Cover-up (23 page)

He pulled the door open and followed her in. The box was packed. Some people were sitting in the bar and seating area, eating and drinking and watching the game on a large-screen TV. Others were up front in the seating area, watching the actual field. Stevie could see the scoreboard. There were under seven minutes to play in the third quarter and the score was still 16–7.

“Hey, Susan Carol,” Stevie heard a voice say from the corner of the room. He almost groaned when he saw who it was: Jamie Whitsitt. He walked over to the two of them, a smile on his face. He put out a hand to Stevie. “Hey, dude, I read what you guys wrote this morning. Awesome stuff.” He looked at Susan Carol. “Been calling you all day.” He was whispering, as if not wanting to be heard.

“I called you back,” she said.

He shook his head impatiently. “I'll bet you're looking for Shupe. He's standing over in the corner of the box watching. He's a nervous wreck.”

Now Stevie was really baffled. How could Whitsitt possibly know they were looking for Mike Shupe? He could tell Susan Carol was thinking the same thing. “How…why would you think we're looking for…”

“Because you're smart,” Jamie said. He smiled—dreamily, no doubt—and looked around again. “Go talk to him. Before you leave, though, come talk to me. He's the reason I've been calling you.”

“I already know he fired me. Is that what you want to talk to me about?”

“No,” Jamie said. “I need to talk to both of you. Trust me. I'm not wasting your time.”

That was strange. Both of them? They looked at each other.

“Let's go talk to Shupe,” she said. “There's a time-out.”

Stevie saw the clock had stopped at 4:41. The Dreams had just stuffed the Ravens' floundering offense again and had returned a punt to their own 36.

“I'll be here when you're done,” Jamie said as they started to walk toward Shupe.

Stevie had no clue what Whitsitt could want. For now, they had to focus on Shupe. He was standing in a corner of the box by himself. When he saw Susan Carol and Stevie coming, he threw up a hand as if to say “stop.”

“Not now, Susan Carol,” he said. “Have your father contact Tal Vincent tomorrow. I'm not having this conversation in the middle of the Super Bowl.”

“That's not what this is about,” she said. “We want to talk to you about Don Meeker.”

Stevie saw Shupe's face flush. They had hit a nerve.

“What the hell would I have to say about Don Meeker?” he said, his voice hushed because there were people close by.

“Maybe you could explain why you told him that Eddie Brennan was a source on our story,” Stevie said, deciding to take a chance. “When we write about it, you'll be outed for changing the course of the Super Bowl, not to mention for being in the pocket of a team owner. How do you think the other thirty-one owners will feel about that?”

“Not to mention never being able to set foot in Los Angeles if the Dreams lose this game because Eddie didn't play the first half,” Susan Carol added.

Another roar went up. Stevie looked down at the field and saw Troy Slade being pushed out of bounds on the Ravens' 19-yard line. The Dreams were close to scoring again.

“Walk outside with me,” Shupe said. “I'll give you sixty seconds.”

He walked quickly through the box and out onto the concourse. When he started talking, his face was red.

“You have it wrong,” he said. “You can't prove a thing. You accuse me of anything like that, I'll sue you and so will Meeker.”

“We've got sources….”

“Screw your sources. I didn't tell Meeker a thing.”

“You
did
talk to Meeker, though,” Susan Carol said. “You were the one who set up the two interviews.”

“So? What does that prove?”

“Why are you leaving USTV?” Stevie blurted.

“What?” They had caught him off guard again. “Who told you that?”

Susan Carol could also see they had surprised him. “Doesn't matter,” she said. “We know it's true.”

Shupe stared at them for an instant. Then he waved his hand at them. “You've got nothing,” he said. “Screw you both. I'm going back to watch the game.”

He yanked the door open and walked back into the box.

Stevie and Susan Carol looked at each other. “Now what?” Stevie said. “He's right. All we've got is Tal Vincent implying Shupe was the one who told Meeker. That's not even on the record. There's no way to prove what he and Meeker discussed.”

The look in Susan Carol's eyes said he was right.

“Actually, there is a way.”

Stevie looked up and saw Jamie Whitsitt standing there. He must have come out right after Shupe left.

“What?”
they both said.

“Follow me,” Whitsitt said. “We need to find someplace quiet.”

23:
GOING FOR TWO

“
THERE
IS
NO PLACE QUIET
,”
Susan Carol said. “This entire building is packed.”

“Except for our studio downstairs,” Whitsitt said. “There's no one in it right now.”

He was right. But what in the world could he possibly tell them? What could he know about all this? And yet he had somehow known they were looking for Shupe.

“If we're going, let's go fast,” Stevie said. Another hanging monitor showed the Dreams' kicker lining up a field goal from the 25-yard line. If he made it, the score would be 16–10.

“Can you give us some idea what in the world this is about?” Susan Carol said as they walked to the elevator.

“Patience,” he said. “Trust me, it will be worth your while.”

They rode in silence down to the locker room level. Because the hallway leading to the locker rooms had been blocked off in anticipation of the game's end, they had to circle the long way to get to the USTV studio.

“You know I'm quitting after the game,” Jamie said at one point.

“You are?” Susan Carol replied.

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm not cut out for this. I don't know sports, and if it wasn't for you, I'd look like an idiot every show.”

Stevie thought that sounded pretty accurate but just managed to stop himself from saying so.

There was a guard at the door when they finally reached the USTV studio, but he moved aside when he saw Jamie and Susan Carol.

“You guys aren't watching?” he asked in surprise.

“Just have to do something real quick,” Susan Carol answered.

The guard shrugged. They walked into the dark, empty room and Whitsitt found a light switch. There was a round table just to the left of the set. They all pulled up chairs.

“Okay, Jamie, please tell us now, what gives?” Susan Carol said.

“Hang on, sweet girl, let me tell you the story,” he said. “Only take me a minute. You're gonna hug me when I'm done.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Stevie said—on this he couldn't hold back.

Jamie laughed. “Easy, dude. I know she's your lady. And no offense, Susan Carol, but you're too young for me.”

“Okay, okay,” Susan Carol said impatiently. “Where is this going?”

Whitsitt nodded. “You weren't around when Tal first heard we had to interview Meeker. He wasn't happy because he had that list of questions we had to ask—you remember that?”

“Of course,” Susan Carol said.

“Anyway, I asked him why we had to do it, if the questions were going to be so dumb. He just said, ‘That SOB Shupe.' I was like, ‘What? What's Shupe got to do with this?'

“He laughs and says to me, ‘Dude, he's got everything to do with this. Five million bucks a year worth.'”

“He said ‘dude'?” Stevie asked.

“Shut up, Stevie,” Susan Carol said.

“Anyway, I didn't ask him what that meant. To be honest, I wasn't all that curious. We did the interview, and after you left I said to Vincent that I didn't know much about TV, and I know less about football, but that was awful. He said, ‘You got that right' and just walked away.

“So, Saturday, I was here doing my ‘Rockin' Look at the Big Game' piece—you know, Susan Carol?”

“Yes.”

“And when I left here Saturday, I forgot my tape recorder—left it sitting right on this table. This morning, I woke up and realized I'd left it here. I use it a lot to record bits of songs, or lyrics. Plus—as you've noticed, I'm sure—I have a bad memory, so I can use it to remind myself of stuff. I just turn it on and say, ‘Call Susan Carol at ten.' Or, ‘lunch with Steve at noon.'

“So today, when I realized it was gone, I came over here to get it. Got into the building no problem—told them where I was going and what I was doing. Got in here, the tape recorder was sitting right where I left it. Someone had delivered the morning papers on the table and I saw all the headlines about your story. So I sat down to read.”

He paused and smiled at Stevie. “Dude, you probably don't think I know how to read, do you?”

Before Stevie could answer, he plowed on. “Sorry, I digress,” he said. “I'm almost done reading the story, sitting right here when the guard—Josh, he's a good guy—comes in and says, ‘Jamie, Mr. Shupe and Mr. Meeker are headed in here. You might want to clear out.'

“I'm like, no kidding, I better clear out. Then I think, hang on, Jamie, this has to be connected to the story you're reading. Shupe is clearly
real
tight with Meeker, I already know that from Tal. So I look at this tape recorder, and I have this crazy idea. I turn on the player to record and leave it on a chair. I figure, why not? From what I just read, Meeker is a
bad
dude, and it seemed kind of suspicious that he and Mike Shupe were skulking down here to talk….”

Stevie and Susan Carol were both wide-eyed now. “That was…unbelievably quick thinking,” Susan Carol said.

Whitsitt smiled. “I have my moments. So I ducked out the back way and took a walk. I waited like half an hour, then came back. Josh said they'd been gone for ten minutes.”

“And?” they both said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his micro-recorder. “There's twenty minutes of stuff, but there's only about two minutes you need to hear.”

He put the recorder on the table and pressed a button. They could hear Don Meeker's voice loud and clear.

“…So there's no doubt it was Brennan. He didn't even try to deny it when I outed him at breakfast. Good tip on that. I'm sure his doctor pal Arciero's the one who got them the test results.”

“He would have access?” Mike Shupe's voice was just as clear.

“Yeah. That was my mistake. But it's taken care of. The doctor who heads up the lab will explain that there was a mix-up in the samples and the testing was faulty.”

“That's great. So can we use that in the interview today?”

“No, Adamson will talk on Monday.”

“Why?”

“Because the banks are closed on Sunday. God, Shupe, are you planning on questioning me once you come to work for me?”

Stevie and Susan Carol both gasped.

“No, no—I've got five million reasons to be agreeable.”

“Don't forget it,” Meeker snarled. “So we're clear, then? On what I need to say in the interview with you?”

“Yeah, I've got the questions.”

“And you'll fire the girl today.”

“Yes.”

“Good. She'll be hiding under a bed for the next five years.”

“What about Brennan? You bench him, he's bound to talk publicly.”

“Fine. We'll just say poor Eddie got bad information from the docs. He believed it and made a terrible mistake. After George wins the game for us today, no one will care about him anyway.”

“You really think Jeff George can win the game?”

“You kidding? The only reason Kaplow didn't play him all year was to prove he knows more about football than I do. George can still throw it eighty yards in the air.”

“Huh. What about CBS? You going to do them too?”

“Have to. They told me they were going to interview the kids, so I need to defend myself, keep them honest. Then tomorrow, this Dr. Adamson at the lab says it was all a terrible mistake. The league has no choice but to drop it, and the Lombardi Trophy sits in my office.”

“The kids' story is completely shot down.”

“And the kids with it,” Meeker added.

Whitsitt leaned forward and stopped the tape. “The rest is them making plans for after the game,” he said. “You heard the important part.”

Susan Carol jumped out of her chair and hugged Whitsitt. Even Stevie had to admit he was entitled.

“Told you you'd hug me,” he said, smiling.

“We need that tape,” Susan Carol said.

“All yours,” Whitsitt said, pulling it out of the recorder. “And you highbrow journalists always protect your sources, right? I just want to go back to L.A.”

Susan Carol nodded and laughed and then hugged him again. Stevie shook his hand and even put an arm around him in thanks. Jamie Whitsitt was about as unlikely a hero as he could imagine, but he was—without question—the hero of the day.

“I'm going back upstairs to watch the end of the game,” Jamie said, looking up at the muted TV monitor in the corner. “Looks like it might be a wild finish.”

Stevie had almost forgotten the game. He looked at the monitor. They were just going to commercial. The teams had apparently traded field goals. The Ravens were leading 19–13 with just 4:21 to go in the game.

They walked back into the hallway, and Whitsitt said his goodbyes and headed for the elevator.

“Let's go watch the end from the field,” Stevie said.

“We can do that?”

“Uh-huh. Andy Kaplan told me CBS personnel can go out for the last five minutes.”

They made their way to the tunnel, which was now filled with security people. The CBS badges were magic. No one said a word. They came out of the tunnel into a wall of noise. Stevie had been on the field throughout the week, but that had been with no one in the stands. Now the building was full and the noise seemed to be coming straight down at them from all sides.

“Let's go over on the Dreams' sideline,” Susan Carol said over the din.

“Will we be safe there?” Stevie asked, following her anyway.

“They won't even notice us at this point.”

She was right. Everyone's focus was on the field.

Play had been stopped for the two-minute warning. Stevie could see that the Dreams had a first down on the Ravens' 31-yard line. It felt as if the pregame show had ended about fifteen minutes ago. Only it hadn't. The game was three and a half hours old and it now appeared likely it would be decided on this drive. The Dreams needed a touchdown—and the extra point—to win. Anything short of that and the Ravens could run out the clock. According to the scoreboard, the Dreams had one time-out left.

The sideline was crowded with photographers and security people, but they all had to stay five yards back from the playing field. Stevie and Susan Carol were able to slip just in front of them and had a perfect view of the field.

They walked to about the 25-yard line and could see Eddie Brennan consulting with Coach Skyler Kaplow a few yards away during the time-out. Loud as it was, Stevie could hear Kaplow, who was yelling to be heard.

“Check at the line,” he was saying. “See what you've got, make your call. If you
don't
like it, we've got a time-out left. Don't be afraid to use it.”

“‘Check at the line' means Eddie calls the play at the line of scrimmage,” Susan Carol said. That was what Stevie had figured. Normally he would have made a wise-guy comment about having been to a football game before, but Brennan was trotting back out and the noise had gone to another level, so he didn't bother.

Brennan stepped into the huddle, said about three words—Stevie guessed they were “check with me”—and the Dreams came to the line. Brennan looked the defense over and shouted instruction in both directions. Stevie could see his center, Bill Bryant—one of the HGH Five—pointing in several directions. Brennan took the snap, started to drop back, then slipped the ball to tailback Omar Nelson. It was a draw play.

Nelson had a huge hole. He motored to the 16 before he was taken down. Somehow the noise got louder. The clock ticked away. The Dreams appeared to be in no hurry. “What they want to do is score and not give the Ravens time to come back and get a field goal,” Susan Carol yelled. This time he
was
annoyed. He knew
that
. What he didn't know was what he wanted to see happen. Part of him couldn't help but root for Brennan. But he knew he should root against the cheaters. And the thought of Meeker holding the trophy almost made him ill.

Brennan was shouting another play. This time he dropped straight back and waited for the Ravens' rush to come. Just as Terrell Suggs and Ray Lewis looked as if they were going to bury him, Eddie lofted a screen pass to Nelson in the left flat. The play had sucked the Ravens in perfectly. Nelson had blockers in front of him. For an instant, Stevie thought he would score. But Ravens linebacker Bart Scott came sprinting across the field and somehow pulled Nelson down on the 3-yard line.

It was first and goal. Four tries to go three yards. The clock ticked to under fifty seconds. Still no time-out called by either team. Stevie wondered if the Ravens might call one to give themselves a chance if the Dreams scored. But he could see they only had one left too, and they clearly wanted to save it in case they needed it for a last-second desperation drive.

Brennan checked at the line again. Ben Fay, the team's other tailback, was now in for Nelson. Brennan took the snap, stepped left, and then pitched the ball to Fay running wide. Again, Stevie thought he might score. But two Ravens chased him down and wrestled him to the ground just outside the 1-yard line. The clock continued to run, ticking toward twenty seconds. Coolly, Brennan came to the line, took the snap, and spiked the ball to stop the clock with sixteen seconds left.

“Two plays to try and go one yard,” Susan Carol said.

“They have a time-out, so they can run or pass,” Stevie said. “That helps them a lot.”

Brennan looked quickly to the sideline. Kaplow merely circled his finger as if to say, “Keep doing what you're doing.” Brennan nodded and brought his team to the line. Brennan shouted to his teammates, struggling to be heard over the noise. This time he faked to Nelson, who dove into the line as if he had the ball, and then lofted what looked like a perfect pass to tight end Marcus Arlington in the back of the end zone. Brennan's arms were in the air as soon as he released the pass. But just as Arlington gathered the ball in, Ravens cornerback Chris McAlister slammed into him. The ball popped loose.