Traces - Final lap

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Someone is trying to sabotage the Youth International Games. When the organiser of the games vanishes, the authorities call in Luke Harding to investigate a series of suspicious accidents at the construction site.

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Chapter One Everything was wrong. It was the wrong time of year, and the sports stadium was not finished. The crowd was not really a crowd at all. A few trainers, athletes, reporters, and fans were bunched together in the only stand that had been completed so far. Seen from the airship overhead, they were a small oasis in a concrete desert, and the builders crawling busily over the rest of the arena looked like worker ants. Only one competitor had reentered the stadium and embarked on the final lap. Approaching the end of the marathon, his gasps left a trail of steam behind him in the cold air. The weather was all wrong as well. The giant telescreen at the far end of the stadium was blank. Once the electronics were fully installed, it would show pictures taken by the airship and outside cameras, trackside close-ups, and a list of the exact position of every runner in the marathon. For now, the leader's triumph was unannounced, but the large timer was showing 2:08:13.7. Jed Lester shook his head in disbelief. Without taking his eyes off the lead runner in the sky-blue uniform, he said to Owen Goode, "He's excellent, but the organizers are going to have to check the clock or the route. It's a practice run, out of season, and he's so young, yet he's coming in extremely close to the national record. They've probably messed up the distance." Owen nodded. "Likely, it's short of the full forty kilometers." The construction workers on the opposite stand stopped what they were doing and watched the lone runner completing a circuit of the track. The event was a strange spectacle, designed to test Hounslow's preparations for hosting the International Youth Games in the spring. The volunteer runners were trying out the planned marathon route. The organizers were also checking the electronic timing system, the orientation of the airship, and a tagging device that monitored the position and order of every competitor throughout the long-distance event. After the finish line, they would also test the newly completed laboratory for detecting and measuring performance- enhancing drugs. Jed had been a middle-distance runner. Twenty years ago, he was the best at more than 1,500 meters. Now, he'd teamed up with 15-year-old Owen Goode to develop a sports club in Greenwich. They were converting the old domed warehouse, built in a loop of the Thames river, into an indoor track and training facility. Already it was becoming a popular hangout for rebellious London kids who had run away from their schools. Jed was hoping to spot a new generation of athletes among them. He'd entered one boy and two girls into the trial marathon. Right now, he expected them to be 12 to 18 minutes away from the stadium. Perplexed by the leader's performance, Jed stroked his trademark bald head with a cold hand and glanced down at the list that he'd been given. "Ford Drayton. On this showing, he'll be selected for the Games if the distance and time are right. But something must be wrong." From across the track, there was a loud clunk and a metallic squeal. Thunderous hammering, pounding, shouting, and drilling had become commonplace during the construction of the stadium, so no one paid any attention. The noises were followed by a fearsome mechanical groan. Two builders, standing way up high on scaffolding, were resting their elbows on the steel railing and looking down at the closing stages of the race. From their lofty position, they could probably also see the other runners laboring along the outside walkway toward the stadium. Almost certainly, they would be able to see the full extent of Ford Drayton's lead over the following pack. Watching Ford's tireless finish, Owen commented, "Maybe he's had a little help from drugs." "I don't think so. It's not like it's a power event." Jed stared at Ford's wiry body as he came past the spectators' stand. "It's not his technique that's wrong, for sure," Jed said in admiration. "Look at his posture, how he holds his head. His arms pump beautifully, and his coordination's almost perfect, even after that distance. But if you're right and he has taken something, he'll be disgraced in an hour or two. That's LAPPED for you." Thinking of the Laboratory Analytical Procedure for Performance-Enhancing Drugs, Jed grunted. "In my day, lapped was something that happened to you on the track if you weren't very good. Back then, I had to race--and beat --the cheats. As simple as that." Before Ford Drayton reached the finish line, there was an alarming creak from one section of the scaffolding. The sound was followed by a dreadful twang as the bolts holding up the platform on the left-hand side gave out. The planks of wood tilted and then tumbled down toward the track. The two builders who had been standing on them were tipped sideways as the planks slid out from under their feet. In a panic, they both grabbed the railing that they'd been leaning against. But the railing also came loose from the rest of the contraption, and the men were thrown into empty air. Every face in the stand looked up--away from Ford's victory. Steel poles, three planks of wood, a girder, and two men plummeted to the ground. Yet their plunge seemed to last a lifetime. Their arms wheeled and legs flailed in slow motion. A protracted human scream tore through the atmosphere. It was followed by the thud of wood hitting the trackside area and the clatter of a girder and steel railings. One of the metal shafts stabbed into the ground like an oversize javelin. But the worst was the silence that followed the dull thumps of the builders hitting the ground. Focusing on his performance and maintaining his style in spite of exhaustion, Ford Drayton kept an eye on the stadium clock and paid no attention to the commotion behind him. He ran to the finish line in stunned silence. Only one spectator--his own trainer--applauded his remarkable achievement. Forensic Investigator Luke Harding was listening carefully as the face on his telescreen described his next assignment. She was telling him about two construction workers who had lost their lives in the main sports stadium in Hounslow in the London area. Luke was puzzled, though. He asked, "Do you know for sure that it's suspicious? A scaffolding collapse sounds like an accident to me. Or bad work." The representative of The Authorities seemed annoyed that Luke was questioning her word. She was probably aware that FI Harding had a growing reputation for dissent. But despite his youth, he also had a growing reputation for solving difficult cases. "It might sound like an accident to you, taken in isolation. But this isn't the first mishap at the Hounslow development. It began two years ago with an air traffic accident. I believe you know about it." "Oh, yes," Luke replied. "I came across it in my last case. A Hounslow-to- Glasgow flight. Its fuel line wasn't right. Someone in maintenance attached the wrong nut. The pipe loosened during the flight, and fuel poured out." "That's right. And one of the indoor sports venues went up in flames a few months ago. It had to be rebuilt. The first manager is missing, and there have been other incidents as well. I'll download details into your Mobile Aid to Law and Crime. We accept that accidents happen--but not this many. There comes a point when bad luck begins to look deliberate. We've reached that point. So, you'll investigate possible sabotage at the site." "Have there been any deaths, aside from the passengers in the plane and these two builders?" he asked. "Aren't they enough?" she responded. "We want you to catch the person or persons responsible before anyone else dies, and we want to know what happened to Libby Byrne. She was the site manager until she vanished. Her disappearance may or may not have anything to do with her work." The voice of The Authorities paused before adding, "There's a lot at stake here, Investigator Harding. Hounslow's a high-profile regeneration project. The biggest in the south of England by far. Despite the . . . difficulties, we're on the final lap, as far as construction's concerned. We don't want the International Youth Games jeopardized at this late stage. If this fails, it'll be our last attempt to renovate an area of London." "That would be a pity." Luke was wondering if she was threatening to ax Owen Goode's alternative school in Greenwich as well. "Make sure it doesn't happen, then." "I'll do my best," Luke said toward her fading face. When the principal of the Sheffield Music Collective appeared at Jade Vernon's door, Jade pulled her headphones down from her ears and let them rest on her shoulders, making a strange oversize necklace. She clicked the Save button to keep the samples that she'd added to a new mix of one of her pieces and swiveled toward him. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but I have some news that you'll want to hear." "Oh?" "Good news," he stressed, beaming like a child. "It's from The Authorities, and I think you'll be pleased. Very pleased." At once, Jade's thoughts turned to pairing. She was 16--four years from The Time--and she was hoping that The Authorities might have had a change of heart. Perhaps they would couple her with Luke Harding when The Time came. But would the Head of the Collective get involved in the business of the Sheffield Pairing Committee? Would he even know about her pairing situation and her wishes? "Oh?" she repeated, wondering how long he was going to keep her in suspense. "It's an honor for you and the whole Collective," he said. "The Authorities have commissioned you to compose the music for the opening ceremony of the International Youth Games and the official anthem." He clearly had more to say, but he hesitated in order to let the offer of the glitzy task sink in and to watch her reaction. Her frown turned into a wide grin. "Really? The anthem? That's . . . brilliant. Amazing." In her excitement, she jumped to her feet and the headphone cable almost throttled her. "Fantastic. Why me, though?" The principal replied, "Don't be so modest, Jade. It's obvious. You were selected because you're good. The best person for the job. Given the occasion, it's also appropriate for a youth--someone less than twenty--to provide the music." Jade shook both of her fists in the air. "Yes! Fame at last." "True. Previous writers of sports anthems have gone on to great things. I wish you well with it--as does everyone in the Collective." "I can hardly believe it, but . . . I'll need a site visit," Jade said. "To get a feel for the place, to see what would work. Is that all right?" "I assumed that you'd ask, so I've already checked. The main stadium is almost complete, so you can visit by arrangement almost any time. The other venues are at various stages of construction. Someone will take you wherever you want to go, as long as it's safe and doesn't interfere with the building." "It's down near London, isn't it?" She tried not to pull a face. The principal laughed. "Don't let that put you off. Think of yourself as part of the Hounslow regeneration scheme. It's a golden opportunity." Despite the need to go to the South, she tingled all over. "I can't wait to get going," she said. Excerpted from Final Lap by Malcolm Rose All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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School Library Journal Review

Gr 8 Up-Sixteen-year-old forensic investigator Luke Harding is back in this fifth book in the series, set in the future. This time, someone is trying to sabotage the Youth International Games. The stadium, near London, is in the process of being built, and The Authorities ask Luke to investigate a series of strange accidents at the construction site. First the games' organizer disappears. Then two construction workers plummet to their deaths. Shortly after that, a swimmer is severely injured while testing out the facility's pool. Luke and his trusty sidekick robot, Malc, zero in on several suspects, but as the search for "Spoilsport" intensifies, his own life becomes endangered. This action-packed, quick read will keep readers guessing who Spoilsport is and what his or her motives are. A good read for reluctant readers or for teens interested in forensic science.-Shannon Seglin, Chantilly Regional Library, Fairfax County, VA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.