Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10)

by David B. Smith

  “First we gotta win this one!” Coach barked, an almost frantic look burning in his eyes.

  “Wonder what the point spread is on this one?” Dan whispered to Bucky just before they had their usual two - man prayer.

  “Let’s just beat ‘em so big that it ain’t even a factor.”

  The visiting team, intimidated by the Panthers’ thunderous home crowd, let the white - clad squad grab the first ten points before they scored a single basket. Bucky and Dan ran the give - and - go twice before the defense adjusted to the running tempo, and it was 45-28 by halftime.

  “Keep it up!” Brayshaw diagrammed one of the less - used trick plays during the break and gave Bucky a healthy pat on the back. “We’re gonna get those Tornadoes for dinner Thursday!”

  The visitors tried valiantly to stage a comeback during the fourth quarter, but Bucky’s no - look passes to Dan and Bill led to wide - open scores. With less than a minute to play, he lobbed a high “alley - oop” pass to Andy, who slammed the basketball through the net as the Panther boosters screamed their approval.

  “Yep . . . it’s the Tornadoes Thursday night!” Coach Brayshaw took the cue from his assistant, who had just gotten off the phone in the home locker room. “And we’re going to thump those turkeys two years in a row! I love it!”

  Even Bill accepted high - five thanks from both Dan and Bucky as the squad dressed after the contest. “Man, you are playing some beautiful ball,” Dan encouraged the little guard.

  “Thanks.” His eyes widened as Deirdre walked up to Dan and took his arm.

  The blonde gave Bucky a big smile. “Great game, you guys.”

  “Thanks.” Dan turned to his friend. “You want to go out and grab some ice cream or something?”

  “Nah, go ahead.” Bucky tried to sound cheerful. “I’d just be in the way spyin’ on you two.”

  “Oh, hush!” Deirdre gave her new boyfriend a come - hither look. “Tell Mr. Stone to lighten up.”

  “Yeah, lighten up, Buck.” Dan was feeling extra cheerful following the big win. “Come on with us.”

  Bucky shook his head. “No, go on. You guys have a good time.” He grinned. “I think I’ll just go to prayer meeting.”

  “Oh, brother.” With a groan, Dan helped Deirdre into the passenger seat of his Camaro, and they gunned out into the intersection.

  Several students waved as Bucky made his way over to where his Toyota was parked at the far end of the lot. In the gathering darkness, it was hard to see well. Several burned-out bulbs hadn’t been replaced yet, and the huge lot was blanketed in gloom.

  Just as he turned the key in the door lock, he heard a voice behind him. “Mr. Stone? Got a minute?”

  He turned around. Standing there in the murky blackness of the February evening were two men. Next to them, holding a long white envelope, was Bill.

  Chapter Eleven: The Big Score

  His heart froze. Even in the gloomy darkness, he easily recognized the two men Bill had accepted cash from earlier in the season.

  “Wha . . . what?” A rising lump of fear caused him to stammer the response.

  “You played a pretty good game in there, kid.” The older man had a sinister kind of friendliness about him. Both of the gamblers were expensively dressed.

  Bucky sucked in his breath. “I thought you guys had left.”

  “Nope, we’ve been around.” The younger man, in his mid-twenties, was wearing casual Hawaiian clothes and sported a huge gold necklace. “We’ve collected pretty good loot on you boys this year. Looks like high school sports can be as profitable as college or pro.”

  The boy looked over at Bill. “Have you been getting money from these guys all along?”

  The guard hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, you may as well know it. I mean, we’ve been winnin’ so easy, I haven’t had to do much except play hard.”

  A rage began to build inside Bucky despite the danger he realized he was in. “What about when we lost that second game?”

  “Nope, we played you guys to win all the way,” the older man cut in. “We lost a little bit on that one, but after your coach got on old Bill here, we decided we’d just play the Panthers to win every time. Fortunately, we ended up winnin’ all but a couple times that way. There was once you didn’t cover the spread, but that was it.”

  Bucky glanced from one to the other. “Why . . . why are you telling me all this now?”

  The second gambler eyed him. “Because we’re ready to make our final score,” he said simply. “For all the marbles. And we aren’t leaving anything to chance.”

  “You’re taking a chance just being here in the parking lot,” Bucky pointed out, almost snapping out the words. “If Coach sees you out here, he’ll call the police.”

  “It’s dark,” the first man said easily. “And what we need won’t take but a minute.”

  Bucky hesitated. “You can’t be wanting anything from me. Bill, here, can tell you that.”

  “We know all about you.” The man’s eyes glittered. “You’re the kid the coach trusts most. That’s what Volker says.”

  “So?”

  “So when you help us out on Thursday, ain’t nobody going to suspect a thing.”

  The younger man cut in with a big smile, several gold teeth flashing in the moonlight. “It’s a perfect setup.”

  Even Bill was grinning. “Come on, Stone, you know the coach’ll still be watchin’ me. If I miss a single shot, he’ll plop me on the bench. But you can pull this off easy.”

  It took the young athlete a moment to digest what Bill was telling him. “You want the Panthers to lose?”

  “Word’s out you boys are favored by just two points,” the man in the Hawaiian shirt said. “There’s people willin’ to put big money on a dumb high school game. And I mean big money. Some old alumni with more bucks than sense, apparently. Still playing out their old rivalries, I guess. Got other people interested now. But forget that. In a tight game – ‘specially the finals – anything can happen. Our best play is for you guys to lose.” He looked from one boy to the other. “And that’s the easiest thing for us to set up. ‘Specially since Bill’s been with us all along.”

  Bucky shook his head. “You know I won’t do it.” He glared at Volker. “Tell ‘em!”

  The guard snickered. “Hey, you’ll do it. For the kind of money these guys have sittin’ around, you’ll do it.”

  Despite his fear, a little sliver of curiosity poked its way through. “How much money are you guys talking about?”

  “How does five thousand bucks sound?” The two men started to speak at once, but it was the older one who finally said it. “Half up front, and half after the game. And this is the kind of deal where nobody’s ever going to know. You just bobble one or two key plays when things are the most hot and heavy. Bill will help you out with just a couple of misses . . . since the coach is watchin’ him so hard. Shoot, if you can pull out a one-point win, that’s fine with us. Just stay under that two-point margin.”

  A fresh wave of fear seemed to seize Bucky by the gut. He took another deep breath. “Look, I can’t do it. I don’t know . . . who you guys are or anything. Or what – ” His voice trembled. “Or what you might do. But I can’t cheat. And you know it.” The last part he addressed to Volker.

  “Don’t be an idiot.” Some of Bill’s old antagonism returned. “Five thousand bucks for nothin’? You fumble two passes and walk out with five big ones? You have any idea how many toys you can buy with that kind of loot?” He emitted a short laugh. “Man, Stone, we aren’t even seniors. So we lose this year. Next year we’ll be varsity again, and we’ll win that one.”

  “No, we won’t. These same guys’ll be back next season wanting us to dump that game too!” He felt his courage returning. “And then all through college. They’ll own us!”

  “No way, Stone,” the older man said smoothly. “This is one clean play. You help us out now, and we’re out of here. We aren’t going to take any chances hitting the same beehive twice. B
esides, probably nobody’ll be dumb enough to bet on you high school kids next year, anyway.”

  “Yeah.” The younger gambler shook his head. “Fifteen minutes after the final buzzer we’ll be long out of town.” The man looked at his partner. “We aren’t even the guys who pick up the dough.” He gave a casual come - on gesture. “What do you say, kid? You want to join your friend, here, in the winner’s circle? The rich winner’s circle?” He laughed.

  “I can’t do it.” Bucky shook his head again. “I . . . I mean, whatever happens, I can’t do it.”

  The stubborn words hung in the cold night air. Bucky glanced behind him, but nobody was around to witness the scene. He breathed a prayer for strength.

  The older man eyed him, disdain on his face. His partner hesitated, then spoke. “We gotta have you, kid. Things have gone too far to back out.” The threat seemed to slice Bucky’s courage like a razor blade. The four of them stood in the inky darkness, the boy’s raw fear twisting his intestines into a knot.

  Abruptly the other man cut in. “Nah,” he growled. “Forget it. If this guy doesn’t want to do it, it’s too risky.” He muttered an obscenity to himself. “We’ll just play the Fresno game and dump this one.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re all set up for a hundred grand here!” Bucky gasped at the astronomical figure.

  “I said no.” The man lowered his voice. “Look, we pay him off twenty-five hundred, then he turns right around, plays all out and beats us. We can’t afford to play a kid who’s not a hundred percent on board.” For a long moment the two men stared at each other. “I’m not about to throw everything away after we’ve sat around here all season setting it up.”

  Then he looked at Bill, who had been watching the tense exchange wide - eyed. “Sorry, kid, I think your days eating caviar just ran out.” Reaching, he pulled the envelope out of Volker’s grasp. “We’re outta here. Anyway, good luck with your game.”

  “Hey!” Bill began to protest, but the gambler ignored him, stepping closer to Bucky. “Good luck, Stone. I mean that. I kinda admire a kid with guts.” He held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  Bucky didn’t answer. For a long moment he looked at the man’s hand. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he gave him a limp handshake. “Yeah,” he muttered.

  “Oh, by the way.” The man slipped the long white envelope back into his pocket. “I wouldn’t repeat any of this to your coach. For the sake of your health and continued long life. You know what I mean?” A hard stare that bore holes right through the young athlete replaced his friendly expression.

  Saying nothing, Bucky lowered his gaze. The older man gave a little snort. “Come on, Reg. Let’s split.”

  His hands shaking a little bit, Bucky unlocked his car door and climbed in. In the darkness it took a moment to find the ignition switch. He felt the eyes of all three following his movements as he turned on the ignition and slowly backed out of the stall. Perspiration flooded him as he realized what he’d just been through. “Oh, Lord . . .” His breath came in little gasps as he drove down the street. “What do I do now?”

  Bucky sat in the solitude of his bedroom for a long time that evening weighing the situation. Were the two big gamblers really heading out of town, leaving Hampton Beach to play its final game undisturbed? But what about Bill? And what did the two men mean about still playing the Fresno game? Did they have a similar racket going on over there?

  Downstairs the big clock struck eleven mournful notes before he made up his mind. Slipping downstairs he dialed the coach’s home telephone number. It rang several times before Mr. Brayshaw answered.

  “This is Bucky. Sorry to be calling you so late.”

  “That’s OK, Stone. The way you been performing, you can call me at three in the morning if you want to.”

  Bucky gulped. “I think I’ve got bad news.”

  The man did not say anything for a long moment. Finally he responded, his voice even. “What’s up?”

  Briefly Bucky related the parking lot incident. Over the phone he could hear his coach scratching down something on a note pad. The older man whistled when Bucky mentioned the $100,000 and the Fresno game. “Oh my God. What a mess!”

  “What can we do, Coach?”

  “I don’t know. I really thought we were all clear.” He paused. “I guess we’ve got no choice but to bring in the police.”

  Bucky winced. “Even though these guys have cleared out?”

  “Well, there’s Fresno to worry about. First thing tomorrow I’ve got to get on that. Then there’s the question of what to do about Bill.”

  The boy’s mind raced. “We’ve really got no proof that any of this ever happened.” He chewed his lip. “Just my word against his.”

  “Yeah. You understand that your word against his is good enough for me, but it’s not going to be good enough for the police or a court of law or anything.”

  “Uh huh.”

  He could hear Coach Brayshaw scribble down something else and mutter briefly to another person in the room. His wife, Bucky supposed. Then he came back on the line. “OK, Stone, I’ll start working on it. And, by the way . . . just be real careful from here on out.”

  Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

  Brayshaw hesitated. “This all may be over – and it may not be over. If I were you, I wouldn’t talk to anybody about this. And I mean anybody. Just stay low for now. OK?”

  “OK, Coach.”

  “All right. Good night. I’ll see you at practice.”

  It was a good hour before Bucky finally drifted into a troubled sleep. Visions of Bill, his pockets full of crisp $100 bills, kept crowding into his mind. Had the talented little guard’s basketball future just come crashing down around him? Would Coach Brayshaw let him play in the final game after a whole season of cheating?

  The next day at school he dragged himself from class to class, his mind still swirling. Posters and Booster Club announcements over the PA kept reminding students that tomorrow evening was “The Game of the Century” between the Panthers and their arch - rival Tornadoes.

  “Nail those little weasels, Stone!” hollered one of the sophomore ballplayers whose JV season had come to a disappointing end the previous week. Bucky forced a grin.

  Their final practice that afternoon was a tense and ragged affair. Volker played hard, but Bucky could sense that the guard was distracted. Several times Bill gave his teammate warning glances, and after practice he sidled over to Bucky’s locker.

  “Look,” he said, “about last night . . .”

  Bucky said nothing.

  “Like they said, the whole deal’s off. So we just play the game, and let the best team win.”

  Still Bucky did not respond.

  “At least that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Keeping his voice low, Bucky gave his shorter teammate a withering glance. “You ripped us off, man.”

  “I did not! I played all out every game. We almost went undefeated.”

  “And you got rich for doing it!” Despite Brayshaw’s warning, Bucky couldn’t help but vent a little anger. “You were on the take the whole season – even after Coach told you to straighten up. You took dirty money and almost cost us the season.” He glared at Volker. “If I’d said yes last night, you’d have dumped the biggest game of the year.”

  Volker listened to the harshly whispered words. At last he gave a little nod. “Look,” he managed, “I’ll admit I didn’t mean for it to go like it did. I needed the bucks, and – at first, at least – it was comin’ to me without any strings attached.”

  “Well, there sure were strings attached at the end!” Bucky glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

  “Yeah.” The little guard seemed chastised. “Like I said, we give it our best shot tomorrow.”

  “Sure.” Still not trusting his teammate, Bucky tried to be noncommittal. Hoping to fend off any questions about what he might have told Coach Brayshaw, he tossed his basketball shoes into the loc
ker. “Just leave me alone!” He strode away toward the shower. “I gotta get goin’.”

  That night he toyed with the idea of calling Dan, but remembered Brayshaw’s warning. Before going to bed he asked God to intervene. “Please help this season to end right,” he prayed. “And Bill . . . show me a way to help him. He’s so messed up.”

  The atmosphere at school the next day was a mixture of carnival anticipation and World Series tension. A big pep rally at noon whipped up the student body as Bucky and the rest of the Panther varsity squad trotted into the gymnasium while the high school’s favorite student rock band thumped out a hypnotic beat. “It’s Victory Night Tonight!” the cheerleaders squealed as the students roared their enthusiastic support.

  With the game not scheduled to begin until 7:30 that evening, Bucky had time for a two - hour shift at First California Bank that afternoon. Still tense with worry, he went out to the lot where he had parked his Toyota. Already local reporters were gathering and a TV news van from the area station had pulled up next to the gym, its little remote satellite sending dish perched on top of a twenty-five-foot retractable tower.

  As he pulled into the employee lot of FCB, he glanced at his watch. Banking was the furthest thing from his mind. Switching off the engine, he sat there for a moment, thinking, before finally opening the car door.

  All at once a low voice cut into his thoughts. “Don’t say anything, Stone, and get out of the car.” The whispered words sent a chill of terror shooting through him.

  Chapter Twelve: Captive

  “What’s going on?”

  “Shut up! Just shut up, Stone! Don’t . . . open . . . your mouth.”

  His heart racing, Bucky looked up to see the same two men who had offered him the huge payoff two nights earlier. The older one leaned forward until his face was just inches away.