Vanishing Act (19 page)

“This is worse than a final,” Ed Fabricius had told Kelleher earlier in the day. “I got a call today from the president of NBC News because I told NBC they could have someone from News
or
someone from Sports but not both.”

Something
was going to happen in this match. They were all convinced of it.

Susan Carol's cell phone rang—Stevie could tell it was hers because it played the Duke fight song. She answered and then sat up straight. “Hi, Evelyn,” she said.

That got Stevie's attention.

She listened for a minute and then said, “But how can you be sure?” More listening. “Have you called the police?”

That
really
got Stevie's attention.

“Okay, okay. I promise. Let me call you right back.”

She hung up, stood, and indicated that Stevie should follow her. “We need to talk,” she whispered. “Someplace quiet.”

Stevie wondered why she hadn't gone over to get Kelleher and Mearns to join them, but he followed her outside. The day matches were just about finished and the plaza was relatively empty.

“That was Evelyn,” she said once they were clear of any listeners. “She says my uncle Brendan is missing.”

“Oh, come on,” Stevie said, incredulous.

“I know,” Susan Carol said, putting up her hand to indicate he should let her finish. “She said they were supposed to meet for lunch and he never showed.”

“That doesn't mean he's missing.”

“Will you let me
finish
?”

“Sorry.”

“She waited awhile, then called his apartment and his cell phone. Nothing. She thought he might have had a meeting that he forgot or maybe something came up with the Makarovs. So she went back to the hotel where she
ran into
the Makarovs. Before she could say anything, they asked if she had seen Brendan. She said no, they were supposed to meet for lunch. Then they told her
they
had a dinner appointment with him on Friday and he never showed. No phone call—nothing. They had called and left messages and hadn't heard anything.”

“Now
that's
strange. But didn't you see him last night at the apartment?”

“No. To be honest, I thought he was coming in late to avoid having to talk to me. I didn't think that much about it, and I didn't see him this morning either. After she talked to the Makarovs, Evelyn got scared and called me, hoping I had seen him.”

“When did Evelyn last see him?”

“Good question. I should have asked her that. I know my dad talked to Uncle Brendan on Thursday, but I haven't seen him since then.”

“So what does Evelyn want us to do?”

“Well, first, she made me promise not to tell Bobby and Tamara. She's afraid they'll put something in the newspaper.”

“But they won't do that….”

“I know. She's freaked. So am I, to tell you the truth.”

“So what should we do?” he said. “Should we call the police?”

“Not yet, I don't think. I'll try calling him again first. And we should check out his apartment…. Evelyn wants us to come into town and meet her.”

Stevie suddenly smelled a trap.

“I'm not sure that's a great idea,” he said. “The last time I spent time with Evelyn, I got beat up. A couple days later, we're still sniffing around and suddenly we get a call from her to come meet her in Manhattan?”

“You're right,” she said. “But I can't imagine she'd be involved in this. Then again, I didn't think Uncle Brendan would be involved either. But I still think we need to meet with her. Except we'll do it on our terms.”

She took out her cell phone and started dialing.

19:
THE SEARCH

SUSAN CAROL'S
plan was simple. She called Evelyn back and told her to try to stay calm, that they were going to come back to the city as soon as Kelleher and Mearns finished writing. She asked her to meet them at the apartment at eight-thirty. Kelleher and Mearns had to go to a USTA dinner that night and would be gone by seven-thirty.

“She said okay,” Susan Carol said, closing the phone. “All she did was ask again that I not tell Tamara and Bobby.”

“So maybe it's not a trap,” Stevie said.

“Yeah, but you're right. At this point, we don't need to take any chances.”

Kelleher and Mearns finished writing by six o'clock. They asked Stevie and Susan Carol if they were sure they didn't want to go to the dinner.

“We're really tired,” Susan Carol said. “I thought Stevie and I would order in Chinese and then I'd go home to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

Kelleher grimaced. “The problem is, we have no idea what
kind
of big day.”

Mearns smiled. “Susan Carol, can I trust you two alone in the apartment?”

They both blushed. Stevie hadn't even thought about being alone in an apartment with Susan Carol. Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. Evelyn would be there soon after they arrived.

The drive into the city took a while because of Saturday-night New York traffic. Kelleher and Mearns were still trying to puzzle out if there was some kind of fix going on. The question was, why would someone fix the match—on either side? “The one who has more to lose is Symanova,” Kelleher said. “People are saying that if she plays Makarova in the quarters, it will be the highest-rated tennis match in history. CBS has already cleared the time to put it on.”

“But why would they be worried about her losing to a player who started the summer ranked hundred-and-eighth in the world and is still only forty-eighth?” Susan Carol asked.

“For one thing, Evelyn's pretty good,” Kelleher said. “For another, Symanova hasn't played well so far.”

“But when does the plot date back to? No one knew any of that when Symanova disappeared,” Stevie said.

They drove in silence for a while.

“Is it possible,” Susan Carol finally asked, “that we're dealing with two different plots? One to kidnap Symanova, another to fix this match? Could there be two completely different groups at work here?”

“That would almost have to bring the SVR back into play,” Mearns said. “Because we've seen everyone else involved meeting together—or at least you and Stevie have.”

“Well, maybe there are more people involved still…,” offered Stevie.

They went back and forth with theories until they reached Manhattan.

Susan Carol ordered the food while Kelleher and Mearns were quickly changing for dinner. It was almost eight by the time they were ready to go.

“You two stay out of trouble tonight,” Kelleher said as they left.

“We'll try,” Susan Carol said.

Stevie was glad she made no promises.

Evelyn Rubin was right on time, buzzing the apartment at eight-thirty on the dot, just as Susan Carol was paying for the food.

She looked like she had been crying when Stevie opened the door for her, but she accepted some chicken and an egg roll. “I forgot I haven't eaten since lunchtime,” she said.

They sat at the kitchen table and ate dinner while debating what to do next.

She told them that she had last seen Gibson on Friday afternoon at a private tennis club in Manhattan where she had gone to practice. “That's when we made the date for lunch,” she said. “He told me he was going to wrap up the Makarova contract last night. He was pretty excited about it. I
did
wonder a little if I was going to get shoved into the background once she was on board. But Brendan told me after the Letterman thing that his phone was ringing off the hook. He said he had offers into the millions to sign me for shoe and clothing contracts, plus a camera company, a perfume company, and one of the fast-food hamburger chains all lined up to make offers. I've never had
any
endorsements before.”

“Aren't you a little young to endorse perfume?” Stevie asked.

“Jennifer Capriati endorsed a wrinkle cream when she was fourteen,” Susan Carol said, again amazing Stevie by knowing something that, to him, seemed unknowable.

“You weren't born when Capriati was fourteen,” Evelyn said, apparently just as amazed. “Look, I'm not sure I'm going to sign with any of these people. I'm still in high school and I'm not dropping out. But Brendan says these companies understand that and want to sign me anyway. Staying in school makes me different. Plus, he says all the offers might double if I win tomorrow. That actually scares me a little.”

“It should,” Susan Carol said. “All of this is scary.”

“But Evelyn…,” Stevie began hesitantly. “Are you more scared of winning or losing?”

“What?”

“Well, the way this looks to us, we're wondering if someone is trying to fix tomorrow's match. Has anyone approached you at all?”

“What?! Of course not! You think…I would
never…
”

“We believe you,” soothed Susan Carol. “Really. But this whole situation is so…out of control. Something big is going on and we're just trying to puzzle it out. So Brendan never suggested to you that you might not win?”

“No! Just the opposite. He's been pumping me up—making me believe I
can
win. How can you, of all people, ask me that?”

“I think we need to go to Brendan's apartment,” Stevie broke in, sensing the conversation spinning out of control.

“What? Why there?” Evelyn asked.

“I don't know,” Stevie said. “But we might find something.”

Susan Carol nodded. “He's right,” she said. “Sometimes when you don't know what you're looking for, you just have to start looking
someplace.
Maybe we'll find something. At the very least, we can listen to his phone messages. There might be a clue there.”

“Do you guys feel safe running around New York City at night?” Evelyn said.

Stevie grunted. “Good point.” She didn't know anything about what had happened to him on the subway and there was no point freaking her out further by telling her. “But I don't think we have any choice.”

Susan Carol nodded. “I agree. We can't just sit here and do nothing. I was going to get a cab over there anyway—now you'll both be with me.”

They were able to get a cab right outside the door of the apartment building. The cab breezed through the park and deposited them outside 52 Riverside Drive within ten minutes. The street was empty when they got out, causing Stevie to shiver just a little even though the night was warm and comfortable. Susan Carol walked over to the keypad and punched the numbers. They waited for the buzzer to let them know the door was open. Nothing. Susan Carol frowned, hit the clear button, and tried again. Still nothing.

“I've done this a dozen times already this week,” she said. She punched the numbers again, this time slowly. There was no response.

“Now what?” Evelyn said, leaning against the side of the building, looking very tired.

“Hang on,” Stevie said. “Someone's coming. Susan Carol, get ready to crank up your Scarlett act.”

Evelyn looked baffled but Susan Carol didn't flinch.

A well-dressed man with dark hair was approaching. Seeing the three teenagers, he frowned.

“Can I help you kids?” he said, stepping past them to the keypad but making no move to hit any numbers.

“I hope so,” Susan Carol said, both the smile and the drawl going full throttle. “I'm stayin' with my uncle this week for the U.S. Open, and for some reason I can't get this keypad to work.”

So far, she had told the truth.

“What numbers are you pressing?” the man asked.

“It's 7-5-5-7-0-8-0-6,” she said.

The man smiled. “Well, that
was
the right number,” he said. “Until today. The code changes the first of every month.”

Stevie almost groaned out loud. Today was September 1.

“Who's your uncle, anyway?” the man said.

“Brendan Gibson,” Susan Carol said. “He's in apartment 14A.”

The man nodded. “I know who he is. I live in 10A. I heard that girl tennis player mention him on Letterman the other night. I didn't even know he was an agent.”

“That girl tennis player is me,” Evelyn said, appearing reenergized. She was smiling with wattage that matched Susan Carol's.

The man peered at her for a second and did a double take. “My God!” he said. “That
is
you! You're Evelyn…”

“Rubin,” she said.

He snapped his fingers. “Right!” He started to punch the buttons on the keypad. “So where is Brendan?”

“Got stuck in a meeting out at the tennis center,” Susan Carol said, prepared as always. “He said to meet him here.”

The door was buzzing. “The September number is easy,” the man said. “It's 2-4-6-8-8-6-4-2. I'm Todd May.”

They shook hands and Susan Carol introduced Stevie as they walked inside. “And what's your connection here?” Todd May asked.

Before Stevie could answer, both girls said, “He's my boyfriend.”

Whoops. Todd May laughed and patted Stevie on the shoulder as they got on the elevator. “That's nice work, Stevie,” he said.

Stevie breathed a sigh of relief that Todd May hadn't decided to question the girls' faux pas. He appeared completely dazzled by both of them. He shook hands again when the elevator got to 10. “Good luck tomorrow, Evelyn,” he said. “Now that I've met you, maybe I'll root against Symanova. Tough, though, after what she's been through.”

“You're right,” Evelyn said. “If I wasn't playing her, I'd feel the same way.”

He waved again as the door mercifully closed.

“You guys just about blew it by not letting me answer a question he asked
me,
” Stevie said to both of them.

“He's right, you know,” Evelyn said.

“He is…on occasion,” Susan Carol said, unable to resist a smile as they reached 14.

As soon as they were inside the dark apartment, they began flicking on lights. “Let's spread out,” Susan Carol said. “Stevie, you take the bedroom. Evelyn, you check the kitchen and the dining area. I'll look in the office.”

Stevie headed into the master bedroom. The bed had been made, but that told him nothing. The room was very neat, except for the night table next to the bed where the phone was. There were books stacked up on it and what looked like a contract. Stevie picked it up and began to look at its contents. There was a cover letter on top, explaining to Gibson that the enclosed was a proposed contract for Evelyn Rubin. He noticed the swoosh logo on the top of the letterhead. Picking through the pages of mostly unreadable material, he finally came to a paragraph that was in boldface type: “In return, The Company will pay The Player the amount of $2,000,000 the first year; $3,000,000 the second year; $4,000,000 the third year; and $5,000,000 the fourth year.” Stevie gasped. Apparently Gibson had been telling Evelyn the truth about the offers he was getting for her. One paragraph was circled: “Player agrees to play at least twelve(12) tournaments each calendar year.” Stevie wondered how Evelyn and her parents would feel about that. He was starting to read the paragraph about bonuses for being ranked in the top ten, the top five, or number one, and for winning major championships, when he heard Susan Carol calling.

Clutching the contract, he walked quickly into the room Gibson used as an office. Susan Carol was holding a yellow legal pad in her hands. “Look at this,” she said, handing him the legal pad. It was covered with what appeared to be phone numbers and little notes. Stevie noticed one that said “Call Manhattan Café for rez.”

“The Manhattan Café—that's where he was supposed to meet you for lunch, right, Evelyn?” Evelyn nodded.

“That's not it,” Susan Carol said. “Look at what he circled at the top of the page.”

Stevie looked up and saw an address that had been circled: “25 E. 10th—apt. 4B. 5 p.m. DC: 83325A.”

“The question,” Susan Carol said, “is why did he write this address down and
when
did he write it down.”

“And what does ‘DC' stand for?” Evelyn asked.

“I'm betting it's a door code to get in the building,” Susan Carol said.

“So what now?” Stevie asked.

“Let's check his phone messages,” Susan Carol said.

Brendan Gibson had one of those old-fashioned answering machines. It was right there on the desk next to the phone and the notepad. Susan Carol began playing back the messages. There were sixteen and they were in reverse order—the last one to come in playing back first. They went through messages from Evelyn and the Makarovs and a number of people they didn't recognize. The last message—the oldest one on the tape—was the most intriguing.