“Let’s give it some time,” she said. “I imagine you’re hungry again. It’s been almost two hours since you last ate.”
She had a point. The waiter encouraged them to try the buffet—“It’s a bargain,” he said, noting that the cost was only $27.50 for all you could eat. Susan Carol ordered a salad and iced tea. Stevie sighed and settled for the grilled chicken with a side order of french fries.
They were sipping their drinks when Stevie saw Susan Carol’s eyes widen. “Don’t look,” she said.
Stevie looked anyway. Across the room, coming in a back door, were Hughes Norwood, the Symanovs, and another man whom Stevie didn’t recognize. They sat at a table in the far corner—good news because they didn’t notice Stevie and Susan Carol, bad news because there was no way to hear any of the conversation.
“That man with them looks familiar,” Susan Carol said. Then she let out a small gasp. “Oh my God, I know who it is!”
“Who?” he said.
“His name’s Glenn O’Donahue. He’s a movie director. Does celebrity sensation stuff—really big blockbusters. I think his last big hit was something about Princess Diana’s one true love—some guy she dated in high school.”
“High-class stuff.”
“Yeah, but apparently it sells. Seriously, you’ve never heard of him?”
Stevie shook his head. “What matters,” he said, “is why he would be meeting with the Symanovs and Norwood.”
“I’ll give you three guesses.”
He was about to answer when someone else walked in the back door. His first instinct was to duck under the table, but Brendan Gibson headed straight for the corner where Norwood, the Symanovs, and O’Donahue were sitting, without glancing in their direction. There were handshakes all around and Gibson sat down. Stevie looked at Susan Carol. Her face was white.
“This is not possible,” she said, her voice filled with anger.
She started to slide out of the booth.
“Hey, wait a second,” he said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Over there to ask my uncle exactly what he’s doing with those people.”
He half stood up, reached across the table, and hauled her back down. “Are you nuts?” he said, keeping his voice to a whisper because he didn’t want to attract any attention. “Calm down. You have to think more clearly than that right now.”
She had tears in her eyes. “You hurt my arm,” she said.
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….”
She shook her head. “It’s not that bad. But how can my uncle be involved with those people?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “That,” he said, “is exactly what we have to find out.”
Their food came a moment later. Susan Carol wiped her tears on a napkin and took a deep breath. They kept an eye on what was going on across the room. Fortunately, Brendan Gibson had his back to them and everyone else was too involved in the conversation to notice them.
Susan Carol picked at her salad and kept glancing at her uncle. “Something’s rotten in Denmark,” she said.
“And in New York, and Moscow, and Hollywood too,” he said, actually causing her to smile.
“Listen,” he continued. “You’re the smart one here. What should we do next?”
“Don’t suck up to me, Stevie,” she said. “Obviously we need to find out what they’re plotting over there.”
“That’s the easy part. The question is how?”
For a moment she didn’t say anything, staring at her uncle’s back as if he might somehow not be there if she stared long enough and hard enough.
“Earth to Susan Carol,” he said.
“I’m here,” she said, snapping her attention back to him.
“Okay, here’s what I think,” she continued, her eyes refocusing on him. “O’Donahue has no idea who we are. And we have these badges that say ‘player family.’ What if I bluff him? I’ll tell him that I’m Norwood’s niece and he told me I could try out for a part in the movie.”
“Movie?”
“What do you think O’Donahue’s sitting over there for? They’re planning a movie. Which means they must know Nadia is safe.”
“But if they know she’s safe, why haven’t they announced it? Why would they keep it secret?”
“Exactly.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
She smiled the old Susan Carol smile. “You need to go to Evelyn Rubin’s match tomorrow. You have to find out what—if anything—she knows about all this. We need to know if she’s somehow involved too.”
“How would she be involved?”
“Think about it: Symanova’s kidnapped, returns heroically to play in the Open, then loses in the third round to someone younger than her who wasn’t even ranked in the top hundred in the world before the summer started and has just recently cracked the top fifty.”
“Not a perfect ending for a movie.”
“Right. But if the beautiful and courageous young star who wants so much to represent her new country makes it to the quarters and takes on the evil, big-hitting, not nearly as attractive Russian…”
“Makarova.”
“Uh-huh. Good versus evil. That’s better.”
“So you think your uncle would convince Evelyn to tank the match? Why, though? Symanova should beat her anyway, at least based on ranking.”
“You saw Evelyn play. She’s a lot better than her ranking. Maybe she makes them nervous. That’s what you have to find out.”
“But how?”
The smile again. “Stevie, you can be very charming. Charm her.”
“Now who’s sucking up, Scarlett?” he said, smiling in spite of himself.
The meeting at the other end of the room was breaking up. “Look down and away,” Susan Carol hissed.
He did as ordered. They both watched out of the corner of their eyes as everyone shook hands. They breathed a sigh of relief when the group exited through the back.
“Okay,” Susan Carol said. “Now all I’ve got to do is figure out how to get five minutes alone with Glenn O’Donahue.”
They split up once they had paid the check. Susan Carol headed off to try to find O’Donahue while Stevie went back to the pressroom to update Kelleher and find out if he could stay with him that night. They had discarded the idea of Susan Carol talking Brendan into forgiving Stevie. Instead, she was going to pretend to be outraged by Stevie’s accusations and stay clearly on her uncle’s side. At least for the moment.
“Be careful,” Stevie said.
“I promise,” Susan Carol said.
“I’m serious. These people have a lot at stake….”
“I know, I know. I’ll see you back at the media center. If I’m not back in an hour, send a posse out to look for me.”
“Keep your cell phone on.”
“Yes, Dad.”
She said it with a smile—she was glad he cared. He sort of wanted to hug her but held back since he was going to see her in an hour—or less.
Stevie made his way back to the media center. Evelyn Rubin would play the second match on court 4 the next day. Stevie knew from walking around that court 4 was the biggest outside court. It was a long way from where she had played on Monday—court 18 was barely on the grounds. Kelleher walked up behind him as he was staring at the schedule.
“Where’ve you been?” Kelleher asked. “And where’s Susan Carol?”
“She’s working on something,” Stevie said. “And I was checking out tomorrow’s schedule.”
“Well, don’t check it too closely,” Kelleher said. “It’s being changed.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because the SVR has agreed to release Nadia Symanova. Her parents just got a phone call. They left here with a police escort five minutes ago.”
“Really?! How do you know all this?” Stevie said.
“Arlen told me. He said the SVR is still denying it was involved. They’re going to have a press conference for her tomorrow afternoo
n and she’ll be the first match on Arthur Ashe tomorrow night. CBS is going to cancel its regular prime-time programming to show it. Carillo told me they’re making a deal with USA Network right now. Nadia’s become too big for cable TV.”
He shook his head. “The movie rights can’t be far behind.”
Stevie almost gagged. “You don’t know how right you are about that,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Sit down,” Stevie said. “I have a lot to tell you.”
14: TRIUMPHANT RETURN
BOBBY KELLEHER’S jaw kept dropping further and further as Stevie filled him in on all he and Susan Carol had seen and heard. He shook his head when Stevie described the meeting in the U.S. Open Club, and he said, “I feel for Susan Carol. That’s got to be a jolt to see her uncle involved in this somehow.”
The question, they agreed, was what “this” was. They had no real proof that the Symanovs or Hughes Norwood or Brendan Gibson was involved in anything sinister. “For all we know, O’Donahue approached them and said, ‘If everything works out, there might be a movie in all this,’” Kelleher said.
“Do you believe that?” Stevie said.
“No,” Kelleher said. “If Hughes Norwood is involved, I always believe the worst. I think you’re right. They already knew Nadia was okay when you saw them in the Open Club. They probably knew it earlier today. The question is, why did they hold it back? Supposedly they just now got the word and rushed out of here.”
Kelleher’s cell phone was chirping. He looked at the number and smiled. “It’s Susan Carol,” he said as he answered. He listened for a moment, nodding his head.
“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t push it any further than that. Come on back here and we’ll figure out what we want to do tomorrow.”
He closed the phone. “Did she find O’Donahue?” Stevie asked.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “I guess she gave him a wide-eyed ‘I can’t believe I’m meeting a famous director’ routine.”
“I’ve seen that routine,” Stevie said. “It’s very good.”
“I guess it is,” Kelleher said. “O’Donahue told her that he’s been here all week because Hughes Norwood invited him to come to the tournament as his guest. He says they’ve done business before. She gave him a sort of breathless ‘Are you gonna do a movie on Nadia Symanova if they find her?’ And he said, ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’ll find her.’”
“What did you tell her not to push too far?”
“She was thinking of trying to talk to her uncle, but I told her that wasn’t a good idea right now. She needs to cool down first.”
Stevie’s mind was racing. “What do you think this is all about?” he said to Kelleher. “Would the Symanovs really try to turn their daughter’s kidnapping into something they could make money on?”
Kelleher shrugged. “These are tennis people,” he said. “Their number one advisor is Hughes Norwood. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”
“Okay, but it still seems fast—they barely know she’s safe and already they’re making movie deals? And I’m still not convinced it was the SVR that did this. They’ve just been too forthcoming about that.”
“A skeptic after my own heart,” Kelleher said. “Susan Carol’s not the only smart one on the team of Anderson and Thomas.”
The good news for Stevie was that the apartment Kelleher and Mearns were staying in had two bedrooms and they were both amenable to his staying with them, given that he was no longer welcome at 52 Riverside Drive.
Susan Carol came back to the pressroom and quickly wrote a very straight story on the day’s match results for her paper. The only upset had been Lleyton Hewitt, the onetime Wimbledon and U.S. Open champion who had been beaten by a guy named Paradorn Srichaphan.
“Spell that three times fast,” Tamara Mearns said as she sat next to Susan Carol, writing her own story.
Kelleher gave Stevie the day off. “You might have a lot to do tomorrow,” he said.
Kelleher had written an early column on the strange press conference, staying away from speculation because it was just too dangerous at this point. “You imply for one second that the Symanovs are anything but victims right now and you not only might have a lawsuit thrown at you, but you will make all your readers very angry,” he said. “No sense messing around until we know more.”
When he and Susan Carol and Mearns were finished writing, Kelleher drove them all back into Manhattan. Susan Carol called her uncle and was told he wouldn’t be home until late. So they swung by his apartment so Stevie could pack his things and then they all went out for dinner. Kelleher asked if pizza was okay with everyone and drove to a place on the East Side called John’s Pizza. It was even better than the pizza they’d had on Sunday—which already felt like a lifetime ago to Stevie. He ate six slices.
“You are going to gain ten pounds before you get home,” Susan Carol said.
“That’s okay, I can afford it,” he said.
Kelleher groaned. “Oh, to be thirteen again,” he said.
After dinner, Susan Carol insisted she didn’t need to be driven back crosstown. “Just put me in a cab,” she said.
Stevie walked her to the corner where she could catch a cab headed west while Kelleher and Mearns went to retrieve their car. “We’ll swing around and pick you up,” Kelleher told Stevie.
As they stood on the corner, Stevie felt a tug of sadness.
“I’m really sorry this is happening,” he said.
“I know you are,” she said. He could see that her eyes were glistening just a little bit. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine in the end.”
She whistled and a cab skidded to a halt in front of them. “Promise you’ll call my cell as soon as you get inside the apartment,” he said.
She patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
“Promise.”
This time she put her arm around him. “I promise. Remember, Stevie, tomorrow is another day.”
“Scarlett…”
She jumped into the cab before he could say another word. The cab pulled away just as Kelleher pulled up.
Stevie’s new room appeared to belong to a child of about four. But it had plenty of room—and lots of toys. He dropped his bag and walked back into the living room to find Kelleher and Mearns watching the opening for SportsCenter. The lead story, according to Dan Patrick, was that the USTA had called an eleven a.m. press conference for the next day, “fueling speculation that Nadia Symanova has been found. The question is, what kind of condition is she in? ESPN’s Luke Jensen reports that the Symanov family and the SVR have been in negotiations since last Monday when Symanova disappeared.”
Kelleher groaned. “This is why I hate ESPN,” he said. “Every news outlet in the country has been reporting for two days that Symanova was kidnapped by the SVR and they act as if they have a scoop.”
Stevie wanted to stay up and talk, but he was out on his feet. He set the alarm for eight o’clock and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. About five minutes later, or so it seemed, the alarm was going off. He got up, took a shower, and found Kelleher and Mearns sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. “Want me to make you some eggs?” Kelleher offered.
“No thanks,” he said. “Cereal’s fine.”
“You should think about the eggs,” Mearns said. “Bobby’s actually a pretty good cook. Sunny-side up is his specialty.”
He settled for cereal and had just finished when the apartment buzzer sounded. It was Susan Carol, who was waiting in the lobby. They went downstairs to meet her and walked outside to wait for the car. Stevie was amazed—as always—by how much traffic there was in Manhattan. But it was a beautiful morning, the weather had cooled off considerably, and there was a slight snap of fall in the air.
“How’d it go with your uncle last night?” he asked Susan Carol while they waited.
“Not great,” she said. “He wanted to know where you’d come up with the idea that he was some kind of criminal. I tol
d him that you’d really been thrown by the Makarovs being in the apartment. I told him you just overreacted and you were sorry. He went into this long explanation about how dirty the agenting business could be.”
“Apparently he’s fitting right in,” Mearns said as the car pulled up, causing Susan Carol to look a little bit ill.
“You didn’t say anything about seeing him in the U.S. Open Club, did you?” Stevie said as they climbed into the backseat.
She gave him a withering look, and he put up a hand to say, “Question withdrawn.”
The Midtown Tunnel was surprisingly empty so the trip was short. But by the time they pulled into the parking lot, everyone had an assignment: Susan Carol and Tamara were going to hang out in the U.S. Open Club—Kelleher said he thought he could get Mearns a pass from Kantarian—while Kelleher worked the players’ lounge to see who was there and what the talk was, especially if Nadia Symanova made a splashy return at the press conference. Stevie’s assignment was to talk to Evelyn Rubin after her match—win or lose.
The pressroom was buzzing when they walked in. Everyone had a different theory on what was going to happen at the press conference. “You heard what they’re doing, didn’t you?” Bud Collins said as they were putting their computers down. “There’s not enough room for all the media in the interview room, so they’re setting up a podium and chairs on one of the practice courts.”
“Will that mean all the fans get to stand around and watch?” Susan Carol asked. “Won’t that be a circus?”
“Exactly, my dear,” Collins said. “I’m sure that’s exactly what the USTA wants. Can you imagine the TV rating they’re going to get when she plays tonight?”
“I’m not sure it’s just the USTA that wants a circus,” Stevie said quietly to Susan Carol.
“Good point,” she said.
They decided to leave early to walk over to practice court 7. That turned out to be a smart decision. A ring of security had been set up to keep people from getting to the walkway behind the practice courts. Their credentials got them through, but they had to wait because the guards were checking people’s passes very thoroughly. As usual, Stevie got the double and triple look at his credential. “He’s my assistant,” Kelleher said. The guard raised an eyebrow but said nothing and let them through without any hassle.
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