How was anyone’s guess.
EIGHT
UDO
The Nickleby Hotel stood in the centre of Kensington and Chelsea. London’s most affluent borough. Udo had been there a few times over the years. Mostly for industry dinners. He hadn’t expected to find himself back so soon.
Being upbeat and sociable on a Wednesday evening was a tough call. Still, a night in a posh hotel should make it worthwhile. The bath was huge.
His room was perfectly nice with a view of the Victoria and Albert Museum in the distance. He stared at the London skyline.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Instantly, he hoped it was Steven. They’d all been together on the train so he hadn’t had much chance to speak to him since their tactics session that morning.
When he opened it, he found Adam, Ingvar and Goran staring back at him.
Ingvar was a man-mountain. He played as a central defender and more fool the opposition if they tried to get through him. Remarkably fast and totally immovable. Udo had tried in training and failed.
Goran, on the other hand, was tall and slender with ridiculously wide arms. Three attributes that made a top-class goalie.
They all brushed up well in their tuxedos.
“Give me one minute,” Udo said. “I can’t do the tie.”
“Come here,” Goran said.
They strode into the room. Goran grabbed the offending item from the bed where Udo had thrown it in frustration.
“Bloody bow ties,” Ingvar said, fiddling with his collar. “I feel like I’m being strangled by this fucking thing.”
Udo suspected there wasn’t a bow tie in London that would comfortably wrap about Ingvar’s thick neck. Poor sod.
“It’s only a few hours,” Adam replied. “We have some food, couple of drinks and smile sweetly.”
Ingvar pulled a hip flask out of his pocket and screwed the lid off.
“Anyone?”
“Hey,” Adam said. “It’s a two-drink limit.”
“Two drinks at the bar,” Ingvar corrected him.
Adam shook his head. “Don’t get carried away. We’re playing this weekend.”
“Yes, Skipper,” Ingvar said as he took a swig.
Goran put the finishing touches to Udo’s tie.
“There you go,” he said, folding his arms. “Fucking gorgeous.”
They all laughed. A little too hard for Udo’s liking.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
They wandered down the corridor. Most of the squad had been put on the same floor. With Javier at one end and Steven at the other to ensure that nothing got out of control.
Once in the lift, Udo caught sight of himself in the mirror. He didn’t scrub up too badly.
“You fallen in love, pretty boy?” Ingvar asked.
