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

by David B. Smith

  Please, Lord . . .

  • • • • •

  “You really think that’s where he’s at? The Siesta Inn?”

  His face thoughtful, Dan nodded. “It’s just a shot in the dark.”

  “So how come?”

  The stocky athlete closed his eyes, as if trying to pull the elusive memory into sharper focus. “I’m pretty sure he said something about . . . ‘My Fiero’s busted.’”

  “So? We got that already.”

  “But Stone drives a Toyota. Little white job.”

  “And he said Fiero? What’s that, a Pontiac?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But why would he flub that up? And what’s that got to do with the Siesta Inn?”

  “Don’t you see?” Dan sat up eagerly. “He was tryin’ to tell me something.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a Fiero, real mint job, classic, always parked at the Siesta Inn. With a ‘For Sale’ sign. Several times we’ve talked about it when we drove past.”

  The officer began to nod slowly. “And you think he’s trying to tell you that maybe they’ve got him tucked away there?”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know,” the man said dubiously. “We go running out there and come up empty . . . while the meter’s ticking here . . .”

  “I don’t know what else we’ve got.” Coach Brayshaw looked over at the officer. “And I think Litton’s got something here. Stone isn’t the kind of kid to get mixed up.”

  The plainclothes policeman stood. “Let’s go then.”

  “Wait a minute.” Brayshaw looked at his watch. “We’re two minutes late now. I better go stall them.”

  The policeman looked at him. “But be careful. Let’s not give any of this away. Some of these people might be in the stands. We don’t want to tip them off.” He looked at his watch again. “I figure we’ve got to pull this off in fifteen minutes at the most. You better tell the officials and maybe the radio announcer. But the less said the better.”

  “Gotcha.” Brayshaw went to the door. “I’ll meet you back here in two minutes.”

  • • • • •

  Bucky, seated on the floor, began to pull himself to his feet. “Can I have a drink?”

  “Sure.” Reg motioned toward the sink, his attention still on the radio.

  “We’re experiencing just a brief delay,” the radio announcer reported. “Apparently the scoreboard needs a little adjusting, so we’re going to be just a few minutes getting this contest under way. We’ll be back right after this word from our sponsors.”

  “Come on.” The older man growled his impatience.

  After a long drink of water Bucky sat back down against the door, carefully positioning himself where he could see out the window. It was hard to make out the cars that slowly drove by on the street outside.

  Reg stifled a yawn and pulled out a pillow from the bed. Carefully fluffing it up, he leaned against it and emitted a cheerful sigh. “What a way to make a living.”

  His partner grunted. “With all the work we put in on this, we coulda done better just goin’ to the office nine to five.”

  “Aaaah, no way. A hundred big ones?”

  “Yeah, split four ways. Some killing.”

  Bucky filed the information away for future reference.

  Suddenly his ears pricked up, catching the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway. He heard a low voice as two people walked past their room and down the long corridor.

  Help me, Lord. His mind raced. Had Dan picked up his reference to the Fiero? Were the police closing in right now? How would they know what room he was in?

  He strained to hear. The same footsteps seemed to be pacing back up the hallway now, closer and closer to their room.

  Suddenly he sucked in his breath. Outside the large picture window, obscured by the thin curtain, was a familiar looking car. Was that Dan’s blue Camaro?

  “We’re back at courtside and the fans are really getting antsy now!” The announcer’s excited voice burst into the silence. “Three or four of the Panthers have come out now, and you should hear these students! Superstar forwards Litton and Stone haven’t made their appearance yet, but they should be emerging any minute.”

  Reg looked over at Bucky. “Guess that guy’s got a little surprise coming, kid. You’re here havin’ fun with us instead.”

  “Shut up,” the older man ordered. “I just wonder if . . .” His voice trailed off as he paced nervously.

  Sitting motionless, Bucky prayed fervently. If there were police officers in the hall, could they hear the radio? Was that Dan’s car out there?

  He debated the risks. Should he take a chance and make a run for it? Should he shout out his presence . . . and then discover there weren’t any rescuers out there?

  Jesus, what do I do?

  The same familiar car made another slow pass right by the window. Bucky strained to see through the darkness. That had to be Dan’s car!

  Slowly, imperceptibly, he edged closer to the bed. A heavy glass ashtray with the motel logo rested on the night stand. The two men, engrossed in the continuing pregame announcements, didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

  “I gotta go to the bathroom,” Bucky said suddenly. “OK?”

  Reg shrugged. “Sure. Don’t fall asleep in there.” Reaching over, he turned up the volume slightly.

  Bucky slipped into the small bathroom and took a deep breath. With trembling fingers he locked the door, not allowing the latch to make any kind of sound. Then he waited for about a minute, trying to quell his trembling stomach. Lord, this is it! Please . . .

  Carefully he slipped the heavy glass ashtray out from under his shirt. Reaching down he pressed the flush lever on the toilet. The rumbling swirl of water seemed to thunder in his ears.

  Now! With another prayer on his lips, the athlete grasped the heavy ashtray and flung it with all his might at the small frosted glass window high overhead. With a huge crash, the pane shattered, some of the small shards of glass spraying the bathtub, most of them disappearing into the gloom outside.

  Trembling violently, Bucky sucked in his breath. Out in the room he could hear both men leaping to their feet. “What was that?” Reg demanded. He came over to the door. “Stone! What’s going on in there?”

  Bucky didn’t answer.

  “Stone? What was that?”

  Again Bucky reached out and hit the flush lever. The water swirled a second time. “Stone?”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “What was that noise?”

  “What? I can’t hear you?”

  “Come on! That crash!” After a pause the doorknob rattled viciously. The younger gambler swore to himself. “Open the door, Stone!”

  Bucky cowered low, still shaking in fear. Would the two men blast their way into the room?

  Suddenly a second crash echoed through the thin walls. “Freeze! Right there!”

  As Bucky gasped, he could hear the sound of scuffling, then a long, ominous silence. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice. “Stone?”

  “Dan!”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Come on, get out of the bathroom, for pity’s sake. We got a game to play!”

  Slowly Bucky pulled the door open. Dan stood there in his basketball shorts, a big smile on his face. “How ya doin’, Stone?”

  Bucky looked past him into the hallway. There in the darkened corridor were the two gamblers, both securely handcuffed.

  “Stone, you little . . .” The rest was muffled, but the older man managed to shoot him a venomous look before Sergeant Wilkes tugged him out of sight.

  “How’d you find us here?” Suddenly Bucky felt weak all over. His voice trembled with relief as he sank down onto the nearest bed.

  “Oh, you and your busted Fiero.” Dan began to laugh. “Took me a while to figure it out.” He looked over to where Coach Brayshaw waited in the doorway. “When we got here we didn’t know what room you might be in. Then when that ashtray came flying through the window, the cops figured th
at was our clue. So here we are.”

  “Sorry about all this,” Bucky said to Brayshaw. “I guess we missed the game.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said, a smile of relief on his face. “Listen!”

  “. . . And they tell me that in ten minutes this game is really going to start!” the radio announcer said. Bucky hopped to his feet. “Whatever problem they had is fixed and we’re going to actually see some basketball here tonight. Go grab your seat and a cold one. This time I really mean it!”

  “Can you play,” Dan’s voice was gentle as he looked at his friend, “after what you’ve been through?”

  The knots in Bucky’s stomach were slowly untying themselves. “You bet!”

  Chapter Fourteen: An Unforgettable Five Minutes

  The Panthers pulled into a tight little circle in the locker room. Coach Brayshaw whispered something to the referee, then turned to face the team.

  “Listen, men,” he began, “I think most of you know what’s happened. About fifteen minutes ago Bill Volker was taken down to police headquarters. So he won’t be playing tonight.”

  A rumble of voices spread through the players. Already the story of Bill’s involvement in gambling had leaked out. One of the substitute forwards muttered to a teammate next to him, “Crazy guy had twenty - five hundred bucks, in his locker. Can you imagine that?”

  Andy Gorton raised his hand. “Coach, we can’t win without Bill.”

  “We’re going to have to!” Brayshaw snapped. “I’m afraid Volker’s basketball days are over.” He motioned for silence. “Now, I’ve got to tell you this – we’re still playing for the championship of the district. All of a sudden we’re underdogs. But I want you men to go out there and give me every last ounce of strength, every last bit of . . . integrity you’ve got. We’ve got to win this game, not only for a Hampton Beach High School victory, but to set the record straight.

  “There may still be crooked money riding on this game,” he said slowly. “What happened to this school was a terrible, terrible thing. The kind of thing that can ruin high school sports. And it may not be over.” He wet his lips. “I can’t tell you how important it is for us to win this game right now.” His eyes had a pleading look as he glanced at Bucky.

  Even though the game was already late by more than forty-five minutes, Bucky and Dan went over to a corner of the gym. “This is it, man,” Dan said.

  “We need to pray.” Slowly Bucky slipped to his knees, followed by his teammate.

  “Lord,” Bucky began, “you know how much we need you right now. This season’s been so messed up. But . . . you protected me when I needed you most.” He took a breath. “Lord, please help us to trust you tonight. You know what a win means right now . . . but Lord, please just do what you know is best. The school’s sense of integrity is more important than any championship.”

  On the far side of the locker area the coach and the rest of the Panthers watched them without comment.

  “And be with Bill tonight,” Bucky prayed. His voice trembled as he prayed for the confused little basketball guard. “If it’s possible, use Dan and me to reach him for you.”

  “Amen.” Dan’s voice was unsteady.

  Bucky rose to his feet. “Let’s go, baby!”

  The Hampton Beach fans seemed to be undeterred by the lengthy delay. “And now . . . your Hampton Beach High School Varsity Panthers!” The booming announcement brought the fans to their feet. Bucky could spot Deirdre bouncing up and down near the scorekeeper.

  Taking his place on center court, Bucky shook hands with the Tornado players and gave Brandon, the substitute guard, an extra clap on the back. “Keep your eyes open, kid,” he murmured. “I’ll be feeding you all night.”

  The first quarter was a tight affair, with neither team ever trailing by more than four points. The Panthers were missing Bill all right . . . but Brandon actually managed to can a couple of big baskets as the first eight minutes came to an end.

  “We can do it!” Bucky clenched his fists in excitement. “Way to bury those shots, Brandon.”

  “How are you feelin’, Stone?” Coach Brayshaw came over to him. “You’ve played the whole way so far. I mean, after what you went through today . . .”

  “I’m fine.” Bucky tingled with new strength as the second period began. Was it a nervous reaction to what he had gone through, or something else? The Tornadoes mounted a furious attack but the Panther defense swarmed around them. Twice Andy Gorton blocked shots right into Bucky’s hands for fast - break points.

  “Watch the fouls!” Coach muttered a warning at Dan as the last two minutes of the first half ticked away. “You’ve already got three.”

  During the brief break Bucky slowly sipped a drink and then slipped into a secluded part of the locker area for a solitary prayer. “Father, let this game bring glory to you,” he pleaded. “Whether we win or lose, I want to honor you tonight.” Never had the words had more meaning to him.

  Just as the warning buzzer sounded, Coach Brayshaw motioned the boys closer. “They tell me those two men spilled their guts, so the police were able to pick up the whole group.” His face sobered. “It’s a pretty messy story, I’m afraid, and I don’t know how Bill’s going to come out of it. But at least we can play this second half without worrying about, you know, crooked money riding on the final score. Let’s just win for Panther Pride.”

  “For Panther Pride.” The team murmured the words with quiet feeling.

  Twice during the third period Coach asked Bucky if he wanted a break. Both times the forward shook his head no. Despite the gut - wrenching turmoil from earlier, he felt new strength pouring into him. Still, the period ended with the home team down by six points.

  “This last period is the biggest of our lives,” Brayshaw told them, his face dripping perspiration. “Go out there and finish like champs!”

  The Panthers kept the Tornadoes’ lead at four for nearly three minutes before a three - pointer by their opponent’s best shooting guard ballooned it to seven. Dan shot Bucky an anxious look. Would the Panthers come up losers after all this?

  Brandon brought the ball down the court, dribbling with renewed vigor. Five minutes left! He looked at Andy in the key, then whipped the ball to Bucky standing in the corner.

  Almost instinctively the tall forward scanned the playing floor. Dan was buttoned up tight. Players swarmed around Andy, determined to keep him out of the play. Both guards were smothered by opposing defenders.

  Bouncing the ball once to get his rhythm, Bucky sighted and let the ball fly. Swish!

  A booming roar went up from the hopeful fans. Panthers now down only by five!

  Moments later Bucky strayed far out into the field to block a Tornado shooter’s vision. The ball caromed off the rim and into Dan’s hands. Already halfway down the court, Bucky took the long pass and laid the ball off the glass. Score!

  “Let’s get ‘em!” Breathing hard, he backpedaled furiously to play defense. Again Litton scooped up a missed shot and dribbled down for another attempt. With the clock ticking down to three minutes, he zipped a no - look pass to his teammate.

  This time Bucky didn’t hesitate. The guards, still expecting him to pass off, were laying back. Swish!

  Dan raced past him down the floor for another defensive stand. “You’re hot, man! We can take the lead this time,” he panted.

  “Get me the ball,” Bucky responded, breathing hard as he poised himself.

  Moments later Dan passed another rebound off to Brandon as the Hampton Beach fans screamed for the Panthers to take the lead. The little substitute guard dribbled to the right - hand part of the court and lobbed it to Dan.

  Suddenly Bucky began to feel it. It was a sensation he’d experienced once or twice with Dan during their endless one - on - one practices. Can’t miss. He gave his teammate a tiny head motion and waited for the pass.

  The roar of the fans seemed not to matter now. The Tornado players, desperate to hold onto their slim one - point lead, sc
urried frantically about the floor, but Bucky could only feel a rising calm that seemed to swell his heart to overflowing.

  The pass came to him. Almost floating in slow - motion, he cradled the ball for an instant, then jumped to his full height and let the shot fly. The regulation orange rim suddenly looked like it had a fifteen-foot diameter. With unerring accuracy, the ball barely rippled the net.

  “Get on that guy!” The Tornado coach stormed back and forth, screaming instructions.

  The now unnerved visiting team brought the ball down and took a too - hasty shot. This time Andy snagged the rebound and passed it to Brandon, who spotted Bucky halfway up the floor. Before the defenders could regroup, the ball was in Bucky’s hands.

  Again the Tornadoes lunged at him, but the ball seemed to have Panther eyes now. From a good twenty feet out, Bucky’s shot dropped through the net.

  “Stone has gone crazy!” The radio announcer’s shouts echoed through dozens of boom - box blasters scattered throughout the stands. “Right here at crunch time he’s dropped five big ones in a row!”

  The other team signaled for a time - out and gathered around their coach while the home crowd’s cheers built to a crescendo. Bucky stood listening to his own coach’s instructions, trying to savor the sweet feeling of peace.

  With just under 1:10 left, the visitors ran a designed play. Passing the ball around with renewed precision, they finally gave it to their center, who had gotten clear with the help of a Tornado screen. As he whirled to make a short jump shot, Bucky leaped with him. Jumping as high as he could, his hands just grazed the ball, blocking it right to Dan.

  Go! Dashing down the floor just to Dan’s right he accepted the last - second pass and drove the ball home, laying it high off the glass for the score. Panthers by five!

  “We’re gonna win! We’re gonna win!” The chanting started up now as the Tornadoes, sagging visibly, rushed the ball back down the floor for a desperation try at a three - point shot.

  “No good – and Stone has got the rebound!” The radios throughout the building told it all. “What a five minutes this young man has had! Coach Brayshaw has got to be wondering what has gotten into him. He dishes to Brandon, who brings it down, over to Litton – no - look pass back to Stone. You know what he’s going to do with it! Score! I can’t believe it!”