Striker Boy Kicks Out Read Online Free

door. A panel with number keys stood on the wall. He pressed a sequence of numbers and the door clicked open.
    He was now in the tarmac courtyard at the front of the prison. The high brick walls were topped with large coils of razor wire. Only a fool would try and get over them. Carlos hung back in the shadows. He scoured the area for a sign of Bellos, the guard he’d bribed heavily for assistance, but there was no sign of him. Carlos felt his muscles clenching in anxiety. Mundo (who had also been paid) had bought him time in the canteen with an excellent piece of acting, and now it was Bellos’s turn to be useful.
    Carlos checked his watch. 10.59 p.m. If Bellos didn’t get here in the next minute or two, Carlos’s plan would be completely derailed. Bellos had told him that the localised CCTV cameras would be disabled from 10.55 to 11.02 – that was the longest time period he could offer.
    The seconds passed agonisingly fast as Carlos’s anxiety levels reached new heights. But just as he was starting to really panic, Bellos appeared from a side door and, after taking a quick look over his shoulder, marched straight towards a large black gate.
    Bellos reached the gate and swiped a card through a panel at its side. The door clicked and swung open. Bellos threw some sort of parcel through the gate and hurried back towards the building.
    The second he was out of sight, Carlos sprang forward. The black door was time-coded to stay fully open for just ten seconds and then close quickly. It was about twenty metres away, and by the time Carlos was halfway across the courtyard, its ten seconds of opening time were over.
    Frantically, Carlos rushed forwards, watching in horror as the door began to close. He sped on – the door had now reached the halfway point of closure. In another few seconds, his chance would be gone. As the gate reached the final quarter of closure, Carlos launched himself through the air, smashed against the door’s surface and ricocheted past it and out onto a gravel concourse. He looked back and in horror saw that the door was about to close on his right foot and crush it to pulp. With a frantic tug he just managed to yank it free.
The door slammed shut behind him with a clang.
    Sweating and pumped up with adrenalin, Carlos grabbed Bellos’s parcel and opened it rapidly. It contained a set of clothes and a pair of brogues. If he stayed in his prison gear, he wouldn’t get far. It took him thirty seconds to swap clothes. He stuffed his prison outfit into the bag and ran across the concourse. At the end he turned left onto a large and deserted street. For a second he gazed at a photo he’d lifted from the pocket of his prison shirt.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said to the photo in Spanish, “I won’t let you down.” He placed it in his new shirt, before breaking into a run and disappearing into the night.

CHAPTER 5
Season Set-up
    When Nat walked into the kitchen the next morning, Inés was sitting at the table reading a newspaper.
    â€œAre you happy with toast and jam and coffee for breakfast?” she asked, looking up. “We don’t eat big breakfasts round here. If you want something more substantial, I can easily make it, though.”
    â€œToast and coffee is perfect,” replied Nat.
    â€œYou’re not training at Talorca’s La Plaza Stadium,” Inés explained, standing up to put some bread in the toaster. “Talorca are taking turns with the teams in their group to train there. The teams in your group will be based at one of our neighbouring clubs, Sporting El Mar.
El mar
means ‘the sea’.”
    Nat knew El Mar. They were in the Spanish second division and had just missed out on promotion last season.
    â€œTheir ground is inland,” explained Inés. “Is it OK if we leave in fifteen minutes?”
    â€œThat’s fine,” nodded Nat.
    â€œI’ll be taking you to training every