Sudden Death by Phil Kurthausen Page B

with that, she hates Ted, thinks he a tosser! But she likes you so you may be in luck. She usually waits for me outside in the main stand seats, directors’ enclosure. Try there.’
    ‘I will do, good luck for Saturday if I don’t see you before.’
    ‘I won’t need luck,’ he pointed at his left foot, ‘I’ve got this.’
    Dr Khan had begun to close the door, and it was shut before Erasmus had a chance to reply. He retraced his steps and then took the stairs up to the main stand, directors’ box. He followed the stairs to the pitch and stepped out into the cold night air.
    The fog had settled all the way to the bottom of the pitch and was slowly twisting and turning in the darkness of the stadium’s belly. The stadium, which seemed so vibrant and full of life when full for a game, seemed desolate and eerie now. There were no floodlights on and in the gloom Erasmus couldn’t see anybody in any of the seats. He looked further down the rows of seats and then realised he had come out too high up. He heard the sounds of a muffled conversation and looked more closely at the rows below him and he could see that there were two people about fifty rows down. In the gloom it was impossible to tell who they were but one of them must be Steph.
    Erasmus started to walk down the stairs, his shoes slapping against the concrete echoed loudly in the deserted arena.
    One of the people below turned around, looked at him and then got up from the seat, and walked along the row to an exit before disappearing out of sight. It was too dark for Erasmus to make out who it was.
    The other figure waved at him.
    Twenty yards away Erasmus recognised Steph. She was wrapped up tightly in an expensive looking leather jacket with a fur collar.
    He slid down the row of seats and sat next to her.
    ‘I didn’t mean to scare your friend away,’ he said
    Steph smiled.
    ‘You didn’t.’
    Erasmus said nothing, leaving a gap in conversation he hoped she would fill, but she didn’t oblige.
    ‘So, I’m here to collect. You said you would tell me your theory on why Wayne’s lost his form?’
    The smile on Steph’s face vanished. She took a deep breath.
    ‘Straight to business, eh?’ She fixed him with a stare that he couldn’t even begin to decipher and then smiled. ‘Oh well. I did, didn’t I. You’ve signed that fat tosser’s waiver, haven’t you?’ she asked.
    Erasmus knew what she meant. It had been a term of the contract with Ted that Erasmus agreed to complete confidentiality in his dealings with the club and any disclosure of information to a third party was strictly prohibited. A gagging clause, in other words.
    ‘I have. Why have you got it in for Ted, by the way?’
    Steph lit a cigarette and inhaled before ejecting a tight, band of smoke from her pursed lips.
    ‘Real Madrid wanted to buy Wayne last January. Ted wouldn’t let the sale go through. He said he wanted him to play for Everton for a few more years. But Ted didn’t realise that Wayne is bigger than this club now, he’s a fucking global superstar but he’s regretting it now though.’
    ‘Because of Wayne’s loss in form.’
    ‘No shit Sherlock.’
    ‘Why has he lost his form, Steph?’
    She dropped the cigarette on the concrete floor and ground it out with her leather heel and then she leaned in close, her scent filling Erasmus’s nose.
    ‘If Ted had let the sale go through none of this would have happened.’
    ‘What happened?’
    She looked away towards the Gwladys Street end of the ground and then back at Erasmus.
    ‘If I tell you what I know you can’t tell Ted, do you promise?’
    ‘I promise,’ he said too quickly, although she didn’t seem to notice. He had no idea whether he would be keeping his promise, it depended, as it always depended, on what the price was of keeping the secret.
    ‘Last March Wayne was injured and missed three games. He strained a calf muscle at the Villa game while warming up.’
    ‘A muscle strain, that’s not