Vanishing Act (10 page)

10:
WILD-GOOSE CHASE

JUST AS
they had done the day before, they walked to West End Avenue, where Susan Carol whistled down a cab. They pulled into the small circular driveway of the U.N. Plaza Hotel at precisely eight-thirty and found Tom Ross standing right behind the doorman who opened the cab door for them. “I figured I'd meet you guys out here,” he said. “The security is so tight around here, they won't even let you in the lobby without a key.”

He was already dressed in his agent's uniform and tightening his tie every few seconds, which Stevie had now decided was a nervous tic. He led them through the revolving doors and then explained to the security man inside the door that the two teenagers were, in fact, with him. “Just visiting for a little while,” he said, as if the security man actually cared.

“You guys had breakfast?” he asked. “I'll buy you breakfast if you want.”

“We're fine,” Susan Carol said. “We just need some idea of how to get to the agents' suites.”

Ross was nodding and shaking his head all at once. “Okay, okay, I told Bobby I could help you with that. But there's a limit to how
much
I can help you. I can get you guys upstairs to the floor where all the suites are, but once you're up there, you're on your own. I can't exactly go waltzing into another agency's suite.”

“That's all right,” Susan Carol said. “We have a plan.”

“We do?” Stevie said. She hadn't said a word to him in the cab, so this was news to him.

“You mind if I ask what it is?” Ross said. “Because you can't just wander in with those computer bags slung over your shoulders.”

“We'll ditch the bags in your suite,” Susan Carol said. “And then we'll pose as junior players. They hold a tournament here next week for the juniors, right? We'll just say we came in early to watch the first week and we wanted to learn more about agents for down the line.”

Ross was shaking his head before she had finished. “Won't work,” he said. “Bobby said you guys are fourteen, right?”

“Almost fourteen,” Stevie said.

“Okay. The point is this: there's no way a top junior is unknown to the agencies by the time he or she is thirteen—especially the girls. You go in there claiming you're junior players, they'll ask your names, look you up, and know you're phonies.”

“What if we just give them the names of real junior players?” Susan Carol asked.

“Won't work. Chances are good someone in every one of those suites will have seen those kids play. You need a better idea.”

Susan Carol put her hands on her hips and for a minute Stevie thought she was going to get angry with Ross. They were standing near the elevator bank now, people whizzing by them, some of them carrying racquet bags. Most of those who appeared to be players, Stevie noticed, were wearing headphones to shut out the world around them.

“What about this?” Susan Carol said. “We can be someone's relatives.”

“Like who?” Ross said. “It would have to be someone they don't represent because they'd know about brothers and sisters of their clients.”

“How about Evelyn Rubin?” Susan Carol said. “My uncle is her agent. They won't know much about her.”

Ross looked surprised. “Gibson is your uncle? Kelleher didn't tell me that. Wow. Is it true he's got the Makarovs wrapped up?”

Susan Carol's eyes flashed again. “
No,
it's not true.”

“Okay, fine, just a rumor,” Ross said, hands up in defense. “Being Evelyn's brother and sister could work. She's not a big name yet but everyone in the business knows she has potential. That's worth a shot. Tell them you're looking for Pete Lawler. He's their lead recruiter for up-and-coming girls. He'll know who Evelyn is. They'll be nice to relatives of hers for sure.”

“Why would they want to be nice?” Stevie said. “Doesn't she have a contract with Susan Carol's uncle? Why do we tell them we're hanging out in SMG's suite?”

“Because Gibson doesn't have a suite,” Ross said. “Look, contracts mean nothing in the agent business. There's almost always a way out. Trust me, I've been on both sides. Even if there's not, no one ever has a contract for more than three or four years. At some point, she'll be on the market again, and if she keeps getting better, everyone will be after her. She's got what we call ‘upside,' because if she becomes a good player, she can make a lot of money off the court.

“She's fifteen, right? How old are you guys going to be if someone asks? You certainly can't pass for twins.”

Stevie didn't know if that was an insult or not.

“I'll say I'm sixteen—people always think I'm older than my age—and Stevie can be thirteen,” Susan Carol said. “Big sister and little brother.”

Stevie was a little hurt that he had to be his real age while Susan Carol pretended to be older. But there was no doubting the fact that she could easily pass for sixteen and he could easily pass for thirteen—in part because he
was
thirteen.

“Tell me one more thing,” Ross said, now walking toward the elevators. “What are you hoping to find out up there?”

“Gossip,” Susan Carol said. “Rumors. See if anyone in the SMG suite says something they shouldn't. See if they
really
think it was the SVR or if they've got other ideas. If you were them, wouldn't you be wondering about a ransom note by now?”

“I'd be wondering a lot of things,” Ross said as the elevator arrived.

They got in and Ross put his key card into a slot and pressed a button for thirty-six. “If you want, I'll take you into our suite and you can get something to eat or drink first and see what the setup looks like,” he said. “They're all about the same.”

Susan Carol shook her head. “Just point us to SMG. That's where we need to go.”

When the elevator reached thirty-six, they all got off. As it turned out, there were signs pointing to the various agencies' suites. “That's so players or families know where to go,” Ross said, reading their minds. “We're down here to the right. Your guys are all the way down the hall in the end suite. They always get that one to show off. It has the most spectacular view.”

They thanked Ross for his help and he took charge of their computer bags. He told them he wouldn't be heading to the tennis center until late morning and they could find him in the Octagon suite when they wanted their computers back. “Be careful,” he said as he shook their hands. “I know Bobby thinks all agents are evil, but these guys are a different level. They're the best because they're the most ruthless.”

Stevie felt a little chill go through him. As usual, Susan Carol appeared to be totally calm. As they walked down the hall she said quietly, “Remember, we're brother and sister, so act like you like me.”

“I
do
like you,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I'm the one who's angry.” She almost smiled when she said it. Stevie decided that was a good sign.

The doors to the SMG suite were open wide. An attractive blond woman sat behind a large desk, talking on the phone as Stevie and Susan Carol walked in. Even from across the room, Stevie could see that the suite had a spectacular view of Manhattan, looking west. The woman on the phone was wrapping up her conversation. “That's right, there will be four tickets at Will Call for you in our box in the stadium for the night session.” She paused for a moment. “No, Agassi played last night.” She shuffled through some papers. “Sharapova's playing the first match tonight, and then James Blake plays after that. It should be great tennis.” Another pause, followed by a frown. “No. We haven't heard anything new.” More talking on the other end. “Yes, it certainly is terrifying. It's been on TV nonstop. My boss is walking in, Mrs. Andreu. We're all excited about Matthew playing his first match tomorrow. If you need me for
anything,
please call.”

She hung up and took a deep breath. “Long morning,” she said, smiling at them. “Players' parents. They're all concerned about what happened. Anyway, how can I help you?”

As always, Susan Carol took the lead. “My name is Susan Rubin and this is my brother Steve,” she said. “You may know our sister, Evelyn? She beat Maggie Maleeva yesterday. We were supposed to be meeting her now to go out to the tennis center but she just called”—she held up her cell phone for emphasis—“and said she's running late coming back from a hit and suggested we might come up here to get a drink or something. She said to tell Mr. Lawler who we were.”

If the woman was skeptical about this story, she didn't show it. Stevie was trying to figure out exactly what a hit was, but evidently it made sense to the woman. “Pete's actually in a meeting right now, but I'm sure he'd love to say hello if you guys are going to be here for a few minutes,” she said. “In the meantime, of course you're welcome to come on in and have something to eat. We've got a nice buffet set up. My name's Melissa—if I can be of any help at all, let me know.”

Stevie had to give Tom Ross credit: he knew the people in his business. The mention of Evelyn Rubin seemed to work wonders. Stevie never would have guessed that a company as powerful as SMG would be that fired up about someone ranked forty-eighth in the world. Apparently he was wrong.

“Thanks so much,” Susan Carol said, shaking hands with Melissa, who then offered her hand and a smile to Stevie. As often seemed to happen to him when Susan Carol was charming someone, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

“Um, hi, Steve,” he said.

Melissa nodded, smiled again, and then picked up the phone that had mercifully started ringing again.

Stevie followed Susan Carol into the suite, which appeared to have one huge room, surrounded by doors leading elsewhere. There were two open doors leading to bathrooms and two closed doors leading into what were no doubt meeting rooms. A number of people, including several players, were sitting on couches listening to headphones or sitting at small tables that had been set up near the buffet.

“Let's get something to eat,” Susan Carol said quietly. “Then we can sit down and keep our eyes and ears open.”

“I still don't know what we're looking for,” Stevie said.

“Me neither. Let's just try and look like everyone else.”

She was leaning down so she could speak softly to him and her hair fell across his shoulder. She pulled it back and smiled at him. For a split second he wanted to tell her about the Makarovs and her uncle, but he decided just as quickly this wasn't the time or place. Then again, he wasn't sure he'd ever find the right time or place to break her heart.

The buffet had enough food on it to feed a small country. Stevie simply could not turn down French toast, so he put a couple of pieces on his plate and poured some syrup. He put some eggs carefully on the side of the plate and then tossed three strips of bacon on top of the eggs. He glanced at Susan Carol, who had taken a small portion of eggs and an orange juice. “Ravenous again?” she said as he put his plate down on an empty table and went back for orange juice. They sat down and looked around the room. Stevie recognized no one. It had struck him the day before in the players' lounge that even though he thought he knew a fair bit about tennis, there were very few players he actually recognized. There were 128 players in each singles draw, so it would be next to impossible to know half of them, much less all of them.

There were TV sets positioned around the room, tuned to different stations. On CNN, one of the anchors was interviewing someone who was identified as an “SVR expert.” On MSNBC, Don Imus was talking to Sally Jenkins of the
Washington Post,
who was describing her visit to Symanova's home in California earlier in the summer. On the third set, Matt Lauer was talking to the Symanovs about their daughter. “We are grateful for all the concern people have shown,” Misha Symanov said. “We pray for the best.” Yolanda Symanova had tears in her eyes as she spoke, and at one point Lauer leaned over to give her a comforting pat on the leg. Stevie noticed that at the bottom of the screen in small lettering were the words “Taped earlier today,” meaning, he figured, this was probably the second time this morning that NBC had aired the interview.

Susan Carol noticed him staring at the TVs. “All Nadia all the time,” she said. She had that right.

Stevie was digging into his French toast when he heard Susan Carol make some kind of hissing sound to get his attention. He looked up and saw Hughes Norwood walking toward them. Stevie almost choked on his food. Norwood walked up, glanced at Stevie's plate, then turned to Susan Carol. “Melissa tells me you are Evelyn Rubin's sister and…little brother.”

“Why, yes, we are,” Susan Carol said, cool as ever. “I'm Susan and this is Steve.”

“
Very
nice to meet you both. I'm Hughes Norwood,” he said, surprising Stevie by actually smiling. He shook hands with the two of them. “You are
always
welcome here, throughout the two weeks. And please tell Evelyn to feel free to stop by anytime she wants. I think Melissa told you Pete's in a meeting right now, but if you're here for a few minutes, I'm sure he'd love to say hello.”