Page 39 of End Game (William Warwick #8)

A RTEMISIA DECIDED TO VISIT the Olympic Village one more time so she could thank Kelly and find out if she’d achieved her aim of adding a gold medallist to her collection. Not that she’d be mentioning it in any of her articles.

When Artemisia arrived outside the entrance to the village, she was greeted by over a thousand fans who were waiting hopefully for a chance to see one of their heroes before they returned to distant lands.

She would have liked to conduct a vox pop interview there and then, but didn’t have the time if she still hoped to be on time for the closing ceremony.

Artemisia said hi to Jim and blew him a kiss, before she strolled into the village to meet up with scores of nostalgic athletes who were preparing for the closing ceremony, not all of them looking as if they would make it.

She had almost given up any hope of finding Kelly, when she spotted a Bulgarian basketball player bending down and kissing her gently on the cheek, before leaving to rejoin his team.

Artemisia rushed across to join her. ‘I wanted to say goodbye,’ she said, ‘and tell you how much I’ve enjoyed your company during the past fortnight.’

‘Me too,’ said Kelly. ‘But won’t you be joining our team for the march past?’

Artemisia felt embarrassed and was about to admit …

when Kelly said, ‘Of course you won’t,’ accompanied by a huge grin.

‘I was pleased you got your exclusive,’ she added, ‘and I can tell you the rest of the team were delighted you exposed the Russians for the cheats they are.’ She paused, and said quietly, ‘I was in tears when I read your article. Poor Natasha and Alain. They both paid a heavy price to let the world know the truth.’

‘I agree,’ said Artemisia, ‘and I only wish I could have done more for them, but I haven’t given up, even if my editor thinks it’s old news.’ She looked at her friend and said, ‘When did you realize I wasn’t really Annie Charnock?’

‘About five minutes after meeting you,’ said Kelly, laughing.

‘I’m sorry I had to lie to you.’

‘Don’t be. It takes real courage to do what you did, and in the end you told a story that people needed to hear.’

They hugged each other like old friends, and as Artemisia turned to leave, Kelly said, ‘If you’re ever in Bristol, Artemisia, make sure you look me up, because I’d like you to meet my husband.’

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‘Final check,’ said William over the radio as he looked up at the bank of CCTV screens above him. ‘Where are you, Inspector Hogan?’

‘I’m standing by the long jump pit opposite the Royal Box,’ came back Ross, looking up at the moving camera. ‘I’ve thirty officers spread all around the ground facing the stands. If any trouble breaks out, we can move in at a moment’s notice.’

‘But also be prepared for what might happen in the centre of the field,’ said William, ‘especially when Rogge is delivering his closing address. He’ll be surrounded by thousands of athletes and officials from all around the globe enjoying themselves.

Be on the lookout for one of them who isn’t celebrating. ’

William moved onto the next screen, ‘Chief Inspector Adaja?’

‘I’ve got a hundred officers at the West Entrance to the stadium, sir, where all the different teams are lining up for the parade.

It’s all a bit casual compared with the opening ceremony, but seems to be running smoothly enough.

The teams are going to be led into the stadium by the Greeks, according to tradition, and they’ll be followed by around eight thousand athletes and officials – each vetted and security cleared.

The final team to enter the arena will be the British, as the host nation, led by our captain, Ben Ainslie.

He’s going to carry the Union Jack and will be followed by around five hundred members of the British team.

Once they’ve circled the track, they’ll take their places in the centre of the ground behind the stage, and then the celebrations will begin. ’

‘Inspector Pankhurst?’

‘I’m on the roof of the stadium, sir, along with twenty-six officers who’ll have their binoculars trained on the stands throughout the evening. If they spot anything suspicious, I’ll brief Inspector Hogan immediately.’

‘Don’t relax, Inspector, even for a moment.’

‘Sergeant Roycroft,’ he said, but no reply was forthcoming.

William felt a pang of grief for his fallen colleague, before he recovered and switched his attention to the Royal Box, where the Assistant Commissioner was awaiting the royal party.

Sniffer dogs were going about their business, tails wagging, while two young constables with metal detectors were checking under every seat.

The Hawk came on the line, ‘With a bit of luck, William, and we’re due some, there will be no rogue cyclists or disgruntled taxi drivers to hold the royal party up this time, but we’re still not leaving anything to chance.

I’ll be outside the VIP entrance when Lord Coe accompanies Prince Harry to the Royal Box.

HRH will take the salute as each team marches past. In truth,’ said the Hawk, ‘my biggest problem is the seating plan.’

‘I’m not sure I understand, sir,’ said William.

‘With five of the guests coming from three different royal families, as well as four heads of state in attendance, I’m not sure if our Prime Minister should sit in the front row, the middle row or even the back row.’

I wish that was my only problem, thought William, as another phone began to ring.

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Long before the appointed hour when the West Gate was due to open, athletes from all around the world were beginning to take their places in the longest queue on earth, while they waited to enter a packed stadium.

They had come to bid farewell before the Mayor of London passed the Olympic flag to the Mayor of Rio de Janeiro and the Games of the Thirtieth Olympiad were declared closed.

Inspector Adaja had already briefed his legion of officers, who would be responsible for security. Each of them had studied photographs of both Sergei Petrov and Sun Anqi and, in the case of Sun Anqi, were on the lookout for a scorpion tattoo on her neck.

Paul had instructed his officers to be vigilant at all times, but not obtrusive; after all, the closing ceremony was always a much more relaxed affair than the opening.

‘It’s a fine line, which you must tread carefully,’ Paul had warned them.

‘A bottle of champagne isn’t an offensive weapon, especially when it’s full, and if someone tries to steal your helmet, don’t arrest them.

Should anyone kiss you, say “thank you”, whatever their nationality and whatever their sex, but don’t return the compliment. ’

No one laughed.

‘While you’ll be looking for two individuals in particular, you’ll still have to remain alert for any other problems that might arise when you least expect it.’

The Hawk, meanwhile, had phoned the royal protocol officer at Buckingham Palace, who had drawn up a seating plan for him.

Paul couldn’t wait for the gates to open at eight o’clock so he could get the show on the road – or, to be more accurate, on the track.

Ross’s cadre of highly trained undercover officers were all wearing British tracksuits to make sure no one would give them a second look. They had already taken up their positions around the ground an hour before the gates were due to open.

Rebecca’s unit continued to scan the empty stands as they waited for the crowd to enter the stadium, but all they saw were dogs sniffing under every seat.

William wasn’t taking any chances.

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A phone rang in the Gold Suite. William grabbed it while still looking up at the CCTV screens.

‘Can I open the entrance gates, Commander?’ asked the stadium manager. ‘It’s four minutes past eight, and a few of the punters are beginning to get restless.’

‘Yes,’ he said, and moments later he watched as a steady flow of spectators began to make their way into the stands, determined not to miss a moment of the final evening.

Most of them were smiling, boisterous, some even singing, although William spotted a few who’d already had a little too much to drink. His eyes went on searching for one man and one woman in particular, but all he spotted was a drunk who just about made it to his seat before falling asleep.

During the next forty minutes, the stands slowly began to fill.

The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation, while William tried to remain calm.

He must have been the one person there who wished the curtain had already come down and the Mayor of Rio de Janeiro had left the stadium holding the Olympic flag and, with it, the problems of the next four years.

William’s attention switched to another screen, where he spotted Beth, Wilbur, Christina, Peter, Artemisia and Robert sitting in a reserved box in the special emergency stand on the far side of the ground.

He smiled for a moment as he watched them introduce themselves to his other guests, all of whom had played their part in making the Games a success.

His eyes moved on to the Royal Box to see Prince Harry arrive. He shook hands with William’s father who, as the senior Olympic judge, had been invited to join the royal party, even if he would be sitting in the back row.

The stadium manager was back on the radio. ‘Can I open the West Gate, Commander, and allow the athletes to enter the stadium so the parade can begin?’

‘One moment,’ said William. ‘Are you all ready?’ he asked his team.

‘More than ready,’ said Paul, as he looked at the thousands of athletes who had been celebrating for the last hour.

‘No problems on the ground,’ said Ross over his radio.

‘Or on the roof,’ chipped in Rebecca.

The Hawk was chatting to Prince Harry, so William didn’t interrupt him.

‘Yes, you can open the West Gate,’ said William.

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