. There was a truck heading right for him but the driver’s reactions were good and he pulled the vehicle to the far side of the lane giving Ray just enough room to squeeze by. He took a quick look in his wing mirror and saw Lee, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing with hatred. Ray put his left arm back and sprayed foam over the windshield. The driver switched on the wipers but the foam was so thick that it smeared across the glass. Ray sprayed for several seconds, then threw the extinguisher at the windscreen as hard as he could. He heard the glass crack but he didn’t look back. He put his left hand back on the handlebars and twisted the accelerator with his right. He shot forward, pulled to the right to overtake the coach, twisted the accelerator again and got to the front of the coach, forcing several oncoming cars to swerve out of his way.

  He flicked the switch to operate the blue light and siren, then drove ahead of the coach and pulled into the middle of the lane. He accelerated again so that he was about ten feet ahead of the coach, giving the driver just long enough to see the flashing light before he slammed on the brakes.

  CHAPTER 92

  Gabe put his hands together in prayer. ‘Joe, please, send me back out there.’ McNamara was looking over Gabe’s shoulder where Babacar was preparing to take the free kick. Several Chelsea players had lined up to form a wall ten yards away from the ball and the keeper was shouting over at them.

  ‘Your leg’s fucked, Gabe,’ said the coach.

  ‘It’s not,’ said Gabe. He put all his weight on his left leg. It hurt like hell but he forced himself to ignore the pain. ‘Look. Right as rain.’

  McNamara sighed. ‘You’re playing like a fucking carthorse out there,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you but it’s as if your heart isn’t in it.’

  ‘Joe, please. Come on. I’m the fucking captain.’

  For the first time McNamara looked at Gabe. ‘Yeah, and how’s that working out for us? We’re 2-1 down on a day when we should be 3-0 up. The only thing I can think of is that your knees are hurting worse than you’re letting on.’

  ‘My knees are fine.’ He gestured at the medic. ‘Ask Brian.’

  ‘Without a scan, his opinion doesn’t really count for much.’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ said the medic.

  ‘No offence, Brian,’ said McNamara. ‘But you know what I mean. We can’t see the damage. That tackle looked as rough as fuck to me, but only Gabe knows how much it hurts.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt,’ said Gabe. ‘And I want to be out there. We shouldn’t be a man down. Not when I’m fit to play. And I’m still wearing that captain’s armband.’

  Guttoso walked over, glowering. ‘What the fuck is going on out there, Gabe?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve had a few bad breaks, that’s all,’ said Gabe.

  Guttoso nodded over at the owner’s box. ‘You’re making me look bad in front of the owner, you know that? He’s got all his friends up there and he’s as embarrassed as hell. He’s taking it out on me and I’m taking it out on Joe and all that shit is now heading your way.’

  ‘Boss, we can win this. Just let me back on the field.’

  The referee blew his whistle and Gabe heard the ball being kicked. McNamara was looking over Gabe’s shoulder again and he was gritting his teeth. The crowd roared and Gabe turned to see Moretti with the ball, rushing past the wall. The keeper was off his line and clearly flustered. Moretti hit the ball hard and it hit the left post and cannoned back into play. Babacar pounced and hit it into the net with his left foot. The crowd erupted and McNamara pumped the air with his fist. ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about!’ he shouted.

  Gabe forced a smile and high-fived the coach. Tommy Brett was screaming with joy and jumping up and down excitedly. He rushed over and hugged Gabe. ‘The tide has turned!’ he shouted. ‘The tide has fucking turned.’

  The scoreboard changed, from 2-1 to 2-2. A draw. The last thing that Gabe wanted to see just then. He broke away from Brett and put his hands on McNamara’s shoulders. ‘Joe, let me go back out there.’

  ‘You’re in pain, Gabe. I can see it.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ He looked up at the clock on the scoreboard. ‘Come on, there’s half an hour to go. Just give me half an hour.’

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ said the coach, but Gabe could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

  ‘I won’t let you down,’ said Gabe. He looked over at Guttoso. The manager was smiling for the first time that day as he looked over at the owner’s box. The owner was standing and pumping his arms in the air, clearly delighted. ‘Boss, please, I’m the captain. Let me back on.’

  McNamara looked over at Guttoso. The manager shrugged, leaving the decision up to the coach. McNamara sighed and waved at the pitch. ‘Go,’ he said.

  Gabe patted him on the shoulders and ran onto the pitch. The crowd’s cheers intensified when the supports realised that Gabe was rejoining the game, but Gabe took no pleasure from the applause. He wasn’t running on to the pitch to help his team, but to betray them.

  CHAPTER 93

  The heavy with the gun was flailing around, trying to wipe the foam from his face with his sleeve. ‘Get down, Ollie!’ shouted Laura.

  Lee turned around and glared at her. ‘Shut up!’ he shouted.

  Ollie hesitated so Laura grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pushed him down behind the front passenger seat.

  The heavy on her right was spitting foam from between his lips as he wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. The barrel of the gun was pointing at her and she pushed it away with both hands.

  ‘Sit down!’ shouted Lee but Laura ignored him.

  The heavy tried to pull the gun away from her but she twisted it back, making him yelp as his fingers involuntarily released their grip on the weapon. Laura whooped in triumph but as she did the gun slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. The heavy used both his hands to wipe the foam from his eyes as Laura reached between his legs to try to recover the gun.

  A hand grabbed at her shirt and yanked her up. It was the heavy on the other side of the car. Laura screamed and clawed at his eyes. Her nails bit into the top of his nose and she scraped them down his face, drawing blood. The man screamed.

  Lee pulled a gun from inside his jacket and pointed it at Laura. ‘Stop!’ he shouted at the top of his voice and that was when there was a squeal of tyres skidding on the Tarmac and the Porsche slammed into the back of the coach.

  CHAPTER 94

  The coach hit the back of the bike sending it sprawling across the road. Ray rolled off and got to his feet. The coach had lost most of its momentum before hitting the bike and the damage was minimal. Ray ran onto the pavement and down the side of the coach. He reached the Porsche, which had hit the coach full on, exploding all the airbags. He pulled open the rear passenger door. The heavy there had hit the seat in from of him and blood was pouring down his face. Ray grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him out onto the pavement. He looked into the back. Laura was staring at him, her eyes wide. Ollie was on the floor behind the front passenger seat. The heavy on the far side was moaning and shaking his foam-covered head. There was a red patch in the middle of the foam, his head had smacked into the back of the driver’s seat.

  ‘Get out!’ he shouted, then punched the heavy he was holding in the back of the neck. The man fell to the floor and Ray stamped on him, hard.

  Laura picked up Ollie and pushed him through the open door. Ray grabbed him and held him as Laura scrambled out. The foam-covered heavy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and then lunged at Laura, grabbing the collar of her shirt. She screamed as he yanked her back. Ray leaned into the car and punched the man in the face and he fell back, out cold. Ray held Laura’s arm and helped her out of the car, then handed Ollie to her.

  The front door opened and Lee’s left leg appeared but before he could get out, Ray grabbed the door and slammed it against the leg. Lee grunted in pain. Ray opened the door and smashed it shut again and this time Lee screamed. Ray threw the door open wide, grabbed Lee and pulled him out. Lee was still groggy from the crash and when he reached for his gun his hand was shaking. Ray punched him in the face and Lee fell back against the car. Lee pushed Ray away with both hands and Ray hit him again, and this time he felt the man’s nose break. He punched him twice in the chest and then elbowed his chin so hard that Lee’s head snapped back. Lee’s eyes were half-closed, and blood was pouring down his chin. Ray grabbed the man’s throat with his left hand and drew back his right, bunching it into a tight fist. Lee’s arms fell to his sides. All the fight had gone out of him.

  ‘Ray!’ shouted Laura.

  Ray held his fist where it was as he looked over his shoulder. Laura was hugging Ollie, his arms wrapped tightly around her neck. ‘Enough, Ray,’ she said. ‘Please.’ She hugged Ollie tighter and kissed his neck.

  Ray nodded, then turned back to look at Lee. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are,’ said Ray, shoving him against the car. He released his grip on Lee’s throat and the man sank slowly down to the ground.

  Ray went over to Laura. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  She blinked away tears. ‘Not really,’ she said.

  ‘We have to get to the stadium,’ he said.

  ‘How?’ she asked.

  Ray took out his phone. ‘Uber,’ he said. ‘But first we have to get away from here. Someone will have called the cops, for sure.’ He took Ollie from her and the boy wrapped his arms around Ray’s neck. Ray smiled at Laura. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Stick close to me.’ They hurried away from the Porsche and jogged down a side road. In the distance, a siren began to wail.

  CHAPTER 95

  Gabe looked up at the clock. It was half past four. Fifteen minutes to go, plus added time. And if the score stayed at 2-2, Laura and Ollie would be dead. Chelsea had to score again. They had to.

  Fernandez had the ball, close to the centre spot, Wood to his left and Maplethorpe to his right. Babacar was trying to break free of the man marking him but the defender was sticking to him like a shadow and the Senegalese was tiring. Moretti was also heavily marked, jostling for position on the edge of the penalty box.

  Fernandez started running with the ball and Gabe went with him, to his left and slightly behind. Fernandez kept going as long as he could then passed it to Gabe. The crowd was screaming in anticipation as Gabe took possession and sidestepped a Chelsea defender. Fernandez was free again but Gabe only faked a pass to him and then continued his run, fast enough to look good but now so fast that he couldn’t be intercepted.

  A Chelsea player appeared at his left and Gabe took the ball the other way but then allowed himself to be shouldered. He shouldered back and used his hand to push at the man’s head. It was a clear foul and the referee blew his whistle immediately.

  Gabe moved away as Chelsea got ready for the free kick. ‘Come on guys!’ he shouted. ‘Let’s get fucking serious!’

  Chelsea took the kick and the ball went soaring into the United half where it was snapped up by one of the Chelsea forwards. Gabe stared after him, willing him to score, but the man’s run lasted less than twenty feet before Mancini tackled him and sent the ball spinning over the sideline. The referee blew his whistle and awarded the throw-in to Chelsea. Gabe gritted his teeth. If Chelsea didn’t get a grip on the game he was going to have to put the ball in his own net, and that would open up a whole can of worms that would almost certainly spell the end of his career.

  CHAPTER 96

  The Uber driver’s name was Mohammed and it was clear he knew that something was wrong by the way he kept glancing at Laura and Ollie in his rear-view mirror. Ray was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Toyota Prius, his arms folded. According to the SatNav, they were just four minutes away from the stadium. Mohammed saw Ray frowning. ‘You know the game is almost over,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ray, stretching out his legs as far as they would go. ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you want to listen?’

  ‘Sure, why not?’