Page 93 of End Game
Ross climbed into the ambulance, followed by the other stretcher bearers. The doors slammed and the ambulance took off. No sirens, no flashing lights. Never happened.
‘We have a lot to thank you for, Mr Faulkner,’ said William, as he swung around to face his old adversary, but he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Can I ask you a question, sir?’ asked Rebecca over the phone, as the crowd continued to show their rapturous appreciation of the firework display.
William didn’t respond as Jacques Rogge, President of the International Olympic Committee and Lord Coe, the Games chairman, left the Royal Box and stepped out onto the track. They were welcomed by a fanfare of trumpets and a standing ovation as they made their way up onto the stage.
William knew only too well what Rebecca’s question wouldbe, but it didn’t stop her asking: ‘Was that voice I heard in the background who I thought it was?’
William put down the radio without responding as Rogge placed his speech on the lectern and tapped the microphone.
‘London,’ he said to a silent, attentive audience, ‘will be remembered as one of the most successful Games of the modern Olympic era …’
BOOK FOUR
CHAPTER 29
Monday, 13 August
WILLIAM DIDN’T LEAVE THE STADIUMuntil the sweepers had made sure there was no sign of what had taken place at the closing ceremony only a few hours before. He told the rest of the team before they left that he would allow the eight o’clock debriefing meeting to be moved to twelve noon. After all, the stadium would be all but deserted for two weeks until the Paralympics began.
William didn’t open his front door until just after four a.m., and he fell asleep within moments of climbing into bed.
When a sleepy Commander joined his wife and son in the kitchen for breakfast a few hours later, they were all discussing the triumph of the previous night. He wouldn’t be telling them how close it had been to a disaster. Beth placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of the stranger sitting opposite her. He picked up his knife and fork and was about to join in the conversation when the phone rang.
Despite the look on Beth’s face, he reluctantly answered it.
Beth gave in and picked up her copy of theGuardian.
‘Good morning, William,’ said his father. ‘I wanted to let you know that, as you requested, the CPS …’
By the time he’d completed the call, Peter had left for work and his curled-up fried egg didn’t look quite so appetizing.
Before he could start eating, however, Beth slid the newspaper under his nose and pointed out an article, which he would have missed as he rarely bothered with theGuardian. The article, written by a staff reporter, was on page seventeen below the fold.
The French national high jump champion and three times Olympian, Alain Mesnil, was found dead at his home in Lyon last night. The police have let it be known that there are no suspicious circumstances involved and they will not be interviewing anyone concerning the untimely death.
Mr Mesnil left a suicide note addressed to Ms Natasha Korova, Russia.
‘How tragic,’ said William. ‘Arte will be devastated. Under that cynical exterior is someone who will blame herself.’
‘Perhaps you could call her,’ said Beth, ‘as I have to go to the Fitz. It’s my last week at the gallery and, as the Hermitage exhibition closes today, I can’t afford to be late.’ She kissed him on the forehead and left before he could respond.
William immediately called Arte and tried helplessly to comfort her between the tears, and failed.
‘Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll be all right,’ she said, before she finally put down the phone.
He knew she wouldn’t be all right, and was pleased to hear Robert was with her.
After considerable reflection, William turned his attention to the rest of the morning papers.
DREAMGB – declared the headline in theSun.
GOODBYE TO THEGLORIOUSGAMES–Guardian.
OUT WITH ABANG–Mail on Sunday.
FARMER IN THESHETLANDISLANDS DIDN’T REALIZE THEOLYMPICS WAS TAKING PLACE–The Scotsman.
