January Window by Philip Kerr Page A

down. So, frankly this is nothing short of a bloody disaster. In an ideal world we’d rip the whole surface up and start again. But halfway through the season we’ll have to make do with patching it up as best we can, I suppose. Of course, even before you think about the grass there’s the under-soil heating system that stops the pitch from freezing at this time of year. That’s been damaged and will have to be repaired. And the grass – well, it’s not just grass, you see. Artificial fibres will have to be sewn into the pitch alongside the grass so that the roots can wrap themselves around the nylon fibres. Then there’s the fact that at this time of year it’s not easy getting new grass to take hold. So we’ll need to run the grow lights around the clock. That’s expensive as well. I wouldn’t think there would be a lot of change from fifty grand to repair this. Seriously. The damage might be even more than that if the pitch still remains unplayable in ten days’ time. What with the gate ’n’ all. An average ticket price of sixty-two quid means that the total match day income is around six million pounds.’
    ‘So the cost of the damage might be anything between fifty grand and six million?’ said Detective Inspector Neville.
    ‘That’s about the size of it, yes,’ agreed Colin.
    Neville looked at me and shook his head. ‘Well, sir, I’d say this is as clear a case of criminal damage as I’ve come across in a long time. And since a crime has clearly been committed here then I’m bound to investigate it. Which is what the insurance company would insist on, I’m sure, if Mr Sokolnikov were to make a claim for this. They always do, you know.’
    ‘Those figures might seem like a lot to you and me, Inspector,’ I said. ‘But it’s not a lot to someone like Viktor Sokolnikov. I’m sure he’d much prefer just to pay for the repairs himself and avoid as much embarrassing publicity as possible. Which, if things had been done properly, ought to have been avoided. You know, it’s a mystery to me how the press managed to get here before the police. I’m sure no one here would have given them the heads-up.’
    ‘Are you suggesting that someone from Royal Hill station told them?’
    ‘I’m suggesting that if it transpires that the press were tipped off by someone from your station then Mr Sokolnikov will want to know why. Especially since it has been drawn to my attention that the press is already suggesting there might be some link with organised crime back in Mr Sokolnikov’s home country of Ukraine. That’s the kind of sensational reporting that we’d much prefer to avoid. Which we could still avoid, I think. Look, why don’t I just arrange for an executive box to be made available for our next home match so that a dozen of your officers from Royal Hill can come along and enjoy the game? You’ll be our guests and you’ll have a nice day. I’ll make sure of it.’
    ‘You mean if I were to forget all about this?’
    ‘That’s right. We’ll just tell the press that the reports of a grave being found in the centre of London City’s football pitch have been greatly exaggerated. In fact, I insist on it. Come on. What do you say? Let’s just forget about it and go home. Doesn’t that sound like common sense?’
    ‘What it sounds like is bribery,’ Neville said stiffly. ‘At the risk of repeating myself, a crime has clearly been committed here, Mr Manson. And it’s beginning to look as if you really don’t want the police here at all. Which I admit does puzzle me, since it was someone from the club who summoned us here tonight.’
    ‘I’m afraid that was me,’ admitted Colin.
    ‘He made an honest mistake,’ I said. ‘And so did I when I offered you the tickets. I think I must have assumed that you were the kind of bloke who had something better to do than look into the mysterious case of the hole in the ground.’
    ‘You know what I think? I think you’re one of those people who