in the bag – and I knew that Alan Curbishley was also making noises about being interested in Moyesie’s job if he got the chop (but then again, Al was the first on the scene at every vacancy – I remember he put his name forward for the new host of Blind Date on Channel 5 when they brought it back, despite his shameful lack of light entertainment experience. Pathetic, really.)
And then, as though like clockwork, General Leigh rode roughshod over my plans once more. His clipped tones came blaring out of the speakers dotted throughout the Compound Square outside Mr O’s Place, which were normally only utilised to indicate an imminent Winged Terror attack or to announce the winner of the Saturday raffle (Gerry won a cracking four-slice toaster a month earlier).
‘This is General Lawrence Leigh, commander of the Palangonian Compound,’ he said, sounding so far up his own backside that his head was practically coming up through his throat. ‘This is an important notice for all residents. A Section Z order has been put in place on an indefinite basis. No one can leave this Compound without my personal written authorisation. As of this moment… we are in total lockdown. Thank you for your compliance.’
Rodway, who was standing in the doorway, ready to leave as the announcement was made, turned to look at me slowly.
‘Gaffer?’ he asked timidly. ‘What does this mean?’
‘It means,’ I said, standing up with a heavy sigh, ‘that we’re not going anywhere.’
At least, not immediately. But I knew full well what this was all about. And I knew that the only way to resolve this mess was for Kevin Keegan to get his hands dirty.
No more Mr Nice Guy.
LOCKED DOWN
On Monday morning, I was a man on a mission. No more mucking about – we were beyond that point now. If General Leigh wanted to mess with me, well, that was just fine. I’d give it back in spades.
As the first of Palangonia’s twin suns climbed beyond the rim of the Compound wall, I entered Emmeline Military Base, known colloquially as Fort Emmeline, via the visitor entrance and explained to the guard on the gate that I wanted to register a formal complaint against the General. The base was enormous, taking up almost a third of the total area of the Compound. To my left was a squadron of soldiers marching to the harsh orders of a drill sergeant, while beyond them I could see a fleet of armoured tanks, and still further away, glinting menacingly in the morning glare, an airfield with fighter jets packed in wing to wing. The guard looked up impatiently from her crossword and directed me towards a nondescript concrete building nearby.
‘That’s where Leigh is?’ I asked, enjoying a moment of delicious smugness as I stared at the drab little building. These were Leigh’s quarters? It was barely bigger than a large greenhouse!
‘What? No, of course not,’ the guard replied. ‘He’s in a meeting with the Alliance command. You’ll find a form on the table to your left. No pens, though – you’ll need to bring your own. There’s a war on.’
Perplexed, I walked through the gate, which closed with a loud clang behind me, and marched across the muddy, puddled floor towards the small building.
It was a waiting room. There were six or seven other people crammed inside the space, which was almost entirely bare save for the thin, uncomfortable-looking fold-out chairs which, aside from those currently occupied, were stacked untidily against the far wall. At the right-hand side of the room, beside a sleepy-looking guard who was on the verge of nodding off on his feet, was a table upon which stood a black box with the word ‘Applications’ plastered across the front of it. I grabbed the top piece of paper from the pile by the door, unfolded one of the chairs and sat down, staring irritably at the form before me.
‘What the heck is this…?’ I mumbled.
FORM 227/B99 – REQUEST TO LEAVE PALANGONIA DURING COMPOUND LOCKDOWN. HIGHEST APPROVAL REQUIRED.
‘Highest approval’. General Leigh, in other words. He’d said as much in his la-di-da announcement the day before. I felt suddenly deflated. I’d come to Fort Emmeline ready for a ruck, a chance to tell Leigh that no one messes with Kevin Keegan’s football club and gets away with it, but instead I’d been bundled into a room to fill in a form begging for Leigh’s blessing to be allowed to go. I knew full well that no matter what I wrote on the form – urgent hospital treatment, work commitments, a friend’s christening, reuniting with Sylvain Distin for a reprisal of our Lighthouse Family tribute act from 2005 – nothing would see Leigh acquiesce and approve my request. He wanted to see me gone from Palangonia forever, sure, but knowing that this was now something that I wanted too meant he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to grant it. He’d happily see himself suffer if it meant I’d suffer even more.
‘I cannot get my head around this bloody thing,’ came a voice from opposite where I was sitting. I looked up to see a woman wrapped in a wool coat and scarf, her hair a messy tangle of grey-black curls. She was squinting down through a pair of thick spectacles at her own form perched on her lap and was chewing the end of her pen vigorously.
‘I know what you mean,’ I nodded wearily. She glanced up at me.
‘Oh – I know you, don’t I?’ the woman said, smiling. ‘I’m sure I do.’
Oh, here we go. Earth may have been a distant memory but being a famous face still carried some cachet, it was true.
‘Maybe,’ I said coyly.
‘Didn’t you have a meltdown on TV or something?’ she asked. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude, but that was you, wasn’t it?’
‘No,’ I said bluntly and returned to my form. ‘You must be thinking of someone else. Eamonn Holmes probably. Sounds like the kind of thing he’d do.’
‘I’m sure it was you,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You said you’d hate it if something happened. “I will hate it if they lose – hate it!” It was definitely something like that…’
‘It was “I will love it if we beat them”,’ I said in a slightly scolding voice. ‘And I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Must be getting my wires crossed then,’ she said. ‘I hope I didn’t offend you or anything.’
‘Not at all,’ I said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘No harm done.’
‘I’m Caroline, by the way,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I work in the Compound library.’
‘Kevin Keegan,’ I said. ‘I run the football club. Or, at least, I did.’
‘Keegan…’ she said, chewing over the word much as she had the end of her pen. ‘Are you absolutely sure you’re not the—’
‘Nope,’ I said. ‘You’re definitely thinking of someone else.’
There was a moment of awkward silence as we both stared blankly at our forms. The fact I was even filling one out was humiliating enough – Leigh wasn’t going to approve it, so what was the use? Why give him the satisfaction?
‘Sod this,’ I said, standing up and screwing the paper into a ball.
‘What, you’re not going to apply?’ asked Caroline, shocked.
‘Leigh’ll never give me permission,’ I explained grumpily. ‘All he’s concerned about is “his military” and the L’zuhl – that’s how he likes to tart it up, anyway. But the reality is that his real aim in life is to kill Palangonia FC. And with this stupid spy malarkey, he’s finally managed it.’
‘Spy malarkey?’ Caroline said, sitting up straight. ‘Is that what this lockdown is about?’
Bugger.