Philip Kerr - January Window

As we went back into the dressing room there was still no sign of João Zarco and Maurice McShane was looking worried.

‘And?’

Maurice shook his head.

‘I’ve looked everywhere.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, not everywhere. It’s a capacity crowd here today: sixty-five thousand people. It’s Where’s fucking Wally out there on the terraces, Scott. But I’ve looked everywhere that’s obvious and quite a few of the less obvious places, too. I’ve phoned his wife, his agent, his ghost—’

‘His ghost? What do you mean by that, Maurice?’

‘The bloke who wrote Zarco’s book, No Games, Just Football . Phil Kerr. He’s here this afternoon. He’s always bloody here. Loser. I’ve called Claire. I’ve even called his builder. I’ve also had a quiet word with the police to see if they can help to find him. I’ve done everything but make an announcement on the Crown of Thorns PA.’

‘Don’t for Christ’s sake do that,’ I said. ‘The press will wet their pants if they think he’s gone AWOL.’

‘I think the cat’s out of the bag on that one, Scott. Sky Sports have noticed he’s not in the dugout. Those penguins have been indulging in an orgy of speculation about where the fuck he is.’

‘Any bright ideas from Jeff Stelling?’

‘Only that we should send Chris Kamara to look for him. Kammy knows everything about being fucking lost.’

‘Very funny.’ I smiled. ‘No, it is. If I wasn’t so frazzled now I might even laugh. I feel like Charlie Nicholas’ haircut.’

‘It’s been suggested that he’s walked out. That he and Viktor have had some kind of barney and that João threw all his toys out of the pram and just buggered off.’

‘If that were true Phil Hobday would have said something. And he didn’t.’

‘Fair enough. But those two have history. Everyone knows it. Even Chris Kamara.’

‘Look, try some of the hospitality boxes. Get the security boys to help you. But don’t make a big deal out of it. Just say Zarco’s left his mobile phone in the dressing room and we don’t know how to get hold of him. Better still, have them search the terraces with the Mobotix, as if we were looking for a hooligan.’

The Mobotix video system comprised seventy-seven high-resolution cameras providing cutting-edge crowd management and security. It worked well during our matches and it was a pity it hadn’t been switched on when someone had dug a grave in the centre of the pitch.

When we went back on for the second half the Toons were still moaning to the officials about the sending-off, but there was little they could do about it now. Aaron Abimbole was already in a taxi and on his way home, which suited me very well. Pardew had substituted a couple of players and moved to a 3-5-1, but the game was already beyond them and fifteen minutes into the second half Bündchen scored two in quick succession, and that was the way it ended: 4–1.

I was dreading the post-match interview on Sky Sports. They were paying for the game and that meant we had to put someone in front of their cameras. I didn’t want to do it but I had no choice since, in Zarco’s absence, there was no one else. I knew Geoff Shreeves was going to ask me about where Zarco was and I really had no idea what I was going to tell him. Shreeves could be terrier-like with his questions and I just hoped he would let go and that I wouldn’t do a Kenny Dalglish and lose it on live television. Being a Scot that’s always a possibility.

‘That’s a great result, Scott, and many congratulations on the win, but the bigger talking point today, I’m sure you’ll admit, is the absence of João Gonzales Zarco from the City dugout for the whole of the match. Can you end the speculation about exactly where your team manager was this afternoon, Scott? And perhaps where he is now?’

‘I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t, Geoff, as I have absolutely no idea myself. It’s a mystery. The fact is I haven’t seen him since eleven o’clock this morning.’

‘There’s a strong rumour going around the Crown of Thorns that he and Viktor Sokolnikov have had another major falling-out and that João has walked out of the club. Would you like to comment on that?’

‘I’d much prefer to comment on today’s win, Geoff; I’m delighted with the way we played today. From being a goal behind to 4–1 is a bigger story, if you’ll permit me to talk about that for a moment.’

‘But João Zarco is a mercurial, not to say controversial character. And it would be entirely typical for him to do something like that, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I disagree, it wouldn’t be typical at all. João Zarco has always been totally professional in the way he’s managed this club. Look, Geoff, I would dearly like to tell you where João is right now. The fact is that no one seems to know. Now, as far as I’m aware there has been no disagreement between João and Mr Sokolnikov. I’d go so far as to say that relations between them are excellent, right now. I think I should also say that we’re a little worried that something might have happened to João Zarco, which is why we’re conducting a search of the whole ground. So if anyone does have information about his whereabouts, we’d appreciate it if you could get in touch. And perhaps you’ll let me know if you hear anything, Geoff.’

‘Of course, Scott.’

Finally we managed to talk about the game, but my mind wasn’t on Kenny Traynor’s cock-up and the magnificent save with which the Scotsman had redeemed himself, the goals we’d scored, or the sending off; all the time I was thinking about Zarco and wondering if his disappearance might be connected with the photograph of him that Colin had found at the bottom of the grave dug in the pitch.

And I don’t mind admitting it, I was worried.

In spite of our 4–1 victory and the fact that London City had gone sixth in the table, the atmosphere in the dressing room was a little subdued after the match as the lads sensed that something bad was happening.

Either we’d lost a great manager or we were about to lose one — nobody was quite sure which it was.

But we still got back on the coach as usual and went back to Hangman’s Wood so the players could receive treatment on tired and injured limbs. Xavier Pepe had two enormous bruises on his calves from where Aaron Abimbole had tackled him, and Kwame Botchwey had a thigh strain that looked like it was going to keep him on the bench for a couple of weeks. As the bus drove away from Silvertown Dock I could see all these illuminated faces staring at their little smartphone screens like bees in a hive and I thought it best to issue a firm policy about Twitter.

‘Listen, there’s enough speculation as it is about where Zarco has got to without your bloody tweets. So how about giving your thumbs a rest tonight, eh, lads? We’ll know what’s happened to the gaffer soon enough. What we don’t need are any fucking conspiracy theories for tomorrow’s back pages.’

Back at Hangman’s Wood the club physio told Pepe, Botchwey and several others to soak in an ice bath. I’d read a new study which said that ice baths after exercise may not be effective in aiding recovery; all our own anecdotal evidence suggests that they are and until we receive proof that they don’t work our players will continue to take them, but they are hard-core and players taking ice baths need carefully monitoring as spending too long in one can cause a variety of health risks including anaphylactic shock and an abnormal heart rate.

I might not have had an ice bath at Hangman’s Wood but I did feel a profound sense of shock and experienced an uncomfortable sensation in my chest when Phil Hobday telephoned me on my mobile at about seven thirty that same evening with some really bad news.