Deep Rough - A Thriller in Augusta

by Blewitt, Chris; Blewitt, Chris

  “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I think he’s just passing through, and we’ve known each other a long time. He was friends with my dad for like forty years.”

  “Okay, I’ll have the room ready.”

  “Oh and Craig, I was going to wait to tell you this, but I’d like for you to go to The Masters with me this year.”

  “What?” Craig exclaimed.

  “Yeah, a little thanks for all your hard work.”

  “Wow, thanks so much.” Craig was beaming. He knew Hank went every year but he never brought anyone from the office. He couldn’t believe he was going to the best golf tournament in the world.

  <><><><><>

  The GreatValleyCorporateCenter was located about fifteen miles from center city Philadelphia. Inside Suite 205, Hank’s friend Archie Armour operated his own sports management group, Double A Sports. As opposed to Hank, Archie had founded his own company and due to his competitive nature, he wanted to create his own empire instead of joining Hank and Coldridge. Archie was on the phone with his CFO, Len Ho, when his secretary interrupted him by buzzing his intercom.

  “Mr. Armour, someone to see you.”

  “One minute,” Archie replied. He continued his conversation. “I know, Len. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of capital in the coming months. I can’t lay off any more employees. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “What is it, Martha?” He said after hanging up the phone.

  “Mr. Pulmer is here to see you, sir.”

  “Thanks; send him right in.”

  Jim Pulmer, head of public relations, walked into the large office. Archie’s office was only located on the second floor and didn’t have much of a view. But to Archie’s credit, he rarely sat here anyway because he was always out meeting prospective clients and their families.

  “Hey, Jim, any news?”

  “I wish, Archie. I just got off the phone with Bud McAllister down in DC, and he said it still may be a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks! This kid is only three months away from graduation and the baseball draft. Doesn’t he realize he needs an agent before that can happen?”

  “I know, I know. There’s nothing else I can do.”

  “Fine. Anything else, Jim?” Archie asked, clearly disappointed.

  “Well, I just came back from marketing, and they want your opinion on a new radio commercial to air during the NCAA Basketball Tournament.”

  “They better let me see this one. The last commercial was a disaster! They took the one I approved and completely butchered it. These commercials are not cheap, you know.”

  “They’re ready when you are. I told them you’d be down sometime this afternoon.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Archie said.

  Jim got up to leave.

  “And Jim, please let me know the minute you hear something from Washington.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Archie swiveled around in his chair and looked out the window. His company was stable with its current list of athletes, but there was always room for improvement. The problem with athletes is that you never knew when their career was over. It could be injury, retirement, or simply poor play. Archie ignored the advice of his peers and stayed away from the lucrative NBA athletes. He preferred the longer baseball and golf seasons. These sports also produced longer careers, as opposed to football and basketball. If he could land this kid from DC, Julio Rodriguez, he’d have the number one baseball prospect in the nation on his team. Things would certainly be looking up for Double A.

  He gathered himself up and walked down to advertising to listen to the new radio commercial, hoping they got it right this time.

  <><><><><>

  The following morning, Craig stood in the doorway of the executive conference room at 10:30, noticing how neatly it was arranged. He had never heard Hank mention that he knew someone from Augusta, so he thought it was a little odd that this man was coming here. Augusta National was the premier golf course in the world. Not only could the average man never get a chance to play the course, the average man could never belong to such a course. Membership was shrouded in secret, and the rumor mill flowed with tales of secrets and rituals behind the closed doors.

  Membership at Augusta was by invite only. Newspapers once reported that Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates, the wealthiest man in the world, tried to become a member and was turned down. A rich and powerful man had to know someone, who had to know someone, who had to know someone that was a member. Today, a member from the famed golf course was coming to Philadelphia, and sitting in this room.

  Craig wondered again why this man was coming to Coldridge. Maybe they were looking for sponsorship. Certainly, Coldridge could not afford to advertise during the Masters, nor should they. The advertising campaigns during the Masters were very limited and were gobbled up by huge companies in the financial world. If his boss was a friend of a member, perhaps someday he’d a get a chance to play the course.

  Craig placed three notepads in front of the chairs near the end of the table. He filled a pitcher of water and set it in the middle. Over in the corner, he turned on the automatic coffee pot and used the finest store-bought coffee Coldridge had to offer. The door opened and Hank walked in, took off his suit jacket, and laid it over one of the chairs.

  “Thanks Craig,” he said, settling into the chair. “That will be all.”

  Craig stopped and looked over at Hank, not saying a word. His expression said it all.

  “Sorry, Craig, this meeting is between friends. If I need you, I know where to reach you.”

  “Are you sure?” Craig asked. “I could just sit here and take notes if you want.” Craig would do anything to find out what was being discussed that day.

  “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  Dejected, Craig walked out of the room and took one last look around. He had an idea and walked out of the conference room and down to where the assistants were stationed.

  Missy Banner was seated in her cubicle, doing online research of prospective athletes for their client base. Missy was very attractive and most everyone in her department knew it, especially the men. Her short dark hair barely touched her shoulders, and she had the body of a college athlete that made heads turn. Craig was single for the time being, and Missy always indicated that they should start something, flirting, asking him to go out for a drink with the rest of the assistants. He just didn’t want the word to get out to his boss that he was seeing someone at work, so he kept making up excuses. Looking at her now, those excuses were going to dry up real soon.

  “Hey, Missy, how’s it going?” Craig began.

  “Fine, what’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just seeing what you’re up to.”

  “Just scouring the latest website. You’ll love this one: eighth grade athletes dot com. Can you believe that?”

  “It’s a new world, Missy. It was probably created by some father that wanted to exploit his kids’ abilities.”

  “Yeah, I just can’t believe that agents would try and recruit fourteen-year-olds. Most of them haven’t even hit puberty.”

  “Hey, listen,” Craig said, leaning in close. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Do you know who is coming in to meet with Hank today?”

  “No, who?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said. “Can you call down to Miss Tiernan and ask?”

  “Why can’t you do that?” Missy asked.

  “Because you know her better. You babysit her kids.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “Just curious is all.”

  “Craig, why?”

  “Well, there’s just some bigwig here from Augusta National golf course, and I’m wondering who it is.”

  “Seems silly to me, but okay.”

  Missy made the call to the front desk and chatted with Miss Tiernan for a few minutes. Craig was in the background waving his hand to speed it up. She finally asked the
question, listened for a response, and made some small talk before hanging up.

  “It’s Red Maitland,” Missy said.

  “Red Maitland, Maitland,” Craig muttered to himself. “Where does that name sound familiar?”

  Missy shrugged her shoulders and said, “Beats me.”

  Craig went back to his desk and started searching the Internet for Red Maitland, and it didn’t take long for Craig to figure out who he was. Chairman? What in the world could they be talking about? Another idea popped into his head. He trotted back to Missy’s desk and asked another favor of her.

  <><><><><>

  It was late the following day, and most of the employees of Coldridge Group had left the building. Missy never stayed past five o’clock, but made certain to do so today for Craig when he asked. She felt like she owed him a favor after all the days she had taken off recently to care for her sick mother. She walked down two flights of stairs to the main security room and approached a desk as a night watchman sat reading the paper. It wasn’t all that unusual for a sports agency to have security guards due to the fact that millionaire athletes came and went on a daily basis.

  “Good night,” she said as she walked by. She gave the guard a sexy smile and turned her head quickly to let her hair bounce around in circles on her shoulders. Leaving the building, she stood outside for about five minutes before coming back in and walking right back to the security desk. “Hi,” Missy said.

  “Hi,” the guard said, looking up at her. He was middle-aged with receding crimson hair and a three-day-old beard.

  “Hi, I’m from upstairs,” Missy said shyly. “I was wondering if I could borrow you for a minute.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, silly me, I locked my keys in the car and need help getting the door open.”

  “Well, sorry; I can’t leave the desk,” replied the guard.

  Missy shifted her weight so that she was leaning on the edge of the desk to make out the name on his badge. “Come on, Shawn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you.” Missy’s eyes were a deep blue and mesmerized the guard as she stared at him, waiting for an answer.

  Shawn was suddenly interested and glanced at her blouse that was slightly open in front, revealing just a hint of her black bra. “I don’t know. I could get in trouble.”

  “No, you won’t; it’ll only take a second. The guy in the garage has one of those jimmy things. I’ve seen him use it before, but it’s after hours and they’ve gone home. The jimmy thing is just sitting out.” She paused to let him mull this option over before changing the subject. “Hey, a couple of us are going over to McGillin’s for a drink. What time do you get off?”

  “Ah, not until eleven.”

  Missy was not disappointed but she sounded it, “That’s too bad. Maybe next week.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” the cheerful Shawn said.

  “So how ‘bout a little help?”

  Shawn looked around as if people were coming and going in his little hallway. “Let’s make this quick.” He got up out of his chair and came out from behind the desk, and the two exited the building.

  Seconds later the fire door opened and Craig stepped out. Although at first glance, you couldn’t tell it was Craig. He had on a hockey jersey and a hat that he found upstairs pulled low. He checked for cameras, didn’t find any, and then made his way to the security room. Why would there be cameras watching the security desk? He made his way into the back room and started scouring the endless rows of videotapes and discs. He checked his watch and guessed he had about five minutes. He started with the closest rack and went straight to the bottom.

  There were three eight-foot racks with intermittent shelves and video discs and videotapes on them. The tapes were from a few years ago, so he started with the discs. Craig started flipping through fifty plus discs at a time. He stopped and saw one labeled March 8th, 2010 Conf # 3. He had the right Conf number, but he needed March 22. He got all the way to the end and the dates stopped at March 21.

  “Shit!” Craig said out loud. He checked his watch and realized he probably had less than a minute. He went back to the main desk and started rifling through the mess on the desk. Papers, magazines, fast food cups, walkie-talkies. He looked up and saw the three cameras in live feed on the desk. Two were showing empty conference rooms. The third showed the outside of the building, and just then he saw the security guy round the corner and head for the door.

  Craig panicked and started looking under the desk and in drawers. He glanced at the monitor, and the security guy was ten feet from the door.

  “Shit!” Craig said again. He took one last look and then backed himself out from behind the desk to make his exit, and there it was. Three discs were in a small bin on the top of the desk. Craig didn’t even look what was on them but grabbed them and walked away.

  The guy walked in the front door and saw Craig head for the elevator.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

  Craig barely turned, the discs under his jersey, and said, “I forgot something, heading back upstairs.”

  “You work here?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Craig took off his hat. “It’s me, Craig Waltrip.”

  “Oh, hey. Didn’t recognize you. Going to the game tonight?”

  “What g—” Craig looked down at the jersey he was wearing. “Yep, go Flyers.”

  Craig got in the elevator and breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the discs and wondered why he had gone to such trouble to find them. But he had to know: What was the Chairman of Augusta National and his boss talking about?

  Chapter 3

  It was still March and too cold without enough daylight to get a quick nine holes in after work so Hank and Archie agreed to meet at the country club for dinner. Neither man was married so it would just be the two of them. He hopped in his silver BMW and drove away from his office.

  Driving to Del Val, Hank thought that things in his company had to pick up with a few new athletes, not to mention Tyrone Hill. He and Archie both had successful companies, but they continued to try and recruit each other’s potential clients. They had been arch-rivals since they met in grade school fighting over Sally Rumsfeld. They both liked her, but she would not go out with either one. Since then, they had competed in sports in high school, academics in college, and now in their professional lives. Hank had been formulating a plan in his mind to have his company benefit from Archie’s new potential client.

  The restaurant at Del Val Country Club was not too crowded for a Friday night. The two men shared a table that overlooked the outdoor patio where many wedding receptions would be held in the coming months. After dinner and many drinks, Hank decided that now was as good a time as ever to put his plan into action.

  “See that new waitress over there?” Hank asked.

  “Who? The blonde by the bar?”

  “Yeah, I think she likes me.”

  “Stop. She’s been eyeing me up and down the whole dinner,” Archie insisted.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “What are you gonna do, ask her?”

  The tall blonde in black pants and a white shirt walked slowly past their table, carrying a tray full of drinks for the party of eight that was next to their table. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a body that was as tight as a drum

  “Excuse me, miss…” Hank read her nametag. “….Lisa?”

  “Yes?” Lisa smiled at the two men. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had just a touch of make-up on. “I’ll be right with you.”

  “What are you, nuts?” asked Archie. Both he and Hank watched her behind as she walked away.

  “How much you wanna bet she says me?”

  “You’re crazy,” Archie said

  “I’m going to ask her no matter what. Let’s go for a hundred bucks and the dinner check.”

  Archie knew his friend would indeed ask her, so he might as well play along. “Okay, fine. But don’t embarrass me….or her.”

 
; Lisa came back to their table with a smile. “Can I help you?”

  “We’re sorry to bother you,” Archie started, “but my friend and I have a little wager. If you were out at a bar and both of us asked you out, whom would you say yes to?”

  Lisa blushed and covered her mouth. Startled, she said, “I don’t know. I’m not allowed to date club members. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just like I said, we were sitting here admiring you from afar and wondered if you’d go out with either of us.”

  Lisa responded confidently, “How much is the bet?”

  “A thousand dollars.”

  “What? You’re joking.” Her hand returned to her mouth.

  Archie replied, “Yes, he is joking; it’s only a hundred. My friend here thinks you’d go out with him and I’m just playing along with him. There’s a fifty percent tip in it if you tell us.”

  Lisa looked them over and then looked around to see if her manager was watching. “Well, I don’t know; I barely know you.”

  “On looks alone,” Archie said.

  She looked at Archie, dressed in a white Polo shirt with no tie, and then to Hank in a similar blue shirt.

  “Well, I guess, maybe you.” She pointed to Archie.

  “Thank you very much,” Archie replied with a smile on his face. “Two of your finest scotches please.”

  As she walked away, Archie lifted his glass, “Another victory for Double A.”

  Hank looked disgusted and cheered his best friend’s glass. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Make sure your head can fit through the doors when we leave.”

  “You should never ask a question when you don’t want to hear the answer,” Archie said.

  Little did his best friend know that Hank had paid Lisa one hundred dollars before Archie arrived to say just that. He was laying the groundwork, boosting his confidence. Saturday on the golf course, he would lay an entirely new bet on the line and hope that Archie went for it. After his meeting with Red Maitland, how could he lose?

  <><><><><>

  Craig lived about twenty-five minutes south of Philadelphia in Newtown Square. After college he did what most graduates do and moved in with his parents in nearby Swarthmore. He saved some money and purchased a two-bedroom condominium about fifteen minutes away. At first, Craig rented the second bedroom to one of his high school friends, but it became too much of an inconvenience for both of them, so he now lived there alone.