Dead if You Don’t

23

Saturday 12 August

17.00–18.00

Ylli Prek hurried in through the doors marked SOUTH STAND WASTE MANAGEMENT — NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. He had to trust his boss’s word that the camera outside had been disabled. He entered a foul-smelling room, with a grimy concrete floor and stark tiled walls.

It was filled with green and red bins, mostly with their lids open and overflowing with bagged waste. Labels above them read GLASS, FOOD WASTE, DRY MIXED RECYCLING, GENERAL WASTE.

The last bin on the right, under GENERAL WASTE, had a grey lid that was shut. Ylli opened it, glancing nervously at the door. From the pockets of his tracksuit he removed a bobble hat and scarf. Then he hurriedly stripped off his tracksuit to reveal a blue-and-white Seagulls shirt and blue jeans beneath. He dumped the tracksuit top and bottoms into the bin, along with his cap, and pulled on the bobble hat. Then he walked back to the doors. His boss assured him there would be an evacuation of the stadium, if the bomb did not go off first. All he had to do was to slip out and he would be unnoticed in the panicking crowd all trying to get as far away from the stadium as they could.

But at this moment there was no sound of any panic.

He opened one door a few inches and peered out. He heard the roar of the crowd. The game was still in progress.

He closed the door again, shaking with nerves. Something felt wrong.