Double Fault at Roland Garros

by Jim Plautz

San Sebastian, once the summer residence of Spanish Royalty, is a beautiful city particularly for tourists such as Bill and Susan Peterson. It is a cultural blend of tradition and the cosmopolitan bustle of the twenty first century. Donostia as it is called in Euskadi, the Basque native tongue, is sandwiched between the majestic Pyrenees and the Atlantic Ocean. Founded in 1180 by Sancho el Mayor, called “Sancho el Fuerte or Sancho the Strong”. The original walled city overlooked the port and provided a natural military stronghold. The city survived many sieges from the 15th century through the Napoleonic wars before it was destroyed by fire in 1813. The walled city was rebuilt over the next twenty years and has enjoyed prosperity and growth in the 19th and 20th centuries.

  It was the Peterson’s first trip to Spain and they spent they first day on a walking tour of the Parta Viaja, the original walled city and the adjacent port area and Naval Museum. “Wasn’t it a wonderful day?” Susan offered as they entered their suite at the Hotel Maria Christina. “What a fascinating city. I’m really looking forward to dinner this evening. Where are you taking me?”

  It had been a great day, Bill thought. He was so lucky to have married a woman that liked to travel and see new places. “Let’s try that traditional restaurant on the boulevard we saw this morning, and then maybe stop at a Tapas bar or join the locals during their evening Txikiteo.”

  “The Tapas bar idea sounds great, honey, but I’m not up to another pub-crawl. The idea of stopping at a half-dozen bars for a tiny glass of wine before moving on to the next bar may be the local Basque custom, but I can’t do that two nights in a row. Besides, the wine tasted like vinegar.”

  “Okay, but it was fun and a great way to meet the locals. I didn’t know anything about the Basque homeland and their traditions before yesterday. Why don’t we just go to that last bar where we had dinner?”

  “Do we have time for a nap? I’m worn out after all that walking. I should have worn more comfortable shoes.”

  Bill came across the room and pulled her close. “Did you mean nap, or NAP?”

  “I meant nap, my feet are killing me. But hold that thought for later. Are you going to join me?”

  “In a few minutes, honey, I need to make a few phone calls and see if we still have a business back home. It shouldn’t take long.”

  This was one reason they had reserved a suite rather than a standard hotel room. Bill knew he would have to combine a little business with pleasure. The other reason for the suite was, they could afford it. Bill’s dot-com business was doing well.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later. Don’t be too long,” Susan said as she closed the bedroom door. As she drifted off to sleep Susan was thinking of how lucky she was.

  It was more than an hour later before Susan slowly woke up and reached for Bill. His side of the bed was empty and hadn’t been slept in. There wasn’t any noise coming from the living room. “Bill, are you out there?”

  Bill didn’t answer.

  Two hours later after a frantic search of the hotel, Susan called the Police. Bill had disappeared.

  Petie won a tough, three set match earlier to reach the quarterfinals. It was a fun match to watch, not only because Petie won, but also because both kids were such good sports. There were several close line calls where they gave their opponent the benefit of the doubt. On one point Petie called a shot on the sideline good, but the boy overruled him. “I had a better view Pete, it was clearly out.” After the match was over the boys talked for twenty minutes and exchanged phone numbers. It turned out that Ron lived in New Port Richey, only 30 minutes from our house. Petie had reached the semi-finals, and made a new friend.

  This afternoon it was quickly obvious that Petie was overmatched. The boy was almost six feet tall and 180 pounds, pretty big for a 14 year old. He had been playing tournaments for five years and his serve was harder than anything Pete had faced. The final score was 6-1, 6-2.

  “This is tough to watch,” I whispered to Mary midway through the 2nd set. What a difference a day makes. I thought back to the ride home yesterday after Pete’s two impressive victories to reach the quarterfinals. We stopped for pizza on the way home to celebrate. Mary and I were so proud of him and we could tell that Pete was pleased with himself. It’s important for kids to feel good about themselves.

  Mary squeezed my hand. “It’s a good thing in a way. He won’t win every match and the sooner he knows it the better. There is only one winner in the draw of 32, two winners if you count the consolation division.”

  “Is there consolation?”

  “Not for Pete. This tournament has consolation play only for first round losers. Some of the bigger tournaments have feed-ins and all first-time losers fall into the consolation bracket,” Gregg explained.

  “This kid he’s playing is good,” Gregg whispered, leaning towards us so his voice didn’t carry onto the court. “Pete has nothing to be ashamed about.”

  The match was finally over, ending with Pete netting a volley as he tried to come in behind his serve. This was the 5th time his serve had been broken. Pete waited at the net while his opponent came to the net for the traditional post-match handshake.

  “Watch,” Gregg said as he put his arm out to keep us back. “Let’s see how he reacts.” Gregg was always coaching.

  “Nice match,” Pete said looking the boy in the eye. You were too good today. Good luck in the finals.”

  “I wasn’t playing well today, you were lucky to get a game off me,” the boy replied barely touching Pete’s offered hand as he turned and walked away. So much for civility and friendship.

  Pete stared for a second before he stuffed his racket in his bag, packed the sweaty wristbands in a pouch, and left the court.

  “Nice match Petie,” I offered as I put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Great tournament,” Mary said, emphasizing her remark with a hug.

  “Gregg,” Pete said turning around to find Gregg who was following us. “Help me get better. I want to kick that jerk’s ass the next time we play.”

  “We can start Monday, Pete, but in the meantime you need to enjoy what you did here. A semi-final in your first tournament is pretty good.”

  “I know, but I wanted to win. But before I forget, I want you all to know how much it meant to me to have you in the stands pulling for me. I could feel your support.”

  These are the rewards of being a parent.

  Gregg just smiled.

  Bill made the necessary phone calls and was ready to join Susan for a quick catnap. Everything seemed to be going well at home, which bothered him a little. Maybe he wasn’t as indispensable as he thought? He convinced himself that he had only been gone a week, and that eventually they would need his direction. He also knew that he had good men working for him and could trust them to do the right thing.

  Bill was on the way to bed when he heard a soft knock at the door. “Yes, who is it?”

  “Bellboy, I have a message from the general manager.”

  Bill looked through the security hole and opened the door. “Yes, what is it?”

  “He said you should come downstairs, someone has broken into your car.”

  Bill thought quickly. What had he left in the car? “Are you sure? I’m driving a red BMW rent-a-car. There was anything in it.”

  “He told me it was a BMW, but I don’t know the color. They tried to drive away and crashed into a pole.”

  “Okay, let me get my shoes on.” Bill thought of waking Susan to tell her where he was, but decided to let her sleep. This shouldn’t take too long.

  “Your English is pretty good, young man. Where did you learn it?” Bill asked, as they waited for the elevator.

  “Most schools in Spain teach English as a second language,” the young man replied.

  When he got to the garage Bill noticed his car still parked where he had left it. There wasn’t any noticeable damage. “What’s going on?” Bill asked, as he turned back to the bellboy. “Where is….

  He stopped short as he saw the two m
en wearing ski masks and holding guns pointed at him. “Shut up and get into the van. One word and we will knock you unconscious and carry you.”

  Bill started to ask what was going on, but thought better of it. “He meekly crawled into the van where his hands were handcuffed behind him. Later he wondered why he had not tried to escape, but he had been too surprised and too scared. It never occurred to him at the time.

  “Good job, Agbu. Did anyone see you?”

  “No. The elevator was empty and we went out the back door into the garage.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “She was sleeping,” Bill interrupted from the back. “Leave her alone. She didn’t see or hear anything.”

  “That’s right” Agbu added. “He didn’t talk to anyone and I didn’t see her either.”

  “Good,” the kidnappers said. “It looks like we can take our time.”

  “Where are you taking me? Why? What have I done to you?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal. Your only crime was bragging about how well your company is doing. I’m sure they will be happy to pay a ransom to get you back. How much do you think you are worth? I’m told that $10M would be a nice round number.”

  Oh shit, as he recalled his conversation in the Tapas bar last night. Whom had he been trying to impress? “Our company is only three years old. We won’t have a lot of cash until we sell the company or go public. You guys made a big mistake.”

  “Shut up. You are the one that made the big mistake, and if someone doesn’t come up with $10,000,000, it will be your last mistake. Now lie down and keep quiet. Raul, club him if he says another word.” The leader was obviously not happy with the turn of events.

  $10M, Bill thought. There was no way they could raise that much, maybe one million.

  Agbu watched and listened. It was another lesson. He had told them they should have done more research, but he had been over-ruled. He was only 14, eight years younger than Anton and six years younger than Raul, but Agbu already knew that he was smarter than his brothers. This just reinforced the lesson that he had learned two years ago. Agbu would go back to school and get an education.

  He thought back to the day Carlos left for the Spanish Training Center, Agbu made a call to his older brother who had moved to Deba, a small city along the French border, about 80 KM north of Vitoria. “Anton, it’s your brother. What’s going on?”

  “Hey little brother, how are you doing? Are you staying out of trouble?”

  “I’m bored to death. I want to help you out. I’m 13 and ready to get to work. I hate school.”

  Anton hesitated. He knew this moment would be coming, but it was too soon. He had been 15 when he started, but that was different. Pa was still alive then. “Don’t be crazy, Agbu, stay in school. You are the smart one in the family. Don’t blow it. I’ll be down there next week and we can talk then. I might even have something for you. Okay?”

  “I’ll be here, Anton, and I’ll stay in school for a while. But let’s talk. I’m ready.”

  The following week Agbu acted as a lookout as Anton and a fellow ETA member planted a bomb in the engine of a local politician’s car. Agbu was told the man had voted against a bill to allow Euskara, the Basque language, to be taught in schools. They watched from a distance as the politician started his car and drove away.

  “What happened?” Agbu asked. “Why didn’t it explode?”

  His brother and friend just shrugged.

  The next day newspapers reported that the man’s wife and two children were killed by a car bomb that exploded when they were driving home from school. The newspapers and television denounced the ETA as murderers of women and children. There was no mention of the ETA’s objective.

  Agbu learned his lesson and returned to school. He knew he must get a lot smarter if he was to accomplish his goal. He vowed to become leader of the Basque people and achieve their dream, an independent homeland including the four provinces in Northern Spain and the three adjoining departments in France.

  Chapter 7

  Ransom