The last sound Travis heard was Nish’s scream as he sailed towards the road, holding on for dear life.
“AAAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”
“NISH!” Sarah screamed after him.
“NISH!” Travis shouted into the wind. “Jump, you fool. JUMP!”
But Nish held on.
He held on, screaming, as the toboggan dipped sharply, gathering speed, then swept up the embankment by the road, a perfect Olympic ski jump for the toboggan to launch from.
“AAAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”
Sprawling in the snow, neither Travis nor Sarah could see a thing. Nish had simply vanished from sight.
And then came the sound Travis dreaded.
CRAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHHHHH!
19
“N-I-S-H-I-K-A-W-A.”
Nish was beet red, his face glistening under the camera lights that bore down on him inside the mayor’s office at City Hall. The mayor of Park City was standing beside him with his arm around the big Owls defenceman.
“That’s Nishikawa – with two ‘I’s.”
The mayor had just spoken to the assembled media – CNN carrying the press conference live – and had given full credit to the work of a peewee hockey team from Canada called the Screech Owls.
The Owls, the mayor had said, had figured out, and the police had confirmed, that Brody Prince had never been removed from Park City at all and was being kept virtually beneath the hotel in which his family had anxiously awaited word from his captors. The limousine and the helicopter had been diversions that might have succeeded had the Owls not found the secret hideaway.
The Owls also got the credit for linking the murder of Ebenezer Durk to the kidnappings. A forensic scientist working on a hunch had found traces of what appeared to be rainwater around Ebenezer’s heart, but an analysis of the water indicated it had fallen as snow in the mountains, not as precipitation near the Great Salt Lake. The latest theory was that Ebenezer Durk had been stabbed to death with an icicle.
“Latest theory?” Sam whispered to Sarah and Travis, standing next to her at the City Hall gathering. “We were telling them that days ago.”
But what really galled the three Owls standing there, watching the cameras move in as Nish spelled out his name, was that Nish had happily accepted almost all the credit for the daring capture of the kidnappers. It was Nish, seemingly all on his own, who had risked his life on a daring ride to send the toboggan flying into the black car, causing it to slide off the road in the deep snow. Highway patrol had immediately moved in to check on the accident, only to discover that this was much more than a mere fender-bender.
Nish, fortunately, had leapt free of the flying toboggan just before impact.
“Leapt free, my eye,” said Sarah. “He fell off.”
But no matter. Nish was the man of the hour, and the journalists were gobbling up this remarkable story of the heroic little Canadian who had saved the American superstar’s child.
The Prince family had already posed for photographs with the hero, Nish with one arm around supermodel Isabella Val d’Or and the other around Troy Prince, the eccentric entertainer. All three were wearing sunglasses – indoors!
Travis noticed that when Troy Prince shook hands with Nish, the mega-rich superstar was wearing a see-through surgical glove. If Nish noticed, he never let on. He bathed in the publicity, letting the compliments wash over him like a warm and welcome shower. As far as Nish was concerned, he was the hero. The one who led them to safety after the gunfire in the tunnel, the one who directed the flying toboggan into the side of the fleeing car.
He even claimed, at one point, that the whole idea for the toboggan run came to him from Ebenezer Durk’s account of delivering his daddy’s moonshine in his little red wagon for the price of a chocolate bar.
Travis wondered if by now Nish would even remember the way it really happened.
He shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. After this, Travis and Sarah would be lucky if Nish even remembered their names.
20
Not only was Brody Prince okay – he was going to play!
The kidnappers had treated him well. After they had learned the secrets of the tunnel from Ebenezer Durk, and then killed the old tourist guide to get him out of the way, they had quickly built a remarkably comfortable “cell” at the high end of the tunnel in which to keep their captive until the ransom was paid.
The plan had been bold. They had taken the youngster barely a mile, while police believed Brody had been spirited out of the state by helicopter. They had used Nevada telephones and addresses while making contact with the Prince family even though the heart of the kidnapping operation remained right in Park City.
The ten-million-dollar ransom was on the verge of being paid. The money had been assembled and a drop-off arranged – in far-away Reno – and had the Owls not stumbled upon the secret hideaway, the kidnapping would have been a total success. Brody Prince would have been found wandering the back streets of Park City the next morning, with the kidnappers long gone and the ransom money safely in the hands of their accomplices in Nevada.
Instead they were now behind bars. Three of the family’s trusted bodyguards were included in the roundup and three others who were linked to organized-crime syndicates operating out of Las Vegas and Reno.
Brody Prince had been reunited with his grateful parents, checked over by doctors, interviewed by the police, and was now declared fit and ready to resume play.
There was, however, only one game left to play. The Hollywood Stars, playing without Brody, had gone on to tight wins over both the Vancouver Mountain and the Long Island Selects. There were only two teams with perfect records in the tournament, and organizers announced that these two teams would now meet for the gold medal.
It was to be played in the famous E Center, where Team Canada defeated Team U.S.A. for both the men’s and women’s gold medals in the 2002 Salt Lake City Winter Games.
And those two teams would be the Hollywood Stars, led by Brody Prince, and the Screech Owls of Tamarack, led by a big beefy-faced kid who kept saying “that’s with two ‘I’s” every time anyone spoke to him.
21
“He’s done it.”
Fahd was beside himself.
“He’s done what?” Travis asked as they filed out of the E Center following their only practice before the gold-medal game.
“He’s buried something at centre ice, that’s what.”
“What do you mean, buried something at centre ice?” Sam demanded as she leaned across the aisle of the bus and into their conversation.
“Just what I said,” Fahd answered. “Nish went and talked to the Zamboni driver, and now he’s got something buried at centre ice for luck.”
“What?” Sarah called over. “A loonie?”
“I don’t think so,” said Fahd.
“His boxer shorts?” Sam giggled.
“He won’t say,” said Fahd. “He just says he’s done it and the gold medal is now a lock.”
The four turned and looked to the back of the bus, where Nish sat beaming, his eyes closed as if in a trance, his smile almost wider than his big round face.
Sarah rolled her eyes and went back to her book.
There was only one evening left for Nish to complete the suspended Gross-Out Olympics.
He had raced through the remaining events – Sam losing the Alphabet Burp to a Coke-guzzling member of the Selects, Jesse coming third in the Chubby Bunny marshmallow chew, Liz volunteering for the Cricket Spit when no one else would, but losing, and Dmitri, as he’d predicted, running away with the Frozen T-Shirt event – and now the scores were being calculated by Data and Fahd to determine the medal awards.
Nish conferred with his scorekeepers before heading to the podium, a look of sheer delight on his face. As he reached for the microphone, Travis was convinced he saw the flash of a surgical glove beneath Nish’s sleeve before the cocky emcee switched hands and turned on the mike.
; “Lay-deeees ’n’ gennnullmen,” he announced in his ridiculous Elvis impersonation. “Thank you … thank you very much. But we appear to have a tie for the gold medal.”
The room went silent, as no one was sure what that meant.
“The Screech Owls and Panthers have exactly the same total points – and so we will move now to the special tiebreaker.”
“What could be more gross than what we’ve already done?” Sam shouted, giggling.
Nish seemed enormously pleased at this question. He switched hands again, and this time Travis saw that he was indeed wearing a rubber surgical glove on one hand! Just like Troy Prince, his new idol.
Travis winced. If too much time in the spotlight had driven the likes of Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson and Troy Prince a little strange, what would Nish be like after a few more press interviews?
Nish turned to face the far side of the room. “Would you bring in the tiebreaker now, Fahd.”
The doors to the ballroom opened, and Fahd, wearing a surgical mask, walked in carrying something on his back.
Not Fahd, too! Travis thought. What was next? Sam acting like Isabella Val d’Or?
“What is it?” Jeremy Billings of the Panthers asked.
“I have no idea,” said Travis.
Fahd moved to the centre of the room and dropped what he was carrying onto the floor.
“It’s a hockey bag!” one of the Stars shouted, obviously disappointed.
Nish cleared his throat into the mike. “Not just any hockey equipment bag,” he corrected. “My hockey bag.”
“Open it and we’re all dead!” moaned Sam.
“Jeremy Billings of the Panthers and Travis Lindsay of the Screech Owls, will you step forward, please?” Nish announced.
Jeremy looked at Travis. Both shrugged and stepped forward.
“You are each the captain of your team in the Gross-Out Olympics, so you two will decide the gold medal.”
“What do we have to do?” giggled Jeremy.
Nish held up Mr. Dillinger’s old pocket watch. “The competitor who can stick his head in the ol’ Nishikawa hockey bag longest will win the gold medal!”
Nish stood back, grinning triumphantly, his red face like a beacon.
Jeremy was first to think of it, and straight away he said the two sweetest words Travis could have imagined.
“I concede.”
22
“Give it your best,” Muck said.
That’s it. Nothing else. He said this much and walked out of the room, then quickly came back in and looked around as if he’d forgotten something.
He said nothing. He simply let his eyes settle on Nish as he folded his arms and stared hard.
Nish broke into a full blush. “I know, I know, I know,” he mumbled. “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’…”
“BUT THERE’S TWO ‘I’S IN ‘NISHIKAWA’!” the entire team yelled out as one.
Nish only blushed deeper.
Travis pulled on his sweater, kissing the “C” as it passed. He had already hit the crossbar in the warm-up.
He knew he was in for a good one.
The E Center was packed. The people of Salt Lake City and Park City had come out by the thousands to see the finale of the tournament, though it was undeniable that they had come less for the hockey than for a glimpse of the kidnapped boy, the eccentric superstar father, and the gorgeous supermodel mother.
No matter, thought Travis, as he stood on his wing waiting for the puck to drop: the place was packed and this was going to be a game to remember.
Sarah looked up into the dreamy green eyes of Brody Prince, who winked. It was now Sarah’s turn to blush. She looked down quickly and hammered her stick on the ice to hurry up the faceoff.
The puck dropped.
Brody Prince used Sarah’s own special trick of plucking the puck out of mid-air before it hit the ice, and he gained control as he stepped around her and came straight at Nish.
Nish had seen the play and was already backpedalling hard. He cut for the centre of the ice just as Brody came over the blueline and then went down neatly to block the pass as Brody tried to flip the puck to a flying winger.
Nish took the pass in the crook of his arm and scrambled quickly to his feet, letting the puck drop as he rose.
Brody Prince dove, swinging his stick to clip the puck away, and the puck flew up and over Nish, into the shin pads of the rushing winger.
The winger came in hard on Jeremy’s short side. Jeremy pressed tight to the post, playing the percentages, and the winger delicately pinged the puck in off the far post.
Hollywood Stars 1, Screech Owls 0.
Nish was beating up on himself on the bench. He was punching his mask again and again and again. No one said a thing. They had seen this before. He was taking full blame for something that wasn’t his fault at all. He had made a wonderful defensive play, only to have Brody Prince make an even more spectacular play, and the Stars had scored on a lucky shot. Mr. Dillinger calmly wrapped a white towel over Nish’s neck and patted his shoulders.
Muck put Nish right back out next shift. He knew, just as everyone on the bench knew.
Nish was here to play.
There would be no “I”s in “Nishikawa” for a while, not until Nish had atoned for his error.
The Stars were an unbelievable team. They had size and strength and skill, yet still they depended on the trap system and used dump-and-chase more than any team Travis had ever played.
It made them almost impossible to play against, and it was difficult to get any flow into the game. If Travis or Sarah tried to carry the puck up through the middle zone, the Stars would form a blockade, forcing them to pass or circle back. The tactic was taking away Dmitri’s fast break.
The Stars would get the puck and fire it along the boards, then race in, hoping to press Jeremy into coughing it up, or else hammer one of the Owls’ defence against the boards and get it that way. If this failed, they immediately dropped back into their trap mode.
Travis was exhausted, yet it seemed he had done nothing. There was no room to skate. No room for plays.
Muck was disgusted, but never lost his patience. He kept shaking his head at what he saw, but he would not let the other team dictate the play.
“Stay with our game,” Muck kept saying. “Puck control is what works for us. Puck control and speed. It will shift our way.”
But the Stars were up 3-0 by the time the tide slowly began to turn.
Troy Prince and Isabella Val d’Or were already on their feet and doing a victory dance when the second period ended, the score 4-1 for the Stars. The Owls would have been shut out entirely had a point shot by Sam not bounced in off the skate of one of the Hollywood defenders.
The Owls had only twenty minutes to come back. Travis felt antsy. Sarah was shifting fast from one skate to the other as they waited for the fresh flood. Muck, however, was perfectly calm.
“It’s happening,” he told them. “You might not see it yet, but they’re tiring, and our skating is going to come through for us. Just you wait.”
Muck was right.
The third period began differently, with the Stars relying on hooking and interference to slow down the Owls and the referee unwilling to let things go.
The Owls got a power play, and Sarah used her high flip pass to send Dmitri in on a clean breakaway. Travis didn’t even have to watch. Forehand fake, backhand high over the glove, the water bottle spinning off as Dmitri turned, his hands raised to signal the goal.
Travis then scored with the teams at even strength when Sarah split the defence and got in for a shot, the goaltender making a great sprawling save but the rebound perfect for Travis to chip home as he came in behind Sarah.
Hollywood Stars 4, Screech Owls 3.
The Owls were beginning to realize only a handful of the Stars – led by Brody Prince – could skate with them. Once Sarah and Dmitri turned it up a notch, and once good skaters like Travis and Nish and Sam and Jesse and Liz began
using their speed and puck movement to keep the Stars back on their heels a bit, the game began shifting perceptibly to the Owls’ advantage.
But dealing with Brody Prince was a different story. Travis found, in a race for the puck, that Brody could match him stride for stride. Brody was also much stronger, and if they reached the puck at the same time, chances were Brody would come up with it.
He was also fairly deft at puck-handling. Once – seemingly defying his coach’s orders – he carried the puck the length of the ice, and had Nish not gone down spinning and knocked him off his skates, he might have been in alone on Jeremy with only a minute left in the game.
The crowd was calling for a penalty on Nish, but the referee refused to call one. Nish had been playing the puck, and the collision came after he had swept the puck away.
Troy Prince was on his feet in outrage. He threw off his headset and bounded down from the area in the stands his bodyguards – new bodyguards, Travis noticed – had staked out. He began pounding on the glass.
The coach of the Stars, seeming to take his cue from the team owner, began screaming at the official. He picked up a white towel and waved it in mock surrender. The two assistant coaches followed suit.
Brody Prince, on the other hand, picked himself up off the ice, turned, and gave Nish’s big bottom a friendly swipe with his stick blade, a sign of recognition that Nish had made a great play.
But an even greater play was necessary.
The clock showed forty-four seconds to go in the gold-medal game, with the Hollywood Stars up by a goal.
The Owls had forty-four seconds to score – or else.
Nish gathered up his gloves and stick, brushed off some snow, and skated slowly to centre ice, where he paused and very gently tapped the ice with the blade of his stick.
Travis watched from the bench. Nish was hoping for good luck, counting on his lucky charm – whatever it was – to come through in the crunch.
The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 5 Page 15