The Edge (8 page)

‘Get in before anyone sees you,’ Phillips barked. ‘We have to talk.’

Jake agreed.
What the hell
. . . He opened the door and climbed into the car.

A
s soon as the door closed, Jake started to feel edgy. Phillips pulled out of the complex and into the traffic, then drove south out of the town along the main street.

‘Where are we going?’ Jake asked.

Phillips didn’t take his eyes off the road. ‘Somewhere we can talk.’

When they took a turning, Jake recognised the road as the same one he’d driven along with Veronika the day before. As they passed the sign for Saddleback Swamp, Jake noticed that police tape still blocked the track.

‘Sure was a pity about Pedro,’ Phillips said.

Jake couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

‘Yeah,’ he replied.

They stopped at a truckers’ diner about three miles from the complex. ‘This’ll do,’ Phillips said.

Jake was glad to see a couple of the tables occupied by
truck drivers, one just with coffee, the other eating his way through a mountain of pancakes covered in maple syrup. Phillips wouldn’t try anything here.

They walked along to a table at the far end, and sat facing one another in a booth. The waitress came to take their order. Phillips went for coffee; Jake ordered an orange juice.

‘Have you thought about my offer?’ Phillips asked.

Jake shrugged. ‘I wasn’t aware you’d made one.’

Phillips smiled as the waitress brought their drinks.

‘I’ll be straight with you, Jake,’ he said, spooning three sugars into his cup and stirring slowly. ‘You’re a good-looking kid. Exactly the kind of face we want supporting the LGE brand.’

‘Thanks,’ Jake said, wondering where this was heading.

‘I could get you a one-hundred-thousand-dollar grant by next week,’ Phillips said. ‘How does that sound to you?’

It
sounded
great, Jake thought, as he sipped his juice. ‘What’s the catch?’

Phillips took a slurp of his coffee, and dabbed his lips with a napkin. ‘I’d want a fee, of course,’ he said. ‘Y’know, for oiling the wheels.’

‘A fee?’

‘Say ten gees.’

‘Ten thousand dollars, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

So there it was. A simple backhander. Jake leant back in his chair and made a show of thinking about it.

‘A hundred would be just the start,’ Phillips continued. ‘Perform well, and you’d be getting ten, twenty times that much on an annual basis. We’re talking millions.’

‘And you’d get a per cent?’ Jake asked. ‘For doing nothing?’

Phillips finished his coffee, his jaw tensing. ‘Do I look like a crook to you?’ Jake guessed the question was rhetorical. ‘I’d come on board in an official capacity. Like an agent. You’d need someone to handle all that kind of stuff for you. Protect you from people who’d take advantage.’

Jake almost laughed out loud. Dodgy deals went on all the time in football. Backhanders, tapping up, agents playing one club off against another. He didn’t doubt that Phillips could deliver on his promises, and the thought of all that money . . . He suddenly remembered what Otto had said to him just before he died – about not upsetting the moneymen.

‘Did you make this same offer to Otto Kahn?’ he asked.

Phillips took a deep breath through his nose, and steepled his fingers in front of his face. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

Jake didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s just say I want to know who I’m doing business with.’

Phillips leant in closer. ‘Too many questions can be dangerous.’

Jake held his stare until the waitress arrived at their table.

‘Can I get you anything else?’

Phillips shook his head, still eyeballing Jake. ‘Just the check, please.’

After he’d paid they walked outside into the heat. The wind had picked up, kicking little dust clouds around the parking lot.

‘What do you say?’ Phillips asked.

‘Let me think about it,’ Jake replied.

Phillips opened his door. ‘Well, don’t think too long. Some of the other kids have already agreed, and the door won’t stay open forever. There are only a limited number of grants available.’

Jake climbed into the car. If it wasn’t so far, he would have walked back to the camp. He’d spent about as much time with Phillips as he could handle.

As soon as they were in the car, Phillips tuned the radio to some awful country music station. Jake was glad he didn’t have to make conversation. When they were a couple of hundred metres from the complex entrance, Phillips braked.

‘You’d better get out here,’ he said. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would we?’

Jake tried to smile. ‘No, I guess not.’

As he closed the door behind him, Phillips leant over to the open window.

‘Whatever you decide,’ he said, ‘this conversation never happened. Understood?’

Jake nodded. ‘Understood.’

When Jake got back to the camp, he went straight to the dorm block. He was surprised to see Veronika standing outside the door to the building.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she asked. ‘I was worried to death.’

‘Where’ve
I
been?’ said Jake. ‘We were supposed to meet at the exhibition, remember?’

Veronika frowned. ‘I thought you said
after
the exhibition.’

Had he said that? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure. ‘I hunted everywhere for you,’ he said.

‘Obviously not,’ she said. ‘I was in Maria’s room.’

‘She said she hadn’t seen you since this morning.’

Veronika blushed. ‘I meant Stacey, not Maria.’

‘I rang your phone,’ Jake said, not willing to let it go.

‘Well, there must have been no signal.’ She tossed her blonde hair and flashed Jake one of her killer smiles.

Jake was sure the hair-toss-smile combo was her way of
ending a discussion. She wasn’t a good liar, but Jake guessed if she wanted to keep something private that was her business.

‘Anyway,’ she said, looping her arm through Jake’s and leading him away from the dormitory, ‘you’ll never guess what I found out.’

‘If it’s half as good as what I got from Phillips, I’ll be amazed,’ he said.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘You go first.’

As they wandered aimlessly around the complex, Jake told her everything, from following Phillips to the kiss with Dr Chow. By the time he got to Phillips’s illicit offer in the diner, her mouth was gaping.

Veronika paused and turned to face Jake. ‘You’re sure he wasn’t just offering to be your agent?’

‘No way,’ Jake said. ‘He said he wanted a ten grand cut for putting me on the list. That’s what we call a bung in my country.’

‘I never did like that guy.’ Veronika started walking again.

Jake jogged to catch up. ‘Now your turn.’

‘My meeting with Krantz wasn’t quite so dodgy, but I did find out some interesting details.’

‘Go on,’ said Jake.

‘Well, Krantz himself didn’t have any time for me at all. I waited in his office for fifteen minutes, and then he came in
and said he had back-to-back meetings for the rest of the day – but I managed to get some time with his secretary beforehand. She said Krantz has a lot riding on Olympic Advantage. Ninety per cent of the funding for the camp comes from sponsorship, right?’

‘Like LGE,’ Jake put in.

‘And Ares Sports,’ Veronika said. ‘They’re one of the biggest companies of sports merchandising in the world. Mostly in Asia at the moment, but spreading fast. Don’t you think it’s weird they don’t have a bigger presence here?’

‘I guess so,’ Jake said. ‘I thought they were like a silent partner.’

‘Turns out that Ares have it written into the contract that Olympic Advantage must produce three medal-winning athletes within one year,’ said Veronika.

‘You mean athletes who are happy to promote Ares Sports,’ said Jake, smiling. ‘And if they don’t?’

‘Then Krantz is in a world of trouble.’ Veronika cast a furtive glance around, then lowered her voice. ‘While I was in his office, I checked a couple of drawers. It looks like Krantz has lots of debts. I think Olympic Advantage might be his last chance. If Ares pulls funding, he’s got nothing.’

‘Are you sure the secretary won’t tell Krantz you were
sniffing around?’ Jake asked, realising they were back at his dormitory, right where they had begun.

Veronika grinned. ‘I promised to have a knockaround with her ten-year-old daughter. Anyway, it seems like Krantz is a desperate man.’

‘It doesn’t explain why he might want to kill anyone, though,’ said Jake.

‘Not yet,’ Veronika admitted. ‘But there’s a lot of money up for grabs around here. It’s like sharks to blood.’

Jake immediately thought of Igor Popov, and his reptile eyes.

‘Vron,’ he said. ‘Your stalker – you need to be careful.’

She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Jake took a deep breath. ‘I’ve met him before – it’s Igor Popov, isn’t it?’

Veronika’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Jake said. ‘But he’s dangerous.’

‘He’s just a fan.’ She took a few steps away from Jake. ‘Harmless.’

‘You should tell Krantz.’

‘Please, Jake. Stay out of it.’ Veronika’s phone rang and she checked the screen with a frown. ‘I gotta go. Catch you later.’

Jake watched her jog away, speaking into the phone.
While she was inside the complex, he doubted Popov could do much harm. So the Russian was a fan of tennis as well as football! But Jake knew he was a fan of money and power most of all.

Veronika turned and waved when she was a hundred metres away, still with the phone to her ear. Jake couldn’t shake his suspicion that Veronika had something to hide.

He headed to his room, trying to fit the pieces together. Was it money that had got Otto and Coach Garcia killed, or had Phillips taken offence to Garcia hassling Dr Chow?

As he approached his door, he heard what sounded like someone shouting inside then a crash. He quickened his steps.

In the room, Tan was standing over his bed, angrily shoving clothes into his suitcase.

‘What’s going on?’ Jake asked.

Tan jumped over the bed, eyes ablaze, and shoved Jake hard in the chest. ‘You could not keep mouth shut! That’s what!’

‘Hey, calm down,’ said Jake, raising his hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Liar!’ Tan shouted. ‘I have visitor an hour before. Dr Chow.

She tell me she has no choice. End of programme for me.’

‘Wh-why?’

‘Why you think?’ spat Tan, going to the drawer beside his bed and pulling out a packet of pills. He threw them at Jake, and they hit the wall beside his head. ‘
Someone
tell her about my knee.’

Jake had never seen Tan so angry. He’d seemed like the most easy-going guy at camp. Had that just been an act?

‘I didn’t say anything to anyone,’ Jake protested.

Tan lunged at him again, this time getting his hand on Jake’s throat and pushing him up against the door. ‘You not tell truth!’ he shouted.

Jake was a good six inches taller than Tan, and he guessed about twelve kilos heavier, but Tan was damn strong. Jake started to gasp. ‘Get off me!’ he croaked, but Tan only pressed harder.

Jake had no choice. He delivered a low rabbit-punch to Tan’s gut. The decathlete doubled over with an
oomph.

‘What the hell?’ Jake sputtered, creating distance between himself and Tan.

Tan stalked back to the bed. He drew the zip round his case, not looking at Jake. Then he yanked it off the bed and made for the door.

Jake stepped aside. ‘Tan, wait . . .’

Tan turned on him, and shoved him viciously back into the wall.

‘I not forget this, Jake Bastin,’ he said.

Jake heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor, and the front door slam.

T
he next morning Jake was still shell-shocked by Tan’s departure. He grabbed an energy bar and a few bananas from the canteen for breakfast, but decided not to hang around. Maybe he was being paranoid, but everyone – not just Oz and his goons – seemed to be staring at him and whispering.

I’m sick of all this
, Jake thought.
All I want to do is play football. At least I’m good at that.
Jake was beginning to think that Olympic Advantage was all about money. And Tan’s departure had only darkened the dark clouds hanging over the camp.

Jake decided to head over to the football pitch. Maybe a kick-about before practice would raise his spirits. As he passed the dorm block, he saw that his bedroom curtains were closed.
Weird
, he thought.
I’m sure I left them open.

Had Tan come back? Jake checked his watch, and saw
he was going to be late, but something told him he’d better check it out. He jogged back to the dorm.

As Jake slipped in his key card and opened the door, he found the room cast in semi-darkness. Almost at the same time a sweet smell hit him. He flicked on the light.

‘What the . . .?’

Tossed over his bed were a dozen bottles of Olympic Edge, all empty. The contents were soaking through the bedsheets and pooling in technicolour puddles on the floor. Someone had thrown all his clothes out of the wardrobe. They too were covered in the drink. Tan. Had he been angry enough to do something like this?

Jake walked further into the room, taking in the mess. He saw that someone had scrawled
No more questions
on the mirror in marker pen. Jake frowned. That didn’t make sense – Tan didn’t know anything about his investigations, did he?

Jake felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and a split second later the wardrobe doors burst open. Out shot someone wearing a black hoodie and jeans, with a scarf pulled up over half his face. Jake tried to grab his arm, but the intruder shook free, and landed a glancing punch on Jake’s jaw that snapped his head back and filled his vision with white. Jake fell backwards over a chair, and crumpled by the window.

He climbed to his feet as the guy bolted out of the door.
Jake lunged forwards but stumbled into the door frame; the punch had knocked him dizzy. He came out into the corridor and saw the attacker whip round the corner. Too tall to be Tan. A couple of other athletes were lounging at the end of the hall.