He drifted through the room, stopping here and there. A few words to Koch. A nod to Skhiri. A brief exchange with Knauff, who still looked annoyed at himself more than anything else. Then he sat on the edge of a bench next to Larsson, who was viewing something on an ipad he collected from the analysis team, the two of them leaning forward, elbows on knees.
"Did you see how they step out after the flick?" Lukas said, already back in analysis mode. "Casemiro drops, Ugarte goes, and Bruno runs straight off Koch's blind side. It's always the same trigger."
Larsson nodded, replaying it in his head. "I saw it once, but not the second time."
"They could try it again at Old Trafford," Lukas said. "We just need to be ready for it."
The door at the far end opened.
Toppmöller walked in, jacket unzipped, expression tight. Ekitike followed him, still breathing a little heavier than usual, towel around his neck. The room straightened almost instinctively. Conversations died out. Heads turned.
