Page 64 of End Game
‘It’s not going to be easy,’ said Natasha. ‘What you have to remember is that half the Russian team double up as spies, so if I were to make an unexpected move, it would have to be done while everyone else’s eyes were looking in the opposite direction.’
‘And when will that be?’ asked Artemisia.
‘During the opening heats of the one hundred metres on Tuesday,’ said Alain, ‘while I’ll be competing in the qualifying round of the high jump.’
‘And you, Natasha?’
‘I’ll be sitting in the competitors’ stand, watching Alain,’ she replied, ‘which won’t come as a surprise to anyone.’
‘There are eight heats in the first round of the hundred metres,’ explained Alain, ‘spread over a forty-minute period.Once I’m knocked out, I’ll leave the competition area and watch from the stands.’
‘But you might get through to the final,’ said Artemisia.
‘No chance,’ said Alain. ‘Those days have long gone and, frankly, no one will be surprised if I’m among the first to be eliminated.’
‘And then what?’
‘We will wait for the start of the fourth heat of the one hundred metres,’ said Natasha, ‘when Usain Bolt will be on the starting line. When the gun goes off, the crowd will stand, their eyes never leaving the track for the next ten seconds, which is when we’ll both slip out unnoticed – separately – and make our way straight to Stratford underground.’
‘I did a dry run yesterday evening,’ said Alain. ‘It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the station, and my bet is that while Bolt is running, we’ll be the only people leaving the stand and the tube should be fairly empty.’
‘We’ll arrive at Victoria separately,’ said Natasha, taking over the baton, ‘which will take another thirty minutes, and then we’ll join the Gatwick Express. We’ll be at the airport thirty minutes later.’
‘By the time we board our flight to Lyon,’ said Alain, ‘the crowd should be engrossed in the final of the ten thousand metres, not least because a Brit is the favourite to win the gold.’
‘You seem to have everything planned down to the last minute,’ said Artemisia. ‘So how can I help?’
‘Tickets,’ said Alain.
‘Tickets?’ repeated Artemisia.
‘I can’t risk trying to book a flight for Lyon while I’m being watched so closely. Whereas you …’ Natasha paused. ‘I know it’s a big ask – my government are unforgiving – but it’s me they are concerned about, not you.’
‘Consider it done,’ said Artemisia, who was eager to play her part. ‘Will you be safe in France?’
Artemisia could see the fear in Natasha’s eyes. ‘I can only hope so,’ she said, so quietly and sadly that Artemisia wished she hadn’t asked.
She turned the conversation back to practical matters. ‘So where do we meet?’
‘On the Gatwick Express from Victoria,’ said Alain, now back in control. ‘Platform thirteen.’
‘Here we are back at the stadium,’ said the tour guide, as the bus came to a halt. ‘I do hope you all enjoyed the tour.’
A warm round of applause followed, which allowed Natasha to slip her passport into Artemisia’s bag, along with enough money for her ticket.
The door of the bus opened and the chattering passengers began to disembark.
Artemisia was among the first to leave the coach, and she didn’t look back.
•••
When she shared her news with Robert over dinner that evening, the first thing he said was, ‘We have our own booking office at the Commons, so you can leave that particular problem to me. I’ll need Natasha’s passport.’
Artemisia dug the little red document and the money out of her bag and handed them over to Robert.
‘After dinner, I’m going to write a first draft of my article,’ said Artemisia, ‘while it’s still fresh in my mind. I can’t wait to show it to the editor.’
‘You’ll need photographs, so make sure you take a good camera.’
