Vanishing Act (22 page)

Olmstead took them to a box halfway up in the stands in a corner of the court with a perfect angle to look down at the two players. He gave Dowling the seat locations for the Symanovs and Norwood. Dowling nodded and told him he and Ades would stop Symanova in the tunnel coming off the court. “We'll need a female officer there,” he said.

“I understand,” Olmstead said.

“This is awful for women's tennis,” Gibson said as they sat down. He was in the back corner of the box, hat pulled over his head to ensure that no one in the stands might notice him.

“If Evelyn can win, she might be just what the women's game needs,” Susan Carol said.

“I'm not sure she even wants all this attention,” Gibson said. “She's still just a kid.”

The two players walked on court at exactly three o'clock to thunderous applause. “This feels like a final,” Gibson said. “Only bigger.”

Both players looked nervous when the match began. But after the first few games, each seemed to find a groove. Rubin was moving Symanova around, trying to extend the points, making her run as much as possible. Symanova was using her power—especially on her serve—to try to end the points quickly. The momentum swung back and forth.

Down six games to five and serving at 30–all, Evelyn tried a drop shot that Symanova got to and crushed into the corner. Set point for Symanova. The huge crowd was silent for one of the first times all afternoon. They had taken turns screaming for Symanova and then for Evelyn. They couldn't seem to make up their collective mind about who they wanted to see win. Evelyn twisted in a serve and Symanova attacked, coming to net behind a forehand. Evelyn lifted a lob and the crowd gasped as Symanova backpedaled, preparing to hit an overhead. But the lob was so deep, she had to turn and chase it down. She sent a backhand across the net, but Evelyn had surprised her, coming to net herself. She picked off the shot and flicked a perfect volley into the corner. Set point saved. Then Evelyn won the next two points in rapid succession to make it 6–all in the set. Tiebreak.

Then the
tiebreak
went to 6–all. Evelyn netted a nervous forehand. Set point Symanova. Stevie's heart was in his throat. After all they had done, was Symanova still going to win—and
then
go to jail? The stadium was silent. Evelyn, bouncing on her toes, moved in a half step when a Symanova backhand landed a little short. She took it on the rise and cracked a backhand that Symanova never even moved for. It hit just inside the line. Seven–all.

Now Symanova got nervous and
she
netted a forehand. Set point for Evelyn. The two teenagers stood at the baseline exchanging ground strokes. Finally, Evelyn went for a crosscourt dink. Symanova managed to run it down, but her lunging forehand sailed wide.

“Game and first set Rubin,” the umpire said. “She leads one set to love. Second set. Rubin to serve.”

Gibson was on his feet screaming along with the rest of the crowd—until Susan Carol reminded him to cool it. Mike Lupica had been right, this match was the gorgeous victim against the girl next door—or so the fans believed—and the crowd loved them both.

Still, the second set was all Symanova and the crowd got fully behind her—clearly wanting the match to go to three sets. Symanova's power seemed to be wearing on Evelyn. Symanova broke Evelyn's serve at 4–all and then served the set out, winning 6–4. Stevie had thought the noise at the Final Four was as loud as he had ever heard. This felt louder.

The third set was filled with remarkable shots and exchanges but each woman managed to hold serve until Symanova broke to lead 3–2. It looked over for Evelyn. But this time she broke right back, seeming to find an extra reserve of energy. Both players then held serve for 4–all.

The match had now gone on for almost two and a half hours. Symanova was taking more time between points. It seemed like she thought she had the match won when she had broken Evelyn's serve. But Evelyn breaking her back had thrown her and now she was trying desperately to regroup. Evelyn held to reach 5–4 again after hitting a drop shot that Symanova couldn't get to. Suddenly, Evelyn was one game from winning the match.

“In the first set, she gets to that ball,” Gibson said. “Symanova's tired. I think she may be done!”

Not quite. Serving at 4–5, Symanova summoned all her strength and held again with an exquisite backhand down the line that was
on
the line. Five games each. Then they each held serve for 6–all.

They would play another tiebreak. The tension was unbearable. The crowd was on its feet now for every point. It sounded more like a football game than a tennis match. People were shrieking
during
points, causing others to shush them, but it was hard to hold back.

As the tiebreak began, Olmstead reappeared. Stevie had almost forgotten about the impending arrests. “We're all in position,” he said. “Both players will be interviewed on court when the match is over—loser first—so there's time for you to get down to court level. I've got an elevator standing by for you.”

“Thanks,” Dowling said.

The third-set tiebreak was like the first-set tiebreak—only more excruciating. Evelyn had a match point at 6–5 but netted an easy forehand. Then Symanova had a match point of her own at 7–6, and just as she had done behind her first-set lob, Evelyn surprised her, coming to net and putting away an easy volley on a forehand that Symanova floated.

“Can you believe she had the guts to do that?” Susan Carol said. “She's amazing.”

It went to 10–all and Evelyn attacked again, coming in behind a serve to set up a forehand volley for a winner. It was 11–10—her third match point. They had been playing almost three hours. Stevie remembered the intensity of the final seconds of the national championship game at the Final Four. But this felt
more
tense because it was taking
so
long.

Symanova served. Evelyn had to lunge to return and her backhand came back short. Symanova closed and hit a backhand volley that was just a tad tentative. Evelyn ran it down in the corner and lined up a forehand as Symanova waited at the net. “Crosscourt!” Gibson screamed. “Go crosscourt!”

Symanova seemed to read his mind and moved a step to the right to cut off a possible crosscourt shot just as Evelyn uncorked a bullet straight down the line. Symanova lunged back—too late. The ball flew past her and landed cleanly inside both lines.

“Game, set, match Rubin!” The umpire was shouting to be heard.

The stadium had exploded in sound. Symanova, shoulders slumped, waited for Evelyn at the net. They hugged. On a TV monitor in the box, they could see Symanova was crying. It appeared Evelyn was too.

“Come on,” Dowling said, already on his feet. “We need to move.”

They hurried out of the box and Olmstead led them to an open elevator. They went straight to the basement and sprinted through the hallways toward the tunnel leading to the court. There were two more cops, both women, waiting for them at the top of the tunnel. They all ran down the tunnel, stopping just short of the entrance to the court. The crowd was still standing and cheering for both players. CBS had Bill Macatee on court for interviews. Macatee was talking to Symanova. The interviews were piped throughout the stadium, so they could hear loud and clear.

“Nadia, I know this is a heartbreaking loss, but after what you've been through this week, to play in a match like this, you deserve cheers—win or lose,” Macatee said. The crowd erupted—the applause was staggering.

“This has been a long, long week,” Symanova said over the noise. “Evelyn played
so
well.” She paused as the crowd cheered again. “I am happy to be part of a match like this, just sad that I lost.”

“Well, we know you'll be back,” Macatee said as the crowd cheered lustily again. Symanova waved, blew kisses, and cried some more. Someone had picked up her racquets for her. She headed for the tunnel, the crowd growing even louder as Macatee moved over to Evelyn.

Symanova was surrounded by four security guards as she reached the tunnel. The ones in front of her moved aside when they saw Dowling. “Nadia Symanova?” he said.

Symanova was clearly surprised to see her security people allow someone to get so close to her. “Yes. What is it?” she asked.

“Ms. Symanova, my name is Peter Dowling,” he said. “I'm with the FBI.” He flashed his badge. “You are under arrest for conspiring to kidnap Brendan Gibson and for conspiring to fake your own kidnapping.”

Stevie suddenly noticed that a CBS camera that had been following Symanova as she left the court was recording the scene. But they weren't on live because he could hear Macatee talking to Evelyn Rubin.

“You are now, officially, America's newest sweetheart,” Macatee said as cheers broke out again.

Stevie didn't hear Evelyn's answer, because Symanova was screaming at Dowling. “What?! You are completely crazy! Where are my parents? Where is my agent? They will straighten this out, and then it will be trouble for you.”

“You'll see all of them shortly,” Dowling said. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to put handcuffs on you. You're accused of a federal crime. You will be charged as an adult. It's the law.”

Even in sneakers, Symanova was still the tallest person in the tunnel. For a split second, Stevie thought she might try to bolt past everyone. Instead, she began crying uncontrollably as Dowling gently put the cuffs on her. He turned to the female police officers. “Take her to the holding room with the others,” he said. “Then we have to figure out how to get them all out of here.”

The cops nodded and led Symanova up the hallway. The cameraman tried to follow, but the security men stopped him.

Rubin was wrapping up with Macatee and taking her star turn around the stadium before exiting. Dowling's cell phone rang and he walked up the hall to answer it. That left Stevie, Susan Carol, and Gibson as the welcoming committee. Evelyn went straight to Gibson. “I'm so proud of you!” he said as they hugged.

She was crying. When she saw Stevie and Susan Carol, she gave them each a very sweaty hug. “I don't know how I can ever repay all of you. Where's Mr. Dowling? I want to thank him too.”

“Right here,” a voice said behind them. Dowling was walking back down the tunnel with Olmstead.

“Have you got everyone?” Gibson asked.

Dowling shook his head. “No, not everyone,” he said. “Ms. Rubin, congratulations.” He wasn't smiling. Stevie was baffled.

“Sir, we've got everyone in custody,” Olmstead said. “Everyone you told us…”

Dowling held his hand up. “I know, officer. Your guys were great. Stay here a minute, will you?

“That phone call was from my office. It took a while, but we finally figured out who owns the apartment where you were being held, Mr. Gibson.”

Stevie saw a look of panic come over Brendan Gibson's face.

“You—you did?” he said.

“You want to tell her or should I?” Dowling said, looking at Evelyn. Gibson said nothing.

“The apartment is owned by ISM—Integrity Sports Management,” Dowling said.

Evelyn and Susan Carol both shrieked at the same moment. Stevie was too shocked to say anything.

“You staged your kidnapping—just like Symanova did,” Dowling said. “We also did a records check on the cell phones of the two men who were holding you. There were two calls from your cell phone number to one of them. One was Wednesday, a couple hours before Stevie was pulled off the subway. They told us they were given cash to beat Stevie up and, later, to hold you. The second call was Friday. Of course, they had no idea that it was
you
who told them to hold you.”

Evelyn and Susan Carol both had tears in their eyes. “Uncle Brendan?” Susan Carol asked. “Are you behind this whole thing?”

“No, no,” he insisted. “I mean…” His shoulders slumped. “What I told you in the car was the truth. I didn't know anything about the original fake kidnapping until the Makarovs brought it up on Monday. Then I
did
get involved with SMG. I was going to get a five-million cut. But when Evelyn started playing so well…” He stopped. “Maybe I need to talk to a lawyer.”

“You saw a chance to have it all, didn't you?” Susan Carol said, her eyes now flashing with anger. “You knew Evelyn could win the match, but you wanted the Symanovs completely removed from the stage—even if she lost. So you staged your kidnapping to make sure they would go down. They could deny it, but it would all fit. After all, they'd already staged one kidnapping.”

“And then you have
both
big stars—Evelyn and Makarova,” Stevie picked up. “It was a no-lose situation for you. Five million would be peanuts compared to what you would make if the two of them made the quarters.”

“So you really
needed
me to win,” Evelyn said, now grasping the whole thing.

“You set it up so we would find you, didn't you?” said Susan Carol.

Gibson hung his head.

“You left the address in your apartment where you knew I'd find it. How about the message on your phone? Who left that?”

Gibson broke. “My assistant, David Salk. He also left the note with a guard to be put in Evelyn's locker today.”

“Where is he right now?” Dowling asked.

“I honestly don't know. Probably at our office.”

Dowling gave Olmstead instructions to pick Salk up. “You almost pulled it off,” he said to Gibson. “I'm going to have one of the police officers read you your rights now.”

“I have one more question,” Susan Carol said as Dowling was handcuffing Gibson. “What was that apartment for?”

“For clients who want a quiet place to stay and not be hassled. We hid the ownership to make it completely private—not as well as I thought we'd hidden it, apparently.”

He looked at Rubin. “I'm sorry, Evelyn,” he said. “I just got carried away by the thought of making millions. I let you down.”