Dead if You Don’t

20

Saturday 12 August

17.00–18.00

‘What is happening, Papa?’ Bruno asked his father, seeing him end the call.

Grace looked back anxiously at the camera on the empty seat. ‘I don’t know, Bruno.’

He was desperate to get his son — and himself — away from that camera. Ellis had confirmed his worst suspicions, that something was wrong about it, about the man who had left it there. Very wrong. And now he had all the information he needed.

But he was in a quandary. If he did rush Bruno out, and a few minutes later the bomb detonated, there would be questions asked. He was a police officer, aware there was a bomb, and he simply fled with his son?

All around him fans were on their feet, roaring, totally focused on the game. They wouldn’t take any notice of him if he did try to warn them. But the longer they stayed, the greater the risk that the bomb, if real, would detonate. Any second now, the game would be halted and there would be a public address announcement to evacuate. Surely?

‘I think there’s a suspect item in the stadium, Bruno,’ he said, trying not to look obviously at the camera, but unable to keep his eyes off it.

‘Is this a terrorist attack?’ Bruno asked.

He squeezed his son’s arm. ‘Hopefully a false alarm.’

‘Will they stop the game for a false alarm?’

‘Let’s hope it’s just that.’ Again, he looked anxiously at the camera. Thinking it through. If they evacuated the stadium, could the game be restarted later today? They would have to wait for the Army Explosive Ordnance Division to arrive, and from experience that could be a couple of hours. Once here, the EOD would send a robot to examine the camera and assess it. Then they would either try to disrupt it or, more likely, carry out a controlled detonation of it.

There was no way the match would resume today. And the public relations damage to the city, on its most important match ever, would be immense.

‘Don’t you think mathematics is important, Papa?’ Bruno said, turning to him.

‘Mathematics?’

‘All these terrorist bombs.’ Bruno nodded solemnly. ‘They kill sometimes twenty people, sometimes one hundred and twenty. There are twenty-four thousand people killed every week on the roads of the world, in traffic accidents. But no one stops people from driving. There are thirty thousand people in this stadium today. So, if a bomb exploded, maybe one hundred would die. That’s a pretty small percentage, don’t you think?’

Roy Grace looked down at his son, curious that he knew all this data, and concerned by the matter-of-fact nature of his voice. ‘Bruno, I don’t consider one unlawful death to be acceptable and nor should you.’

He shrugged, saying nothing.

What exactly was Bruno trying to tell him? Was it his way of dealing with his fear of this new paradigm, the terrorist threat that blighted everyone’s lives these days?

Or was something else going on inside his head? A reluctance — or inability — to grasp reality?

‘How would you feel if your best friend was blown up, Bruno?’

‘Erik?’

Erik was his best friend back in Munich. The two of them played competitive online battle games against each other, most days.

‘Yes, Erik.’

‘Then I’d be the winner!’