Rush for the Gold: Mystery at the Olympics (29 page)

There was yelling all around her—above her on the deck—and from the American team section. She looked at the board and the first thing she saw was a 2 next to her name. Elizabeth had beaten her again. Sure enough, she saw a 1, next to Elizabeth’s name with a time of 1:59.97. Elizabeth had just become the first woman to break two minutes in the 200 fly. Susan Carol had gone 2:00.59, and Krylova had barely hung on for third at 2:01.14. Liu had finished fourth—nine-hundredths behind Krylova.

But something was wrong. Elizabeth’s time was blinking on the scoreboard. Susan Carol could see an official leaning down to talk to her. Baffled, Susan Carol turned to Krylova, but she still had her head down trying to get her breath back. Susan Carol heard Ed’s voice and looked up.

She still hadn’t recovered enough to talk, so all that came out of her mouth was “Whaa?”

Ed leaned down so she could hear him above the din.

“They DQ’d Elizabeth,” he said. “I think it was the third turn. You won. Krylova’s second.”

There wasn’t any joy in his voice. Ed wouldn’t want anyone DQ’d in an Olympic final. And neither did she.
Without a word, Susan Carol went under the two lane lines to get to Elizabeth, who was shaking with tears when Susan Carol got to her.

“They’re saying … my hand slipped … on the third wall.…” She had to pause because she was still breathless from the swim and the shock. “I didn’t.… I know I didn’t.…”

Susan Carol wrapped her arms around her, and Elizabeth cried on her shoulder. Suddenly, Susan Carol flashed back to Sunday night and Trevor James’s warning that there’d be higher scrutiny on turns in the Olympics.

She heard Elizabeth saying she’d never been DQ’d in her life.

Now she had been. After the greatest 200-butterfly swim in history. At that moment, Susan Carol was an Olympic gold medalist.

And all she could think was:
This is not right
.

I
t was Stevie who first noticed the official with his hand in the air.

Like everyone else, Stevie was on his feet as the swimmers approached the third turn. Krylova had been leading the entire race, but you could sense she was beginning to tire. Susan Carol and Elizabeth seemed to hit the wall at the exact same moment, and Stevie watched their push-offs carefully because he remembered Susan Carol talking about how important the last turn could be in a race where exhaustion at the finish was always critical.

Elizabeth had come up first, and Stevie was watching her and waiting for Susan Carol to surface when he saw the official standing behind lane five with his right arm up in the air, which meant he had called some kind of foul on the swimmer in that lane.

As soon as he saw the arm go up, Stevie grabbed
Kelleher’s shoulder—because it was too loud to talk—and pointed.

“Oh my God” was Kelleher’s only reaction.

They watched the rest in stunned shock. Halfway back, it was clear Krylova was out of gas. Not only were Elizabeth and Susan Carol going past her, the other swimmers were closing in too. At the flags it looked as if Elizabeth and Susan Carol were dead even, but in the final strokes Elizabeth seemed to have an extra gear. She covered the last five meters with two huge, powerful strokes. Susan Carol took three. That was the difference.

They looked at the board and instantly noticed two things: Elizabeth had broken two minutes and her time was not official. They could see an official bending over to talk to her and watched her burst into tears.

“They’ve DQ’d her for sure,” Bobby said. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”

Everyone else in the media section seemed to be frozen by what was happening below. Bobby, Tamara, and Stevie scrambled to the ramps leading downstairs, which were still empty. There was one more race to go before the evening was over, and there were medal ceremonies still ahead too.

Once they had cleared security and were in the hallway that led to the interview room and the mixed zone, Kelleher called a halt.

“We need a strategy,” he said. “I’m going to go find Chuck Wielgus and see if USA Swimming is planning any sort of protest.”

“Can you protest a DQ?” Stevie asked.

“You can protest, but it’s hard to overturn. A lot will depend on what country the judge who DQ’d her is from. There has to be confirmation from a second official for it to stand. If either one is a Russian so there’s even a suggestion he was trying to help Krylova, you’ve got a better shot.”

“What if it’s not a Russian?” Tamara asked.

“Then it’s tougher,” Kelleher said. “First thing we have to do is find out who the judge was and where he was from. They all look the same in those hats they wear.”

“I’ll find that out,” Tamara said.

“Good,” Bobby said. “I’ll look for Wielgus. Stevie, that leaves you with the easy job. You gotta figure a way to get to Susan Carol and Elizabeth.”

Stevie gasped. “So is this what Bobby Mo meant by Elizabeth being ‘taken care of’?”

Kelleher nodded. “You’re right. Forget the girls for now. Find Bobby Mo.”

“And do what?”

“I have no idea,” Kelleher said. “You’ll think of something.”

There were a lot of people running in different directions when Stevie set off down the hallway. His first thought was to head back in the direction of the corporate hospitality rooms, but then he thought Bobby Mo might be on the prowl down here somewhere—he’d want to see it unfolding.

As Stevie walked through the mixed zone—which was virtually empty except for a couple of breaststrokers talking
to two or three journalists—he could hear a PA announcement coming from the pool level: “The results of the women’s 200 butterfly remain unofficial due to a protest being lodged. The women’s 4 × 200 relay final will begin in five minutes’ time.”

He reached the locker room area, which was, of course, off-limits to everyone except swimmers and coaches. He considered texting Ed Brennan but realized he wasn’t trying to get to Susan Carol and Elizabeth. He was about to keep walking when he spotted Mike Unger from USA Swimming talking to someone dressed in an official’s uniform. The official looked familiar. Then he realized who it was: Trevor James, the officious USA Swimming guy who had been such a pain back in Charlotte. He wandered over. Maybe Unger and James could give him some idea of what had happened.

“Chuck’s filing a protest, Trevor. That’s all there is to it,” Unger said as Stevie came up behind the two of them. They were almost nose to nose and apparently oblivious that anyone was near them.

“He’s wasting his time,” James said. “To begin with, the girl clearly dropped her hand on the turn. I had confirmation. Even if it’s close, there’s no way the committee is going to overturn a call made on an American swimmer by an American official. He’s wasting his time.”

“He doesn’t think so. We’ve looked at the replay. The turn was legal. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking when you called it.”

Stevie almost gasped out loud.
Trevor James
had DQ’d Elizabeth?

Whatever sound he had made got Unger’s attention. He turned and saw Stevie standing there. An awkward smile crossed his face. “Um, Steve, hi. Sorry. This isn’t a good time. Can you give me a minute? We’re going to fill everyone in very soon.”

Stevie decided this wasn’t the moment to play games. “I’m really sorry, Mike, but I was walking up and heard just a little. Mr. James,
you
were the official who DQ’d Elizabeth Wentworth?”

“I don’t speak to the media,” James said. “I don’t even know how you got here. I have work to do.”

He turned and walked away. Stevie was tempted to follow.

“Mike, what happens now?” he asked.

Unger was still eyeing James as he hustled down the hallway.

“Chuck and the USOC will submit a formal protest of the DQ,” he said. “There’s a three-person committee that reviews the tape. There are two problems: the first is that since a call was made, the burden of proof is on the swimmer, basically. Plus, like Trevor said, an American calling an illegal turn on an American, it’s unlikely they’ll overturn it. They have to see evidence she did
not
make an illegal turn.”

“But you said the tape—”

“On tape the turn looks fine. But remember their hands
are on the wall for little more than a split second. Trevor’s angle is much closer than the cameras’ are unless we somehow have a close-up that clearly shows both hands.”

“What did he mean about confirmation?”

Unger sighed. “If a lane judge sees an illegal turn, he’s supposed to confirm it with the walking stroke-and-turn judge. But it’s rubber stamp stuff. No one is going to overturn something like that on the spot.”

“What’s the second problem?”

“One of the three people on the committee is always the official who made the call. He’s not going to reverse himself no matter what the tape shows. That means the other two officials have to reverse the call, and one of them is Russian and one of them is Chinese.”

“Oh God. Not only does Krylova benefit if Elizabeth’s DQ’d, but Liu gets a bronze medal.”

“Exactly.”

“How exactly did James end up on Elizabeth’s lane?” Stevie asked.

Unger shrugged. “You got me there. It’s supposed to be a blind draw. Instead, poor Elizabeth got blindsided.”

Stevie’s phone was buzzing. He pulled it out and saw a text from Susan Carol.
Meet in mixed zone
, it said.
HURRY!

Stevie thanked Unger. He turned and began sprinting back in the direction of the mixed zone.

Susan Carol was standing in a far corner of the mixed zone when Stevie rounded the corner. Ed Brennan was up at the
fence talking to the media and, apparently, holding them off at the same time. When Stevie came into sight, Susan Carol waved him over and spoke to a security guard. The guard nodded and pointed at Stevie. “You there, come on ahead. Others, sorry, chaps, you need to wait a moment.”

“This isn’t right,” Susan Carol said as soon as Stevie walked up, dispensing with any niceties. “We looked at the tape in the locker room. Her turn was legal.”

“Yeah, and guess who called it,” Stevie said. “Our old friend Trevor James.”

Susan Carol put her hand to her mouth. “No one told us that. That little
rodent …
But if it was an American official, there’s no way they’re going to uphold the protest.”

“That’s what Mike Unger just told me.”

She was silent for a moment, trying to think. “Ed told me that J.P. told him right after the race that I’m signing with Brickley tomorrow. There’s a joint press conference—Krylova and me together. I told him I didn’t want anything to do with it. He said J.P. told him my dad was going to sign the contract.”

“J.P. pretty much told us he already had. Do you know where your dad is right now?”

“No idea. He can’t get down here.”

Stevie was trying to think of what to do next when they heard another PA announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the results of the women’s 200 butterfly are now official. Ms. Wentworth, United States, swimming in lane five, has been disqualified for an illegal turn.”

“NO, NO, NO!” Susan Carol shrieked, causing all the reporters to turn in her direction. Several TV cameras were pointed right at her.

“Stevie, get in front of me,” she said.

He complied, which caused some angry arm-waving but little more. There wasn’t much they could do with Ed and, he noticed, several security people holding them off.

“What now?” he said.

“I’m not accepting the medal,” she said. “I just won’t do it.”

“Look,” he said. “Clearly Bobby Mo got to James. He had to. Why else would he have told Chip he wasn’t worried about Elizabeth?”

“What? He told Chip what?”

“No time to explain.” He snapped his fingers. “I have an idea. Do me a favor—text Chip and ask him to send me Bobby Mo’s cell phone number.”

“What? Why?”

He looked at her. “You usually have the ideas,” he said. “You’ve been swimming, so your mind has been on other things. Trust me to have the idea this time.”

“Is it crazy?” she said.

“Completely crazy.”

She smiled. “Okay, then, I like it.”

Stevie had to push his way out of there. The TV guys and reporters wanted to know who the hell he was and what Susan Carol had said to him.

“I’m her boyfriend,” he said. “It’s private. Sorry.”

He had to find Kelleher and Chuck Wielgus and convince Wielgus to let him talk to Trevor James. He figured by now there would be officials being taken to the interview room to explain what had happened. The swimmers wouldn’t come in until after the medal ceremony, which was still at least twenty minutes away.

Sure enough, Kelleher was with Wielgus outside the interview room. That was the good news. The bad news was that half the world’s media had Wielgus backed up against a wall. Mike Unger was lingering outside the circle, trying to explain to people that Wielgus would be in the interview room in a few minutes to answer all questions, but no one was listening to him.

Stevie grabbed Unger by the arm to get his attention amidst the chaos.

“I need a big favor,” he said.

“Now?” Unger said.

“I gotta talk to Trevor James.” Unger starting shaking his head, but Stevie pressed on. “Just for one minute. He’s a big part of this story.”

“We know that,” Unger said. “But he’s not going to speak to the media. The Russian guy who chaired the protest committee is going to talk.”

“I understand,” Stevie said. “But this isn’t about some statement for the press; I’m trying to get the real story so maybe we can fix this. Please trust me. I know you don’t like the guy any more than I do. And I think I can nail him.
Please
tell him to meet you right outside the cordoned-off drug-testing area. Tell him Chuck Wielgus wants to put out
a statement supporting him, but you need his input and you need one minute with him someplace that’s quiet.”

“But that’s a lie,” Unger said.

“I know,” Stevie answered.

Unger looked at him for a second. “I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t do this.” He took out his phone and began dialing.

Stevie pushed through a couple of people around Wielgus to get to Kelleher.