SUDDEN DEATH

Michael Balkind

Pittsburgh, PA

SUDDEN DEATH

ISBN 1-56315-404-8
978-1-56315-404-1

Trade Paperback © Copyright 2007 Michael Balkind
All rights reserved
Library of Congress #2007923580

Request for information should be addressed to:
SterlingHouse Publisher, Inc.
7436 Washington Avenue
Pittsburgh, PA 15218
www.sterlinghousepublisher.com

Pero Thrillers
is an imprint of SterlingHouse Publisher, Inc.
SterlingHouse Publisher, Inc. is a company
of the CyntoMedia Corporation

Cover Design: Brandon M. Bittner
Image Provided By: IStockphoto.com
Interior Design: N. J. McBeth

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or any other, except for brief quotations in printed reviews— without prior permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and places, are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

“Michael Balkind intrigues golf enthusiasts far & wide with his first suspense novel. Wrought with danger, mystery and a bit of golf, this page-turner will keep you on the edge of your seat”
Country Club Quarterly Magazine

“Sudden Death spins a tangled web of murder and golf that’s as mysterious and fun as the game itself.”
Tom Coyne Author of A Gentleman’s Game, Paper Tiger: An Obsessed Golfer’s Quest to Play with the Pros, A Course Called Ireland

“I couldn’t put it down. Anyone who loves golf will love Sudden Death.”
David Yoho Management Consultant, Professional Speaker, CPAE Speaker Hall of Fame

“Tee-rrific first outing by a promising author.”
Brian Moss Former Editor, NY Daily News Express

“Sudden Death is one of those books you pick up, and don’t put down until the last page. Sudden Death is a hole in one.”
Conrad L. Ricketts Executive Producer Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

“Sudden Death, gives a whole new insight into the game of golf. This thriller has hit a hole in one!”
Randy Jurgensen Retired N.Y.P.D. Detective and Author of Circle of Six

“Superb Read! Could not put it down. Golf references are spot on. Great story line...Balkind should be congratulated.”
Kenneth S. Francella

President, Global Investment Research, Inc.

“I don’t golf, but I found myself totally involved with the characters. Michael’s writing style had me in the middle of the action and kept me there to the end.”
Frank DeAlto Retired NYPD Sargeant

“Michael knows his golf and his murder. This is the perfect mix of golf and suspense. The game is a mystery, as we all know, but Sudden Death makes it a bigger, better mystery. A great read!”
Dave Berner Host of Travelgolf.com This Week radio show

“Sudden Death is a direct hit! A Hole in One with crisp, tight action boldly mixed with flesh and blood characters that jump out at you from the page. An excellent read from the opening shot to the very end!”
Kurt Bryan Author of The Game Breaker & The Double Move

“Sudden Death is a gripping story of terror on the tour that keeps the reader engaged throughout. You feel like you are walking the fairways while looking over your shoulder like Reid Clark, as you play through chapters 1-36. A great read!”
Jeffrey H. Edwards President, DeForest Enterprises, Inc.

“In his first novel, Michael Balkind has crafted a suspenseful thriller that uses many familiar Westchester County references.”
The Met Golfer Magazine

Acknowledgements

There were many people who helped me get this book from the

original draft to what it has become today. I want to thank Marlene Fisher and family for their help with the original editing. Marlene, your kind words and editing capability gave me hope in the beginning. Your insight helped me turn that original pile of dreck into a story with publishing potential.

I want to thank all those who helped edit this novel: Bill Greenleaf, Nancy Ellis (my Agent), Jennifer, Megan and everyone else at SterlingHouse who helped bring life to this project.

To Howard Bruck, my very good friend and golfing partner. Your critique with the golfing information in the book was excellent. For a computer guy you sure have an eye for the written word. Thank you.

Thank you to all my friends who helped with ideas along the way, especially my extended family at Alure Home Improvements. Sal, Carl, Bob, and Mike — without your support I never would have been able to complete this project.

I want to thank Joan LaMorte, aka my Mom, who seems to believe in me no matter how hair-brained my ideas sometimes are. Mom, you watched, listened, and as usual gave your opinion every step of the way with this project. For someone who always says ‘I wish I could do more for you,’ your support and encouragement help keep me writing. You could not do any more than that for me.

To Betsy, Hunter and Reid, my beautiful children, you each added so many words, sentences and ideas to this book that sometimes I think you guys deserve more credit than I do as the author. You are the reasons for everything I do and I'm so proud of each of you.

To my wife Greer, who has supported me through many questionable endeavors. I could not have written this book without your daily help. Reading each chapter as it was written. Letting me know when I was on track and otherwise. This project is a celebration of my love for you. Thank you for being you.

Dedications

I would like to dedicate this book to Hermenia Mann, my mother-in law. Half way through this project she revealed to us, her family, that she has cancer. Not just any old cancer, mind you, this was a very rare, smallcell, aggressive cancer. Watching this woman fight through her ordeal was truly an inspiration to me. First, she survived through a botched surgery. Then she conquered four heavy chemotherapy sessions. Then pulled through another surgery where they removed most of her insides. We watched her turn from a kitten to a Tigress. Her attitude alone probably scared the cancer right out of her. Hermie, it’s a good thing they made all that extra room inside you, because it’s obvious to all who know and love you that your heart is so big, it needed the extra space. I dedicate this book to you and your new beautiful hair. Love ya.

I would also like to dedicate this book to Jack Nicklaus, a true Master of the game of golf, who retired as I was writing this book. You will be missed by many as we watch our favorite game on the weekend.

Finally to two of my cousins whose lives were taken far too early while I was writing this book:

Jim Runsdorf: Although I didn’t know you very well, the outpouring of love as your friends spoke at the Celebration of your Life made me wish I did. New York misses you.

And to Benjamin Balkind: Always the polite, dapper, well spoken gentleman at family gatherings. You are loved and missed.

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36

Chapter 1

Plunk. The unique sound of Reid Clark’s golf ball hitting the bottom of the cup was, without question, the most satisfying sound he could hear. But in this case, he had to settle for the roar of the massive crowd as he sunk his 12-foot putt, winning his sixth PGA tournament this season. The intense pleasure, undeniably the best high a professional golfer can experience, was surging through Reid.

Another win in his pocket, another cool million in his bank account. No longer was money the goal. Now it was the win, only the win. The adrenaline rush was all consuming.

After the trophy presentation, Reid wanted to get back to the hotel. He quickly changed in the locker room, doing his best to avoid the press and the crowds. Nothing irritated him more than cameras flashing in his face.

He made it all the way to the parking lot before a paparazzo jumped out from between the cars, almost hitting Reid with his lens before snapping his picture. Enraged, Reid reached out, snatched the camera and launched it over his shoulder. The photographer watched in horror as his camera smashed onto the pavement.

Consumed with fury, Reid pushed the paparazzo. “Maybe next time you’ll stay a little further away.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” yelled the photographer as he returned Reid’s shove. As Reid wound up to hit the guy, his arm was grabbed at the top of his

backswing. Holding Reid’s arm in his vice-like grip, Buck Green, Reid’s agent,

muttered, “Down, boy! Walk away now!” It took a moment, but Reid drew a lung-filling breath and slowly let it escape through his nose. All the while, his eyes were fixated on the paparazzo in an evil stare. He turned abruptly and walked away with Buck to their car.

“Man, you certainly know how to ruin a good day, don’t you?” Buck seethed.

“Fuck you. You know, sometimes you’re just like my mother, you don’t know when to stop.”

“You bastard! I just saved your ass from another probable law suit, and this is the thanks I get?” “Why can’t the paparazzi just stay out of my way?” “Because it’s their job, and you need to smarten up and get used to it already.” Buck turned to look around. “I only hope no one saw it this time. Let’s get out of here.”

Several hours later, the bright flash of the camera in Reid’s face was more than he could tolerate. He reached out, grabbed the paparazzo’s camera and tossed it over his shoulder. Seeing the photographer’s eyes quickly grow wide, he turned in time to see the camera smash through the windshield of a passing Rolls Royce.

Reid woke with a start. Damn! he thought. Déjà vu in a dream, how strange. The dreams had been haunting Reid for a couple of months. Lately, after waking abruptly from a bad dream, he would lie in bed analyzing it, trying to figure out what was bothering him. He had a constant nagging feeling that something terrible was going to happen. He searched his memory for past events that could be haunting his subconscious. It had to be that anonymous e-mail sent to the Inner City Sports Foundation (ICSF), a charitable foundation Reid and Buck had started. It read “ICSF has a new meaning — I can see a fatality.” The e-mail had been declared a hoax by The Internet Fraud Complaint Center. Everyone but Reid had been able to forget about it; he felt personally threatened, and the feeling wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t just the nightmares; his typically high stress level was becoming unbearable at times. His tolerance of even small irritations, which was normally minimal, had practically dissolved.

He looked at the clock: 4 a.m. His sleep had been restless; he was over flowing with anxiety. It was a travel day. He had to be at the airport by 5:30, which meant leaving the hotel by 5. What a life, he thought. Why is everyone so envious of the golfer’s life? It’s not fun! In fact, he contemplated quitting every day. (The word that people used was retiring, but he knew better). The next thing he knew, his phone was ringing and someone was banging on his door.

Damn , he thought. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” he yelled. Buck just kept knocking until Reid opened the door.

“Good morning, bright eyes,” Buck grumbled with an irritated look. “Read it and weep,” he said, forcing a bundled newspaper into Reid’s chest as he pushed by him into the suite and sat on a bar stool. “Sit down and listen to this call.”

Buck’s dominant air annoyed Reid. He thought, How early did he wake up? We were both out partying until 1 a.m., and here he is showered, shaved and immaculately dressed in pressed slacks and a blazer. Even the shine from Buck’s bald head, diamond stud earring and bright white teeth were too much for Reid to handle in his barely awakened state. At least the cigar in Buck’s hand was unlit.

With a deep breath Reid held back his anger, watching curiously as Buck pushed the buttons on his cell phone, then held it to his ear. Reid could hear the ring of the phone from where he sat on the couch.

“Hi Jay, it’s Buck, sorry to wake you so early. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time for chit-chat. We got another e-mail threat last night and I’d like you to check it out. This one gets a little personal. Now they’re threatening me and Reid. Hold on and I’ll read it to you.” Buck lifted a piece of hotel note paper and read: “Remember my last e-mail, you know, the one that said ICSF means I can see a fatality? Well, let’s add two more new meanings; REID now means - Reid’s life will soon End In Death, and the new meaning for BUCK is — Buck Ultimately Can be Killed. Are you guys sweating yet? Am I ruining your day, gentlemen? Ahh, revenge is soo sweet. Good luck in Augusta boys.”

Buck listened, then spoke again. “Yeah, I’m with Reid now. We’re heading down to Augusta in a little while. We have an endorsement meeting, then of course the Masters... Great, thanks Jay. I’ll be waiting for your call.... Alright, you too. I’ll have Cathy Biggers forward you the e-mail. She’s our e-mail administrator. Evaluating every message we receive has become a full time job for her and an assistant...I know, but we have no choice. I’ll talk to you soon. ‘Bye.”

Reid slowly shook his head and said, “Great, just what I need, more stress. As if finalizing the endorsement deal and the Masters weren’t enough? Now another threat!”

“Put it out of your mind for now,” Buck said as he stood up. “It’s noth ing.” “If it’s nothing, why did you call Jay Scott?” “Because I run everything by him. He’s a good friend and the best private investigator in the country. He’ll clear this up quickly. We’ll be fine. Let it go.” Reid crossed his arms and let out a sigh. “Go get ready and meet me out front at the limo in an hour.” Buck

spun on his heels and walked out. The phone was ringing again. Reid knew Buddy, his caddie, would continue to call until he answered it. On edge, he lifted the receiver and barked, “I’m up, I’m up. I’ll see you in Augusta.”

He slammed down the phone and threw the newspaper on the coffee table. The nagging ache that had been in the back of his mind was now consuming him. Buck was totally irritating, but he also was right; Reid had to put the e-mail out of his mind. This stuff happens to top athletes and celebrities all the time, right? Still, as a very successful PGA golfer, having been on the tour for six years now, he was at the top of his game with earnings more than $30 million and endorsement contracts topping $40 million. He had already won six tournaments this season and was favored by many to win the Masters. Why, then, was he so worried? If Buck could dismiss the emails so easily, why couldn’t he?

After showering and dressing, he grabbed a comb and ran it through his wavy dirty-blond hair. No matter how often he combed his hair, it always had that windblown look. As he looked in the mirror, his crystalblue eyes gazed back. He laughed at what he saw. Sun bronzed skin, strong chiseled cheekbones, tall lean 210-pound body with a tight washboard gut. He had the body of someone who worked out every day, when, in reality, all he did were a few occasional sit-ups.

Women were attracted to his rugged good looks. His fame and fortune probably helped, but he knew he could make women melt with his grin alone. Magazines had listed him as one of the sexiest men in the world. While he enjoyed the company of beautiful women, he felt they were a distraction to his career. He had time in his life for only one obsession.

Without complete devotion and concentration, his game could fall apart. Until recently, he had never stayed loyal to any woman. He had broken many hearts and left a trail of angry, scorned ex-lovers in his path. In fact, the jury was still out on his current girlfriend, Jennifer. Everyone else seemed convinced she was a golddigger. Only after the press ran a few stories about her extreme shopping sprees did he begin to agree. He wanted to believe she actually liked him more than his money, but it was getting more difficult every day.

He glanced at the clock; he still had 20 minutes. He picked up the newspaper with a little apprehension, wondering what Buck meant when he said, “Read it and weep.” He leafed through the paper until he arrived at the sports section. His entire body tensed as he saw a quarter page picture of yesterday’s scuffle with the photographer. “Shit,” he seethed through gritted teeth. He walked to the recliner, fell back and read: Will he never learn? PGA tour leader, Reid Clark, once again, proves his nickname, The Bad Boy of Golf, is right on the money. His unprovoked assault of Post photographer, Will Mendelson, was the last straw.

Reid chuckled. “Unprovoked, who are they kidding?” He continued

reading:

It is almost laughable that instead of a single lawsuit against Mr. Clark, we could probably start a class action suit. Mr. Clark seems to think it’s funny when he attacks unsuspecting reporters and cameramen, often destroying their expensive equipment. His abuse is often directed at other players on the tour, caddies, fans, girlfriends and the list goes on and on. Mr. Clark’s sexy looks and great athletic ability may earn him titles and money, but they do not earn him the right to abuse others. Mr. Clark’s one downfall, his uncontrollable temper, might eventually rip apart the empire he and his agent, Buck Green, have built. Good luck, Buck!

Reid sighed as he finished. Great, he thought. E-mail threats, bad press, what’s next? This should make my day with Buck lots of fun. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew the story was correct. His temper had been a problem ever since the death of his father when Reid was a kid. The media took advantage of his outbursts, never hesitating to play them up in the news.

Everyone who cared about Reid, especially Buck, pleaded with him to exercise more self-control. The PGA had already warned him that another incident might jeopardize his eligibility.

Usually, Buck could spin even bad publicity into profits, but not this time. This article could destroy their endorsement negotiations with Eagle later today.

He checked his watch. Time to go, he thought. Better not keep Buck waiting. I don’t want to add fuel to the firestorm I’m already going to get from him.

On his way out of the room, he thought about his relationship with Buck. As far as agents were concerned, Buck was the best of the best. Their friendship had grown over the years, as did their bank accounts. They had a mutual admiration for each other’s strengths. But, although they usually enjoyed the time they spent together, their relationship frequently was strained because they antagonized one another. Buck was sick and tired of Reid’s childish behavior. He was worried that Reid would bring on a damaging lawsuit, or worse yet, get kicked off the tour. Reid was fed up with Buck’s constant hen-pecking. He’d had enough of that from his mother while growing up. Sometimes he actually wondered whether or not Buck really cared about him at all or was only concerned with the money. Aside from their agent-client relationship, they were also partners in various business ventures. They had become a unique winning team over the past four years.

Chapter 2

Buck was waiting out front in the limo. As Reid got in, Buck shot him a sour look.

Attempting to avoid a heated discussion about the news story, Reid said, “That e-mail really spooked me. I haven’t told you, but I’ve been having nightmares since we received the first threat.”

“Not to be callous, my friend, but you need to put the e-mail aside. The newspaper article is what’s bothering me right now.” “Look Buck, I read the story….” Buck held up his hand, cutting Reid off. “Stop, I promised myself that we were not going to argue about it. Let’s just hope that nobody from Eagle reads the damn paper before our meeting. It could kill the whole deal.” Reid just lowered his head and kept quiet. Until he had opened the paper that morning, Buck had felt as exhilarated and anxious as a kid waking up on Christmas morning. He led an exciting life, but lately it had become mundane. He’d had his fill of famous celebrities, gourmet foods, the fanciest hotels, and more money than he knew what to do with, but none of it equaled the excitement of the deal, the negotiation, the win! He envied many of his clients in that manner. How lucky they were. They had the benefit of experiencing the emotional high of the win more often than he did. Days like today were what Buck lived for. How dare Reid tarnish the prospect of today’s possible victory!

Once again, Reid’s childish behavior was causing a problem. Although their relationship was very close, Buck resented Reid’s silver spoon upbringing. Yeah, Reid had grown up without a father, but unlike Buck, he had plenty of money. Buck had grown up dirt poor in a Bronx tenement. His family was tight and loving but they had nothing. They could barely afford enough food and clothing to survive. In Buck’s mind, Reid always had it easy.

Buck was really pissed off, but he hid his emotions. His internal furnace was raging. He felt the sting of the searing heat behind his eyes. He put his head back. He had been looking forward to this trip. A week with Reid and Eagle’s executive team meant he should be able to finalize the endorsement contract. Eagle, one of the world’s largest golf ball and equipment companies, wanted to close the deal with an $85 million contract. Buck was looking for $95 million. He was determined to enjoy this week… Damn Reid! Damn the article!

After an uneventful flight, they pulled up to the hotel a little before 11 a.m., which gave them an hour to settle in before the meeting. They checked in and headed to their suite. The elevator took them to the top floor where Reid slid his cardkey in the door and opened it.

“Very nice,” Reid said as he entered. He picked up the TV remote con trol and glanced into the two bedrooms. Each bedroom had its own bathroom. In the far corner of the living room, he saw a desk with a fax machine and a PC, in case they needed to access the Internet. Turning back to the media system, he pressed the remote’s power button to see what the system had to offer. “I’m going to get ready for the meeting. You should too,” said Buck. “Right.” Reid tossed the remote onto the couch. They went to their rooms and cleaned up. Reid dressed casually. Buck changed into his typical negotiating attire, a dark Armani pinstripe suit accented by a burgundy silk kerchief in his breast pocket and a matching tie. An antique tie pin and cufflinks added a sophisticated flair. The clothes, along with Buck’s barrel-chested frame, gave him a powerful aura. The commanding look made his less-than-average height barely noticeable.

They met back in the living room with a few minutes to relax before the meeting. Buck flipped through the channels - CNN, ESPN, ABC, back quickly to ESPN. “Oh shit,” he yelled. “Alvin’s doing it again. Why can’t he shut the fuck up when the press is around?”

Alvin Carey, one of his clients, was a basketball phenomenon. The problem was he spent as much time in the courtroom as on the court. It was the same with many of Buck’s superstar clients. When some athletes achieved rapid stardom and a matching income, self control became an issue. Adjusting to overnight success could be extremely difficult.

Somehow the media seemed to catch every instance when an athlete stepped out of line. Although conditioned to accept these issues, they annoyed Buck to no end. He knew at any time one of his clients was likely to end up in jail, potentially ending their career and therefore Buck’s earnings.

Buck was annoyed, but he didn’t have the time to think about Alvin at the moment. He stood, shut off the TV and said, “It’s time, come on, let’s go.”

In the elevator, Buck asked Reid for one favor. “Please, keep as quiet as possible and let me do my job! If you are asked anything about your other endorsement contracts, let me answer. They will be very kind but they also will be pushy and ask leading questions. Do not let them ruffle your feathers. It is imperative that you keep your cool! I’m serious, Reid. I know we can pull this off. They want you and they’ll pay the extra money. Just promise me you won’t ramble on or openly disagree with me. You believe in me, right?” Silence. “Right?” Buck asked again a little louder. “Cut it out, will you? This is your show, I swear. Now let’s go kick some

ass!” “Very good,” Buck said. They reached the first floor and found conference room 1A. The Eagle group had not arrived yet. Buck took his seat at the table and told Reid to sit next to him.

The door opened. Carl Hyman, a tall, dignified man with close cropped gray hair and a goatee, walked in with his team - six of them. Each wore a suit and tie. Everyone was introduced and took their seats. Buck shuffled some papers, put them down and looked around the room at each face. “Gentlemen, after months of negotiations between our attorneys, we are ready to join Team Eagle. But first I have a final offer to make. If I may add a small pun, let’s see if you have the balls to accept this deal.” All eyes were on Buck, especially Reid’s, which suddenly became very alert.

Buck said, “Here it is plain, straight and simple. If Reid wins this week, the contract will be $100 million. If he does not, it will be $70 million.”

Reid’s eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped. Buck saw him quickly straighten up and hoped the others hadn’t noticed his shock.

Murmurs spread through the room. The entire Eagle team looked at Carl with wide eyes.

Carl’s face showed no consternation or concern. He sat tall in his dark gray suit without giving away his feelings or thoughts, lightly stroking his goatee. His team fidgeted in their seats. Some sat back with looks of dismay.

“Could you guys give us a few minutes?” Carl said, looking at Buck and Reid.

“Of course, how much time would you like?” Buck asked as they walked toward the door. “Give us five minutes.” “No problem.” Buck checked his watch. As they closed the door behind them, Reid blew out a massive sigh of

relief. He looked at Buck. “I don’t know what to say.” “Good, then how about keeping quiet?” “Are you sure…?” Reid started. Buck held his palm up to stop Reid from talking. “I’m not sure of anything. Why don’t you go sit down over there by the window? I need to use the bathroom.”

Reid sat with mixed emotions of excitement and disbelief. Was there even a chance that they would sign him for $100 million? He sat for a few minutes and pondered the situation. Who did Buck think he was, pulling a stunt like that without warning him? On the other hand, what if they accepted the deal? Buck approached and said, “Let’s go in for the verdict.” Reid and Buck took their seats and looked around. Silence engulfed the room. Buck sat patiently, his eyes glued to Carl, waiting. Clearly, the ball was now in Carl’s court.

Finally, Carl burst out laughing. “So, Buck, you’re testing us to see if we have the balls,” he continued to laugh. “Well congratulations, you win the biggest balls award. No one has ever tried a stunt like this. I love it. If Reid wins the Masters, we pay an extra $15 million. If he loses, we save $15 million. The funny thing is, if Reid wins the Masters just before we start our ad campaign, our increased profits should be more than adequate to cover the overage.” Carl shook his head as he stared directly at Buck. “Buck, you are amazing.” Carl turned toward Reid, his brown eyes glowing. “Reid, I hope you know how lucky you are to have him representing you.”

Reid nodded anxiously as Carl looked around at his team, then back at Buck.

“Gentlemen, typically in negotiations like this, we would need at least a few days to make a decision, but Buck, your challenge works for us either way,” Carl announced firmly, placing both palms on the table. “Therefore… we accept!” The CEO of Eagle stood up and reached across the table to shake hands with Buck. “You’re good, Buck!”

Reid’s sigh of relief had been obvious to all. Carl shook his hand. “Welcome aboard, I’m looking forward to having you on our team. Gentlemen, let’s hear it for Eagle’s newest member and to his winning the Masters.”

After a quick round of applause and congratulations, Carl called down to the Atrium to check on their lunch. He hung up the phone and said, “Lunch isn’t ready yet. Let’s all go have a drink.”

Reid was in shock. He couldn’t believe it. He needed to sit for a short while. Buck said, “Come on, let’s go.” “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The room cleared and Reid just sat there. My God, he said to himself. He chuckled out loud as he thought, I have more money than I could ever spend in a lifetime. And to think, I wanted to play pro football. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to call his mother just to share the good news. He relished the thought that he had something to impress her with. He grabbed the phone and dialed. When she picked up he said, “Hi,

Mom.” “Oh my goodness, Reid, is that really you?” Joan Clark responded. “Yes, Mom, it’s me. How are you?” “Are you all right?” she asked without answering his question. “What’s

the matter? You’re in Augusta, aren’t you?” “I’m fine, Mom, and yes, I’m in Augusta. I just wanted to tell you the

good news.” “Are you sure you’re okay? You never call me.” “I know, I know. I just wanted to share what just happened here. I just had a meeting with Buck and the CEO of Eagle. Mom, they just agreed to a $100 million endorsement contract.”

“Oh my God!” she gasped. “Reid that’s wonderful…. Dear, promise me you’ll be careful. You know, that kind of money can bring about as much bad as good.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll be careful.” Reid smiled. It felt great to final ly have news that was good enough, even for her. Her unconditional love made him feel good, yet guilty. It also reaffirmed that what he was about to do was not only right, but necessary.

“Mom, there are two things I’d like you to do tomorrow. First, I want you to call your friend, I forget her name. You know, the real estate broker.” “Angela. Angela Stehlik. Why?” “Because I’m buying you a house, Mom. Have her start looking in the two million-dollar range.” He continued without giving her a chance to respond. “Then I want you to call your cousin Joe over at his dealership. I’m buying you a Caddy. No arguments, okay?” “Reid you don’t have to do this.” “Mom, I don’t have time to argue right now. Please make the calls, it’s

what I want. I will be up to visit as soon as I can. I’ve got to go.” “Oh honey, I’m so proud of you! Please come see me soon. I miss you.” “I promise I will. ‘Bye, Mom.” “‘Bye dear,” she said and hung up. He felt much better after the call. Okay, he thought, time to go join the

celebration. On his way, Reid stopped in the gift shop. He bought two thank-you cards, one for Buck and one for his mother. He filled Buck’s out quickly.

Walking to the Atrium, he briefly thought about Jennifer, his girl friend. He knew he should tell her about the endorsement soon. If she found out about it through the press, there would be hell to pay. Oh well, he would worry about it later. Now it was time to party!

A round of applause broke out as Reid entered the dining room. He walked to the empty seat between Buck and Carl, grabbed the nearest glass of champagne and raised it. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to make a toast. I want to thank you all and I want to commit to you that I will do everything possible to be the type of spokesman Eagle will be proud of.” He glanced at Carl, “Carl, I am very excited to work with you and your team.” Turning to face Buck, he said, “Buck, once again, you surprised me.” Looking forward at the group, he continued, “Folks, I had no idea what Buck had in store for you all at the meeting. What I do know is that you need to be prepared to write out the check for the extra $15 million, because I didn’t come to Augusta to lose.” He raised his glass a little higher. “Here’s to making Eagle enough additional money so that paying me will be a small expense. Thank you all.” He sat back down. The room erupted in applause and yells of, “Hear, hear.” Carl stood up next. “I promise I’ll keep this short.” “Hear, hear,” came from a member of Team Eagle with a chuckle. “Very funny,” Carl continued. “Reid, borrowing your expression, we didn’t come to Augusta to watch you lose. I am equally excited to work with you. Here’s to a long lasting, profitable relationship.” Again, “Hear, hears,” were babbled around the room. Buck stood up and said, “Well folks, time for an admission. I usually make it a habit of keeping my negotiation emotions to myself, but what you all witnessed upstairs was the most exhilarating as well as the most nerve-wracking half-hour of my life. Here’s to a winning combination, Reid Clark and Team Eagle.” A final round of, “Hear, Hears,” was said in unison. “Okay, let’s eat, this looks delicious,” Buck said as he sat down. Platters of mouth-watering salads adorned the table. While they ate Tarragon Lobster, Waldorf and Nicoise salads, a trio played various jazz and classical tunes on the far side of the room. Everyone was finishing lunch and things had quieted down when all of a sudden, a pretty young woman wearing a dowdy brown uniform barged in. “I’m looking for Reid Clark. I need his signature for a delivery,” she said forcefully.

All eyes turned to Reid, who slowly raised his hand and said, “Over here.”

She waltzed over, handed him an overnight envelope and said, “First open the letter. Then I need two signatures.” With a look of doubt, he asked, “You want me to open and then sign?” “Yup, those are my orders,” she said. He opened the envelope and took out a large card that had one word

on it: SURPRISE. The delivery girl immediately opened her shirt, exposing her large bare

breasts. “Please sign here and here,” she said pointing at each breast. The group cheered as the musicians played the appropriate music while the girl stripped and did a lap-dance for Reid. Reid’s face turned crimson, and he laughed along with the others.

When she finished her dance, the girl leaned over and gave Reid a big wet kiss and said, “Congratulations from Carl and the entire Eagle team.”

Reid laughed, gave her a pat on her ass and said, “Thank you.” Once again Reid stood up and said, “Thank you all. I can tell we are going to have a lot of fun together. I just hope the fun doesn’t get any more embarrassing.”

The luncheon came to an end, and as Buck, Reid and Carl left the room, Carl told the others, “Enjoy your afternoon; let’s meet back in the bar at 7:30 for drinks before we leave for dinner.”

Chapter 3

The message light on the phone was blinking as Reid and Buck entered the suite. Reid said, “You can check the messages; they’re probably all for you anyway. Oh, by the way, here.” He handed Buck the thank-you card, then went into his room and closed the door.

He sat at the desk and pulled out the card he bought for his mother. Leaning back, he contemplated what to write. A convoluted mixture of guilt and fear crept into his mind. He knew he needed to apologize for avoiding his mother, but at the same time, his recurring thoughts of doom left him with an empty feeling; what if this apology was too late? What if something happened to him before he had a chance to see her again? Overcome with worry, he reached up, put his hands over his face and rubbed aggressively, trying to erase the torment from his mind. That’s it, he thought, I have to change, I’m going to start being nice to people; Mom, my sisters, my fans, hell, even the press. It would definitely be better to have the press as friends rather than enemies. After a deep sigh, his mind shifted gears and he quietly chuckled. He thought how ludicrous his situation was. Here he sat, having negotiated an unbelievably huge endorsement contract and expecting to fulfill his lifelong dream of winning the coveted Green Jacket, and instead of elation, his brain was overwrought with dreadful thoughts. He groaned out loud and shook his head. I need to write this card, then go swim some laps, he thought. The cold water will shock this nonsense from my head. He was glad at least that he had invited his sisters to fly down and watch him play in the tournament. He leaned forward and began writing:

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to say thank you for everything. I know how difficult I was when I was young, but you were always there for me. I know lately I have been out of touch. I’m sorry. I am going to change that starting now. I love you! Reid He stuffed the card in the envelope and addressed it. He then quickly threw on a bathing suit and T-shirt, grabbed the card and walked out to the living room.

Buck was sitting on the couch with the phone at his ear and a scowl on his face. He looked at Reid and held up a finger, signaling that he would be off in a minute. Reid sat down and turned on the TV quietly as Buck yelled at Alvin Carey.

When Buck finally hung up, he turned to Reid and said, “Sorry, he just pisses me off. He is so damn talented but he just can’t keep it zipped up, his mouth or his fly.” Then he started to laugh. “Kind of sounds familiar, huh? By the way, one of the messages was from Jennifer. She asked if she could have another credit card with a higher limit, ‘cause the first one is tapped out.”

“What?” Reid yelled. “That card has a $15,000 limit. I’m gonna kill her.” Buck laughed. “I’m only kidding. She just asked you to call her.” “Very funny! I never know with her. I’ll call her later. Let’s go to the

pool.” “You go; I need to make a few more calls. I’ll be down soon.” Reid went to the lobby and asked the concierge to mail his mother’s card. He turned and walked out to the pool. The chairs on the sunny side of the pool were packed. Reid, not in a sociable mood, went to the shady side, removed his shirt and threw it on a lounge chair. He walked to the deep end and evaluated if he had enough room to do laps without swimming into the group of kids horsing around in the shallow end. If he stayed close to the edge, he could avoid them.

He tested the water with his toe, then dove in. He swam the length of the pool underwater, then surfaced and swam a few laps. On his third lap, he swam into one of the kids, who had carelessly jumped into Reid’s lane. Infuriated, he stood up to yell. When he noticed the whole group watching him, he quickly put his anger in check. Forcing a smile, he said, “Hey kids, what’s up?” He asked them all their names and said, “I’m Reid Clark.” “Duh,” goofed one of them, sending the others into hysterics. “Okay, wise guys. Who wants to race me across the pool?” A girl and the boy who had made the wisecrack came forward together and said in unison, “We do.” She was Samantha and he was Alex. They were cute kids with bright eyes and big smiles.

“Okay, everyone, if Sam or Alex beat me, you all get ice cream sundaes. If I win, you all get ice cream sundaes.”

“Cool, we win no matter what! Can we get autographs too?” another boy asked. “Sure, why not?” Reid said, thinking, Did I really just agree to that? By this time, the kid’s parents had gathered around. Reid whispered to one of the fathers, “Can you go to the front desk and ask them to bring a cart out with all the makings for ice cream sundaes? Enough for 30.” The father said, “Sure, Mr. Clark, but there are only 10 kids.” “Yeah, and each has two parents,” Reid said. The father said with a grin, “Wow, are you the same Reid Clark I’ve

been reading about?” He quickly added, “Sorry, only fooling.” “No problem, I’m pretty sure I deserved that. Hey, can I add one more

favor?” “Name it.” “Would you go to the gift shop and get a dozen golf balls, preferably Eagle, a dozen Masters or Augusta golf caps and a permanent marker? Charge it all to my room, suite 527. Okay?” “Of course, Mr. Clark, I’ll be right back.” “Thanks. Hey, get yourself a cigar too, that is, if you smoke ‘em.” “Wow, excellent! Thanks, Mr. Clark.” “Call me Reid.” Sam and Alex were ready to race. Reid joined them in the water, at the edge of the pool. He asked the other kids to count down from five to start the race. Reid planned to let one of the kids win. “Are you guys ready?” “Yes,” Sam and Alex said in unison. “Okay kids,” he said to the others, “let it rip.” “Five-four-three-two-one go,” they shouted. Reid pushed off nice and easy and started to swim. He immediately realized that he didn’t have to let Sam win. The girl was a fish. She was beating him easily. Trying hard to catch up, Reid finished about two strokes behind her with Alex right behind. He didn’t realize until he lifted his head out of the water that the race had drawn a large audience both at the pool and on the balconies. Everyone was cheering for Sam.

She was beaming from ear to ear. The other kids surrounded her and as she climbed out of the pool, they chanted, “Sammy, Sammy.”

Reid humbly walked over to her, shook her hand and said, “Congratulations, you didn’t tell me you were a mermaid.” Samantha giggled and said, “Thanks.” The ice cream cart arrived and the kids and parents had a great time

making sundaes. Reid signed the balls and hats and handed them out. He asked Sam and Alex to join him privately for a moment. “How would you two like to come watch the Masters Tournament as my guests, with your parents and families of course?”

They shrieked with joy. Samantha said, “Yes, Mr. Clark, we’d love to, thank you, thank you! Oh, by the way, we only have one family. He’s my brother,” she added pointing at Alex. “I should have known, the way you two say everything in unison.” Sam and Alex ran to tell their parents. Reid watched and heard their father exclaim, “Wow, really?” And with a quick arm pump he added, “Yes.” The father looked at Reid and mouthed thank you.

When Reid went back to his chaise lounge, Buck was almost asleep in the next chair. As Reid sat down, Buck mumbled, “Wasn’t that cute? I’m not sure what has come over you, but I think I like it. Just don’t get carried away; you still need an edge sometimes. The press and Eagle expect it. The ‘Bad Boy of Golf’ needs to be bad.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I haven’t become a saint in a day. You know what I get like during a tournament.” “Yeah, you’re right. I should know better, shouldn’t I? Hey, by the way,

thanks for the card.” “Sure,” Reid said nonchalantly. “I really mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever received a thank-you card from

a client.” “Well, it’s no wonder, with your sleazy clientele.” “Ha, are you including yourself in that statement?” Buck retorted with

sarcasm. “Hey, I may be an arrogant pain in the ass, but I’m not sleazy.” “Whatever…. Do me a favor, wake me in an hour. I didn’t sleep much

last night, and I can’t keep my eyes open.” “Don’t count on me, I’m exhausted. You better request a wake up splash or something,” Reid said with a yawn. He closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Buck walked to the lifeguard and asked if someone could wake them at 6:30. He went back to his chair and fell asleep almost as fast as Reid.

Later, they were awakened by the lifeguard, who walked away laugh ing hysterically. A very groggy Reid looked over to ask what the lifeguard was laughing at. He didn’t have to ask; Buck had a clown face drawn on him in bright red lipstick. Reid cracked up. Buck then turned to ask what was so funny. His guffaw was so loud people on the adjacent patio turned to look. Reid commented, “Oh no, not me too?” Buck was laughing so hard he could only nod.

Laughing hysterically, Reid put his hand up to cover his mouth. Watching him, Buck’s expression turned to one of horror. Buck then held up his own hand for inspection; sure enough, his nails were painted red too. Reid quickly looked at his own red nails. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They both simultaneously looked down at their toenails. Yup, bright crimson. They both kept laughing. They couldn’t get mad; it was a good joke. They made a pact to find the culprit and get even.

In an attempt to wipe the lipstick off with towels, they smeared it all over their faces. They finally gave up and nonchalantly walked to the gift shop to buy nail polish remover. Everyone they passed stared and grinned. No one had the nerve to say anything, but the growing trail of laughter behind them drew even more attention. They finally got on the elevator and as the doors were closing, applause broke out from the crowd that had formed behind them. “I can’t wait to find out who did this,” Reid said. “We have to think of something really good to get even,” Buck said as they entered their suite. They had to work fast to clean everything off and still get to the bar by seven thirty.

At one point Buck yelled, “Shit, this stuff is impossible to get off. How do women put up with it?”

After finally getting it all off, they went to their respective rooms, shaved, showered and dressed in record time. They met back in the living room at 7:30.

Reid looked at the clock and said, “Damn, I wanted to call Jennifer. Oh well, I’ll do it later. Let’s go.”

Chapter 4

The sensuous sound of salsa music filled the background as Reid and Buck entered the bar. Mojitos were the drink of the moment. Buck ordered two and handed one to Reid.

Taking a sip, Reid said with emphasis, “Wow, this is good. Don’t let me get drunk. You know I don’t usually drink the week of a tournament.”

“What? Now I’m your guardian? Like you ever listen to me?” Buck replied.

Just then, Carl walked up. “Guys, I hope you don’t mind, I called a quick press conference.” “No problem. When is it?” Reid asked. Carl looked at his watch. “In about two minutes. C’mon, follow me.” Reid rolled his eyes. “Oh well, so much for my Mojo.” He and Buck

put their Mojitos down and followed Carl. As they walked into the room, cameras flashed everywhere. Carl tapped the podium microphone. “Folks, we have 10 minutes, so please keep the questions short and sweet. We want to officially announce a new member of the Eagle team. As of this afternoon, Reid Clark has agreed to endorse our new line of golf balls, called Freeze.” “How much was the contract, Carl?” asked a TV reporter. “100 million.” There were a few whistles and wows. A journalist asked, “What will be

the theme of the ad campaign?” “We’re still working on it.” “That’s a hefty contract, Carl; I guess you expect a lot from Reid. Reid, are you ready to fulfill this obligation? You’ll probably have to stay out of trouble and maybe even let some of our photographers take your picture. I know how difficult that is for you.”

Reid recognized the reporter. He recently had a run-in with him. Doing his best to keep his cool, he answered, “I’ll be happy to let any of you take my picture as long as I know you’re doing it and you’re not being rude and obnoxious.”

“Look who’s talking about being obnoxious,” said a reporter from Sports Illustrated.

Buck decided it was time for damage control. He grabbed the micro phone and said, “Okay, kids, this is a press conference, not a Reid Clark bashing session. We all know you have had your issues with each other, but let’s move on. If any of you want the details of the endorsement, I will be available for questions later. Thank you all for coming. Have a good evening.”

Reid jumped to the microphone in spite of Buck’s attempt to push him away. Reid said, “Hey folks, one more second. To make up for some of my questionable behavior in the past, I want to invite you all to the bar for hors d’oeuvres and cocktails. Please accept this as, well, sort of a truce.”

After a brief disbelieving silence, a reporter in the back of the room began to clap slowly one clap at a time. Gradually others joined in and the applause quickened and spread throughout the room. Someone yelled, “Alright! Maybe there’s hope for him after all.” Another reporter shouted, “He can buy my forgiveness anytime.” They all headed for the bar. Reid called the maitre d’. “Hi, it’s Reid Clark. Can you bring hors d’oeuvres for 50 to the bar as quickly as possible? High end stuff, the best you’ve got. Please hurry, and put the charge through to my room.”

At the bar, Reid told the bartender that all orders from the press were to be billed to his room. The bartender said, “I’ll send a waiter to take orders, Mr. Clark. Also, Joseph, the maitre d’, called. He said the hors

SUDDEN DEATH

d’oeuvres would be here in 15 minutes. We’ll set everything up in the back of the room.” He pointed. “Over there, overlooking the pool.”

The other side of the bar was packed with the Eagle party, which had grown significantly during the press conference. With fresh drinks in hand, Buck and Reid tried to meet as many Eagle employees as possible. Before they knew it, it was time to head to the restaurant. A line of stretch Hummers was waiting out front.

“Where are we going to dinner? The Sahara or the Baja?” Reid joked as they piled into the vehicles. Dom Perignon, iced vodka and huge bowls of Beluga caviar awaited them inside.

Reid whispered to Buck, “You think these people always party like this? It must be costing Eagle a fortune.”

“It’s not costing Eagle a penny, my friend. This evening is on you,” Buck said quietly. Reid gagged, then whispered tensely, “Are you crazy?” “Calm down and enjoy the party,” said Buck. “You can afford it.” “Fine, just don’t make a habit of this, at least without informing me

first.” “Look, you play golf and stay out of trouble. Let me handle the business. If I say we need to spend some money, I don’t want an argument, okay?” Reid stayed silent. “I said, okay?” Buck repeated. “Alright! Alright! Just make sure you let me know how much and

when. I won’t question it, just let me know.” Buck stared at him for a second, then snapped, “Fine!”

Upon arrival at the steakhouse, the party was shown to a private dining room. Reid, Buck and Carl were the last to enter. Everyone at the table began laughing as they looked past the three men. Buck, Reid and Carl all turned to see a huge poster of Reid and Buck sleeping at the pool with clown faces. A large banner under it read: ‘Even Kings can be Jokers sometimes. Congratulations Reid & Buck. We love you guys, TEAM EAGLE.’ Shaking with laughter, they turned back toward the others. “Looks like

you got us again!” Reid said. The waiters took dinner orders and the salad was served. Wine and champagne flowed all evening. Reid tried to keep a tally of the bottles being consumed. Finally giving up, he thought, Guess you’ve gotta spend it to make it.

Around 10:30, Reid announced that he needed to retire for the evening. “I’m sure you don’t want the papers to read that your new endorser slept through tomorrow’s Pro-Am. I hope to see you all there.” Reid shook Carl’s hand saying, “Thanks again.” “No, it’s me who should be thanking you.” “Okay gentlemen,” Buck said. “Enough of the thank-yous. Reid, have one of the drivers take you back to the hotel and then return for us. I’ll see you in the morning. Hey, I’m proud of you. Usually I have to send my clients home after fighting with them all night to stop drinking.”

“Guess I’m just different. Who knows…? I’ll see you at the club. I’ll probably be long gone by the time you wake up.”

Chapter 5

Half asleep, Reid picked up the 5:30 a.m. wakeup call and moaned, “Thanks,” to the automated system. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.

Showering and dressing in record time, he grabbed some badly needed coffee from the concierge and left. The course they were playing today was about 20 minutes away. A bus was leaving at 7 a.m. but Reid didn’t want to wait. He took a cab instead. Reid had a routine for tournament days; actually it was more of a ritual. He took every tournament very seriously, even Pro-Ams. He would have fun today, but he would play to win! He was on the range stretching and loosening up by 7 a.m. He hit 10 balls with every club in his bag. First he hit on the range, then moved to the practice bunker, then finished on the practice green. He was drenched in sweat afterward, so he went to the locker room for a quick shower. The tournament was starting with a buffet breakfast, and although Reid wasn’t very hungry, he knew he should make a showing, so he walked into the crowded dining room. Celebrities and tour players were everywhere. As he entered, someone in the room whistled, others quickly joined in, while still others slapped him on the back and congratulated him. Well, he thought, I guess it’s in the morning paper. He looked around and spotted Phil DiBlasio, one of Hollywood’s hottest comedic actors and Reid’s partner for the tournament. Phil’s dark moustache and goatee along with his dark attire gave him a menacing look that was contradicted by his big smile and nonstop joking. Reid walked over to the table and took the empty chair next to Phil.

“I was hoping you’d join us,” Phil said. “Hey congratulations, that’s some contract you got from Eagle.” “Thanks.” Reid asked a passing waiter for coffee. He was facing the opposite way when someone sat down next to him. He turned and his jaw dropped. His favorite actor, Brian Capo, sat there looking at him. Reid was at a loss for words and just stared. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Eagle. Congratulations Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” “Thank you, Mr. Capo,” Reid mumbled. “Mr. Capo! Ha.” Phil laughed. “You didn’t call me Mr. DiBlasio when

we met. I get no respect.” Everyone around the table laughed. “Reid, please call me Brian.” “Okay, Mr. Capo, I…I mean Brian,” Reid stammered. “It’s great to

meet you, too. I’ve always been a huge fan of yours.” A loud tapping noise hushed the room and carried all eyes to the podium. “Good morning. May I have everyone’s attention? I’m Bill Taylor, commissioner of the PGA, and I’d like to welcome you all to Augusta. I wanted to take a moment to explain why we decided to break from tradition and play a Pro Am before the Masters. The request has come up in past years and we’ve always declined. This year, we figured why not. We’ll still hold the traditional Par 3 Contest on Wednesday, but the money we’ll raise today for charity far outweighs any reason I can come up with for not breaking tradition. In fact, we decided that we would sponsor the event ourselves and donate the funds to the American Cancer Society. We have a gorgeous day for golf and the course is in perfect condition. Please join me in thanking Craig Jackson, the president of the club, for getting this place ready for an exciting day of golf.”

After a round of applause, he continued. “You will all have plenty of time to have fun, but I would like to get the day started. As soon as you finish breakfast, please go to the tables in the lobby to register your favorite charity. As you know, your winnings today go to the charity of your choice. So enjoy yourselves, have fun and let’s see some serious competition out there. Here’s our schedule. At 9:30 we will have a shotgun tee off. Then a horn will blow at 11:45. Finish the hole you are on, then come back here for lunch. Play will resume at 1:30. After the tournament, you will have time to clean up before we meet for cocktails and our awards dinner. Gentlemen, have fun and as always, may the best team win!”

A round of applause followed and everyone slowly walked to the lobby to register their charity.

Reid and Phil started on the fourth hole. Reid introduced Phil to Buddy, who was carrying both their bags. Phil hit his drive a little off to the right near the tree line but not in trouble. Reid teed his ball and was getting ready to hit when Phil made the mistake of interrupting him. “Come on Reid, this one’s up to you!”

Reid stepped away from the ball, looked at Phil very seriously and said, “Don’t do that again.” “Sorry,” Phil said, grimacing with embarrassment. Reid hit a perfect drive just short of the green. They all started to walk in uncomfortable silence. Phil once again said, “Reid, I’m really sorry. Don’t let it ruin our round!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t ruin our round, but I need to focus. I may not be much fun to play with in a tournament, but I’m a pretty good partner if you want to win.”

Phil gave Buddy a questioning look. Buddy just shrugged his shoul ders. “Okay,” Phil said. “Let’s win!” They enjoyed the rest of the round, finding a good balance between serious golf and kidding around. Thanks to Reid, they had the lead when they went in for lunch. After a light lunch they teed off on the 14th. Phil played very well, commenting that maybe he should play this seriously more often.

“Don’t get too serious, Phil,” Reid said. “No one will recognize you. On the other hand, maybe that’s a good thing.” “Ow, that hurt. Was that actually an attempt at humor, Mr. Serious?” “Phil, that’s about the best I’ve got,” Reid snickered. “Better stick to golf.” “So I’ve been told.” After 17 holes, Reid and Phil were leading by one. The press was all

over them. “Hey Phil, what’s the matter?” a reporter asked. “No jokes today?” “I just figured out that if I take this game seriously, I’m actually pretty good. Too bad it took me 20 years to realize…. I couldn’t take the golfpro out of Reid, but he took the clown out of me. Temporarily of course,” he added quickly.

The tournament came down to Phil’s putt on the last hole. He had to sink a four-footer to win. During past tournaments at times like this, Phil worked the crowd, making everyone laugh. Today was different; Phil was totally serious. He also was a nervous wreck.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “I’ve never felt like this on a golf course. My stomach is in knots. Buddy, please help me read this putt.”

Buddy pointed the grip of a club to a spot about a ball’s width to the right of the hole. Phil looked at Reid for his confirmation.

“This one is up to you, my friend. You can do it, just focus and relax!” Reid didn’t let on that inside he was twisted with anxiety. It drove him nuts that someone else was in control of his winning or losing a tournament. He often wished he could take winning a little less seriously, especially when it was only a Pro-Am.

Phil took his stance and the crowd hushed. After a deep breath he hit the ball exactly where Buddy had indicated. The ball rolled toward the hole and dropped in.

The crowd roared. Phil yelled, “Oh my God, I did it.” He ran over and gave Reid a big hug and said, “I owe you one.”

Reid just smiled and said, “No you don’t, sinking that putt was enough. Nice job.” “Thanks. Okay if I joke around now?” Reid smiled and nodded. Phil immediately loosened up and started joking with the crowd, the

press, and mostly Reid. They walked into the clubhouse with Reid’s arm over Phil’s shoulder. The cocktail reception was well underway when Reid and Phil entered the lounge. The gathering included Pro-am players and their families, PGA management, representatives from golf equipment companies and many celebrities. Even the president and first lady were there.

Reid wished he didn’t need to be at this party. He would have preferred just to rest back at the hotel, but he schmoozed with everyone who approached him. He quickly tired of saying thank you, but everyone was congratulating him on the endorsement and the day’s win. Then they would wish him luck in the Master’s.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Enough already , he thought, how many times can I say it? At that moment the president and first lady walked up and congratulated him. “Thank you, Mr. President. It is a privilege and pleasure to meet you, and you, ma’am,” he said turning toward the first lady.

“No, Reid, it is our privilege to meet you!” said the president. “Good luck in the Masters.”

The first lady said, “Reid, I have really been looking forward to meet ing you. We have been fans of yours for years. By the way, honey,” she said to her husband, “he is much better looking in person than he is on TV.”

Reid blushed. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had real ly embarrassed him. The president said, “Reid, I think my wife may be your biggest fan. She has been talking about this trip for over a month. If I may ask, when the tournament is over, could you stay an extra day to play a round with us?”

Buck had walked up next to Reid just as the president asked the ques tion. Reid looked at Buck and asked, “What do you think, Buck? How about a round of golf with the president and the first lady?”

Buck turned toward the president and first lady and nonchalantly said, “Sounds great. How are you, Mr. President?” “Excellent, Buck. It’s great to see you again.” “You, too. And you ma’am, it’s always a pleasure.” They were interrupted by the sound of a musical triangle. Bill Taylor and Craig Jackson were at the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. If you would all take your seats, it’s time to present today’s trophies and awards. We are honored to have some special guests with us this evening. Please join me in welcoming the president of the United States and the first lady to help with the presentation.”

As the room erupted in applause, the president turned to Reid and Buck. “Sorry, duty calls. I’m really looking forward to that round of golf, Reid.” The applause grew as the president and first lady made their way up front. Reid realized as they walked away that Secret Service agents were positioned everywhere.

The president quickly thanked the hosts and the audience and com mented on what a privilege it was to take part in an event of this caliber. “It’s terrific to be in the midst of such a talented crowd. This gathering seems like the ‘Who’s-Who’ of sports and acting, maybe even politics, that is, if I qualify,” he said grinning. He then turned the microphone back to Bill Taylor as the audience laughed quietly.

Bill announced the fourth, third and second place teams. He congrat ulated them and handed them trophies and checks made out to the charities of their choice.

He finally announced the winning team of Reid Clark and Phil DiBlasio. Phil went to the podium and thanked the PGA for putting together such a fine tournament. He announced that with his new partner, Reid, he was able to do two things he had never done before. “I played serious golf and I won. Yeah, that’s right, I won! I still can’t believe it.”

The president handed him an oversized check made out to his founda tion, which helped construct new homes for deserving families.

Bill Taylor cut the applause short by tapping the microphone. “Reid, please accept this check made out to the The Inner City Sports Foundation.” As Taylor handed Reid the check, a photographer snapped a quick picture. “Folks, I think the ICSF is a pretty special program,” Taylor continued. “In fact, I have been a contributor since its inception. Reid, would you be kind enough to explain ICSF and AllSport to our audience?”

Reid stepped up to the podium. “Nothing would please me more, Bill. First, I’d like to thank you and the PGA for this contribution to our program.” He held up the check and more pictures were taken. Then, he began immediately, making it evident that this was not a new speech. “Buck and I started The Inner City Sports Foundation a couple of years ago for many reasons, the first and most important being the kids. ICSF provides underprivileged kids, who show professional or Olympic potential, a shot at making something of their lives. Without ICSF, many of these kids would probably never reach their potential. In fact, most would lead a life on the streets or far worse. Another very important reason was that our great country has had a huge untapped resource. With our vast population and the freedom we have, this country should be the world leader in every sport. ICSF will help raise the bar in American sports by providing professional training to kids who will truly make a difference. Until now, these kids did not typically get a chance to bring their talent to our country’s teams. Now, with ICSF’s help, many of those same kids will be the next superstars in American Sports. Our scouts travel the country, looking for kids who have the ability to excel with the right support and training. The training for some is on an individual basis. For others, it takes place at AllSport, the foundation’s camp in the Catskills. AllSport has regulation fields, courts, pools, rinks, gyms, and tracks for practically every sport. The camp owns a huge lake for water sports. We’re close to a river for whitewater kayaking. AllSport even provides training for winter sports at our own mountain. Naturally, there’s also a magnificent golf course and a state-of-the-art golf training facility. I designed it with some friends, and if I must say, we did an excellent job,” he added with a smile. “It’s a long, demanding course and takes a lot of thinking to score well on.”

Reid saw a hand raised in the middle of the room and pointed toward it. “Yes sir, you have a question?”

An older gentleman stood up and said, “Yes Reid, thank you. I like the sound of AllSport and I might want to contribute. Can you tell me how you find kids that fit the requirements?”

“Sure. We advertise and place recruiting brochures and posters in all kinds of places. The ads and brochures encourage hot athletes or their families and friends to call. Our recruiters follow up. We also receive hundreds of letters and e-mails every month from athletes who think they have the right stuff. I make sure every letter gets a response. Does that answer your question?” “Yes sir, thank you,” the man responded as he took his seat. Reid continued. “Pro athletes from every sport volunteer their time as trainers. At any given time, there are about one hundred pros teaching at AllSport. Some of the athletes in this room have been a big help already. In fact, let’s see a show of hands of anyone who has worked with our kids at AllSport.”

Hands were raised throughout the room. Reid saw a hand go up at a table just in front of him. He waved and said, “Hi Michael.” He scanned the room, slowly pointing to the people with their hands up. “Folks, look around you. If you have questions about our program, these are the people to talk to. With their help and many others like them, AllSport will raise the competitive level of American athletes and teams everywhere we compete.” Reid paused as the audience applauded. He raised his hands in request for quiet and continued. “Athletes, celebrities, corporations and philanthropists in general have made sizeable contributions. The money is used to build, maintain and run the camp, also to employ the staff necessary for recruiting new kids and flying them to and from the Catskills. Most of the kids lead extremely underprivileged lives at home. While they’re at camp, they have to train harder than they ever have before. The kids are immediately taught that they were very lucky to have been chosen by the foundation. They have to stay out of trouble and lead clean lives if they want to stay in the program. AllSport has now been open for two years and is starting to show results; our kids are being offered scholarships and getting chosen for Olympic teams. It’s really incredible; many of them would probably have ended up in jail or drug rehab. Instead, they’re headed to college or the Olympics, and in some cases, directly recruited by pro teams.”

Reid paused again to take a sip of ice water from a glass on the podi um. Not until he took a sip did he realize it was someone else’s vodka on the rocks. He fought to refrain from spitting out what was in his mouth as he put the glass down abruptly, splashing the contents all over Bill Taylor’s notes. Looking up at Bill, he said in embarrassment, “Sorry Bill, I hope you memorized the rest of your speech, because I just soaked your notes.” Turning to the audience he added, “I hope that’s the only water I splash this week.”

After a quick laugh from the audience, Reid finished his explanation. “Folks, this was not meant to be a solicitation, but if you wish to contribute to The Inner City Sports Foundation, you can call or log onto our website to find out how. Buck will leave a stack of his cards at the door for anyone who wants more information. I want to thank you all and the PGA again for this wonderful contribution. Good night.”

The audience applauded as Reid left the podium, but as he passed, the president politely reached out and stopped him. He asked Reid to come back to the podium with him.

Leaning toward the microphone, the president said, “Buck, would you please join us?”

He waited until Buck was next to them. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention for one more moment. I was not prepared to discuss this, but after listening to Reid, I feel I must. I knew about the ICSF, but I obviously didn’t know enough. I think it’s fantastic. Reid, Buck, accept my sincere congratulations on this endeavor. Reid, you had me fooled. I would never have thought the ‘Bad Boy of Golf’ would be the co-founder of such a selfless, giving and productive program. I’m going to ask our congressional leaders to look into the possibility of a grant for your foundation. It sounds to me like American sports can flourish with the help of the ICSF. I can’t wait to visit AllSport and see this program with my own eyes. Let’s hear it for Reid, Buck and The Inner City Sports Foundation.” The applause was deafening. Reid and Buck thanked the president one more time and left the stage. As they walked and shook hands, Buck whispered to Reid, “Come out to the bathroom with me. I’ve had to pee for the last 10 minutes. I think my eyeballs are floating.” “Sorry pal, it’s not piss that you’re full of,” Reid whispered back. “Hey, at least I’m not the windbag that just took 10 minutes at the podium blowing hot air. Do you have any idea how many calls I’m going to get in my office tomorrow?” “Are you really going to complain about it?” “No, I’m just kidding around; you did a great job up there.” “Glad you noticed.” They shook hands with as many people as they could as they walked out of the room. On the way out, Buck placed a stack of business cards on the maitre d’s table at the door. As usually happened after the speech, Reid and Buck were followed by some big potential contributors, philanthropic people who had the resources to donate millions.

Stopping them as they reached the lobby, J. Barnes said, “Gentlemen, are tours available at AllSport? I have been looking for an appropriate charity, and I think you just described it. I’d like to see the camp as soon as possible.”

J. Barnes was the founder and CEO of S-Link, one of the top satellite communications companies in the world. Buck turned to him and said, “Of course, Mr. Barnes, we would be happy to give you a tour anytime you’d like. Here’s my card. Call me and we’ll arrange it.”

Next to Barnes was Steve McAllister, CEO of the largest sporting goods chain in the country. “Please add me to the list, Buck. I’d also like to speak with you about a possible endorsement offer for Reid.” Buck handed him a business card. As the two men walked away, Reid said, “I’m going to head back to the

hotel. I’ve got to turn in.” “Okay. I’m going to stay for awhile and take advantage of your speech.

The crowd seemed very receptive. I’ll be back soon. Good night.” “See you in the morning.”

Chapter 6

The sports segment of the news was on and Reid’s endorsement story was the headline. Melting into the recliner, it suddenly dawned on Reid that he had never called Jennifer. Oh shit, he thought, this is not gonna be fun. He picked up the phone and dialed.

As usual, Jennifer answered on the second ring. The phone was basi cally an extension of her ear. She never missed a phone call. Sometimes she switched back and forth between conversations on two lines. “Hi honey, how are you?” he asked. “How am I?” she growled. “I’m pissed. What did you expect? You

couldn’t call me? I had to find out about the endorsement on the news?” “Look, I’ve got a lot of things going on down here. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call. To tell you the truth, right now I don’t have the time or the desire to fight with you. I need to focus on the tournament.”

“You don’t have the time? Well you better make the time,” she yelled. “Is this how you’re going to treat me when we’re married? You just go ahead and focus on the Master’s, but we need to talk about this later.” Her attitude oozed through the phone.

Holding the receiver away from his ear to soften her wrath, Reid was becoming annoyed. He was thinking, Why did I even call? The more she ranted, the more irritated he became. Finally, hearing the word married, he snapped. “You know what Jennifer, between the endorsement and the Masters, I’m in the middle of the biggest week of my life. I’m really not in the mood for your crap right now. I’ve wanted that Green Jacket for as long as I can remember, and you are not going to ruin it for me. As far as marriage is concerned, forget it. In fact, why don’t you start looking for a new apartment for yourself? I want you out before I get home next week. If you can’t find a place by then, I’ll stay in a hotel until you do.”

Jennifer quietly said, “Reid, look I’m sorry for yelling, I was just upset….” “Save it, Jennifer. It’s over. There is nothing more to say.” “But Reid, I love you,” she cried into the phone. “No you don’t. You love my money! In fact, Jennifer, that’s the first time you have ever said you love me, and now it’s too late. We’re over. I want you out of the apartment by the time I get home…understood?” He heard her quietly sobbing on the other end of the line. “Don’t make me ask again.” “Okay, Reid,” Jennifer said through her sniffling. Reid hung up. Great! Now he was all worked up. He was glad that she was out of his life, but breaking up was never easy. The more he thought about her, the more worked up he became. Well, he had not been happy with the relationship for the past month anyway. He knew he was going to end it. Now it was over and he could move on. He flipped through the channels, ending up where he always did, The Food Network. One of his secrets was that cooking always calmed him down. He considered himself a closet gourmet cook. Oh good, he thought. Emeril’s on.

Buck walked in around 2 a.m. and covered Reid with a blanket. He looked very comfortable sleeping in the recliner. Buck shut off the TV and called for a 7 a.m. wake up call, guessing that Reid hadn’t. He decided to let Reid sleep a little later than usual. The days before a tournament were days of practice, focus and rest. No distractions! He knew Reid well enough to know he would hardly talk to anyone all day. He would put himself into a trance-like state. People would say hello and he would barely notice.

Buck retired to his room. His body felt like a walking contradiction: totally exhausted yet extremely exhilarated from the negotiations and entertaining. Thinking back, he still felt relieved that no one from Eagle had seen the scathing article in the newspaper. What was it going to take to get Reid to smarten up? If he didn’t stop acting like a child with the paparazzi, he was really going to destroy everything Buck had painstakingly built for him. Buck shook his head and sighed as he realized he was going to have to do whatever it took to convince Reid to grow up once and for all.

Abruptly awakened by the ring of the phone, Reid had two immediate thoughts: Where the hell am I? and I don’t remember requesting a wake up call. He climbed out of the recliner and stretched. Ouch, he was stiff. His neck hurt, his back hurt, hell, everything hurt. He needed a massage and then a soak in the hot tub before going out to practice. He called the spa and scheduled a 9 a.m. massage and another one for 6 p.m.

He wanted to focus on his chipping today. He had been driving and putting well yesterday, but his short irons needed work. To win this tournament, everything had to be fine-tuned. His ball placement on the green would be critical.

Reid practiced for two hours before lunch, then another three after. He finished the afternoon feeling ready. Nine out of 10 chips were ending up within three feet of the pin. He could drop three-foot putts with ease. If he could play like this during the tournament, he would be fine. All he needed was a clear mind. He worried that if thoughts of the threats crept into his head during the tournament they could ruin everything.

He swam some late afternoon laps. No racing, no fanfare, just cool refreshing water washing over his muscular body. Then, after a deep muscle massage, he retired to the suite for the evening. Buck joined him for a light dinner from Room Service, then they sat back and watched a comedy on Pay-Per-View. It had the desired effect; not only did Reid laugh out loud from beginning to end, but not another thought entered his mind during the entire film. Afterward, Buck went down to the bar and Reid went to bed. Lying in bed, he replayed the funniest parts of the film in his mind and chuckled quietly as he drifted off to sleep.

When morning came, Reid swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. It was 10 a.m. He had been awake for the past half hour, but after such a long, revitalizing slumber, he was too groggy to get up quickly. Luckily, forgetting to place a wake up call was no problem the day before a tournament. He was at the range by 11:30 a.m., feeling very loose, hitting with each club almost perfectly. Buddy just watched and made sure no one got close enough to interrupt. It was relatively quiet at the course. Most players and fans were over at the 9-hole course for the Par 3 Contest. Reid enjoyed the peace and quiet. After half an hour of hitting balls, Reid said, “Come on, let’s go tee off.”

After six holes, Buddy said, “Man, I haven’t seen you play this well in a long time. I wish this was the real thing instead of a practice round.”

“It’s kind of funny; you know how I’ve been on edge for a while. Well, I haven’t told anyone this, but I recently made a mental commitment to become a better person, you know, like try to grow up, treat people a little nicer, even you.” Buddy looked at Reid, his face scrunched up in doubt. “I mean it. Being a nice guy can’t be that hard, can it?” “For you? Come on.” “Well, I’m going to try. No guarantees, but hopefully I can do it. Look

what it’s doing for my game. Maybe it’s just the answer.” Buddy shrugged. “Maybe?” After Reid played one of the best rounds he had played in months, both men smiled. Each knew the other’s thoughts; if Reid continued to play like he did today, the tournament was his.

Reid had been looking forward to his 6 p.m. massage. He had requested Donna, a beautiful masseuse with the lithe body of a Pilates instructor, her other job. Reid chose her because she was extremely talented with her hands and he had already slept with her. As she kneaded his muscles, he thought through every hole at Augusta, playing each perfectly in his head. His thoughts shifted; Green Jacket, Mom, Jennifer, AllSport, e-mail threats. Immediately his body tensed. Donna asked, “Did I hurt you?” “No, just some nagging thoughts.” “Relax,” she said soothingly. “Let’s see if I can help you forget your problems for a while.” She quickly removed her uniform, rolled him over on his back and pulled off his towel. Then with the flair of a gymnast, she hopped up on the table and onto him. She rode him hard and fast into a sexual frenzy. Afterward, she lay on top of him and asked softly between kisses, “Did that help?” “Absolutely,” Reid moaned, weary with satisfied exhaustion. “Good, now go to sleep,” she whispered. She gently climbed off the table, and covered him with a blanket. She dressed, gave him a kiss and quietly left the room.

When Reid awoke it was almost 8 p.m. He went back to the suite, showered and had Buck paged. “Hey, where are you? Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, I’m on the patio,” Buck said. I was waiting for you. How was your day?”

“Excellent. In spite of everything, I was able to get into the zone; no one bothered me at all. I even had time for a massage.” Reid smiled. “Do you want to eat here or out?” “I don’t care. You decide,” Buck said in a relieved tone. Reid knew the tone well. He knew Buck was pleased that the day had gone by without any confrontations. He knew Buck always worried about him the day before a tournament. It was always possible, even probable, that Reid would snap at someone who was just saying hello.

“Why don’t you get us a table in the pub? I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.” “Fine,” Buck said. Reid dressed and headed to the restaurant. The room had the look and feel of an old English pub: dark ceiling, dark wood paneling, worn leather seating in booths around the perimeter. The big difference was the Guiness on tap here was cold. Reid found Buck in a quiet booth in the back, away from the slowly growing bar crowd. Reid sat down and took a gulp of the Diet Coke that Buck had waiting for him. Buck held out a sealed envelope with Reid’s name on it. A picture of an eagle was in the top left corner. “I met with Carl earlier; Eagle’s lawyers are working on the contract and payment terms. He asked me to give you this as a good-faith payment.” Reid took the envelope, slowly opened it, peeked inside and smiled. “Let me see,” Buck said. Reid looked up with a grin and shook his head as he started to put the

envelope in his back pocket. “Real funny. Hand it over,” Buck demanded with an annoyed grin. Reid handed him the check. “Two million…nice,” Buck said. They raised their glasses and clinked them. “Yeah, it’s a good start,”

Reid chuckled. During dinner, Reid was grateful that Buck understood his need to focus inward and keep conversation to a minimum. After dinner, Buck said, “Let’s go out to the patio for a cigar.”

Reid ordered Navan cognac for Buck and a Perrier for himself. He told Buck, “I want you to try this cognac. It’s infused with vanilla and goes great with a cigar. I think you’ll like it.”

“Sounds interesting,” Buck said as he put his legs up on a patio chair next to the one he sat in. He was under the awning at the edge of the slate patio. Reid preferred a lounge chair under the brilliant starry sky. He loved to stare at the night sky and spot shooting stars. The vast power and depth of the solar system always awed him. Reid was pleased that, except for Buck and him, the patio was empty. Buck pulled two Fuente Opus X’s out of his black leather cigar holder. They cut and lit their cigars. A few players approached to say hello. Reid was polite but made no small talk. He wished them luck in the tournament while puffing on his stogie. Some took the hint and moved on. One guy asked Reid’s opinion about a specific hole on the course. Reid just shrugged and let a plume of smoke billow from his lips. The guy walked away mumbling, “Arrogant bastard.” Reid meant no harm; he was just getting focused. Veteran players knew to just stay away.

Having drunk half his cognac, Buck commented, “Hey, you were right about this stuff,” he held up the snifter and twirled it, sending the amber liquid into a spin, “it’s excellent. What’s it called again?” “Navan. It’s made by Grand Marnier.” “I’m gonna order another. You want anything?” “No thanks,” Reid said, “I’m heading up to bed; enjoy the rest of the

evening.” Buck replied, “I’ll be up in a little while, I need to get to sleep soon, too, so I can head over to the club early. The press will be all over Carl, and I want to control them as much as possible.”

“Speaking of the press, sorry for blowing it at the conference the other day. I really need to bite my tongue when I’m with them. They just get me so damn mad. It’s like they try to piss me off.”

“Of course they do. A story about a Reid Clark tirade sells newspapers and helps ratings. They’re going to continue to provoke you. You just have to learn to let it go. Let’s not discuss it right now. Go on up and get some sleep.”

Chapter 7

Reid ran to catch the closing elevator. As he entered, chatter from the other players already aboard silenced.

He looked at each face. They all avoided eye contact. It was so blatant, Reid couldn’t help laughing. “Okay guys, what were you talking about? Let me guess.” He looked up and scratched his chin. “How quickly will Reid blow the endorsement deal?” No one said a word. “Well?” Continued silence. “Come on, admit it,” he said grinning. Slowly they all began to laugh. “Am I really the hot topic of the week? Don’t you guys have anything

better to talk about, like golf maybe?” The elevator reached their floor and they got out saying, “Good night,

Reid.” “Good night, gentlemen.” As the doors closed he heard them break out

in laughter. The message light was blinking when he entered the suite. Thoughts of Jennifer barged into his head. Damn! Not now. Not when he needed to get to sleep.

He got into bed and tossed and turned for a while. The more he tried to prevent it, the more Jennifer consumed his thoughts. His growing frustration and anger created turmoil in his head. The dark thoughts resurfaced. Was something terrible going to happen, or was his mind just playing with him? Whatever it was, now was definitely not a good time for it. Annoyed, he threw off his blanket, got out of bed and went into the living room. He grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and settled onto the couch. Flipping through the channels he stopped at a news report. Alvin Carey was being lead away in handcuffs by police. At least I’m not that bad, he thought. Buck has his hands full with that guy.

The next story was about the Master’s Tournament. The reporter was the one Reid had seen earlier in the day. He was obviously smarter than most; he had not approached Reid for comments and had his cameraman shoot footage from a distance. As the clip ran, the reporter talked about Reid’s endorsement and that he was favored to win the Master’s. Reid mumbled, “You got that right. That jacket is mine.” Next came an interview with last year’s winner. When asked about his chances, he commented, “It depends on how Reid is playing; he looked very good out here today. When Reid’s in the zone he’s tough to beat. But I’m playing well, too. It should be a close tournament.”

“Well, if this tournament is meant to confirm the master of the game, The ‘Bad Boy of Golf’ better be ready to play his best, because the competition is ready. Everyone here wants the coveted Green Jacket. Till tomorrow at the first tee. I’m Bobby Lee, live from the Master’s Tournament in Augusta, Georgia.”

Reid turned off the TV, walked to the computer and logged onto the Internet to check his e-mail. He smiled as he read messages from his sisters accepting his invitation to Augusta. He shot off quick replies and sifted through the rest of his e-mail. As usual, mostly junk. Previously he received all his fan mail. He got a kick out of responding, and although it had been time consuming, he missed it. Ever since that twisted threat was sent to the ICSF address, all his e-mail was redirected to Buck’s office for screening. Only his personal e-mail was forwarded to him.

He closed his eyes as the thoughts of the threats ignited a fuse in his head. They began to wreak havoc on his brain. Every muscle in his body tightened and his head began to throb. Annoyed, he shoved the mouse across the desk and stood. The mouse fell and swung from its wire; it sent a little bead of infrared light sweeping through the dark room, hitting everything in its path. Watching it, Reid was spooked by the thought, Is that what a snipers infrared sight looks like as it marks its target? He followed the dot with intensity as it moved from object to object: couch, wall, TV, desk, his chest. He actually jumped back to avoid it. His leg hit the chair and he fell backward onto the floor; luckily, he didn’t hit anything as he fell. The only damage was going to be a sore left butt cheek. He put his head back on the carpeted floor and looked up at the dark ceiling. He began to laugh, thinking, What kind of moron am I? I’m just lucky I didn’t get hurt. He laughed harder, wondering how he would have explained it if he had gotten hurt. Getting up, he looked at the clock. 1 a.m. “I have to get to sleep,” he groaned. He went back to bed. Head on the pillow, looking at the ceiling, he chuckled quietly, thinking of the utter absurdity of the whole situation. Exhaustion consumed him and he slowly fell asleep.

The 5:30 a.m. call abruptly, ended another nightmare. Reid lay in bed, almost drifting back to sleep. He knew if he lay there any longer he might doze off and miss his tee time. He got up, shaved, showered and dressed in his standard golf uniform: blue Izod shirt and khaki Izod pants.

He shoveled down his standard game day breakfast of fresh fruit, yogurt and granola, gulped the last drop of lukewarm coffee and headed for the door. Buck stuck his head out his door and said wearily, “Play well. I’ll see you in a little while.”

On arrival at the club, Reid went directly to the dressing room. As he changed into his golf shoes, Buddy approached. “Great day for golf, Boss. Ready to win?”

Reid raised his hand for a high five and said, “Absolutely, it’s our week for the green. That’s why I love you, man. You’re just like me; all you think about is winning. We do make a good team, don’t we?”

“The best,” said Buddy. “What do you want for energy snacks, the usual?” Buddy had built a thermal sleeve into one of the pockets of Reid’s golf bag. He filled it with two diet Cokes, two bottles of water, two bananas and two $100 Grand candy bars on every day of match play. A reporter once asked Reid why he ate only $100 Grand bars. “Because they don’t make million dollar bars,” he had answered.

“Yeah, that’s fine, thanks,” said Reid. “I’ll be out on the practice green.

Hey, who do we tee off with and when?” “We’re up fourth, at eight-thirty, with Kallman.” “Good.” The practice green was packed. Reid squeezed into a small opening and dropped a few balls in spite of a sneer from the adjacent player. He quickly became fed up with the crowded green and went to practice his chipping. His first two chips dropped in. He felt good today. He was very loose and he was chipping and putting well. He had an hour before his tee time. Usually he went to the 1st tee early just to watch. Today was different; he didn’t want to talk to the press or other players before he was up. He decided to go sit at the pool and have another cup of coffee. He asked Buddy and Buck, who had shown up while he was practicing, to join him. They went to the coffee shop, ordered three coffees and moved on to the pool. Reid sat down and started taking off his shoes. “What are you doing?” asked Buck. “I’m gonna put my feet in the water.” Buck laughed. “I can’t believe it. You’re about to tee off in the Master’s

and you’re going to go splash your feet in the pool. You’re like a little kid.” “Hey, we’re about to take a long serious walk. My feet might as well

feel good. Want to join me, Buddy?” Buddy started untying his laces. “Oh, what the hell,” said Buck as he took off his shoes and rolled up his pants. They all walked to the edge, sat down and enjoyed their coffee with their feet dangling in the cool water.

A reporter walked up, but as he got close, Reid said, “Hey, do me a favor. If you want a quick picture, take one, then please leave us alone. But please, no questions, not now.” The reporter complied. Reid was relieved as he watched him walk away after snapping a shot.

“Wow, a reporter with some brains.” “Yeah, nice for a change,” answered Buddy. “You know, you were right,” said Buck. “This feels great and it will

probably help keep you cool on the first few holes.” “Maybe we should make a habit of it. Let’s do it again tomorrow,” said Buddy.

“Why wait, let’s come back before the back nine,” said Reid. After they finished their coffee Buddy found a few towels. They dried off and put their socks and shoes back on.

“Alright guys,” said Buck. “I’ll catch up with you at the turn. I’ve got to go find Carl and keep things smooth with the press. Buddy, take care of him, this tournament is worth a lot to us all.” He turned to Reid and added, “Play well.” “Don’t worry Buck, I’ll keep him out of trouble,” said Buddy. “See ya later,” said Reid as he and Buddy headed towards the 1st tee.

Chapter 8

One twosome had teed off so far. There were two more groups before Reid. He took out a club and used it to stretch before taking some practice swings. He felt good: he was ready to win.

Reid’s name was announced and he tipped his cap to the crowd. The pungent smell of fresh cut grass filled the air. He teed up his ball, stepped back and looked toward the pin. The lush fairway was in perfect condition, blemish free. The short cut of the grass revealed a diagonal striped design. Reid always loved the look of Augusta National’s immaculate fairways on the first day of the Masters. By Sunday, divots would create a pockmarked surface, scarring the magical image that lay before him. Contrasting the gorgeous emerald carpet-like look of the fairway was the deep, dark-green, surrounding rough. A ball finding its way to the depths of the rough could easily cause the difference of a stroke on a hole: a birdie could become a par, a par a bogey, a bogey a double bogey. Reid took a practice swing, then stepped up and focused on the ball. He swung and hit a slight fading shot to a perfect spot on the fairway, just left of a bunker. While the ball was mid-air, yells of, “In the hole, in the hole,” emanated from the crowd. Reid often wondered about those who yelled this. They did it after almost every tee shot, no matter the distance. Was it absurd optimism or just stupidity? Applause erupted as the ball settled and Reid heard, “Alright, Reid,” “Down the middle, baby,” and, “Do it, bad boy.”

Reid couldn’t stand all the banter, even when it came from his own adoring fans. In fact, he regularly tried quieting his audience, putting his finger to his lips and saying, “Shhh.” He was considered overly sensitive, but he despised any noise on the course. Although he felt somewhat responsible for golf’s increasing popularity with rowdy fans, he did not like the new breed of spectators. He remembered going to a golf tournament with his dad when he was a kid. The crowd was absolutely silent until someone hit a good shot or sank a putt; then they would applaud politely. There was no yelling or cheering, just quiet oohs and ahhs. Times had certainly changed; some of the players actually played to the crowd.

Reid’s actions and etiquette on the course were admirable. He was so focused, he rarely paid attention to anyone, except Buddy. He usually walked down the fairway without a word. When he walked with another player, he hoped there would be no small talk. Reid’s concentration was always on the next shot. He had too many things to consider to allow his mind to wander. He had to think about distance to the pin, hazards, the lie of the ball and the speed and direction of the wind, all of which affected his most important decision: club choice.

He was paired with Jon Kallman today. Kallman was a good-looking thin guy about the same height as Reid. He was known to be very long off the tee but also somewhat erratic. In contrast, his short game was one of the best on the tour, helping him finish in the top 10 regularly. After Kallman teed off, they started walking down the fairway. Jon had hit a good shot, not as long as Reid’s, but right in the middle of the fairway, leaving him a simple approach shot. As expected, a huge crowd followed them. Reid was playing well and with each good shot, the same special few continued their yells. They were difficult to ignore, and Reid was getting annoyed. He asked a security guard to quiet the disruptive spectators. The guard failed and after two more holes, Reid was fed up. He borrowed a megaphone and raised it to his lips. “Listen folks, I need some help. I know your intentions are good, but the more you yell, the worse we’ll play. I’m sure you all came out today to watch some good golf. If that’s true, please stop the cheering and heckling. Applause and an occasional ooh or aah is fine, but no more yells, please.”

The gallery applauded loudly when he was done. Kallman walked over and shook his hand. They resumed play, but as Reid was about to hit his putt on the next green, someone shouted, “One time.” Reid stopped his swing, walked over to the announcer and borrowed the megaphone. He went to a security guard and whispered in his ear. The guard nodded and quietly spoke into his radio. Reid brought the megaphone to his mouth and said, “Okay folks, I have an offer to make and I need you to react quickly. I will pay anyone $500 to raise your hand if you are standing next to one of the obnoxious hecklers.” Four hands went up immediately and guards moved in, apprehending the offenders. As they were ushered off the course, the crowd exploded in applause. Reid said, “Quiet please.” Once the noise died down, he said, “Security, would you please take the names of those who were daring enough to raise their hands. If the four of you come to the clubhouse after we finish today, I will write you each a check.”

Once again, the gallery cheered until Reid said, “Okay everyone, shhh, Let’s continue the match.” The crowd quieted and play resumed. They finished the front nine without another incident. The crowd was much more subdued. Reid said to Buddy and Jon, “It’s amazing how four idiots can provoke an entire gallery to get too loud.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m impressed,” Kallman said. “You handled it with finesse. You know, having never been paired up with you, I was a little intimidated about today. But after watching and listening to you, I guess I shouldn’t judge someone based on hearsay. You’re a gentleman, Reid, and the PGA is lucky you’re a member.”

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” Reid said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want it to ruin the reputation I’ve worked so hard to earn. Come on, let’s grab a sandwich before the back nine.”

After lunch, Reid played phenomenal golf. At the end of the day, he was in the lead. Kallman congratulated him and thanked him for proving the press wrong.

Reid and Buddy went to the locker room to clean up. They had to meet Buck and Carl by the pool for some quick pictures. Outside, Reid sat on the edge of a chaise lounge and made a show of untying one of his sneakers. “Oh, not again!” Buck said. “Just fooling,” Reid said. Buck and Buddy chuckled. Carl and the photographer had puzzled

looks on their faces. “Forget about it, Carl, it’s not worth repeating,” said Buck. “Whatever.” Carl shrugged. “Gentlemen,” the photographer said. “If you don’t mind, we need to

hurry so I can catch the right light before we lose the sun.” “Sorry, where to?” Reid asked. “Back to the 13th tee. I’d like to get some pictures with the azaleas in

the background.” They took shots at the tee, on the fairway and on the green, both with and without cigars. When they finished, Reid asked Carl to join them for dinner. “As long as I can buy,” he said. During dinner, Buck asked if there were any highlights from the day’s

round of golf. “I’ll say there was,” Buddy blurted. He explained Reid’s handling of

the hecklers. “Perfect, Reid, I love it,” Carl said. “I can see the headlines, ‘The bad boy of golf boots hecklers from the Master’s.’ It’s great for the image. Bad boy or good? Let’s keep ‘em guessing.”

Reid lashed out in heated irritation. “Carl, all I can do is be myself. I’m no good at acting; in fact, I’m lousy at it. I will be happy to represent Eagle in any way you wish, but I can’t, nor will I try to be, anything or anyone but myself. I will talk about and play with your balls. Please excuse the pun. But I will not portray an image of the bad boy or the good boy. What I will do is continue to win and act in a way I believe is morally and ethically correct, both on the course and off. I hope that’s acceptable to you and Eagle?”

“Whoa! Reid, of course it’s acceptable. I didn’t mean to imply anything to the contrary. Ethics and morals are the fundamentals on which Eagle is based. In fact, if you were to change anything, I’m sure it would have a negative effect on both our ad campaign and the obvious passion and intensity with which you seem to live your life. I’m sorry if you took that any other way.”

Carl and Reid stared at each other for a moment, then gradually both smiled. Buck and Buddy breathed very obvious sighs of relief. Buck said, “Can we eat now, before you two totally ruin my appetite?”

They enjoyed their meal. Carl asked, “Anyone up for cigars and after dinner drinks?” “Not me, thanks,” Reid said. “I need to get some sleep.” “Why don’t we all go back to the hotel?” Buck said. “We can relax out

on the patio.” “Works for me,” Carl said. They all piled into Carl’s rental Town Car. “Hey, I know a great night club about 15 minutes from here,” Carl

said. “Who’s game?” “Drop me off at the hotel first, please,” Reid said. “Let’s save the club for tomorrow night,” Buck said. “No problem,” said Carl. At the hotel, Reid bade them good night and went directly up to bed. The three others went outside to enjoy Cohibas and Port.

On Friday, the weather took a turn for the worse and the tournament was played in a consistent drizzle. Tour players were accustomed to foul weather golf. Some actually welcomed a very light drizzle. Fewer spectators came out in inclement weather, which allowed for faster play and fewer distractions. The day passed problem-free and the weather cleared by late afternoon. Reid played well and increased his lead by three shots.

Immediately following his round, he returned to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub and a hot stone massage. He ate an early dinner with the men in the hotel grill. Buck, Carl and Buddy went out to a nightclub after dinner. Reid hung out with a few players and some Eagle executives at the bar. He drank Diet Coke while trading funny stories and jokes. He took the ones about him, even those that stung, in stride.

Back in his suite around 8:30, he turned on the TV. Food Network only — no news. In no time, he was snoring away. The TV woke him as it got louder during a commercial. He dragged himself to his room, shed his clothes, called for a wake-up call and quickly fell back to sleep.

Chapter 9

Saturday was an exquisite day. A deep blue sky was dotted with just enough cottony clouds to give periodic relief from the intense sun. The air was balmy and as expected, the crowds overflowed the fairways. One spectator constantly annoyed Reid with hoots and hollers, but was too stealthy to be caught. Reid had made a few mistakes on the front nine, but was recovering quite well on the back. That is, until the 14th hole when the rowdy fan wisecracked, “Nice shot, champ!” after Reid hit a poor second shot. All day, Reid had managed to keep his temper from flaring, but this pushed him beyond tolerance. He stormed toward the source of the heckling with Buddy at his heels. In front of the gallery, approximately where the shouts had come from, he said sternly, “Whoever you are, you better keep hiding because if I catch you, it’s gonna get ugly. Do me a favor, just like they often tell me, grow up. Better yet, why don’t you find a sport where your yelling is appropriate, and stay there?”

The gallery applauded as he walked back to his ball. Buddy said, “You scared the shit out of me, boss. Let’s just focus on the rest of the round and win this thing, okay?” “What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Reid barked. “Okay, okay, calm down, we’re on the same team, remember?” “Sorry, I’m just pissed off.” “Yeah, I noticed, but you’ve got to keep yourself together.” “Okay, just give me a second to calm down.” Reid made a show of inhaling and exhaling deeply. Then he nodded. “I’m ready.” As everyone settled down, they resumed play. Reid’s ball had landed in serious trouble. The crowd had jumped out of the way as the ball landed near them and ricocheted off something hard. It flew through some trees and came to rest in a small clearing. Reid and Buddy were not happy when they saw the ball’s ugly position. There was barely enough room for Reid to swing without hitting one of the exotic Chinese Fir trees the hole was named after. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had a long tunnel of trees to hit through to get back to the fairway, heading for the green. There was no opening that afforded a safe lateral punch shot. The only safe shot was backward toward the tee, and that just wasn’t an option, not for Reid. “Looks like we’re damned either way,” Buddy said. “Give me my two-iron.” “So you’ve already decided, huh? Glad I could be of help.” Buddy

handed him the club. “Come with me; we need to study this shot.” They walked through the tunnel, out to the fairway. Buddy said, “You’ve still got another 65 yards to the green. If you keep it low and land it here,” he said pointing to an area on the fairway just past the rough, “you should have the momentum to make the green. You’re gonna have to come out hot.”

“Yeah, I know.” After taking a moment to study the approach, Reid said, “Okay, let’s do it.” They walked back to the ball in silence. The crowd stayed respectfully quiet.

Studying the shot, Reid took some practice swings. His swing was going to be awkward in order not to hit the trees with the club and yet keep the ball low and fast, or “hot.” Stepping up, he kept the ball at the back of his stance and angled the top of the club forward. Taking one last look at the green, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and swung. The ball sailed through the tunnel, landing almost exactly where Buddy had pointed. Then it ran all the way onto the green, broke left and came to rest, leaving a three-foot putt.

The crowd went wild. As Reid and Buddy emerged from the tunnel of trees, the roar of applause and cheers became deafening. Reid couldn’t help himself. Smiling, he put his fist out toward Buddy for a tap and said, “Not bad.” “Who are you kidding? That was awesome, even for you,” Buddy said. “True,” Reid said with a smile. Finishing the day with a two-shot lead, Reid was happy. On the way to the locker room Buddy said, “Okay, I’m off to pick up your sisters. Their plane lands in 45 minutes. We’ll meet you at the dinner party.” “Alright, see you later. Hey, take care of them for me.”

Reid had always been very close with his sisters. They were extremely pro tective of one another growing up. He had asked Buddy to pick them up at the airport so they didn’t have to take a cab.

Later that evening, Eagle hosted a buffet dinner at the club. Most of the players and caddies attended the affair, many with their wives or dates. The ballroom was extravagantly decorated. There were two large ice sculptures: a very realistic life-size golfer at the pinnacle of his swing and a sixfoot golf ball. The sign in front of the ball read, “Play Eagle’s newest ball, ‘Freeze.’ Use Freeze when you want to ice your competition.”

Huge silver bowls were at the center of each table. They were filled with a mixture of Freeze golf balls and similar-sized spheres of ice. Carl walked over and asked, “Well, gentlemen, what do you think?” “It looks like Reid’s first advertising campaign might be a little chilly,”

Buck said. “Yup, but don’t worry, Reid, our next ball balances out the Freeze cam

paign nicely. It’s called Heat,” Carl said. “Freeze and Heat, that’s pretty neat,” Reid said. As Carl and Buck rolled their eyes, Reid spotted his sisters, Betsy and Hunter, searching for him. He hadn’t seen them in months. They ran and smothered him with hugs. Both girls had the same blue eyes as Reid. Betsy was a beautiful girl with the body of a dancer and long, curly brown hair. Hunter had an angelic face with eyes that lit up as she smiled. Her dirty blond hair framed her pretty face in a short bob cut. Reid introduced them to Carl and they said hello to Buck. Reid asked, “Can we sit down? I don’t know about you all, but I’m

really hungry.” “Come on, we’re at the head table,” Carl said. I’ll just move Tom Davis

and his wife to another table to make room for Betsy and Hunter.” “Don’t do that, Carl. We can sit anywhere,” Betsy said. “I wouldn’t hear of it,” Carl answered. “I’d like to get to know you two better, anyway. Maybe I can get you to reveal some of Reid’s weak spots, for later negotiations.” Both girls’ eyes opened wide as their jaws dropped. “Easy, girls, I was kidding,” he said with a grin. “Whew,” they both sighed. After a quick laugh, everyone followed Carl to the buffet. Delicacies from around the world adorned the table. After dinner, multi-tiered Viennese tables were wheeled in, bearing pastries and other sweets that were not to be believed. The bartenders were very busy all night.

Before the night was through, Carl went to the podium and thanked everyone for coming. He announced that there was a box of Freeze for everyone to take home. “I would appreciate it if all the tour pros here tonight would try the balls, then contact me with your evaluation.” He then revealed two surprises. “I’d like everyone to reach into the silver bowl on your table and take an ice cube. By now they should have melted to the size of large marbles. Now place the ice in your mouth and let it melt. Do not swallow if you feel something hard after the ice melts. There are tiny platinum golf balls in three of the cubes. Whoever finds the platinum balls will be going on a two-week vacation for two to the Fiji Islands.”

There was a moment of silence before shrieks came from different areas of the room. One winner was a caddie; the other two were player’s wives. As they were congratulated, waiters entered the room in succession, carrying trays of shot glasses. They quickly handed one to each guest. Squeals of surprise sounded out as everyone realized the shot glasses were made of ice. Carl raised his and said, “To the Master’s and to Freeze. Bottoms up, everyone.” Most did the shot; many reached for a second.

The evening ended early for the players’ sake. Tomorrow was the final day of the tournament. Reid had reserved the room next to his suite for his sisters. He handed them the cardkeys and said, “You guys can hang out with Buck for the rest of the evening. I’m sure he’ll introduce you to some interesting people. I’ll see you at the golf course tomorrow. By the way, when the tournament is over, what do you say we fly to New York and spend some time with Mom before the Classic at Westchester Country Club?”

“I have to make sure Steve and the kids are okay with it,” Betsy said. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I already have another instructor teaching my dance classes while I’m out. Besides, it’ll be good for Mom.”

“Why don’t you have Steve and the kids meet us there? They can come watch the tournament.”

“Good idea. I’ll call and see if he can take a few days off. The kids would love it.” “Marriage sure makes things complicated, doesn’t it?” Hunter joked. “Oh shut up!” Betsy replied with a grin. “Alright, alright, cut it out you two,” Reid said. I have to hit the sack. Go have some fun.” He turned toward the rest of the group at the table. “Good night, all.” “Good night, Reid,” they all said. “Good luck tomorrow,” Carl added. “Thanks, Carl,” Reid said. He turned to Buddy. “We tee off at 2:30. I want to sleep late, then get a massage. Let’s meet in the locker room at 11:30.” “Sounds good,” Buddy replied. By the time Reid got his room it was 10 p.m. and he was bushed. After a quick shower, he got in bed. When he called to request his wake-up call, the receptionist told him he had a message waiting. He said, “I’ll get it tomorrow.” It was time to think golf, and only golf. Once again, he played each hole on the course in his head. Sleep came somewhere in the middle of the 15th.

Chapter 10

When the phone rang at 7:30 a.m., Reid opened his eyes and smiled; the Green Jacket fit him perfectly in his dream. He reached over, barely lifted the phone and dropped it back in the cradle. He sat up, rubbed his face and stretched, then called to order breakfast. After dressing, he ate on the balcony, then left for the club to finish the tournament. He met Buddy in the locker room. “Ready?” “Ready,” Buddy said. Reid changed into his golf shoes while Buddy did the shopping for the round: Cokes, water, bananas and candy bars. They met again at the practice range. Reid’s clubs had been delivered to the range earlier with those of most of the players. There were only a few other guys on the range practicing. Most were already playing their rounds or getting ready to tee off.

Reid took an iron out of his bag and used it to stretch. He handed Buddy the iron and pulled his driver from the bag. Mindlessly, he removed the head-cover and tossed it to Buddy. He teed up a ball and took his stance. It wasn’t until he placed the club behind the ball that he noticed some kind of note taped to the top of the club head. “What the hell is this?” he asked. He lifted the club to read the note. It was a blue piece of paper that said:

Win today, it’s OK, Win another you’ll be 6 feet under. “Good one, Buddy,” Reid said with a laugh. “I didn’t put it there,” Buddy said shaking his head. “Right,” Reid said in doubt. “Really, Reid, I didn’t,” Buddy said emphatically. “Buddy, if you didn’t do this, we have a problem. Someone’s playing

with us.” “What’s it say?” Buddy asked. Reid showed him the note. After reading it, Buddy said, “Real funny. When I find out who did

this, I’m gonna kick their butt all the way across the course.” “You think it’s real?” Reid asked nervously, looking around. “No way!...My God! Do you?” Reid took a deep breath and said very seriously, “I don’t know, but real or not, we have a match to play. I can’t let this rattle me. Today is our day, dammit. Take off the note!”

As Buddy started to remove the note, Reid yelled, “Buddy, stop. If it’s real, that’s evidence. Go get my back-up driver.” Buddy left for the clubhouse. As Reid looked at the note again, his concern grew. So my feelings have been right, he thought. But why would anybody threaten me? Well, I guess there might be a few people with enough reason.

He grabbed another club and started swinging it, trying to loosen up. After a few swings, he teed up a ball and hit a terrible slice. He teed up another and hit a huge hook. I’m over-compensating, he thought. “Slow down, focus and relax,” he said aloud to himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He hit the next ball straight. Thank God, he thought, I can still do it. He banged a few more straight and long. Then he took out his wedge and hit some short shots. He was doing okay, but he could feel a knot forming in his gut. Buddy came back and handed Reid his other driver. “How ya doin’?” “Not so great. If this thing is real, we have a big problem. I know I’ve pissed off more than a few people lately. It’ll be tough to narrow it down to one. God, I hope it’s just a joke.”

“Please, let that be the case,” Buddy said. “Either way, we need to report it to the police.” “Call Buck and get him here quickly. Don’t tell him why; just say it’s

important that we meet before I tee off.” Buddy pulled out his cell phone and walked away. Reid swung his driver a few times, then teed up another ball. He swung the club and topped the ball. It skidded through the grass about 20 feet. “Oh, this is going to be some day,” he murmured through gritted teeth. He looked up and noticed another player watching him with a look of shock.

“What are you looking at?” Reid growled. “You gonna tell me you’ve never missed a ball?” “Easy, Reid, I’m sorry,” the golfer said. “No, I’m sorry, I’m just uptight.” Reid stepped away and walked to the far side of the range. He needed to calm down; this was one of the most important days of his life. He closed his eyes, tilted his head to the sky and said, “I don’t ask you for much, but I could really use some help right now.” He slowly walked back to his practice spot, teed up a ball, and said to himself, “Just focus and relax. You can do this.” Once again, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He hit the ball and it took off like a missile, straight and very long. He sighed in relief, thinking, Today’s going to be tough. I’m going to need extreme concentration on every shot. He proceeded to hit another six balls with absolute focus; he hit them all well. The knot in his stomach began to subside. He hit another 20 balls with various clubs. Whenever he allowed his mind to wander, he hit a lousy shot. He needed Buddy’s help today. Buddy would have to constantly remind him to relax. Otherwise, they were in for big trouble. Reid continued to practice like it was just another day. He chipped for a while, then went to the practice green. He needed to stay calm to hold his lead today. But he knew thoughts of the note were going to haunt him. It would be a miracle if he could think of anything else. He gathered all his inner strength and whispered to himself, “I can do this.”

Chapter 11

In the middle of a putt, Buck called Reid’s name from the far side of the practice green. Several players hissed at him, “Shhh,” “Shut-up, will ya,” “Come on, Buck.” “Sorry,” Buck grimaced and raised his hand in apology. Reid walked over and said, “Let’s go get some coffee.” “What the hell is going on?” Buck asked as they walked. “Show him the club, Buddy.” Buck took the club and read the note. His face paled. “Oh shit. Who

else knows about this?” “No one,” Reid answered. “Good.” He sighed. “I need to think about this for a minute.” After a moment, he continued. “Reid you’re not going to like what I have to say. First, this threat has nothing to do with this tournament; it says you can’t win after today. You need to let me do the worrying for now while you and Buddy take care of winning. Second, I’m calling the police and also Jay Scott. And last, I’m hiring you some bodyguards until we figure out who did this.” “No way,” Reid said quietly. “I don’t want them.” “Look, you just received a threat on your life. This certainly affects you most, but it also affects everyone around you. Saying no to protection would be extremely selfish. You may be arrogant, but you’re not selfish. We need to take every precaution for you, your family, Buddy and yes, even me. I’ve dealt with this type of thing before, trust me.”

“Alright, when you put it that way, I can’t say no. I didn’t think about others being in danger. Do what you think is right.” “Welcome to lifestyles of the rich and famous, my friend,” Buck said. “Wonderful,” Reid said sarcastically. “Gentlemen,” Buck said. “It’s time to try and forget this for now.

Think golf, guys, think green and think about $30 million. Now, go win.” “Yeah, right,” Reid said with a sigh. “We’ll see you at the turn.”

Reid and Buddy arrived at the first tee about 15 minutes before Reid’s time. He stayed behind the gallery and stretched.

Howard Brock, second on the leader board and Reid’s pairing for the day, was at the rear of the tee box, watching the competition tee off. Reid had been paired with Brock before. He liked the guy. Brock was fairly quiet and played a consistently good game. Unlike many on the tour, he never held up play. Brock usually took one practice swing and then hit the ball. He had been on the tour a few years longer than Reid. Although he had never won a major, he was in the top 10 regularly. Reid liked Brock’s style and usually stayed fairly cool and collected when he played with him.

Reid joined Brock and watched the golfers just ahead of them tee off. They were the last twosome of the day. They shook hands and wished each other luck. Brock was tied for second, only three shots behind Reid. His name was announced and he teed up his ball. True to form, he took one practice swing then blasted a great drive down the middle. After the applause died down, Reid was announced and the crowd erupted again. The announcer said, “Quiet, please.” Reid focused and did his best to relax, then hit his ball short, into the right rough. The crowd gasped; their expectations were shaken.

Unhappy, Reid took a deep breath, shrugged and exhaled. He walked over to Buddy, who was waiting for him in front of the tee box. They walked down the fairway together behind Brock and his caddie. “Not the way I like to start,” Reid said.

“Maybe not,” Buddy said, “but it could have been a lot worse. Don’t worry, you’re going to have a good day. You know what you need to do. I’m going to say the two magic words before every shot you take. If you relax and focus, you are going home with the Green Jacket. I’ll do my part, you do yours, and we’ll win, alright?” “Alright,” Reid answered skeptically. Walking down the fairway, the fragrant Tea Olive trees had a somewhat calming effect on Reid. They arrived at his ball before Howard’s. The rough was deep. “Looks like the grass grew two inches overnight,” Reid said. He had 190 yards to the pin. Buddy handed him his seven-iron. After a practice swing, Reid hit a beautiful shot. The ball landed on the green and rolled to within a foot and a half of the hole. Once again, the crowd roared. Reid smiled and said, “We’re gonna be all right.” “Damn right,” Buddy said. Howard’s second shot landed 12 feet from the pin. They were wel

comed to the green by loud applause. Reid tipped his cap to the crowd. Howard’s putt broke sharply and rimmed the hole, leaving a six-inch

putt. He tapped in for par. Reid read his putt, lined up, and knocked it in for a birdie. The crowd exploded once more. Reid and Buddy walked toward each other and tapped fists. Buddy quietly said, “Nice job. Now, go do it again.”

Reid stayed focused through most of the front nine. He was scoring well with five pars and three birdies. The ninth hole was a 460-yard par four leading back to the clubhouse. Howard’s tee shot, although straight, landed on the left side of the fairway, giving him a tough approach shot. Reid took a practice swing and lined up for his drive. Just as he started his backswing a heckler yelled, “Come on Reid, down the middle, baby.”

Stopping his swing, Reid backed away from the ball and gave a men acing stare in the heckler’s direction. Shaking his head, he turned to Buddy who mouthed, focus and relax. Instead of the desired effect, the words almost made Reid laugh. His mind then shifted to some of his usual stress remedies. Meditation? Not now. Hypnosis? Not here. Alcohol? Now there’s a possibility. He chuckled again, thinking, Okay, time to get serious. He took a deep cleansing breath and tried to clear his mind. Not a chance. He took his stance, swung and topped the ball. Never rising more than a foot off the ground, the ball hit the deep grass, took a few short hops and burrowed itself deep in the rough. All in all, it went about 40 yards, not even clearing the front tee box. The crowd sighed. Reid’s lead had already slipped to one shot and now it looked like he was going to finish the front nine tied for first, if he was lucky. He was upset about the threat and now the heckler had him blowing his lead. He walked to his ball with Buddy.

“Come on, get it together,” Buddy said. “You’ve been playing really well; don’t let one jerk ruin it.”

“I know you’re right, but this has been one lousy day. I just can’t stay calm.”

“Look, it has been an awful day, but you’re playing great golf in spite of everything. Don’t give up now. This is your tournament. Now go hit this shot like the champion you are.” Buddy handed Reid his club.

“You’re right. I am playing well in spite of all this crap. I can still win, can’t I?” “Hell, yeah,” Buddy said. The ball, barely visible, was nestled among the roots of the thick, deep grass. “I think I need a shovel instead of a club for this shot,” Reid said, looking worried. “You can do it, just relax.” Reid nodded. After two practice swings and a look down the fairway, he hit the ball with gusto. It was the perfect recovery shot, landing in the fairway with an excellent approach angle.

Howard’s second shot, however, had a tough approach to the green. He would have to hook his shot around the trees to get close or punch out to line up his next shot. After a brief discussion with his caddie, his decision was obvious; he was going for it. After a practice swing, he lined up and hit an excellent shot that hooked around the trees and landed just in front of the green. The crowd cheered as the ball rolled up onto the heavily sloped, closely shaved bent grass, toward the hole. But as quickly as the cheering began, it quieted as the ball slowed almost to a halt then turned and started trickling very slowly backward. The crowd watched tensely, sighing as the ball picked up speed and rolled off the green, finally stopping about eight yards away.

Reid couldn’t help but empathize as Howard’s head slumped. On the way to his own ball, all he thought about was overcoming the sloping green. He needed to hit a shot that would bounce just in front of the pin with enough backspin to stop the ball but not enough to repeat Howard’s roll-off.

Reid took a practice swing. He looked from the ball to the hole and back again, adjusted his grip, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He swung hard and hit the ball, taking a huge divot with it. The ball arched high in the air, bounced in front of the hole, hit the pin and dropped in the cup. Reid just smiled and laughed. He couldn’t believe it himself. The gallery cheered; the loudest commotion came from right next to the green. Betsy, Hunter, Buck and Carl were high-fiving and carrying on like kids. It was a pretty funny sight. Reid laughed until the announcer asked, “Quiet, please.” They all quieted down, the girls finding it hard to hold back their excitement.

Howard chipped close and tapped in for par. Reid’s birdie put him two shots ahead. As they walked off the green, Buck approached Reid and said, “Come walk with me for a minute.”

Reid sent his sisters on to Eagles’ tent, telling them he’d be there in a few minutes. Reid and Buck walked away from the crowds. Reid noticed that two guys were following them.

“I’m proud of you,” Buck said. “Most people would have crumbled under this kind of pressure.”

“Luckily, my score is not reflective of my emotions. Believe me, I’m feeling the pressure. I’m a wreck, Buck.”

“I’ll bet you are. Just stay strong for the back nine, then we’ll get out of the crowds and lay low for awhile. Now, I’m sure you noticed we have some company behind us. Let me introduce you to Joel and Stu.” Buck waved the guys over. “Joel, Stu, this is Reid Clark; Reid, say hello to Team One, your primary protection.”

“Hi, guys,” Reid said. “Let me just say ahead of time, I’m not a happy camper at the moment; I’m not comfortable with anyone following me around. I know you’re here for my protection and I appreciate it. But, I’ll warn you now, I have a tendency to snap at people whether they deserve it or not. I’m sure it’s going to happen with you at some point, so try to put up with me. If I live through this, you’ll both be paid generously when we catch this jerk.”

“Mr. Clark, we have already been warned of what to expect from you,” Joel said. “We have both seen you on TV enough that we really didn’t need the warning. We understand what you are going through. We will do our best to stay out of your way, unless it’s necessary to do otherwise.” Then his tone changed to one of pure intensity. “But, understand one thing. No one, and I mean no one, is going to get near you on our watch.”

They did not look much like bodyguards. Instead of bulging muscles, both men were tall and lean. Not an ounce of fat could be detected on their tight, muscular frames. Reid soon learned that they were highly qualified for their jobs. Both were Navy Seals. Each was a high-level marksman and had several high degree black-belts in martial arts. They had been on reconnaissance teams in the Middle East and had been on various presidential security teams. He also found out that they were costing him a fortune. Well, he thought, if I’m going to have bodyguards, they may as well be the best money can buy.

Buck had already fitted Joel and Stu with the same uniforms worn by all the volunteers working the tournament: golf shirts and caps with the Master’s logo, and khaki shorts. They would blend right in. No one could possibly guess they were bodyguards trained to kill.

The four of them walked to the tent and found the girls and Buddy at a picnic table. “I hate to rush you, but we only have five minutes,” Buddy said.

Buck introduced Joel and Stu to Buddy and the girls. He told them they were sports psychologists and were going to help Reid maintain his concentration on the back nine.

Buddy tilted his head in doubt. He knew better but kept his mouth shut. “You guys better get going,” Buck said. The four men stood up. Betsy gave Reid a hug and said, “Good luck. I

know you can do it.” Hunter then hugged him and whispered in his ear, “Win this one for

Dad.” Reid smiled at her and said to the group, “I guess it’s show time. See you in a little while.” They walked toward the 10th tee box.

Chapter 12

Reid was actually feeling pretty good. Ahead by only two shots, he had some work to do. Although the back nine was known to be much more difficult, he liked it on this course more than the front. He counted on it to intimidate the other players into making mistakes, giving him a chance to increase his lead. All things considered, he was fairly loose, but he had not been able to get into the zone on the front nine. He needed to now, in spite of the circumstances.

Howard and his caddie were at the tee box already. The twosome in front of them had just hit their second shots and were walking toward the green.

Given the okay, Reid teed up his ball and took a few practice swings to loosen up. He focused on the ball and said to himself, “It’s now or never.” He swung his club and hit one of his best drives of the day. He turned and made eye contact with Buck and the girls. He smiled and winked. Betsy gave him the thumbs-up.

Howard also hit an excellent drive, not as long as Reid’s, but then, no one hit as long as Reid. They started walking, and the gallery fell into motion behind them. Reid parred the next few holes. After having birdied two of the holes, Howard was now alone in second place. Reid maintained his two shot lead with five holes to go. He was finally in the zone.

The number of tournament security guards and volunteers assigned to their group had doubled since the morning. Most of the spectators on the course were now following Reid and Howard. The increased security was doing its job of keeping the crowd fairly quiet and behind the barriers. The hecklers had given up for fear of getting thrown off the course as the match neared its end. Even the reporters and camera crews were staying well out of the way.

The 14th hole was a soft dogleg to the left. Reid’s tee shot was a little too long. He now had a large tree in his path to the green. Howard’s shot, shorter and further left than Reid’s, left his next shot wide open. He hit it perfectly. Reid studied his shot and asked Buddy. “High or low?” “If you try to go over, you won’t make the green,” Buddy said. “You

have to punch it low.” “I agree. I guess I’ll use my three.” “Don’t take a full swing. Try about three quarters. Land it a little further than halfway to the green and let it run. You’ll need enough speed to make it over the last hill, but then the green slopes down to the pin. This is gonna be tricky, but you can do it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Reid took a few practice swings then stepped up to the ball. As he brought his club back he thought of the note and his arms tensed as he swung and hit the ball. Reid knew immediately it was no good. He had hit it too hard and it landed way too close to the green. It ran fast up the hill, took air, landed in the center of the green and continued off the back, through the scattering gallery, stopping about 10 yards into the rough. “Ouch,” Reid said. “Yeah,” Buddy agreed. They walked to the ball. Security had moved the crowd out of the way. For the first time all day, the gallery remained silent. Reid took his lobwedge and hit a high lofting shot that came to rest leaving a 20 foot putt. Not what he had intended. Two putts later, he finished with a double bogey.

Howard parred the hole and they were tied for the lead. Reid sighed, shaking his head in disgust. His body tensed as he aggressively handed his putter to Buddy. “Calm down,” Buddy said. “You need to stay loose.”

Michael Balkind

“Oh, shut up,” Reid said quietly. Buddy knew that had been coming, but it didn’t faze him; in fact, Reid said it to him fairly often. Buddy always let it go. It was one of the things Reid liked about him and why they made a good team. Buddy let Reid blow off steam at him regularly. He knew Reid didn’t mean it personally; he just needed to vent. Buddy considered it part of his job. He gave Reid a moment then said, “Okay? Are you ready to continue?” “Yeah, sorry,” Reid sighed. “No problem. Now let’s go get the lead back and finish this thing

already.” Reid parred 15 and 16. Howard parred 15 and birdied 16, taking the lead by one. Reid then birdied the 17th while Howard shot par. They were tied going into the 18th hole, a par four.

The crowd was buzzing. An ending like this in the Master’s was as exciting as golf could get. Third and fourth positions were already determined. No other players really had a chance at first or second, barring any extreme disaster with Reid or Howard, that is. The Green Jacket was going home with one of them.

They walked onto the 18th tee box. Reid teed up his ball, walked back, shook Howard’s hand and said, “Good luck.” He went back to his ball and took a practice swing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He relaxed, concentrated on the ball and swung. His drive was flawless, incredibly long with the perfect fade, leaving an easy approach shot to the green.

Howard then went through his pre-shot actions and hit his drive; again shorter than Reid’s, but right in the middle. They walked to Howard’s ball. He had about 170 yards to the green. He took a practice swing, then another, then one more. It was out of character for him but it was certainly understandable. He then hit his ball nicely; it bounced on the green and stopped about 20 feet from the pin. They walked another 30 yards to Reid’s ball. Buddy handed him his wedge. He took one practice swing then hit the ball. The ball flew high and dropped right next to the pin, causing a burst of applause from the crowd. If it had stopped there it would have been the perfect shot, but its rapid backspin ripped into the green sending the ball in the direction from where it came. The gallery’s sudden change of reaction from applause to moans was almost laughable. The ball finally came to rest just inside Howard’s.

They walked up to the undulating dance floor among cheers from the crowd. Reid marked his ball’s position and picked it up.

Howard studied his putt with his caddie and determined the break in the green. He took a few practice swings, lined up and hit his ball. It broke left and rolled toward the hole. Reid thought he had it nailed, but the ball passed the hole a quarter-inch to the left and stopped about six inches away. The gallery moaned then quietly applauded.

Reid placed his ball back in position. He and Buddy studied the putt from different angles. They talked about the break and discussed Howard’s putt. Reid approached his ball, took a few practice swings, then a deep cleansing breath. He swung his putter and hit the ball. It broke left, following a similar path as Howard’s putt. Reid had intended to hit hard enough to compensate for the break in the green. Instead, his unusually soft touch had taken over and he watched the ball lose momentum as it inched toward the hole. Its agonizingly slow pace caused it to veer slightly off target due to a small break in the green. Just as Reid accepted that the playoff would continue, the ball caught the rim of the cup and circled once before dropping in.

Reid let out a huge sigh. The crowd went absolutely crazy. Buddy ran over and lifted Reid in a big bear hug. “You did it!” “Yes I did, didn’t I!” Reid said, not trying to hide his tears. After Buddy set him down and the crowd settled, Howard tapped in

his putt. Reid walked over and shook his hand. “Great game, Howard.” “Congratulations,” Howard said, patting Reid on the back. “It was a

pleasure to play with you today.” “Thank you. You, too.” Security cleared their path to the scoring tent where they signed and submitted their scorecards. Reid’s euphoria was kept in check by his subconscious thoughts of the note. There’s nothing like achieving the goal of a lifetime while harboring the angst of a death threat, he thought.

Chapter 13

Exiting the tent, Reid was accosted by cameras and microphones. Joel and Stu were flanking him.

Bobby Lee placed his microphone in front of Reid and said, “Reid, con gratulations! What a day, huh?” “Bobby, you have no idea.” “You played an incredible match, although you seemed a little dis

tracted in the beginning.” “Took me a while to get in the zone today, but once I did, I was okay.” “Howard seemed to play better today than he has in a long time; he

seemed to step up to your level. What do you think?” “Howard played a great game today. He’s a gentleman and a terrific competitor. I enjoyed playing with him. If other players on the tour adopted some of his qualities, it would definitely bring some class back to the game. As far as Howard’s level of play is concerned, he’s an excellent golfer. In case you didn’t notice, he almost won today. In fact, we missed a sudden death playoff by half an inch.”

“Well, congratulations again, Reid.” Bobby turned toward the camera and said, “I’m Bobby Lee reporting live from the Master’s Tournament with golf’s newest master, Reid Clark, here in beautiful Augusta, Georgia.”

Reid turned away from the microphone and was almost knocked over by Betsy and Hunter. They hugged him and congratulated him until he laughed and said, “Okay, okay girls, thank you, you can stop now.”

Buck stepped into the mayhem at this point, commenting to the reporters that he would hold a press conference later in the clubhouse. He then pulled Reid away toward Butler Cabin for the trophy and jacket presentation. As they walked, everyone lining the path applauded and congratulated Reid. They entered the cabin and were ushered into a large room. Bill Taylor asked Reid to sit with him and last year’s champion near the fireplace. Cameras flashed from all directions.

Taylor presented Reid with the trophy, then the previous winner of the Green Jacket helped Reid into his. Reid felt a chill course down his spine. He would cherish this moment for the rest of his life. He said a few words of thanks, then accepted a check for $1,230,000.

After the ceremony, Buck said, “Sorry to do this to you, but we need to go to the clubhouse for the press conference. I promise it’ll be quick.” The entourage followed Reid and Buck to the clubhouse. Journalists, reporters, photographers and camera crews packed the dining room.

The conference proceeded smoothly and was almost over when a reporter in the front asked, “Reid, can you tell us about this morning’s threat on your life?”

Reid’s face flushed; he looked at Buck, who shrugged with a pained expression. There were a few gasps around the room, the loudest from Betsy and Hunter. Immediately, the room started to buzz. Questions flew at Reid from every direction. Buck calmly reached for the microphone. “Could you all hold your questions for a minute?” He waited a moment. The questions slowed but continued. He then said forcefully, “I’ll explain if you’ll quiet down.” The room silenced. “The fact is we did receive a threat this morning. We wanted to keep this quiet until the police had a chance to start their investigation. In fact, I’d like to know how you found out,” he asked the reporter. “I received an anonymous call.” “I’m going to ask you all for a difficult but important favor,” Buck said. “Please give us some time before this hits TV or the papers. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with yet, and obviously we don’t want anyone to get hurt. If you hold off for 12 hours, we’ll update you with any further information we get. Then we’ll hold daily press conferences, but that’s only if you do not leak the story until the morning.”

They wrapped up the meeting. Betsy and Hunter ran up to Reid and gave him teary hugs.

“Come on, girls,” he said, “everything is going to be all right. This kind of stuff happens all the time. We have the best protection available. Oh yeah, by the way, Joel and Stu are not psychologists. They’re bodyguards.” Everyone looked over at the two men, who both grinned. Buck then asked them all to follow him to a private conference room.

The conference room was bright and a little cold. In the center was a huge rosewood conference table, and a card table stood in a corner. Fluorescent lights lit the room excessively. The thermostat was set low, creating a chill that would keep everyone alert. The smell of institutional coffee overpowered the lingering odor of disinfectants left by housekeeping.

Once everyone was seated, Buck began, “Let me bring you up to date. The police are waiting to meet with us. Plain clothes detectives arrived a few minutes ago in an unmarked vehicle so they wouldn’t draw attention. We don’t have much time before this goes public. I don’t trust the press. Someone will leak the story soon. My friend Jay Scott should be here shortly. He’s the best private investigator in the country.” He looked at Stu. “Do you know when your colleagues are due to arrive?”

“They’re on the way from the airport now.” Turning to the others, Stu continued, “Folks, let me make you more comfortable. The security teams on the way are all excellent. Each has been chosen for their special talents in clandestine operations. We have worked together for years. No death threat has ever been fulfilled on our watch. We’ve worked on many cases with Jay Scott, and as Buck said, he is, hands-down, the best investigator in the business. We will nail this son of a bitch quickly and quietly, and you will all be able to resume your normal lives.” “Thanks Stu, that makes me feel somewhat better,” Reid said. “Okay,” Buck said, “Reid, Buddy, we have to meet with the police.

Girls, you can go get something to eat or head to the pool if you like.” “I’d rather stay,” Betsy said very seriously. “I don’t think that’s such a good….” “If they want to stay, they stay,” Reid cut Buck off. “Okay, fine with me,” Buck said. “Joel, would you mind going to find

Detective Frank Alto? He should be here by now.” “Sure, Buck.” Joel got up and opened the door to leave. Three men

were standing there; one’s arm was poised to knock. “Detectives?” Joel asked. “Yeah,” Alto said, with a ‘who’s asking’ look. “I was just coming to look for you. I’m Joel Rebah.” “Really! Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Joel. You have quite the reputation, and I’m glad we’re on the same side.” Alto shook Joel’s hand, introducing himself and the other detectives to the group.

As they sat, Alto said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get down to busi ness. May I see the note?” Buck reached down, picked up the golf club and handed it to him. “Real cute,” Alto said after reading the note. “That’s not the word I used this morning,” Reid said. “I’m sure it wasn’t,” Alto said. “Who had access to your clubs between

yesterday and this morning?” “I handed them directly to the bag room guys,” Buddy answered. “How many guys are we talking about?” “I’m not sure.” Buddy thought for a moment. “There’s at least four that I remember. I think they report to the locker room manager. We can ask him.”

“I’ll just ask the club manager; I need to ask him for an interview room anyway. I think we’ll get more information if we interview them here. Downtown can be intimidating; sometimes it causes people to clam up. If we….” Alto was interrupted by a knock on the door. Joel opened it. “Well, it’s about time,” Joel said with a grin. He greeted six men and

two women as they filed into the room. Alto’s jaw dropped and, with a look of awe he mumbled, “Holy cow, I

don’t believe it.” One of the other detectives murmured, “Oh shit.” Buck stood up, walked over to Jay Scott and put his arm around his shoulders. “Everyone, meet Jay Scott and his team, the finest crime investigation and security team ever assembled.” Alto stood up and introduced himself, then added, “I look forward to

working with you.” “Frank, your attitude is refreshing. Local detectives usually get offended when we’re called in,” Jay said. “If the rest of your team has the same mindset, we’ll get along famously and wrap this problem up quickly.” Alto looked at his men, “Guys?” “Sure,” said Sam, the first detective. Mark McMillan, the other detective, was silent. All eyes turned in his

direction. “Well, Mark?” Frank asked. “Yeah right, whatever,” he said sourly. Reid rolled his eyes thinking, Guess there had to be at least one jerk in the

group. After introductions, Jay took the lead. “Let’s sit and talk for a few min

utes.” He asked Susan, his assistant, to join them. “Give me a minute,” Buck said. He picked up the phone, requested an urn of coffee and a platter of sandwiches be delivered to the room, then took his seat.

Jay began his questioning. “Reid, tell me exactly when and how you found the note.” As Reid explained everything, Susan took notes. “Where’s the note?” Jay asked. Alto handed him the driver. “Cute,” Jay remarked. Everyone except for Jay’s group chuckled. “What’s so funny?” he asked with a furrowed brow. “Frank used the same word a little while ago,” Reid said. “You know what they say about great minds,” Jay kidded. “Yeah, well let’s just hope in this case great minds solve crimes,” Buck

said. “Right, let’s get to work,” Jay said, fidgeting with the tiny keyboard on his BlackBerry. “I want you all to brainstorm. Think about who might have done this and why. Think about anyone who might gain from Reid’s death, or had any issues at all with him in the past.”

They each took turns throwing out possible suspects. Buck started by saying, “David Jordan.” Jay looked at Reid and asked, “Will you elaborate?” “Of course. David Jordan was my first agent; I fired him when I hired

Buck. He obviously knows that he missed out on the big money.” Susan rapidly took more notes. “Okay, next name?” Jay said. “Eli,” Buddy said. Reid explained, “My former caddie, Eli Saline, also felt shafted when I fired him. We had a standing offer that I would pay him a big bonus when I reached $5 million in earnings. I let him go when I was at $4 million, obviously without the bonus.”

Reid let them finish their notes. “There’s also Jennifer, my most recent girlfriend, who is hopefully moving out of my apartment as we speak,” he said with a grin. Jay nodded with a raised brow. Hunter chimed in. “What about all your past girlfriends? You used to

go through about one a week.” “I’m not that bad, am I?” Reid asked hesitantly. “Well, I guess I’ve pissed off a few. Let’s see.” He looked up and rubbed his chin. “Hmmm, there’s Mikaela, Alyssa, and Sydney. They definitely were not pleased when I dumped them.” Buck threw out one more name. “You have to check out Mike Gatto.” Reid nodded, saying, “Right! Add Gatto, along with Hubie Van Meurs and Mike Mard, my three partners in GolfCo. We each put $2 million into a golf course project. We were going to use my name as the promotional draw. After years of legal battles with environmentalists, we gave up. It was like throwing our money into a water hazard. The failed project drove Gatto and Mard into bankruptcy. They begged me to continue funding the lawsuit to keep it alive. It was going to be an exercise in futility, so I walked away from the whole deal. They never forgave me.” “Don’t forget about Bruce,” Betsy said. Nodding again, Reid said, “Right, Bruce Porter. We grew up together, our parents were friends. He had big money problems and he drank like a fish. I told him I would help him financially if he dried out. He would clean up his act for short periods, then fall off the wagon. When I stopped giving him money, he threatened me.” As Jay entered the name on his BlackBerry, he began to laugh. “What are you laughing about?” Buck asked. “It’s rare to see a suspect list grow this long this fast,” Jay responded.

“Can any of you add more?” Nobody said a word. “How about any players on tour with you?” Jay prompted. “There’s always a few who don’t like my attitude or cockiness or more likely the fact that I beat them regularly. They would definitely benefit if I was gone.”

Susan scribbled notes furiously and Jay kept pecking at the tiny key board.

After another period of silence, Reid said, “You know what? As long as we’re throwing out longshots, there are some athletes we’ve thrown out of AllSport, our training camp for The Inner City Sports Foundation. We have a rule at ICSF. If you stay clean and trouble-free, you can stay at camp. No drugs, no alcohol, no screwing up. Two strikes and you’re out. A few of the characters we’ve gotten rid of were pretty pissed off when they left. But how seriously can you take an idle threat from a crackhead?” “Try very,” Jay said. “Yeah, I guess so…. Hey, I’ve got one more addition. There were some hecklers that I had the police remove from the course during a tournament a few weeks ago. They were pissed and they told the cops that I should watch my ass.” Silence again. Jay finished typing and looked up. “Is that it?” He looked around the table. No one said a word. “Good. Reid, we have a lot of potential suspects, but I’m sure if you think hard, you’ll come up with more. Please work at it.” “I will.” “Okay, let’s move on. Who had access to your clubs between yesterday

and this morning?” “We were just discussing that when you arrived. Go ahead, Buddy,”

Alto said. “I gave Reid’s bag to the guys in the bag room. I think there were four

of them.” “I’d like to interview them here rather than downtown,” Alto said. “I agree. Let’s get their names and run background checks,” Jay said. “We’ll set up two rooms; Alto you take one and I’ll take the other. It’ll speed things up. Can you have someone run the backgrounds and then start researching all the people on this list?” “Of course,” Alto said. “Excuse me for interrupting,” Buck said, “but how long are we going to be needed here? Reid’s had a long day and needs to relax. Jay, please tell us what you expect from us, so we can make our plans. We are supposed to play golf with the president and first lady tomorrow, if that’s okay. Then I want to head back to New York. I’ll have to charter a larger jet to fit everyone. Should I reserve it for tomorrow or Tuesday?”

“As long as you’re with members of the team, you can go almost any where you’d like,” Jay answered. “But the less you wander about, the better. We have reserved the rooms surrounding your suite at the hotel. It would be best if you can stay there. Just make sure you let us know if you need to go anywhere. Your game with the president needs to be cancelled. You’ll have to explain the situation to him. He’ll understand. As far as going back to New York is concerned, we can leave tomorrow. Frank and his men can cover things down here.”

“Okay,” Buck said. “Reid, I’m going to go speak with the President, then we’ll head to the hotel. We have a lot of work ahead of us and you need to get some rest.”

“Fine, but I’m coming with you to speak with the President. It would be more respectful if I tell him myself.”

“Respectful? Ha, you never show me any respect,” Buck said with a laugh.

“Yeah, and don’t expect me to start now. My respect comes the hard way; you have to earn it.”

“Well pal, if the extra $15 million wasn’t enough to earn it, then your respect is out of my reach.”

“Hmm, maybe you’re right… Okay, I’ll try to show you some,” Reid conceded. “Yeah, sure, in my dreams,” Buck replied. “Enough already, you two. Go speak with the President, then get out of here,” Jay said. “Stu, Joel, stick to them like glue. Keith and Bill, you’re back-up, team two. Judy, Jared, team three. You’re assigned to Betsy and Hunter. Don’t let them out of your sight. Jeff and Kenny, team four. I want you to go to the hotel before Reid and Buck get there and do a complete sweep. Ladies and gentlemen, I only want to say this once. You will not find better protection anywhere in the world than the team assembled in this room. We will keep you safe, if, and only if, you work with us. There may be times you question our judgment in certain situations, but I need to ask for your complete trust. You must be prepared to do anything that any member of the team asks, at any time, no matter what. Without that commitment from each of you, we cannot do our job effectively. Do you all understand and agree?” Some answered yes, some nodded. They all obviously agreed. “Good. Okay, go ahead, get out of here,” Jay said, “I’ll catch up with you at the hotel later. Frank, let’s stay here and put a game plan together. I want to bring you up to date on the e-mail threats that preceded today’s threat.” “E-mail threats?” Alto asked. “Yeah, they received some threats at ICSF’s e-mail address. The first was checked out by the feds, who considered it a hoax. To tell you the truth, I had agreed until now. I’ll fill you in after everyone leaves.” “You got it,” Alto said.

Chapter 14

Reid and Buck found the President and first lady in the main dining room. Secret Service agents were seated at nearby tables, giving them some privacy. At the President’s request, Reid and Buck took seats at his table. Reid quickly explained the situation and apologized for not being able to play golf with them. The President was curious about the threat and wanted to help. He offered Reid Secret Service protection.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Buck said. “We’ve already hired Jay Scott and his team; I’m sure you know of them. Let me ask Jay if he wants help before we accept your offer.”

“Of course I know Jay. He’s done freelance work for me as well as my predecessor. His team is the best in the world.” He then noticed Joel and Stu, sitting at an adjacent table with his secret service agents. “Hi, guys. I didn’t realize you were there.” They walked over and shook hands with the President. “Good to see you gentlemen, even if that usually means someone has a problem. I’d like you to get this psychopath quickly. Reid is invaluable to the game of golf, and his foundation is going to take American sports to a new level.”

“Mr. President, we’re on it. We will take care of this situation post haste,” Stu said.

The President nodded and turned to Reid and Buck. “By the way gen tlemen, I have already asked Congress and the Olympic Committee to look into grants for the ICSF. Buck, call me and we can discuss this further.”

Reid’s look had become one of complete shock. He had only met the President the day before, and here he was, talking about federal grants for the ICSF? It was all too much to handle: the threat, winning the Master’s, and now possible government backing for the foundation, all in one day. Reid was overwhelmed. He needed rest, and it showed.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Buck said. “We appreciate your under standing and your help. When should I call you to discuss the grant?” “Next week would be fine, Buck. I’ll look forward to your call.” Reid stood up and shook the President’s hand, then reached for the first lady’s and gave it a light kiss. “Thank you both. Please excuse me, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a very long day and I need some rest.”

“It’s nice to know chivalry is not dead,” the first lady said. “Obviously the press doesn’t know the real you. You’re a perfect gentlemen and humanitarian.” “That’s what I keep telling them,” Reid said with a grin. Reid and Buck left the dining room, with Stu and Joel on their heels. They met the others out by the pool. As he walked toward the group, Reid noticed Betsy and Hunter were huddled together and Betsy was on her cell phone. He also noticed, as he got closer, that Hunter gave Betsy a signal to hang up. Quickly snapping her phone closed, Betsy did her best to turn and face Reid nonchalantly. Reid saw through the act and wondered what they were up to, but decided to let it go. He said, “Let’s head back to the hotel, everyone. I’d like to eat and get to bed early. It’s been a long day.”

Reid invited everyone back to his suite for dinner. He called and ordered pizza, soda and beer. Upon entering the suite, he had seen a bottle of Crystal on ice and realized that was what the girls had been up to earlier. Although $120 was nothing to him, it was a big amount for Betsy and Hunter. He smiled at their thoughtfulness and made a mental note to reciprocate soon. He ordered two additional bottles so there was enough for everyone.

The group ate till they were stuffed, including Reid, whose hunger sur prisingly had not diminished since receiving the threat. He thought it strange, but he was feeling kind of numb about it. After months of worry, his fears had proven correct, yet it all seemed surreal.

Champagne was poured; the girls, Buck and Buddy each toasted the Master’s Champion. When the pizza was gone and the bottles were empty, Buck announced that they would be leaving for the airport at 10 a.m. He then politely asked them all to leave so Reid could get some rest. Reid called his mother before going to bed. “Hi, Mom.” “Oh Reid, I’m so glad you called. I wanted to congratulate you.” “How about doing it in person tomorrow? The girls are here with me,

and we are all coming up to spend a few days with you before the Classic.” “Oh goodness, it’s been years since we all spent time together,” she

said, getting choked up. “I’m so happy; I don’t know what to say.” Reid assured her she didn’t have to say anything. “We should be there around two or three in the afternoon. Buddy will be with us and a few other guests will be tagging along.” “What do you mean a few other guests? How many?” “Don’t worry Mom, and don’t make a fuss. We’ll see you tomorrow,

okay?” “Okay.” “Mom, I love you.” “I love you too, son,” she said and hung up. Reid went to sleep immediately afterward with very mixed emotions. Sure, the Green Jacket was finally his, but he was playing in the Classic in less than two weeks with someone threatening to kill him if he won. Drifting off to sleep, he thought, What a life! What a crazy life!

Awaking early, Reid was uptight from a long, restless night of twisting and turning in bed. He called the spa for a massage and also made massage, facial, and manicure appointments for Betsy and Hunter. He called their room, waking them, and told them to get ready for some pampering. They were thrilled.

After two relaxing hours in the spa, Reid and his sisters had a quick, light breakfast and were ready to leave by 10. They met everyone in the lobby and walked out to the hotel shuttle bus.

The plane Buck had chartered was bigger and more luxurious than the one they flew down on. The main cabin was like a family room with soft leather recliners, a media center and a complete wet bar. A small library area was stocked with books. There was a small bedroom and even a separate smoking room with its own bar.

As they boarded, everyone looked around in disbelief. “People really travel like this regularly?” Hunter asked as she walked to and fro, checking things out. “Why not?” Betsy said. “I could get used to it.” “Me too,” Stu agreed. After the attendants took meal requests, Jay asked, “May I have everyone’s attention? I’d like to give you all a short update and review the plans we made with Detective Alto.” He waited briefly until everyone was listening. “I’m pretty comfortable with Alto’s team, except for that sourpuss McMillan, and if he gives us a problem, Frank will take him off the case. We interviewed and cleared the bag-room guys. Alto’s group is doing research and background checks on the people from Reid’s list. We also have a lab doing tests on the note. The paper and the printer used to write the note might help reveal its origin. We should be able to determine if the note was printed at the hotel, the club, or someplace else. There also is a chance we’ll find out where the paper was purchased. It seems that some larger office supply chains sell paper that has been manufactured specifically for them. Some paper has unique dyes or shades that are also chain specific.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Overall, I like the direction we’ve taken, and I’m sure we’ll find the perp quickly. But until we do, I’d like to ask you all to refrain from speaking with the press. I’m sure they’ll attempt to contact each of you, and they can be very persistent.” He passed around a stack of his business cards. “I’d like you each to take a few of my cards and, if a member of the press calls or approaches you, just direct them to me. Buck and I will be holding daily press conferences. We’ll give them just enough information to appease them while holding back anything that would potentially damage the investigation if it were to hit the news. At times, we may even use the press to bait a suspect if we feel it’s necessary.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Does anyone have any questions?” There were none. “Okay, that’s all I’ve got.” Reid’s good mood was dampened by Jay’s words. He felt a tension headache coming on. He stood up, walked to the rear of the plane and asked the flight attendant what pain relievers she had for a headache.

“I know a better way I could help you get rid of that headache,” she said with a seductive smile.

He looked at her name badge and said, “Tammy, as much as I would love that, could I have a raincheck? It would be a little too obvious if I were missing for that long.”

She pouted and gave him a quick kiss. “Oh well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. I think the bedroom’s in use at the moment anyway.” “What do you mean?” “Haven’t you noticed your friend Stu has been gone for a while? I’m pretty sure he and Sally, one of the other attendants, are joining the milehigh club.” “Really?” “Sure, it’s fun, especially when were flying in turbulence. Are you sure

you’re not ready for membership?” “Next time.” “Alright,” she said handing him a packet of pain relievers and her phone number on a pink sticky note. “You don’t have to wait till you fly again to call me. I know how to do it on the ground too.” “I’m sure you do. I’ll call, I promise.” “I hope so.” She planted another wet kiss on his lips. He smiled and said, “Till then.” “Till then,” she said. He went forward to watch the movie the others had chosen. He sat down, took the pills and quietly thought of Tammy’s offer. He smiled in spite of his throbbing head.

Stu reappeared about 10 minutes later. He sat in his chair and fell asleep immediately, looking very happy.

Reid tried to concentrate on the movie, but it was hopeless. His headache was becoming unbearable, so he put his head back and closed his eyes. Immediately, a vision of the threatening note entered his mind, causing him to flinch. I just can’t win, he thought in frustration. For the rest of the flight, he stared blankly at the movie screen, his mind in a state of chaos.

They landed at Westchester airport, a small airport about 45 minutes north of Manhattan. Buck jumped in a limo and headed for his office. The rest of the group rented vans and headed to a hotel about 15 minutes north.

Chapter 15

The hotel was about 10 minutes from Joan Clark’s home. To avoid over whelming his mother, only team one joined Reid and his sisters. The others would stay at the hotel and go back and forth to the house as Jay had scheduled their shifts. Each team was on duty for six hours, then off for 18. They needed to be fresh and alert during their watch.

As the van pulled into her driveway, Joan came running out. Obviously, she had been watching for them. She was a regal-looking older woman impeccably dressed in a colorful, flowered, knee length dress. Her dark hair was beautifully coiffed, the obvious result of a recent beauty parlor visit. Her iridescent ice-blue eyes were identical to Reid’s.

Reid opened his door, jumped out and went to her with open arms. They hugged tightly. He admitted to himself that after everything he had been through, it felt nice to get a hug from Mom. She was teary when they let go. After hugging each of the girls, she looked at Reid and said, “I’m so proud of you. How does it feel?”

“I think I’m still in shock. It’s kind of surreal. Between the endorse ment deal, the Master’s and some other things, the past few days have been a blur. Oh, by the way, Mom, I’d like you to meet my friends Joel and Stu. They will be sticking around for a couple of days. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. They can sleep in the guest bedroom. Hey, Hunter, they’re kind of cute, huh?” Hunter blushed. “Mom, cut it out.” “Okay, but they are!” “Mom!” Hunter was totally embarrassed. The house was a large, old but well-kept white colonial. Both sides of the brick walkway were lined with majestic rows of budding red rose bushes. Additional climbing roses added a further touch of elegance as they spiraled up columns on both sides of the steps and twined through the railing and spindles around the front porch.

Upon entry to the house, the delicious scent of fresh baking made everyone’s mouth water. “Let’s go sit on the deck. I made apple pie and chocolate cake. Which should we have?” Joan asked.

“How about both?” Reid said enthusiastically. “Guys, you haven’t had chocolate cake until you’ve had my mom’s! And her apple pie is…is…well, it’s indescribable.” “Great,” Joel said. “I’ll eat the cake; you guys can share the pie.” “My kinda guy,” Joan said. As they took their seats around the teak deck table, they couldn’t help but notice the vast surrounding gardens. There was a seemingly endless variety of budding flowers growing on the deck and in the bordering garden. It was a beautiful sight and instilled a wonderful feeling inside anyone lucky enough to view it.

Seeing the reaction on Joel and Stu’s faces, Reid explained, “Amazing, isn’t it? You should see it when they’re in full bloom. Mom wins all kinds of awards from gardening clubs throughout the area. You should see her vegetable garden. It’s fantastic.” Joan just smiled and said, “Thank you.” They dug into the desserts and brought each other up to date on what was going on in their lives. Reid swore he was going to try to visit more often and would call her every few days. He apologized for his lack of communication and promised to be a better son.

Joan spoke of her gardening and some of the books she had recently read. She also told them she had started a weekly card game and played an occasional nine holes at her friend’s club.

Reid was so excited about her golfing he said, “Great! Tomorrow, after we buy you a car, we’re going over to Bedford Country Club to get you a membership.” “Oh no,” she said, “that’s not necessary, Reid. I don’t play enough golf

to join a club.” “Well, if you join, you’ll play more and I’m sure there’s a regular card game there. By the way, if you’re a member, I’ll visit more often so we can play together.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sold. Hey, Reid, about the car, I’ve been think ing….”

Reid cut her off. “Mom, I told you not to try to talk me out of it. You’re getting a new Caddy.”

“Well, that’s just it son, I hate to ask, but do you think I could get a Jaguar instead? I’ve always loved them.” Everyone laughed. Reid said with a smile, “Of course, Mom.” He got up and gave her a

hug. “Okay, everybody, where should we go for dinner?” “Oh no, were staying right here,” Joan said. “I bought enough porterhouse steaks to feed an army. The girls can help me make the salad and shuck the corn. You guys can start the grill for the steaks and veggies.”

Everyone agreed a home cooked meal was perfect after all the hotel and restaurant meals they’d eaten recently. The guys drank a few beers while cooking the steaks, then switched to red wine during dinner. The meal was excellent and left everyone feeling very mellow.

After dinner and some small talk, Joan asked, “So Stu and Joel, what do you two do for a living?”

Reid, who had been on his way to the kitchen, stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the dishes he was carrying.

Joel had been ready for the question. He said, “We’re consultants, Mrs. Clark.” “Please call me Joan,” she said. “What kind of consulting do you do?” Reid quickly interjected, “Mom, can we talk alone for a few minutes? Hey guys, can you bring the dishes in and start cleaning? We’ll help you as soon as we’re done.” He put the dishes back down on the table and walked over to his mother and helped her up. The girls, Stu and Joel quietly got up to clear the table. “What’s going on?” Joan asked. “Let’s go into the living room,” Reid said as he picked up the open bottle of wine and their glasses. They walked into the living room and sat down. Reid poured some wine and handed her the glass.

“Mom, we have a small issue that we’re dealing with. Everything is under control, but stay quiet for a moment and let me speak; I’m going to get right to the point.” “Well, do it already,” she insisted. “I received a threat yesterday.” She gasped. “What kind of threat?” “A death threat, Mom.” “Oh my God!” she said covering her mouth with a hand. “Calm down, it’s going to be okay. I have the best team in the world on the case already. Joel and Stu are bodyguards, and that’s an understatement. There are three more teams just like them over at the Holiday Inn. They’re working with a guy named Jay Scott who is the best private investigator available. They are well into the investigation; they’ll find the nut who sent the note and it will all be over. Please try not to worry.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated, “don’t worry? You want me not to worry. Ha, that’s a joke.” Her hands were shaking as she gulped down half a glass of wine. “Mom, easy.” “Easy? Don’t give me easy, young man. You come home and drop a bomb on me like this and now you want me to stay calm? Are you crazy?” she asked incredulously.

“Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to tell you. But it’s going to be all right.”

“How do you know? You’ve got some lunatic who wants to kill you and you say it’s all right? Well it’s not!” she yelled. Then she started to cry.

Reid leaned over and hugged her. He let her cry and said, “It’s gonna be okay, mom.” “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Give me a minute to collect myself.” Reid left the room to get her a tissue. When he came back, she had a big, forced smile on her face. She said, “Alright, we’ve managed to get through enough other crap in our lives, we’ll get through this, too. Let’s just deal with it head on. Tell me all about it.” He started at the beginning of the previous day and brought her up to

speed. She swallowed hard and said, “Can you call Jay Scott and the others and ask them to come over? I want to meet them all. I’m sure they’re hungry anyway.” “I’ll ask them to come, but I’m sure they’ve eaten already.” “That’s okay. Anyone can make room for dessert. I made plenty.” Reid called Jay, explained the situation, and Jay said they would be

right over. Reid gave him directions and hung up. When they arrived, coffee, cake and pie were served. Everyone met

Joan, ate dessert and talked for a little while. After accepting everyone’s compliments on her baking, Joan stood up and said, “May I please have everyone’s attention?” Everyone quieted and looked at Joan. “First, let me apologize for asking you all to come on such short notice. I’m glad you enjoyed dessert, but that’s obviously not why I asked you here. Earlier, when Reid explained the threat to me, I got a little over excited…well, maybe a lot. But now that I have met you all and listened to your plans, I must say I feel a lot better about my son’s safety. I will do my best to stay out of your way, but please understand, I’m his mother, and if he gets hurt, I feel the pain.”

“Mrs. Clark…Joan,” Jay corrected himself, “we regularly deal with sit uations where client’s families are involved. We will do our best to respect your relationship with Reid. Our job is to protect him as well as his family and friends. We have never failed any of our clients and we don’t expect to now.” “Thank you, Jay. Thank you, all,” she said and sat down. Shifting his discussion to his team, Jay said, “Joel and Stu, you’re off for the night, you ride back with us. Keith and Bill, you’re on duty. Judy and Jared will be here at 2 a.m. to relieve you. Joan, try to get some rest and remember, you’re in very good hands. Goodnight, all.”

After they left, Joan showed Bill and Keith the spare bedroom in case they needed to rest. They thanked her but told her they would not be sleeping. “Oh, of course not, how silly of me.” As everyone else retired for the night, Reid said, “I’d like to get out of here around 9 a.m. tomorrow, if nobody minds.” “I don’t think car dealerships even open until 10,” Betsy said. “At least

that’s when most clothing stores open,” she added with a laugh. “Fine, make it 9:30; I’d like to be there when they open,” Reid said. “I need to shop for a few things afterward, and then I was hoping that the four of us could play 18 holes. What do you think?” Betsy and Hunter looked at each other and nodded. “We’re in,” Hunter said. “Sounds good to me,” Joan said. “Okay, goodnight,” Reid said as he went up to his room. He washed up and climbed under the covers. His old bed felt good. As he relaxed, his head whirled into action. He tried to fill his mind with good thoughts, but he was too late. Tightening up, he tried to push the threat out of his head…. It wasn’t working. Then, instead of fighting it, he allowed thoughts to consume him. If I can’t stop them, I might as well analyze them, he thought. The subconscious brain works in interesting ways; whatever had brought on the disturbing thoughts was obviously right on target. Although he had hoped they were unwarranted, his fears had been confirmed. Someone wanted him either off the PGA tour or dead. The very thought of it sent a chill through his entire body.

Wrapping himself tight in his blanket, he thought, Should I back out of the Classic? Forget that, no way I’m going to let some bastard get the better of me. I’ve never backed away from anyone or anything. But then again, no one has ever threatened to kill me. He started to weigh his choices. I’ve already got more than enough money to be comfortable for the rest of my life. I’ve proven that I’m the best golfer in the world. Maybe I should be satisfied and not take any more chances. Then he chuckled to himself. Who am I kidding? Back off?

At that moment, it became very clear to him that if this threat was going to affect him in any way, it was only going to make him more determined to win. He spent some time thinking of everything that had happened during the past two days. The last image he saw in his mind as he drifted to sleep was the blue note. His body twitched. Within seconds, he was snoring.

Chapter 16

Tormented by fear, Reid writhed in bed until his sheet was twisted tightly around his torso and legs. The constraint acted as a catalyst, elevating his level of anxiety. He kicked off the sheet wildly and turned to glance at the clock’s glowing red digits. It was 4 a.m. He bolted upright and swung his feet to the wood plank floor. He sat for a few minutes with his elbows on his knees and his face resting in his hands, willing his anguish to subside. Somewhat calmer, he stood up, walked to the window and stared at the bright full moon. He thought, Could this whole situation just be a big prank, or is some lunatic really out to kill me? If it is a joke, whoever’s behind it better not reveal themselves, because I’ll tear them apart. What if it is real? Am I putting everyone I love in jeopardy by staying here with them, or are we all better off here with the protection of the security teams? If anything happens to them, I’ll never forgive myself…. How long can this last? What if they never find the culprit? Will I need security for the rest of my career? For the rest of my life?

Realizing his thoughts were spinning out of control, Reid opened the window, stuck his head out and inhaled the crisp night air deep into his lungs. The cold air had the desired mind-cleansing effect. After taking a few more breaths, Reid stepped back, pulling his head inside the room. He lowered the window, returned to bed and lay there, trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. His mind was in overdrive and he could not downshift. As daylight began to break, he finally gave up. He hopped out of bed and recruited Stu for a run. They followed a dirt road around the local reservoir that Reid had run regularly as a kid. The run and the peaceful surroundings calmed him. He was sweaty but relaxed when they returned. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee permeated the house. They walked into the kitchen to see everyone sitting around the table having bagels and coffee. “I thought you were still upstairs sleeping,” his mother said. “No, we went for a run. I’m going to take a shower, then we can go,

okay?” “Sure, take your time, no rush,” she said. “Here’s some coffee.” He took a sip. “Mmm thanks, this is good,” he said as he left the room. He came back down about half an hour later. “Everyone ready?” He heard some sleepy yes’s. “Good, let’s go.” The drive to the Jaguar dealership was quick. A salesman welcomed Reid with a big, warm grin. Reid said, “My mother would like a red convertible.” “Which model?” the salesman asked. “I don’t know. What do you have on the lot?” “In red?” The salesman thought for a moment, “We have an XKR and

an XK8. Come with me, I’ll show you.” They followed him to the first car. It was beautiful. “Like it, Mom?” “What’s not to like?” Reid pulled the salesman aside and quietly asked how much the car

would cost. The salesman whispered, “About eighty grand.” “Mom, why don’t you take it for a test drive?” “Alright.” She got behind the wheel, Reid sat in the passenger seat, and the salesman crammed himself in back. “How do you lower the top?” Reid asked. After a quick explanation, they unlocked the handles, and Joan pushed the button that folded the top back.

Driving out of the lot, she winked at the girls. They waved back. Five minutes later, Reid asked, “Well, what do you think, do you like it?” “It’s awesome!” she exclaimed, totally out of character. Reid cracked up and said, “Okay, let’s go back.” It was fun watching his mother’s excitement. It gave him a temporary, much needed reprieve from his relentless anxiety.

SUDDEN DEATH

They pulled back into the lot, got out of the car and Reid asked the

salesman, “Do you take credit cards? It may take two.” “Let’s try,” said the salesman trying to keep a straight face. He was about to make dealership history with a 10-minute sale and on a credit card no less. This was his lucky day. The two credit cards were approved for the full amount, including tax and registration fees. He told them, “We can have it ready for you in a few hours.”

They left the dealership and headed up the street to The World of Golf, a retail golf shop that Reid frequented. Ross, one of the salesmen, anxiously greeted Reid. “Wow, Reid, it’s good to see you again. Congratulations! That was an awesome win.” “Thanks, it feels pretty good.” “Sorry to hear about the threat. How’s it going? Did they find the

guy?” “No, not yet.” Reid sighed, visibly shaken. “Sorry I asked. What can I do for you? Obviously you didn’t come here

to BS with me.” Reid chuckled. “I need a few sets of clubs and some balls.” Reid bought Betsy, Hunter and Joan each a new set of clubs. He bought an extra set for Hal Simon, the Bedford Country Club member who had given Reid his first set of clubs back when Reid was caddying as a teenager. He asked if the new Freeze balls from Eagle had come in yet. “Just got ‘em in yesterday,” Ross said. Reid bought an entire case. He could get all he wanted for free, but he

needed them immediately. Before they left, Ross said, “Hey Reid, mind if I ask a favor.” “Ask away.” “If you find the time, would you come back with the Green Jacket so

I can get a picture of us with you wearing it?” “Tell you what, Ross, we’ll take two pictures. I’ll wear it in one and you

can put it on for the other.” “Really?” “Sure. See you soon.” Leaving the store, Reid said, “Two more stops, then let’s grab lunch at

the Blazer.” “Yum,” the girls said in unison. The last two stops were a cigar store and a liquor store. Reid bought a box of Macanudos and a bottle of Navan cognac. Then he drove to the Blazer, arguably the best burger joint in the area. He’d been craving a Blazer burger for months.

After lunch they picked up the car. Joan acted like a teenager as she pulled out of the lot with the top down and Reid in the passenger seat. The others tried to keep up in the van. Ha, not a chance. When the van finally pulled into her driveway, Reid and Joan were already sitting on the front porch, drinking iced tea.

Chapter 17

Reid called the manager at Bedford Country Club, explaining that he want ed a membership for his mom and tee times for two foursomes. The manager had to speak with the club president first but called Reid right back. “Come on over. The president happens to be here. We’ll meet with you as soon as you arrive.”

After hanging up, Reid said to Betsy and Hunter, “Mom and I are going over to get her signed up as a member of the club. I’ll call you guys in a little while to come join us for 18.”

Joel jumped in the back seat of the Jag and Reid drove. They made it to the club in record time, with Joan repeating the entire way, “Careful with my new car. Slow down.”

The clubhouse had an understated elegance. The membership roster was smaller than other clubs in the area and made for a quieter atmosphere. Reid and Joan were welcomed by the president. They followed him into an antique-filled boardroom and sat at the oversized table in comfortable, high back, upholstered chairs. The manager entered and introduced himself. The president explained that new members were usually voted on by the membership committee, but in this case, they would make an exception. They congratulated Joan on her new membership. Reid would receive the bill in the mail. The meeting ended and Reid called the house to tell the others to come over. He then called Jay and invited him to play as well. By the time Jay arrived, everyone else was ready, with new golf shoes and outfits from the pro shop. Those who needed them were offered the use of demo clubs.

While waiting for Jay to arrive, Reid had requested Hal Simon’s home phone number and dialed it on his cell. “Hello.” “Mr. Simon?” “Yes, who’s calling?” “It’s Reid Clark. How are you?” “Reid. I’m fine, thanks. Surprised at the moment, but fine. How are

you?” “Pretty good, Mr. Simon.” “I heard about the threat on the news, is everything okay? Did they

find the guy yet?” “No, not yet, but we have an excellent team working on it. Mr. Simon, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to come over to see you later this evening. Would that be all right?”

“Absolutely, I’d love it. Why don’t you come for dinner? How does 8 p.m. sound?”

“Great. We’ll see you then. I’ll have a bodyguard with me; I hope you don’t mind.” “Of course not, and Reid, please call me Hal.” “Okay, Hal. I’ll see you later.” He hung up and joined the others at the first tee. The golf course was practically empty. Reid, Joan, Betsy, Hunter, Jay and Joel had a great time playing. They joked and laughed all afternoon, mostly about each other’s shots, not including Reid’s, of course. It was the most fun the Clark family had had together in a long time. They finished their round, went to the bar for a few cocktails, then went back home.

Reid was due at the Simons in half an hour. Joel would escort Reid to the Simons and Stu would go back to the club for dinner with the others. Reid asked Betsy and Hunter to help him wrap the gifts he had purchased earlier.

Reid and Joel drove the Jag to the Simons. When they pulled up to the gate, Reid pushed the button on the speaker box. Hal answered and opened the gate. They wound their way up the long driveway to a beautiful country estate. The property was magnificent. The house was situated on a hill with a spectacular view. A herd of grazing deer hardly looked up as they drove past. Reid and Joel watched as two dogs bounded from the house and chased the scattering deer. Reid parked the car and got out only to be accosted by the friendly Burmese Mountain dogs that sniffed and licked them with tails wagging.

Joel helped Reid carry the gifts to the front door. They rang the bell, and Hal greeted them and led them through a grand entrance hall where a collection of full-size carousel horses was on display, each in its own lighted alcove. They entered the study where Nina, Hal’s wife, was mixing martinis. After brief greetings and introductions, Reid complimented them on the beauty of the house. He noticed the exquisite flooring that Hal explained was teak, similar to the deck of his yacht.

A huge fish tank built into the wall mesmerized Joel. Exotic colorful fish swam around and through live coral. Joel watched a small octopus as it hid in a cave-like gap in the rocks. The tank was big enough to fit an average size person.

Nina poured their drinks (non-alcoholic for Joel) and they sat across from the Simons. Reid began, “You must be wondering what this is all about. Well Hal, your generosity allowed me to start playing golf when I was a kid. I’m sure you remember the set of clubs you gave me when I used to caddie for you.”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I do remember, and quite frankly, that’s an accomplishment for me lately. Right, honey?” “Yes, dear, I’m so proud of you,” Nina said, rolling her eyes. Reid chuckled and continued, “Well I wanted to thank you properly and let you know that I have not, nor will I ever, forget your generosity.” He stood up and asked Joel to follow him out of the room. They came back carrying the gifts and placed them in front of Hal. “Please open them,” Reid said. Hal smiled and slowly unwrapped the clubs, then the balls, the cognac, the cigars, then tickets to the classic, and finally a wooden plaque. Engraved on it was: The Inner City Sports Foundation recognizes Hal Simon for his contribution, which helped enable Reid Clark to become the champion he is today.

A note attached to the plaque read:

A four-foot replica of this plaque is positioned in the center of the award wall at AllSport. Along with the plaque, Mr. Simon is granted a lifetime position on the Inner City Sports Foundation’s Board of Directors. Mr. and Mrs. Simon also are invited to a two-week stay at AllSport, which includes a golf training camp taught by some of the PGA’s top professionals. With my sincere gratitude, Reid Clark

As Hal finished reading the note, tears welled up in his eyes. He got

up, hugged Reid and said, “Thank you! This means so much to me.” “No, Hal, this is my time to thank you.” They sat quietly and enjoyed the moment. Nina then chimed in. “Anyone hungry? We have a wonderful meal. Jacques has prepared Rock Cornish Hens l’orange with herbed wild rice, and haricot vertes almondine.” “Yeah,” Hal said, “In other words chicken, rice and string beans.” “Oh, shush,” Nina said. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m famished after all this

emotional hubbub.” Chocolate soufflés were the perfect ending to a marvelous dinner. Afterward, Hal said, “Come on, gentlemen, let’s go out to the patio and partake in those cigars and cognac you brought. The Macs I know, the cognac I’ve never heard of. I thought I knew all the cognacs on the market.”

“It’s made by Grand Marnier; they infuse cognac with Madagascar vanilla. I saw an ad for it in a cigar magazine and tried it. I’ve recommended it a lot lately, and everyone seems to love it. I should probably have Buck try for an endorsement.”

Hal poured snifters for Reid and himself and coffee for Joel. After inhal ing the cognac’s vanilla bouquet, Hal tried it. “Wow, that’s smooth! Good find, Reid. Thank you.” “Enjoy it,” Reid said tilting his snifter for a sip. They smoked and told stories for the next half an hour. Finishing his cigar, Reid said, “I’m afraid it’s time for us to go. Hal, thank you for a wonderful evening, I look forward to seeing you at the Classic. You’ll be there, right?” “Of course I will. I wouldn’t miss it. Joel, take care of him.” “You bet, Mr. Simon.”

It was 12:30 a.m. when they pulled into the driveway, and the lights were still on in Joan’s house. They walked in to find Betsy, Hunter, Joan, Buddy and Stu still awake. Also in the room was Betsy’s friend, Sarah, with her husband and Reid’s childhood friend, Steven. The story in the paper and the news had brought an onslaught of phone calls to the house. Everyone was curious and worried for Reid and the family.

They reminisced and laughed until Reid said, “Steven, I hate to be rude but I’ve got to get to bed. We’re going to the city tomorrow. You want to come with us?”

Steven had to turn down the offer due to work, but he accepted Reid’s invitation to the Classic.

After Steven, Sarah, and her husband left, Betsy asked, “What was that about the city?”

“I thought I mentioned it earlier. I’d like us all to go into New York tomorrow. I want to take you two shopping,” he said to Hunter and Betsy. They looked at each other with excitement. “Yes, it’s our turn!” Hunter said with a pump of the arm. “We’ll shop, then have lunch at Sarabeth’s Kitchen. Afterward, I have a press conference and an ad campaign meeting with Eagle. Then I’m going to a party with Buck at Ross Misrok’s place.”

Misrok, a pitcher, had just been signed by the Yankees with the biggest baseball contract in history. He had been in the news as much as Reid lately. He was also Buck’s client and had asked him to bring Reid to the party. Exhausted, everyone said goodnight and went to their rooms.

Chapter 18

They were on the road, headed for New York City, by 9 a.m. “First stop, Tiffany’s, for Hunter’s surprise,” Reid said.

As they entered the glamorous store, Reid was recognized immediate ly. The manager approached and shook his hand. “Mr. Clark what a pleasure. How may I be of service?”

Reid took him aside and spoke with him quietly. The manager showed them to a comfortable, semi-private sitting area and offered them coffee, tea and pastries, then he turned and walked away, saying, “Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

He reappeared and held out a highly polished silver tray for Reid to inspect. Sitting on a black velvet liner were five pairs of the biggest, most brilliant diamond stud earrings he had ever seen. Reid nodded his approval and said, “Hunter, please choose a pair.” “Oh my God!” she gasped, dazzled by the sight. “Go ahead,” the manager said, “pick a pair and try them on.” Hunter’s hands shook as she reached for a pair. Betsy helped her put them on. They were magnificent. “I think you hit it on the first try. They’re exquisite on you,” Reid said.

Everyone agreed. Reid handed a credit card to the manager, who said, “I’ll be right back.” Hunter walked over to Reid and for the first time that he could remember, she was speechless. She hugged him fiercely and wouldn’t let go. Finally she whispered, “Thank you, I love them almost as much as I love you.”

“You’re very welcome. Enjoy them. I love you, too.” He signed the receipt and they left the store. “Okay, next stop, Betsy’s choice, Bendel’s or Barney’s.”

“OhmyGod, OhmyGod!” Betsy shrieked. “How do I decide which heaven is the right one?” Everyone laughed. “Hunter, you decide for me.” “How about both?” Hunter suggested. “Why not?” Reid said. “Really? Thank you,” Betsy said. They stopped at Barney’s first. Once again, Reid was recognized immediately. He spoke with the manager, who introduced them to Heather, who would be Betsy’s personal shopper. Reid said, “Okay, Bets, here’s the challenge. You have two stores to split your time between. You have two hours to buy anything and everything you can. Spend as much time as you want here, then we go to Bendel’s to spend the remainder of the time.” “Oh My God!” she screamed again, hysterically. “Ready, go,” Reid said. It was the funniest sight any of them had ever witnessed. Betsy started with shoes, rapidly throwing them on and off. Pradas and Jimmy Choos flew in every direction. After about an hour, she had wreaked havoc in most areas of the store. It was exhausting just watching her. Finally, having done extensive damage in the couture clothing department, she declared, “Okay, I’m done,” as she collapsed into a chair. “Next stop, Barney’s,” Reid said as everything was loaded into the van. Betsy’s repeat performance was every bit as amusing as the first. Joan rested in a chair as Reid and Hunter chased Betsy through the store, laughing all the way.

“Time for lunch,” Reid announced as they left the store. “Just one quick stop on the way. I need to go to my apartment and make sure she’s moved out.”

They all knew Reid meant Jennifer. They drove to his apartment on the Upper West Side. Joel and the girls followed him and noticed the apprehension on his face as they rode the elevator. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Walking through the living room, all was quiet. There was no sign of her until he passed the dining room, where she had thrown roses he had sent all over the room. The empty vase was knocked over on the table with a big water stain around it. They followed him to the bedroom where he opened a closet. It was empty except for a paper napkin taped to a hanger. He turned the hanger and saw a big, ‘F U’ with her signature underneath. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was gone. “Another one bites the dust,” he mumbled under his breath. Betsy said, “That’s awful.” “Gimme a break,” he said, folding the note and stuffing it in his pocket. He looked around the rest of the apartment. Everything was intact. They cleaned up the mess in the dining room and left. “Everything all right, dear?” Joan asked as they got in the van. “Yup, juuust fine.”

Chapter 19

Reid called Buck and asked where the press conference was to be held.

“Just come to my office,” Buck said. “Jay’s on his way. He wants to give us an update before we speak with the press.”

Buck and Jay were seated at the conference table in Buck’s opulent office when Reid and Joel arrived. Thick gray-blue smoke hung lazily throughout the room. The air filter was struggling to keep up as curls of smoke rose from cigars sitting side by side in a crystal ashtray.

Joel slowly strolled around the large office. First, he took in the view of the city through the two floor-to-ceiling, windowed walls, and then he moseyed over to the opposite corner, where a gallery of pictures of Buck with various celebrities, athletes and a few past U.S. presidents were hung.

Reid helped himself to a Cohiba from the humidor as he sat at the table. He lit up, and they got down to business. Jay explained that Detective Alto had run checks on everyone on the list. At the moment, no one looked more suspicious than any other. They had already interviewed and cleared about half of them. David Jordan had struck gold with two clients after Reid left him. He wasn’t happy when Reid’s name was brought up, but he certainly had no desire to threaten him. Of the three past girlfriends, two, Alyssa and Sydney, were models, working overseas for the past few months. Mikaela, the third, was dating another wealthy pro athlete and had all but forgotten Reid. Curiosity overcame Reid; he interrupted, asking who the guy was. “Ross Misrok,” Jay answered. “Oh great,” Buck snickered. Reid just laughed. “Private joke?” Jay asked. “May I continue?” “Sorry,” they both said, still chuckling. Jay continued, “Hubie from GolfCo made up for his loss with another golf investment. Believe it or not, he’s a major stockholder in Eagle. He certainly doesn’t want you dead.” He paused and puffed on his cigar.

“Bruce, your old family friend has been in a rehab facility for about a year. Mard, your other partner in GolfCo, declared bankruptcy and killed himself.” “Oh no,” Reid moaned, burying his face in his hands. Jay gave him a moment, then continued. “The hecklers that you had removed from the golf course were just rowdy fans. They’ve been thrown out of other sports venues for similar activity. That leaves Jennifer, Eli, Mike Gatto and any tour pros you think may have a problem with you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you this,” Reid said as he pulled the napkin from his pocket and handed it to Jay. “I found it in my apartment this morning. It was on a hanger in the closet that Jennifer cleared out.”

“Nice note,” Jay said. “Obviously she’s pissed. Guess we better ques tion her immediately.”

“I’m not surprised she wrote it, but she wouldn’t want to kill me. She may be a golddigger, but she’s not a murderer.”

“One never knows,” Jay said in a mysterious tone. Then, more serious ly, he added, “Reid that’s the kind of thing that you can’t tell about a person until it’s too late.” “Do what you have to do,” Reid said, shrugging. “You wouldn’t know where any of the others are, would you? We know Eli lives in Philadelphia, but we can’t find him. As for Mike Gatto, we have absolutely no idea of his whereabouts. He’s like a phantom.” “I have absolutely no idea.” After another pull on his cigar, Jay said, “Okay, I’m done. Now tell me if you’ve thought of any other golfers we should check out.”

Reid had been thinking about this. “Two come to mind, Bill Rogers and Jim Turner. They both think they’re hot shit. Both are wannabe’s. They know they don’t have a real chance, so they’re always irritable. They both tell me often to grow up or shut up. Funny thing is, even if I wasn’t on the tour, they still really wouldn’t stand a chance. There are others, but we all poke fun at each other and break each other’s balls all the time. Certainly nothing serious.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “Before we go to the press conference, I have one more possibility I want to run by you both. What about Carl or someone else at Eagle?”

Reid and Buck both were taken aback. Very concerned, Buck asked in disbelief, “Did I just hear you correctly?”

“Calm down and hear me out. Maybe they sent the note just to rattle Reid. It would have saved Eagle $30 million if he lost the Masters. I know the argument against it; Reid wins and the company sells more. But it is a possibility. I just wanted you both to know before I follow it up.”

“Hold on a second, Jay,” Buck said. “Questioning Carl could really damage the endorsement deal. Their attorneys haven’t even finished writing the contract yet. I don’t want to blow the whole thing over a false accusation.”

“Don’t worry, I thought about that. When I speak with Carl, I’m going to tell him that neither of you know anything about my questioning him. He’s smart enough to understand that I have to follow every possible scenario, probable or not. I’ll make sure he is okay with it. That is, if I clear him.” “Alright,” Buck said, “But please handle him gently.” “Of course…Okay, let’s go. Where’s the press conference?” “Downstairs on the fourth floor,” Buck said. “I temporarily rented a huge empty office so we could hold the conferences right here. But before we go, I need to tell you about a call that I got this morning from Art Fornham, our director at AllSport. When he heard about the threats, he immediately thought about a recent situation on campus. There was an attempted break-in at our indoor target range. It was unsuccessful so he didn’t bother us with it when it happened. They didn’t even get through the steel door before the alarm rang. By the time the cops arrived, the perps were gone. They dusted the area and found prints belonging to some punks from a Harlem street gang. Turns out, we’ve had a couple of guys from the same gang training at AllSport. Both were excellent basketball players, but both were thrown out of camp for drug use. Names were John Morgan and Tony Jacobs.”

Buck flipped open a leather-bound folder that was on the table. Removing a page he said, “Art faxed this over a little while ago. We’ve made it a practice to tape every conversation we have with the athletes at camp. We also keep their schedules and a log of each time they enter or leave the campus, just in case. Due to the questionable character of some of our athletes, it seemed wise to protect them, or AllSport, if they ever get into serious trouble or become suspects in a crime. This is Art’s report describing John Morgan and a transcript of their conversation as he kicked Morgan out of AllSport. I’ll read it to you. ‘John Morgan is twenty-one and has excellent potential in the NBA. His nickname, Burn, is due to his reputation of burning people on and off the court. The Foundation’s recruiters originally found him on the street in Harlem, playing schoolyard ball. He is an amazing basketball player. Nobody can stop him on the court. He came to AllSport with serious baggage, though. Raised in a broken home, he grew up on the streets. Drugs, violence and theft were his life. He was a member of a tough street gang named Slam, whose members have been known to kill. They are more like a hoodlum basketball team then a street gang. Camp recruiters originally had a tough time convincing him to leave the gang and come to AllSport. Once he arrived, he quickly adapted and began enjoying camp life. He was by far the best basketball player on campus, aside from the NBA pros, of course. Morgan spent about eight months at AllSport before he was caught doing crack cocaine on campus. He was brought in by security, and I gave him a serious lecture. As per Reid’s rules, he was given one warning. As you know, the second time anyone is caught with drugs, they are thrown off campus and out of the ICSF’s program altogether, with no chance for re-admittance. Morgan’s posture and attitude during the lecture was laid back and arrogant.

‘Buck, these are excerpts transcribed from the recording of my meeting with Morgan. I’m sending them to you word for word and, while very crude, they give you an idea of Morgan’s arrogance. I don’t think I could do justice in describing his attitude to you without you reading it exactly as he said it.’ “This excerpt is from the first warning:” Yo, Reid Clark ain’t gonna throw me outta here. Ain’t no one gonna throw me outta here! I’m the best fuckin’ hoops player this place ever seen. AllSport needs me. When I make my millions in the NBA, I’ll donate lots to AllSport. You’ll see. ‘Two months later, we caught him doing crack again. He was brought in this time kicking and screaming. Security had to restrain him with handcuffs and leg irons. They held him until he came down from his high. Once he was calm enough, they brought him to my office.” “This is the transcript of that meeting,” said Buck.

Morgan:

Fornham: Morgan: Fornham:

Fornham: Well John, I guess you know what happens now, right? Morgan: Yeah, I know. You yell at me and tell me to stay straight and not do it again. Then I go back to practice and stay clean.

Fornham: No John, you’re finished at AllSport. You’re going home today. If you desire, we will take you directly to a rehab clinic and the foundation will cover the bill, but as far as continuing your training at AllSport, no chance. Sorry. That’s bullshit; I want to talk to Reid. He knows what I can do on the court. He’ll let me stay. I’m afraid not, John. I spoke with him an hour ago. He said that’s it, the rules are the rules; you’re done. It was Reid who offered to pick up the rehab bills, though. So where are we taking you, the clinic or home? Fuck you! Fuck all of you, including Reid. This sucks! I’m not goin to any fuckin’ rehab clinic. I don’t got no fuckin’ drug problem. I do crack to calm my nerves. I can stop whenever the fuck I want. Maybe you should have thought of that after the first time you were caught. Did you think we were kidding? Oh, forget it. Don’t even answer that. This meeting is over. Where are we taking you, home or rehab? Morgan: Take me home, but we’re not done. Buck continued reading, “Buck, after Morgan was gone, I called Reid to let him know how it had gone and told him about the last comment. If I can be of any more help, please call. I’ve tried to stay out of Reid’s way during this troublesome time. I hope he’s doing OK. Please let him know that I’m concerned about him. Thanks, Art’” When Buck finished reading, Jay turned to Reid and asked, “How could you have forgotten about this? You have to think hard, man. This is just the kind of stuff I need to do my job and hopefully save your life. Please, think back. Try to remember if there are more situations like this in your past.”

“I don’t know, Jay, I guess when it happened, I didn’t take it seriously. Obviously now I see it in a different light. Give me some time; if I think hard enough, I’ll probably come up with more. I realize now how important it is.” “It’s not just important, Reid, it’s vital.” “You’ve made your point, Jay. I promise.” “Good…okay,” Jay shook his head and sighed. “It never ceases to amaze me, just as I think we’re narrowing it down, the list grows. Happens all the time…. Oh well, I’ll follow it up, thanks Buck. Good job on the temporary press room downstairs. It’ll save us a great deal of time.”

The room was packed, wall to wall. Jay handled the meeting without any bickering between Reid and the press. They finished in about 15 minutes and Jay promised another 15 the next day. The press appreciated that he was openly communicating with them.

A reporter from the Post approached them as they left the room. “Gentlemen, I think we need to talk. Can we go somewhere private?” “What’s so important that you can’t say it here?” Jay asked. “I received an anonymous tip.” “Let’s go to my office,” Buck said. The reporter introduced himself as Eric Fisher, a sportswriter from the

Post . In the elevator, he started to say, “I received a….” Jay cut him off, “Not yet, Eric, the walls have ears.” They all remained quiet until they entered Buck’s office. Eric began immediately. “As I was saying, I received an anonymous call this morning. The caller had a deep voice, probably male, and was anything but educated. He sounded like he was from the hood, as they say. Anyway, he told me that the threat to Reid should be taken very seriously. Reid can play golf in any tournament, but he cannot win. Second place is fine, but he can’t win. If he wins, he’s dead.” Eric looked at Jay. “That’s almost word for word what he said. Then he hung up before I could ask any questions.” “Did you get a chance to record any of the call?” asked Jay. “No, my phone tap was in my car.” “We need to call the phone company for a trace,” Jay said. “I already called them; they’re working on it,” Eric said. “You know the

red tape there.” “Thank you for informing us,” Jay said. “Do you have a business card?

I may need to contact you.” Eric and Jay traded business cards. As he stood up to leave, Eric turned

to Reid and said, “Good luck.” Once he was gone, Jay said, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We had a breakthrough on the source of the note paper. The blue dye in the paper is only used by one manufacturer, and they sell it exclusively to The Office Warehouse. Lucky for us they only have four stores, two in LA and two in NY. We’re checking to see which ones recently sold any of the blue paper. Gentlemen, I think we are getting close.”

“That’s excellent,” Buck said. “I hate to break up the party, but we need to get downtown to Tri-Beca. Carl and the advertising team are meeting us at the studio. Jay, you’re welcome to come, if you want.”

“Thanks, I think I will. I’ve got a feeling this clown is close by. The more eyes we have watching, the better. Let me call my office. I want them to start researching that phone call. We also need to check out Rogers, Turner and those basketball players. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Chapter 20

Buck’s car and driver were outside, waiting. When they arrived at the stu dio, Tom Davis met them at the car and brought them in. They entered a nondescript building through an unmarked black metal door. Without Davis, they never would have found it.

They rode a freight elevator to the third floor. “What a dump,” Reid commented on the way up. Tom smiled, but said nothing. As the elevator door opened, they all realized how wrong he was.

They entered a lobby that could best be described as futuristic: clean, bright and stark. White walls surrounded chrome and glass tables and counters; oversized white leather couches formed a big U in the waiting area. The eye was immediately drawn to the only source of color in the room: a huge, blue neon ‘One’ on the wall. As they approached the receptionist, she said, “Welcome to Studio One. Mr. Freedman and Mr. Hyman are waiting for you in back. I’ll buzz you in, then just follow the hallway. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

They walked through a long, white, tunnel-shaped hallway lit by a mixture of fluorescent lights and blue neon. As Reid reached for the knob on the huge door at the end of the tunnel, the door slowly swung away from them, opening automatically. What they saw blew them away. They were in a cavernous, seven-story room that spanned almost the entire floor of the building. From across the room, Carl was waving them to a table in front of a massive object. The structure behind him was shrouded in haze. As they got closer, they saw the set. It was amazing. It looked like a tee box, fairway and green in the middle of a glacier. The flag on the pin was embroidered with a picture of a frozen golf ball with the word FREEZE underneath. Next to the tee box was another huge ice golf-ball, similar to the sculpture at the party in Augusta. This one, however, had big blue letters frozen inside, spelling FREEZE. Carl walked over to them, and Buck introduced him to Jay. Carl, in turn, introduced them to David Freedman, the owner and creative mind behind Studio One. David was tall and thin with dark curly hair, a goatee and an earring. He was dressed surprisingly conservative for a creative guy, wearing freshly pressed khakis and a button-down Polo shirt. They also met Aimee, the creative director from the advertising company, who had developed the whole campaign. Aimee was a pretty girl with a big smile. Her outfit was professional yet provocative, revealing enough to stir Reid’s imagination without being too seductive. She wore a revealing, clingy, azure blue blouse and low-slung tight jeans. Her four-inch stiletto heels, while elegant, resembled lethal weapons.

“So what do you think of the set?” Carl asked, jarring Reid from a mes merizing stare. “Truly unbelievable,” Reid said, thinking, and that’s with her shirt on. “Amazing,” Buck said. “Wow!” Jay exclaimed. “Great, that’s exactly what we’re looking for,” David said. “Let’s spend a few minutes discussing the schedule we’ve set up. Go

ahead, Aimee,” Carl said. “Well, first we’re going to take enough stills for the magazine and bill

board ads, then we’re going to film the commercial,” Aimee said. “Wow,” Reid said. He had never really thought about the extent of a huge advertising campaign. He was trying to picture himself on a billboard. “Me on a billboard? Now that’s a scary thought.”

“A little overwhelming, Reid?” she asked. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I’d like to do the stills tomorrow and start the commercial as soon as we finish, if that’s okay with you guys, of course. Reid, you need to take your scripts home and memorize them. There’s not much to them, just a few lines, but it’s extremely important that you know them cold. This is an expensive shoot, so the less time we spend on re-takes the better. Okay?” He nodded. “Sure, no problem.” “Okay,” Carl said. “Guys, I’ve got a surprise for you, but first you have to promise to keep this absolutely confidential. You all heard me explain the other night that our next ball is called Heat. Well, take a look at these.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a sleeve of balls and handed one to each of the guys. Each ball had a streak of flame on two sides with the word Heat underneath.

“I like it,” Reid said. “I have one question, though. If I’m standing on ice for the Freeze campaign, what will I be standing on for the Heat campaign?” “You’ll see in a few weeks,” Aimee said coyly. “I can’t wait,” Reid said with sarcasm. “If we’re done for today, I have one last request,” Buck said. “Would

you mind taking a picture of me on the set using my camera?” They took some quick pictures of Buck and then of all four men together. “Carl, we’re going to a party later at Ross Misrok’s. Do you want to come?” Buck asked. “Misrok’s? Sure, should be fun. Thanks, Buck.” “Where should we pick you up?” Buck asked. Carl gave them the address of his brownstone. “We’ll pick you up around 9.” “Great,” Carl replied. “Thanks, Aimee. Thanks, David. See you tomorrow,” Reid said. “Gentlemen, before you leave,” Carl added, “may I have my balls back?” Rolling his eyes, he added, “Sorry for the pun. It’s hard to avoid them in my business.” They all chuckled as they gave him the balls. “See you in a while,” Carl said. “Adios,” Reid said.

Chapter 21

After dinner, they went to pick up Carl. Reid was thinking about the next day’s photo shoot. He said, “Guys, I don’t want to be a downer, but I would like to leave the party early, so I can go home to study my lines.” They all agreed. It had been a long day. Misrok’s apartment took up the top two floors of an Upper East Side building. He greeted them as the elevator opened into his private lobby. His highlighted hair was gelled into a flip. He wore tight, faded jeans and a gray sleeveless t-shirt revealing his well-toned arms. “It’s about time, Buck. I thought you said you’d get here early.” “Good to see you too, Ross,” Buck said in an icy tone. He introduced

Reid and the others. Without even acknowledging the others, Ross said, “Reid, I couldn’t wait to meet you. Congratulations on the Master’s. I hear you’ve been pretty busy lately with the new endorsement.” He turned to Buck and whined, “By the way, Buck, when is it going to be my turn?” Turning back to Reid, he said, “Hey, what’s the deal with the wacko, anything new? I have some friends who would be happy to take care of him for you if you want. Just let me know.”

“Thanks, I think,” Reid answered. He had taken an immediate disliking to Ross. Could anyone be more obnoxious than this guy? he thought.

At that moment, a petite blond woman joined Ross. She was stunning: blue eyes, full lips, a tight body barely concealed by an even tighter short red dress. “I guess I don’t need to introduce the two of you,” Misrok said. “Everyone else, this is my girlfriend, Mikaela. She and Reid have a little history together, right, babe?”

“Yup,” she said with a slight nod, her eyes locked on Reid. “How’ve you been? It’s good to see you,” she said, a little too seductively.

Wow , he thought. I don’t remember her looking this good. What a knockout! Maybe I should…nah, what am I thinking? She was way too flirtatious with other guys when we were dating. Kind of like she’s acting right now!

“You too, Mikaela,” he said a little cooly. “You’re looking good as always.” “Thanks, you too.” Just then, a friend of hers on the other side of the room waved her over. Mikaela said, “Excuse me, it was nice to meet you all. Reid, it’s good to see you. Maybe we can chat a little later.” “Sure, later,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t have to. “Gentlemen, there are bars on both floors,” said Misrok. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ve got to go work this party. Reid, I hope we can spend some time together. I’d like to get to know you.”

Reid nodded as Misrok went to greet some guests who had just arrived. Reid was already uncomfortable. He didn’t want to talk to Mikaela and he really didn’t want to “get to know” Ross. The guy seemed like a pompous jerk.

“What a nice guy,” Carl said facetiously to Jay and Joel. “I don’t think he even noticed we were here.” “Come on, guys, forget about him,” Buck said. “Let’s go get a drink.” Ten minutes passed and Reid was ready to leave. It seemed every prominent New York athlete, actor, musician and tycoon was there. Reid was approached by Mick, Alec, Donald and Derek. The party was the place to be if you were a New York celebrity. Reid was not in the mood to socialize. He was miserable, and it was obvious. He felt the party was ruining a great day. The longer they stayed, the more irritable he became. Women tried to make small talk with him and he practically growled at them. Buck was apologizing left and right for Reid, explaining that he wasn’t feeling well.

Just as Buck finally agreed to leave, a magnificent woman made an entrance. She was with a man who Reid quickly learned was a partner in a Wall Street boutique investment firm. He wore his slick black hair in a pony tail and was dressed in black from head to toe. He seemed to think he was too cool for words. As far as Reid was concerned, he was sickeningly chic. On the other hand, the woman with him was the ideal specimen of female splendor. Mere words could not do justice to her beauty. Her long ginger hair cascaded down her back in large swooping waves. The little makeup she wore enhanced her gorgeous features. A loose-fitting, white, silk tank top accented her olive-toned skin. Tight jeans revealed long muscular legs. Her spiked sandals showed off the crimson nail polish on her delicate feet. Top to bottom, this woman was a work of art, eye candy that would satiate even Reid’s sweet tooth for female perfection.

Noticing a quick change in Reid’s disposition, Buck said, “Okay, let’s go.” “Hold on. Not so fast,” Reid said. “Come on, you should go home and study your lines,” Buck said, sens

ing imminent trouble. “Leave if you want, I’m staying,” Reid said in a low voice. “Let’s get out of here before you piss somebody off,” Buck warned. Without drawing attention, Reid let Buck know to stop pestering him.

He was determined to meet this girl, now! He went to the bar and ordered a beer. Turning to watch her, he found it difficult to stop staring. He didn’t even notice as other girls approached him. One woman said hi to him and stormed away when he did not respond. Reid turned in time to see her walk briskly away. He had no idea that she was even upset with him. He was so focused on the other woman, he barely realized there was anyone else near him. When she finally looked his way, he made direct eye contact, gave her his best grin and slightly motioned with his head for her to follow him. The grin rarely failed. He ordered another beer and walked out onto the balcony, hoping she’d follow. The balcony was a huge wrap-around, full of potted plants and trees. It was an extraordinarily beautiful night, and the view was magnificent. At the edge of the balcony, Reid leaned on the railing, looking down toward midtown. He was lost in thought when someone appeared at his side. He turned his head to comment, but nothing came out of his mouth. It was her. For the first time in his life, Reid could not think of something clever to say. He quietly mumbled, “Hi, I’m Reid.” She reached to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Shane.” Reid was tongue-tied. He wanted to make a good first impression, but couldn’t put two words together. After a moment of silence, he started to chuckle at himself. He thought, if I don’t say something soon, I’ll probably never have the opportunity again. She will think I’m some kind of nut.

He said, “I’m so sorry, I feel like an idiot. Honestly, I’m tongue-tied. You probably think I’m a total jerk.” She nodded in agreement. “I guess it’s obvious that I’ve been staring at you since you walked in. I can’t remember ever being at such a loss for words. I wanted to meet you as soon as I saw you. Please excuse my childish behavior; it’s not the way I usually act.” “That’s not what I’ve heard,” she responded. “What?” he blurted out with concern. “I’m only kidding,” she giggled. “Oh my God, I thought you were serious,” he said with a laugh. “Well, I have read some interesting things about you, but I believe in giving everyone a fair chance. You have quite the reputation as far as the press is concerned. Should I trust them or my instincts?”

Reid was quiet once again, unable to respond. He knew already that he had never met anyone like her. No woman had ever made him this nervous or self-conscious. He was completely embarrassed and absolutely smitten. “Can we leave this party and go someplace where we can get to know each other?” “No,” she said, “I’m sure you noticed I’m here with another man.” Coincidentally, her boyfriend was just making his way toward them,

claiming in an obnoxiously loud voice, “There you are. I finally found you!” Shane introduced Jamie and Reid to each other. “Shane, Reid Clark needs no introduction.” Jamie slapped Reid on his shoulder and said, “Congratulations on winning the Master’s, what a tournament! Reid, I have an incredible opportunity for you. Give me some of those winnings, and I’ll double them for you. What do you think?” Again, he slapped Reid on the shoulder. “I think if you slap me on the shoulder one more time I’m going to

throw you over the railing.” Reid grinned after he said it. Jamie looked at him for a minute, then said loudly, “What a sense of

humor. Let me go refresh our drinks and we’ll talk some business.” Seeing an opportunity to make Jamie disappear, Reid said, “Great,

Jamie, I’ll have a beer.” With the prospect of having Reid Clark as a client, Jamie almost ran to

the bar. As he left, Reid quickly said to Shane, “That was too easy. Can I have

your number before he gets back?” When Shane hesitated, Reid said, “Look, if you’ll see me again, I promise not to act like the idiot I’ve been tonight. Just give me one more chance. Please?” He couldn’t believe he was almost begging.

Shane slowly reached into her handbag and handed him her business card with her cell number on it.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow,” he said and leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting,” she replied with a smile. “Goodnight, Shane.” “Goodnight.” Reid quickly headed in, but away from the bar. He found Buck who

looked at him inquisitively and asked, “Where the hell have you been?” Reid dragged Buck and the others out the door before Jamie had a chance to find him. Reid’s change in demeanor was obvious; he emanated happiness. Buck looked at him inquisitively and said, “You didn’t? Oh my God, you lucky bastard, you screwed her, didn’t you? I can’t believe it. I take my eyes off you for 20 minutes and you screw the most beautiful girl in the world. You dog, you!” he slapped Reid on the shoulder.

Another slap on the shoulder! Reid didn’t know whether to yell or laugh. “Slap me again and I’ll kick your ass. And to answer your ridiculous question, no, I did not have sex with Shane.”

“Shane, huh? Nice name. Okay, when are you two getting married?” Buck kidded.

“Cut it out Buck, I mean it. I’ve never felt this way about any girl before and it scares the hell out of me.” They all got into the car and Buck told the driver to head to Reid’s apartment. When they got there, Reid and Joel got out.

“Joel, call Stu,” Jay said, “I want him with you tonight. This guy is close, I can feel it. Also have Bill and Keith head over to Joan’s house. I’ll redo the schedule; I think we’re going to need two more teams. I’ll call Lance and Beebs. You call Greeny and Mench. And Joel,” he emphasized, “stay alert.”

Buck chimed in, “See you at the studio at 9 a.m. They need you in make-up and ready to shoot by 9:30 a.m. Goodnight.” “Make-up?” Reid groaned. “Damn!”

Reid was about to open the door to his apartment when Joel said, “Hold on, not yet.” Joel reached down to his ankle and unholstered his 38-special. Gun in hand, he slowly stepped inside, combed the apartment and came back. “Come on in.”

Reid had been surprised by the gun. “I feel a little stupid; I didn’t even realize you were carrying. Dumb, huh?” “Tools of the trade.” “I think I’ll stick with golf clubs.” “Smart…. Hey, enough gun talk. That was some babe you were hit

ting on tonight. She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” “Was I that obvious?” “Uh, yeah!” Joel said mockingly. “The only one who didn’t realize it was

the guy she came with.” “Really? Well, he was too interested in my money to care anyway.” “All the better for you. Hey, I know you’ve got a long day tomorrow. Don’t feel like you have to entertain me. I’m going to watch TV and wait for Stu.”

“Make yourself at home. There should be some chips and cookies in the pantry.” “Thanks, I’ll find what I need. Goodnight.” “G’night.”

Chapter 22

When Reid came out to the kitchen around 6:30 a.m., Stu was sitting there reading the paper. “Good morning. I just made a fresh pot of java. It’s a little strong.” “Just the way I like it,” Reid said, pouring himself a cup. “Hey, I heard about the babe last night. Lucky you.” “Everybody’s got a big mouth, don’t they?” Reid said, annoyed. “C’mon, don’t get mad.” “I’m not mad, just a little worried.” “Worried? Why?” “Because I can’t get her out of my mind.” “I guess that can be a little scary.” “Yeah, just what I needed, another distraction.” Reid had not stopped thinking about Shane since he left the party. She consumed his every thought. It was exciting yet troubling; what if she wasn’t interested, or what if she was, and distracted him from golf? He had to stay focused, but he knew he also had to have her in his life. “Who’s coming with me today, you or Joel?” “Joel is. I’ll catch up with you in a little while. I need to grab some shut-eye first. We have another team on the way, too. Good guys. Should be here in about two hours; they’re flying in from a job in Italy.” “Italy? What kind of job in Italy?” “Extortion, death threats, the usual. Same story, just in a different language. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it when they get here. I’ll go wake Joel; I know you need to get downtown soon.”

Reid called his mom’s house while he waited for Joel. Betsy answered and he explained that he was spending the next two days at the studio shooting the commercial. “Why don’t you all come down and watch? It should be pretty cool.” He waited while she asked the others. They all agreed. He gave her the address, phone number and a description of the unmarked entrance. “Call Joel’s cell when you get there and someone will come out to get you. See you in a little while,” he said and hung up. Joel came out, poured a cup of coffee and they were off.

They arrived at the studio right on time. David met them in the reception area and told Reid how to get to make-up.

The cosmetician was a beautiful young girl named Missy. She was 22 and loved her job. She told Reid to change in the dressing room, handing him a blue shirt with a Freeze logo, a pair of khakis, a new pair of golf shoes and socks. “What, no underwear?” he kidded.

“Just go get changed,” she said with a grin. “I’ll have you know, they told me not to put up with your nonsense, Mr. Clark. Your advances either.”

“Alright, alright, no shenanigans. But please call me Reid.” He did as she asked and came out of the dressing room wearing his new duds.

“Okay, Reid, please sit here,” she said, pointing to a barber’s chair. He sat down and she lowered the seat to work on him. She started with a base, saying, “You really don’t need much work, but we have to keep the glare down.” “Yuk,” he said, “I don’t understand how you guys do this everyday.” “I guess you mean women?” she asked with attitude. “Oh, forget it.” He could tell he was headed for trouble, so he shut his

mouth instead. After a few minutes, she said, “Okay, you’re done. Go on up and try

not to sweat before the shoot. I’ll be up soon in case you need touching up.” “Touching-up, what am I a car? No, seriously, thank you, that was the

best makeover I’ve ever had.” “You’ve done this before?” “No,” he said with a grin. “Oh, shut up and get out of here.” She threw a towel at him as he walked out the door.

The studio was very active. People were everywhere - photographers, elec tricians, refrigeration crews, caterers, set designers and many more.

Reid approached Aimee. “Ready?” she asked. Today her clothes were less revealing; baggy jeans and a tee shirt were covered by an unbuttoned denim shirt. Her shoes clicked as she walked.

Looking down at them, he asked, “Are you actually wearing golf shoes with metal spikes?”

She nodded. “Yes, they’re great on the ice; the whole crew is wearing them.” “Great idea, but what about me? Shouldn’t I be wearing them too?” “Aren’t you? We got you a pair. Missy was supposed to give them to

you.” “No she gave me these; they’re soft spikes.” “You can’t go up there with those; you’ll be on your ass more than your

feet. Give me a minute, I’ll call and have her bring them up.” Reid’s spikes were found and delivered. He put them on and Aimee

once again asked if he was ready. “As I’ll ever be.” “Follow me,” she said as she climbed a short metal ladder up onto the set. “Be careful, the ladder is really slippery with the spikes.” He climbed up while making a racket with his spikes and followed her to the tee. Two photographers were there, and after quick introductions, they asked him to pick up a club and just start swinging it. They snapped pictures, asking him to pose in various positions. Next, they walked down the white turf-covered fairway, taking shots of him as they went. They continued on the green. Then they moved over to the icy areas that were not turf covered and it looked exactly like a glacier. They took roll after roll of pictures. They had Reid swing his club on the bare ice. They had him hit balls of ice off a tee, taking pictures as they exploded on impact. They took shots of him holding FREEZE balls while standing on ice. They took shots with a fog machine blowing in his direction. It was easy to pose as long as he didn’t have to think. Thinking was going to be difficult because he had Shane on his brain.

They worked until 1 p.m., then took a lunch break. Joan, Hunter and Betsy had arrived and had been watching for the past hour. Stu walked in with the new bodyguards, Alan and Mike, otherwise known as Mench and Greeny. Both were thin and of less-than-average height, but both also had a wild look in their eyes that sent a strong Don’t mess with me if you value your well-being message to anyone they encountered. After quick introductions, Reid asked, “So guys, how’d the job go in Italy?”

With a sparkle in his eye, Greeny said, “It was a little hairy, but only one dead body in the end. I can live with that.”

Reid said in a slight panic, “Your client is dead and you’re okay with that? Joel, Stu, I need to talk to you both, now!”

“Calm down Reid,” Mench chimed in with a laugh. “Greeny was talk ing about the perp. Our client is fine. Our track record is perfect. You’re in good hands on our watch.”

“Okay then.” Reid lowered his voice and settled down a bit. “I guess I misunderstood. No offense, Greeny.”

“I’ll let it go this time,” Greeny seethed. “Just don’t let it happen again.” He gave Reid an evil glare. “Uh, yes, sir,” Reid answered, glancing at the other guards wide-eyed. Greeny, Mench, Joel and Stu kept straight faces as long as possible; then they all burst into laughter. Greeny walked over to Reid and shook his hand saying, “Only kidding, Reid. I’m looking forward to watching your back.” “Good, you had me worried there.” “Comes with the job.” “Well, it’s good to have you aboard.” Greeny gave Reid a quick nod. After about an hour, Aimee said, “Reid, I want to start filming. You need to go back to make-up to get redone. How are you doing with your lines? They’re pretty easy right?”

Reid just nodded. Oh shit, he thought, I forgot all about the damn lines. I knew Shane was going to mean trouble. He didn’t say a word. He just got up, grabbed the script and headed for the make-up room. He jumped into the chair and said, “Take your time Missy; I need to

study my lines.” “It won’t take long. You just need a little work.” He repeated in an edgy tone, “Please, take your time. I need to study these.” He picked up the script and started reading out loud. His voice was shaky. He was obviously nervous.

Missy said, “Oh my God. You haven’t even looked at those yet, have you?”

“No, but please don’t tell Aimee. She’ll kill me if she finds out. Anyway, there’s not much here, only four or five lines. I can memorize them in a few minutes. Let me concentrate.”

He read, “Hi, I’m Reid Clark and I use Freeze. Do you have Freeze balls in your bag? Use Freeze when you want to ice the competition.” He looked up at her with a look of shock; “Did you hear that? I can’t say that in a commercial. Who are they kidding?”

He continued to the second script. “Hi, I’m Reid Clark. I use the Freeze from Eagle. Use Freeze only when you want to ice your competition. Freeze, the balls that fly like an Eagle.” He finished, “Okay, now that’s better, what do you think?”

Just then, the intercom buzzed, Aimee’s voice came through the speak er “Hey, what’s going on down there, Missy? Where’s Reid?” “I’m almost done with him. Sorry, I needed to change a tone.” “C’mon, finish up; we need to get started already. We’re wasting big

money with every minute we lose.” “He’s on his way,” Missy said. The intercom clicked off. “Thanks for covering for me,” Reid said. “I

owe you one.” “No problem. You better get up there quickly, though.” “Yeah, I guess so.” As he was walking out the door, she added, “Break a leg.” “God forbid!” he said grinning. When he got back up to the studio, things had changed. The lights were brighter and something was making an awful lot of noise. Two huge cameras were attached to a cart that traveled on a track the length of the set. One camera was fixed directly to the cart, the other was on a platform raised by a hydraulic extension arm. Aimee ran over and said something, but the noise drowned her out. He

pointed to his ears and shook his head. She got closer and yelled, “The heat from the lights makes it necessary to run the refrigeration system full blast, so the glacier doesn’t melt. They’ll turn it off when we start to shoot. Are you ready?”

“Which lines am I supposed to say?” he yelled. “I’m not going to say the first ones. Please tell me we’re using the second lines.”

She screamed, “We are, but we want to shoot using both scripts.” He followed her onto the set to a guy on the camera platform. “This is Craig Barton, the director,” she yelled.

The two men shook hands. Craig yelled, “Okay, I want to do the first take with you at the tee box. Hit a ball, then look up at the camera and say your lines. It’s that simple. Ready?”

As Reid was yelling, “No, I’m not ready. Which line am I reading?” the refrigeration machine was turned off mid-statement. He finished his sentence, yelling at the top of his lungs, realizing too late that the noise had stopped. Everyone began to laugh and clap. He took a silly bow and said, “Thank you, Thank you.”

“Well, folks,” Craig announced, “I think he’s a natural, maybe a ham, but a natural, nevertheless.” Then he said to Reid, “Let’s try the second script first and see where we go from there.”

Reid kept repeating the lines in his head. He was a nervous wreck. He walked over to the tee, picked up a club and started swinging it. Missy came over and dabbed some make-up on his chin. Craig’s assistant yelled, “Quiet on the set.” “Okay, Reid,” Craig said, “when I say action, I want you to hit the ball, then look up here toward the camera, look right at this red light and say your lines. Got it?” “Got it.” “Okay, here we go. Three, two, one, action.” Reid swung and hit the ball, looked up and said, “Hi, I’m Reid Clark.

I use the Eagle from Freeze.” “Cut,” Craig yelled. There were some giggles around the room. “Why’d you stop me?” Reid asked curiously. “You don’t have any idea what you said, do you?” Craig asked. “I said my first line. Why?” “You said the Eagle from Freeze.” “No way,” Reid said. Craig and Aimee nodded. “I did?” he said with a look of embarrassment. “Sorry.” “Ready to try again?” Craig asked. “Yeah, let’s do it.” “Positions,” yelled the assistant. “Quiet on the set.” Reid was back at

the tee with a new ball teed up. “Three, two, one, action.” He hit the ball, looked up and said, “Hi, I’m FREEZE, I….” He

stopped and groaned, “Oh, Shit.” “Cut.” “Sorry.” Reid shrugged. “Okay, Reid, I want you to practice your lines once, right now.” Reid closed his eyes and everyone could see his mouth moving as he

said the lines to himself. “No, Reid, out loud, out loud.” Craig was a little agitated. “Alright. Sorry!” Reid exclaimed, also a little annoyed. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath and said loudly, “Hi, I’m Reid Clark. I use the Freeze from Eagle. Use Freeze only when you want to ice your competition. Freeze, the ball that flies like an Eagle.”

“Very good,” Craig said. “Okay, one more time in front of the camera, ready?” Reid nodded, took another deep breath and exhaled. “Positions! Quiet on the set!” “Three, two, one, action.” When Reid looked down, a new ball had been placed on the tee. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He hit the ball, looked up at the camera and said his lines perfectly.

“Cut, that’s a take. Good job, Reid,” Craig said triumphantly. “Okay. Let’s do it one more time,” he said loudly.

Reid looked up at him curiously. “What! I thought that was good. We need to do it again?”

“I want three takes of each segment. Two more here, then three on the fairway, then three more on the green. And I want to try the first script in all three spots as well. I hope you don’t have any other plans for the day.” “No, I’m all yours, Mr. Director, sir,” Reid said sarcastically. “That’s more like it,” Craig played along. They made it through the rest of the takes with only a few mistakes. It was 7 p.m. by the time they wrapped for the day.

Craig announced, “Thanks to Reid’s perseverance, we knocked off two days of work in one. I want to thank you all for a job well done.” He walked over to Aimee. “I have to get out of here. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Let’s reconvene at 9 with the editing team.”

“Thanks, Craig, see you in the morning. By the way, nice job,” Aimee said.

“We got lucky. Don’t tell him, but for a first timer, Reid was unbeliev ably smooth. He could change careers tomorrow and be in film. I guess some guys have all the talent, huh?” “You’ve got plenty yourself, and you know it. See you tomorrow.” “Bye,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight all,” he yelled to everyone else. The camera crews had another hour of breaking down and packing up. The caterers were just about done. The lighting people would be working late into the night.

“I made reservations at Nobu,” Carl said. “It’s just around the corner. Why don’t we all go have dinner and relax?” “Good thinking,” Buck said. “Let’s go, everyone.” “I’m bushed,” Reid said with a yawn. “I think I’ll just go home.

Thanks, anyway.” Betsy piped up, “No way, you’re not going home yet. It’s only 7:30.

Come join us. Pleeease.” “Okay, if you’re going to twist my arm. But I need to make a call first. Can I borrow someone’s cell?” All at once, about 10 cell phones were offered by outstretched arms. It was a funny sight.

“Now that would have made an excellent cell phone commercial,” Reid said. He looked over at Aimee, who was already writing it down.

He grabbed the closest phone and walked away from the group. He pulled Shane’s card from his wallet and dialed her cell. To his disappointment, her voice-mail came on; just hearing her voice again gave him a chill. He left a message that they were heading to Nobu. “Okay, let me go change and we can leave,” he said to everyone.

Chapter 23

They walked to the restaurant and were led to a private dining room in the back. The subtle yet distinct scent of hot sake filled the air. After they took their seats, a waiter described Nobu’s famed Omakase dinner, a multicourse meal of the restaurant’s best and most exotic signature dishes. In front of their place settings were personal sake flasks, each resting on a flame warmer.

During the second course, there was a quiet knock on the door and Shane entered the room. All heads turned. A little embarrassed, she gave a quick wave and quietly said, “Hi, everybody.”

Reid jumped up, knocking his chair over. He hurried over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t believe you came, I’m thrilled.” Everyone was looking at them and whispering quietly. Shane wore an olive-green silk blouse, black capri pants and sandals. Her long hair was braided down her back. The only make-up she wore was lipstick. She was breathtaking. Reid turned toward the tables. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Shane.” He brought her to his table and, after a quick seating adjustment, they sat next to each other. A moment later, Joan came over and said, “Reid, don’t you want to introduce me to your friend?”

Reid rolled his eyes and said, “Of course. Mom, meet Shane; Shane, this is my mom, Joan.” They exchanged hellos and agreed to talk more after dinner. Reid was relieved his sisters hadn’t lined up behind their mom. Shane listened intently as he told her about the commercial shoot. He

felt very good with her next to him. She actually seems interested in what I’m saying, he thought. Finally, a girl who might not only be attracted to my bank account. He asked if she would join them tomorrow evening for a classical concert at Caramoor, an outdoor theater on a beautiful estate. To his delight, she accepted the invitation. Shortly afterward, the party broke up.

Heads turned to admire Shane as they left the restaurant. Reid was glad the attention was on her instead of him for once. The group squeezed into the waiting vehicles. When they dropped Shane off at her apartment, Reid jumped out and walked her to the door. They stepped into the vestibule, out of sight of the others. He thanked her for coming and gave her a quick goodnight kiss; he wanted more but he was determined to prove himself a gentleman. As he started to back away, she quickly put her arms around his neck and pulled him back for another, more passionate kiss. She smiled and said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I can’t wait for tomorrow.” She gave him another quick kiss and said goodnight, then turned and walked to the elevator. He smiled and watched in silence thinking, I guess Jamie is out of the picture.

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he got in the van. Nobody said a word for a while. “Okay, you can resume talking now. And to answer the question you’re all dying to ask, yes, I really like her.” He paused. “A lot.”

The drive to Westchester was uneventful. Most of the group was asleep when they pulled into Joan’s driveway. Security team four had been waiting for them at the house. They dragged themselves to their rooms. The other security teams drove back to the hotel.

Reid’s mind had been racing the past few nights in bed. At least he had something good to counter the distressing thoughts of the threat. He only hoped he would be luckier than Romeo in the end. He finally drifted to sleep around 4 a.m.

In spite of the rough night and limited sleep, he woke up in a good mood. Thoughts of Shane left no room for anything else in his head. Looking into the bathroom mirror, he repeated a phrase that he used to say to himself as a kid. “Look and feel like the star you are.” He laughed as he thought about how many times he had said those words into this mirror. Who knew, maybe it helped. He knew his life was about to change. Shane made him feel…. He thought, How does she make me feel? Complete. Yeah that’s it, complete. As silly as that phrase had always sounded to him, he finally understood the feeling. He had never felt like this before and, although it made him nervous, he liked it.

He threw on some old shorts and a college T-shirt that looked more like an old rag. Hunter and Jeff were in the kitchen. “Good morning,” he said cheerily.

“Good morning,” Hunter said. “Someone’s happy this morning! Coffee’s ready if you want some. Are you going for a run?”

“Yeah, just a quick loop around the reservoir. Jeff, I hope you don’t mind. It’ll only take half an hour.” “No problem. I could use it myself.” “You’ll love the run. It’s quiet and really beautiful.” “Great. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready.” “Take your time.” After Jeff left the room, Hunter said, “You’ve really fallen hard for this

woman, haven’t you?” “Is it that obvious?” “Hey, you and I may fight a lot, but there is nothing you can hide from

me.” He wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. “I guess you’re right. If there’s anybody who can read me, it’s you. Well, it is mutual you know. I’ve seen the way you act around Keith. You can’t tell me you don’t have a little crush on him.” “Shut up,” she said grinning. They both laughed. Jeff came back in and he and Reid left for their run. They started slowly but kept pushing each other faster. Both were very competitive; by the end, they were racing back to the house. When they got to the front lawn, they collapsed, sucking wind.

Joan walked by a window, looked outside and saw them lying there. She screamed and ran out. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked in panic. Too winded to speak, Reid just held up his hand and gave her a

thumbs-up sign. “Oh my God, I thought….” She sighed heavily, “You guys are killin’

me.” Both men laughed with what little air they could get. “Sorry, Mom.” “Never mind sorry! Come in when you’re ready; I made pancakes for breakfast.” She turned and walked past the others who had all come running when she screamed. Looking at Betsy, she said, “Your brother is going to give me a heart attack.” She continued into the house, letting the screen door slam shut.

After breakfast, Reid showered, then joined everyone on the deck. He said, “Who wants to take a ride to Westchester Country Club? I want to study the course. Beforehand, we can walk around the sculpture gardens at Pepsi, then hit Walter’s for lunch. Afterward, anyone who wants to walk the back nine can, and anyone who doesn’t can come back here.” “That’s some itinerary. I’m in,” Betsy said. They all agreed. Reid called Shane and explained the agenda. She said she’d love to join

them. “Great, I’ll send a car for you. You can meet us at the sculpture garden.

Call my cell when you get to the parking lot. Okay?” Shane agreed. When the call was over, he hung up then quickly called Buck and asked if he’d send his driver to run Shane up to meet him. Buck said, “No problem. Tell her to be ready in 15 minutes. By the way, Jay and I will take care of the press conference today; I’ll let you know how it goes. Jay has some updates on the investigation. I think he cleared Jennifer. Eli and Mike Gatto are still MIA. It seems Eli has gotten into some legal trouble since you fired him. Jay’s concerned. Make sure you have security wherever you go.”

“I’m no fool, Buck. I’m not going anywhere without them. Hey, I have to go, everybody’s waiting for me. Talk to you later.” He hung up.

“Okay,” Reid barked loudly. “Whoever wants to come, let’s get this show on the road. We need to be back early enough to get ready for Caramoor.”

Once again, they were on the road. They drove to the sculpture gar dens and started walking the gravel path. Reid was trying not to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to call Shane. He gave in and dialed. She answered on the first ring. “Where are you?” he asked. “Turn around,” she said. He turned and there she was, wearing shorts and a halter top, looking so good his heart skipped a beat. He ran, picked her up and hugged her. After a long kiss he said, “I missed you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” “Me either,” she admitted. He smiled and said, “Come on, let’s catch up with everyone.” They

walked up to the others, hand in hand. Betsy turned around as they were getting close. “Uh-oh Mom, this

looks serious.” “I know. Good for him, he deserves it, and I think I like her. She seems classier than some of the other girls he’s dated. Do you think she broke up with that other guy yet?” “I hope so. Should I ask her later?” “No, let’s not meddle. They’ll work it out.” Betsy nodded. They waited for Reid and Shane to catch up. Everyone said hi and they

continued their stroll. “This place is beautiful,” Shane said. “I can’t believe I never knew it

existed.” “It’s one of Westchester’s hidden treasures,” Joan said. They walked through the gardens, studying and appreciating the sculptures. They stopped pond side at a life-size bronze of a polar bear. Reid lifted Shane and she climbed on the bear’s back, then he jumped up as well. “Hold on,” Betsy said as she grabbed her camera and took a few shots.

A guard from the gardens walked over and nicely asked them to get off the bear. They apologized, got off and moved on. They all took turns posing for pictures, sitting among some lifelike sculptures of people on a bench. Arriving back at the vehicles, they boarded for the next leg of the journey.

“Okay, time for Walter’s,” Reid announced, “home of the world’s best hotdogs.” They drove to a funky, old-fashioned road side stand.

“Holy cow, this place must be good, the line’s a mile long,” Joel exaggerated.

“Joel, Shane and I will go wait on line,” Reid said. “You all go in the back and reserve some picnic tables.”

When they reached the front of the line, Reid ordered 50 hotdogs and enough fries and drinks for the group. The girl that took the order repeated it, causing everyone behind the counter to shift gears. Those in line behind them groaned. Reid appeased everyone in line by signing autographs until his order was ready. As he paid for his order he handed the cashier an additional $300 and said, “This should cover everyone’s order in line, and leave enough to share as a tip for everyone behind the counter.” Applause broke out on both sides of the counter as Reid, Shane and Joel carried their order away.

“That was nice,” Shane said as they walked. “Maybe if the press saw you doing things like that they’d get off your back.” “Maybe they would.” They placed the food on the picnic tables. “What was all the commotion about?” Joan asked. “Nothing,” Reid said. “It was your son being a nice guy to his fans,” Shane said. “Really?” Betsy said in disbelief. Reid shrugged. They passed around the food and as everyone gobbled it up the only

noise to be heard was, “Mmm, these dogs are great!” After his last bite, Reid said, “The last stop is the back nine. Anyone not up to it?” No one said anything. “Mom, are you sure it’s not too much for you?”

“Hey, I’ve come this far on your crusade, I’m not quitting now. Let’s go.” He smiled and said, “Then let’s roll.” They pulled up to the front doors at Westchester Country Club. “Let me go in and speak with the manager first,” Reid said. I’ll be out in a minute. Shane, will you come with me?”

They walked into the lobby, and all heads turned to look at them. Here, everyone knew who Reid was. The clubhouse was enormous. Everything about it was distinguished, especially its members. It exuded old world charm and sophistication. The lobby had multiple sitting areas. The furniture consisted of immense dark leather couches and elegantly upholstered armchairs. The stone fireplace at the head of the room was big enough to park a golf cart in. Gigantic vases of fresh flowers brightened the room. No one ran up for Reid’s autograph. Not here. An older couple walked by. The gentleman politely tipped his cap, gave a small nod and said, “Welcome, Mr. Clark.” Reid nodded and respectfully said, “Thank you, sir.” Word spread that he had arrived and Steve, the club manager, came out to greet him. Steve was clean-cut, around 40 years old, and wore a beige suit with a dark green tie. Reid introduced him to Shane, then explained his intentions of walking the back nine with a few friends. Steve said, “Let me call Jimmy, our starter, to see what we look like on the west course.”

They followed Steve to his large office. Motioning for them to sit in the black leather chairs in front of his desk, he dialed the starter and reiterated Reid’s desire to walk the back nine. After listening, he hung up. “There are four groups on the west course now. Three are on the back nine, but you can walk the front. Jimmy will send anyone who wants to tee off over to the East Course for the next two hours.”

“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be around quite a bit over the next week and a half. In fact, I’d like to walk the back nine tomorrow. How about having lunch with me afterwards?”

“Excellent, you name the time. By the way, here.” He handed Reid a cigar from his humidor. “I know you enjoy them.”

“Wow, thank you,” Reid said as he ran the cigar lengthwise under his nose, inhaling the spicy aroma. “Excellent, Buck will be so jealous,” he said in Shane’s direction. “Here, take another for him.” Steve reopened the humidor. “Thanks, he’ll appreciate it. I’ll let you know about lunch as soon as I

can. I need to check timing on a press conference first.” Reid and Shane walked out to the front of the building, where everyone was waiting. “Follow me,” he said. He found Jimmy standing proudly beside the starter’s shack, wearing a golf shirt and cap with WCC logos. “Hi, Jimmy, it’s good to see you. I appreciate your help,” Reid shook his hand and tried to hand him 50 bucks.

“No thanks, Mr. Clark,” Jimmy said, “wouldn’t take it even if I was allowed. It’s my pleasure to help.” He then added, “I wouldn’t mind a couple of autographs for my kids, though. When you have the time, that is.” “Absolutely Jimmy, you got it. I’ll obviously be around for a while.” “Enjoy your walk.”

Chapter 24

The group walked the front nine, listening as Reid explained his plan of attack for the course. He discussed some of the tougher holes and the possibilities of hitting lay-ups versus long shots. Ball placement achieving the best approach to the green was critical.

“This is so beautiful,” Shane said. “Now I understand why my friends have been trying to get me to play for so long. Well, I guess it’s time for me to start, huh?”

Reid turned toward her and with a deadpan face said, “Wait a minute, you don’t play golf? I don’t believe this. Somebody get her out of here! I can’t be with this woman any longer.”

Silence followed, accompanied by looks of astonishment on many faces. Finally, Reid started to laugh. “Wow, you all thought I was serious? You really think I’m a jerk, huh?” Everyone nodded and Shane slugged him in the arm. “Ow! Don’t do that, I’ve got a big tournament coming up,” he said

with another laugh. “Where did you learn to punch like that anyway?” “From two overprotective big brothers, so consider yourself fore

warned.” “Duly noted. Alright,” he said rubbing his arm. “In all seriousness, I’m really looking forward to teaching you how to play.” He turned and gave her a hug. “That’s better,” she responded. They walked the last few holes holding hands. When they got back to the clubhouse, there was some commotion at the valet parking desk. A car had been stolen from the lot. It was a Porsche and Reid quickly learned that it belonged to Jim Turner, one of the golfers he had placed on the suspect list. Turner, at the moment, was yelling at the valet manager. “How could you let this happen, you idiot?” he growled.

Reid couldn’t help himself. He walked up to Turner and said obnox iously, “Oh, Jim, your car was stolen? What a bummer. Hope you have better luck on the golf course.” “Fuck you, Reid,” Turner said, steaming. “Right back at you, bud,” Reid said as he turned and walked away. “Dammit, Reid,” Joel said, “don’t pull shit like that.” “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. He’s a jerk.” “I mean it, Reid, cut it out. Do not provoke anyone else. You seem to forget that someone threatened your life. You need to take it more seriously. Besides, the guy’s car was just stolen.”

“Okay, no argument, you’re right. Let’s go get the vans, since the park ing attendants are all caught up in that nonsense.” He turned and yelled to the others, “We’ll be right back. We’re going to get the vans.”

The two men walked to the vans and each climbed into one. Reid start ed his and was just about to put it in gear when Joel gave a quick honk to get Reid’s attention. Joel was waving him over. Reid got out of the van and approached Joel. “This was under the wiper on the windshield,” Joel said. It was an envelope with Reid’s name printed on it. An icy chill ran through Reid as he reached for the envelope with a trembling hand. He weakened as blood drained from his head. He quickly grabbed hold of the side-view mirror to keep from falling.

Joel awkwardly reached for Reid’s shoulder through the open window, trying to help stabilize him. “Breath deeply,” Joel said. “Take it nice and easy.” Joel waited until he saw the color come back to Reid’s face. “Are you okay?”

Reid took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yeah…I guess.” He slow ly let go of the mirror and tested his shaky legs. Joel was still holding him through the window. “Can I let go?” Reid nodded and took another deep breath. He looked at the envelope.

“Why don’t you open it and read it to me.” Joel nodded and carefully opened it up. He unfolded a blue note and read:

I don’t care how much security you have,

They can’t stop my bullet. Don’t win the classic.

Reid started to shake again. He fell to his knees and heaved. Joel couldn’t open the van door without hitting him. He climbed out the passenger door and ran around the van. He put his palm on Reid’s back as he retched violently.

Reid remained hunched over for another minute. He waited until his breathing and heart rate stabilized. Then he slowly stood up with Joel’s help. “Is there a towel in the van that I can clean up with?” “I’ll go check. Can you stand on your own?” “I think so.” Joel came back with a couple of towels. Reid wiped his face and hands and asked Joel to get the waterless sanitizer and a clean shirt from his bag in the other van. He cleaned himself up and asked for an inspection.

“You look pretty good; this should do it.” Joel handed him a stick of gum.

Munching on the gum, Reid asked, “You think whoever did this stole the Porsche?” “That would be my guess,” Joel answered. “Let’s not tell everyone about this. You tell Stu, and when we get back

to the house, we’ll call Jay.” “Agreed. Do you feel well enough to drive?” “Yeah.” They drove to the clubhouse and everyone piled in. Reid was very

reserved on the ride home. “Are you okay? You’re so quiet,” Shane said. “I’m fine, thanks,” he lied. “Just thinking about the tournament.” They drove the rest of the way without much talk. Jared and Judy, pro

tection team three, were already at the house when they arrived. “I’ve got to pick up the fried chicken and salads for our picnic,” Joan said. “How many will we be?” “Get enough for 25,” Reid said. “Those not coming with us will eat

here.” He handed her some cash. “Good thinking,” she said. “Who’s coming with me?” Hunter, Judy and Jared all went with Joan. Joel, Stu and Reid went into the den and closed the door. They called Jay on speakerphone and told him about the note and Turner’s stolen Porshe.

Jay responded, “I need to think about this. You guys have any thoughts?”

“We’re going to start double-teaming Reid,” Stu said. “You need to adjust the schedule again.”

“Good point. I’m going to go question Turner now, although it sounds like it would be too clever a cover up for him.” “Wow!” Reid said. “I never thought of that.” “That’s why you hired me,” Jay said. “By the way, the press conference went very well. The press are behaving, but I have to keep feeding them tidbits, so don’t be surprised when you watch the news.” “I haven’t had the time and don’t think I will,” Reid said. “Joel, make a copy of the note for me and send the original to the lab by messenger,” Jay said. “I want it analyzed and compared to the first. We think the paper was purchased from a store right here in New York, and they only received the shipment three weeks ago. We are checking their receipts as we speak. Hopefully, there weren’t many customers who bought that color.” “I’ll send it out immediately.” “Good. We’re close to nailing this sucker, but now he’s playing with us

right under our noses. You know what you need to do.” Stu quoted their motto: “Always awake, always alert, always aware.” “Exactly. Keep me informed,” Jay said and hung up. “Reid, from now on, Stu and I are going to be with you whenever

you’re awake. The other teams will cover in shifts while you sleep.” “That’s comforting, I guess,” Reid sighed. They joined the others on the deck. When Joan, Hunter and Team Three got back from the market, they packed a picnic dinner and put the rest of the food out for all who were staying behind.

Those going to the concert jumped in a van for the quick ride to Caramoor. The evening was delightful, and the classical music was soothing. Reid’s stress began to ebb, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He pictured himself on a beach with Shane. Now that’s different, he thought. Usually his daydreams were about golf. He enjoyed the change.

The concert ended and after a long wait in parking lot traffic, the group drove home quickly. After dessert on the deck, they all hit the hay early. Hunter moved into Joan’s room to give Shane her bed.

Weary as he was, sleep wasn’t coming easy for Reid. He tossed and turned for over an hour. A picture of the second threatening note was stuck in his head. Anxiety overcame him. He broke out in a cold sweat and began hyperventilating. Dammit, he thought, this pressure is going to eat me alive. He sat up, buried his face in a pillow and screamed. No one heard him except Bill, the guard on-duty who broke the latch, splintering the doorframe as he crashed through.

“What happened?” Bill asked, scanning the room but finding nothing wrong. “Are you all right?”

Reid was sitting with the pillow in his lap. “Shit, Bill, this really sucks. I’m trying like hell to take everything in stride, but it’s impossible. This sonofabitch is going to ruin my life.” Realizing his pun, he added, “That is, if he doesn’t kill me first.”

“Hey, man, it’s only natural for you to feel like that. Nobody expects you to be a hero. Sometimes it’s healthier to let your emotions flow. If you keep them bottled up, the pressure builds until you explode. Just let it go; it’s okay.”

“I know you’re right; I just don’t want my family or Shane to see that I’m so scared,” Reid said, shaking his head. It’ll just worry them more than they are already.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m fine now, thanks. Believe it or not, that scream helped.” “I hope so, because it scared the shit out of me.” “Sorry.” “No need to apologize. I enjoy a little excitement on my shift. It gets

my adrenaline flowing.” “Well, in that case, I’m glad I could be of service. Next time use the

door knob though,” Reid said. “Oh well, I guess I got a little overzealous. Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it. Now get the hell out of here so I can get some

sleep,” Reid joked. “It’s so nice to be appreciated. Goodnight.” As Bill turned to leave the room, he and Reid noticed that everyone in the house was at the door, looking in.

“I’m okay, everyone,” Reid said. “Please go back to bed. Sorry for wak ing you.” Joan started to walk into the room. “What happened?” “Mom. I’m fine. Now please go back to bed. I really don’t want to talk

right now.” “Whatever you say, dear.” Joan turned and sighed as she stepped over the splintered wood and left the room.

Chapter 25

The next morning, Shane joined Reid and Stu for a run. Reid ran slower than normal so she could keep up. Bad move! Once they made the turn onto Reservoir Road and Shane didn’t need Reid to show the way, she took the lead and increased the pace. He had to work hard to keep up. Soon, his legs began to burn. Two things kept him from dropping back: his pride and his view. The distraction took his mind off the intense pain. What legs, he thought. Then, as his eyes shifted a little north, he stumbled on a protruding stone in the dirt road. Stu couldn’t refrain from laughing as he watched Reid lurch forward, arms flailing as he compensated to avoid a nasty fall. Relieved, Reid said quietly so Shane couldn’t hear, “I better keep my eyes on the road or I’m really going to fall for her.” He and Stu laughed. “What’s so funny back there?” Shane asked. “Oh nothing,” said Reid. “Just enjoying the view.” “Hey, watch it, wise guy, or the view is going to leave you in the dust.” Shane increased the pace again, and the friendly banter ceased for the balance of the run. When they returned to the house, Reid had a message on his cell phone. It was Aimee inviting him down to the studio to preview the commercial. It was far from finished, but it was looking very good, according to her.

A short time later, Reid, Shane, Joel and Stu drove downtown in the Jaguar. Stu and Shane decided that the back seat was perfect if you were under 10 years old. They felt like size nine feet in a size six shoe. All four of them met Aimee at the studio and watched the commercial. The set was long gone. Not even a puddle remained. “You shot that here, in this studio? It looks like you’re on a glacier,” Shane said.

“Hard to believe, huh?” Reid said. “You should have seen the set. It was incredible.” “Well, congratulations, the commercial is excellent,” Shane remarked. “Don’t congratulate me; it was Aimee who pulled it off. Can we get a

copy?” he asked Aimee. “Sure, I’m glad you like it. Don’t let him fool you, Shane. He’s a nat

ural actor.” “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” “Hey,” Reid said grinning. He threw a slow soft punch falling short of

her jaw. Aimee opened a folder and said, “Here, take a look at the magazine and

billboard proofs.” “These are good,” Joel said, leafing through them. “I can’t believe that’s me,” Reid said. “They’re going to be incredible when they’re done. This is one of the

best campaigns I’ve ever worked on,” Aimee said. “I’m impressed,” Reid said. “I’m also hungry. Aimee, you’ll join us for

lunch, won’t you?” Reid asked. “Sure,” she said, “Gotta eat, right?” After lunch, Aimee left them to head back to the studio. On their way home, Reid wanted to stop and visit some old friends who owned a store in the town of Rye. They entered Woodrow Jewelers where Reid introduced everyone to Michael and Rob Woodrow. Then he nonchalantly began to look around the store. As he had hoped, Shane was drawn to the jewelry. He joined her and together they looked at some necklaces. He asked Michael to take a few out for her to try on. She tried to object, but Reid couldn’t be stopped. Together, they chose an emerald and diamond necklace that matched the green in her eyes.

She reached for a glimpse of the price tag but Reid ripped it off, say ing, “Oh no you don’t.” He handed Michael his credit card.

SUDDEN DEATH

After hugs and kisses, they went to an electronics store and bought a huge high definition TV and DVD player for Reid’s mom. He made sure it would be delivered the next day because he couldn’t stand another day of watching her antique TV. On the way back to the house, they picked up several pizzas for dinner. They ate early and went to see a movie.

The following day, they went back to Westchester Country Club. When Reid explained to Steve that yesterday’s unexpected trip to the studio caused him to miss their lunch date, Steve said, “Don’t worry about it. I was just about to go grab a bite. Why don’t you all join me?”

The main dining room was crowded. Tour golfers who had begun to arrive for the tournament greeted them throughout the meal.

After lunch, they walked the back nine. Reid and Buddy discussed dis tances, bunker locations and possible pin placements on the greens. They got back to Joan’s house around 5 p.m. to find Joan, Hunter and Judy hard at work in the kitchen. They were making linguine with white clam sauce, one of Reid’s favorite meals.

“Hey, what’s with the TV?” Joan asked. “It barely fits in the room. My old one worked just fine. You didn’t have to get me a new one.” “You’re welcome, Ma. Just enjoy it.” “Thank you, it’s wonderful,” she said. Turning to the others she said quietly, “I think some of these gifts he’s buying me are more for his enjoyment than mine.”

“Hey, I heard that. Maybe you should wait till I leave the room before making comments like that.”

“Sorry, honey. Look, I love the car and the club membership, but the TV…you know I couldn’t care less about what kind of TV I watch. I barely watch it anyway. But if it gets you to visit more often, then I love it.” “Sure, Mom. Whatever.” Joan shrugged. Everyone sat down for dinner and talked about the day. They decided to go to the beach the next day, Saturday. Shane needed to go home first to pick up a bathing suit and more clothes if she was staying through the weekend. Reid offered to take her shopping instead, before going to the beach.

The group crammed into the den after dinner to watch the commer cial. When the TV was turned on, Joan commented enthusiastically, “Wow, what a great picture! This TV is great! I love it!” Everyone had a good laugh. They started the video. What Reid wasn’t prepared for were the outtakes that Aimee included at the end. They were hilarious. The comments afterward ranged from roasts to high praise. When everyone settled down, they started a movie. Betsy brought in popcorn and Hunter’s homemade brownies.

As much as he had tried, Reid couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Thoughts of the threats were consuming him. He looked around the room. He was upset and annoyed. Why had it taken a death threat to get him to spend time with the people he loved? Was someone really going to take all this away from him?

Chapter 26

In the morning, Reid took Shane to buy a bathing suit and some other necessities. While shopping, they chatted. He told her about his childhood years, the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he remembered absolutely nothing about his father. He explained that although his father had left them financially okay, his mother had to work as she raised Reid and his sisters. He admitted that he probably would not have been able to attend college without his scholarship. He was currently covering Hunter’s tuition at Julliard.

He informed Shane that his reputation as “The Bad Boy of Golf” was really nonsense. The press irritated him and he occasionally put them in their place, but only when they deserved it. He was courteous on the golf course and only gave other pros a hard time if they didn’t respect course etiquette. There were times when he didn’t give many autographs, but he would never treat a fan disrespectfully. Overall, the label “Bad Boy” was untrue, but it had a good effect and he enjoyed the notoriety. Buck agreed that Reid should continue to give the press a hard time, but just enough to stay in the limelight. “Sometimes I push them too far, but I’m never the instigator.” She smiled at that statement. “What?” he asked. “I didn’t say anything.” “Cute as it was, that smile said a lot,” he accused her. “Oh, don’t go getting all sensitive on me.” He shook his head and laughed, then continued to explain the ICSF and AllSport. They talked about spending a long weekend at AllSport as soon as they could both find the time. He described his homes; the house he shared with Buck at AllSport, his apartment in New York and his townhouse in Florida.

Shane explained her career as a freelance writer. She wrote regularly for three magazines and often worked on newsletters for various organizations. They both agreed a newsletter could be good for the Inner City Sports Foundation. It would be an excellent tool for informing regular contributors as well as soliciting new donations.

Reid learned that Shane’s parents had retired and lived in Florida. One of her brothers was an attorney living with his family in Telluride, Colorado. Her other brother was a struggling entrepreneur with a lot of good ideas but little to show for them. They grew up in Cherry Hill, New Jersey and only recently scattered around the country. She didn’t get to see them as often as she wished. She told Reid that although she had known Jamie Freed for about four months they had only started dating recently. More importantly she had not gone out with him since she had met Reid.

They made a quick stop at a sports shop, where Reid bought boogie boards, a Frisbee, and some lacrosse sticks. He hoped one of the bodyguards would know how to throw a lacrosse ball.

When they got back to the house, Reid went down to the basement to look for his lacrosse stick. What he found brought on a rush of emotions. Piled in a corner was his old football equipment. He rummaged through the gear, picked up a partially deflated football and sat for a few minutes, flipping the ball from hand to hand, reminiscing.

His mood was melancholy when Hunter came down and found him. She sat next to him. “Miss it, huh? Well, it certainly would have been a different life for you. We used to get so worried every time you played.”

“Yeah, I got banged around a lot, but I do miss it,” he got up, found his lacrosse stick and said, “Come on, let’s go to the beach!”

They went upstairs, rounded everybody up and packed the vans with beach gear and coolers filled with lunch.

The roads were fairly clear until they neared the beach; then they hit typical Summer Saturday Long Island beach traffic. Double team security meant that they now had teams one, three, four and five with them. Greeny and Mench, nicknamed the “assassinators” due to their expertise in finding and eliminating assassins throughout the world, were in the rear of the vans, scanning traffic for any suspicious vehicles that might be tailing them.

Upon arrival at the beach, the security teams disembarked before everyone else. After a quick survey of the area, they gave each other silent all-clear signals. The group carried the sports equipment and coolers down the boardwalk to the crowded beach and made camp high up near the dunes. Reid immediately challenged anyone to a Boogie Board race. Shane and Betsy accepted and grabbed boards. “Come on, Joel,” Reid said. “Are you a chicken?” He did a ridiculous chicken impression and got a few laughs. “Not today, Reid. Sorry.” Shane had picked up on the change in the security team’s behavior.

They seemed to have stepped up to a more serious level. “Reid, what’s going on?” she asked. “Why are Joel and the others sud

denly much more serious?” “Yeah, I noticed it too,” Betsy said. “What happened?” Reid put his head down and said, “Now please don’t overreact. I don’t want everyone panicking. I got another threat yesterday at the golf course. I didn’t want to worry you guys more than you are already.”

“Oh my God! Not another one!” Joan shrieked. “When are they going to find this guy?”

Reid walked over to her and gave her a hug. “Calm down, Ma, it’s going to be okay. These guys are the best protection we could have. They’ll get him…or her.” “I’m just scared. I can’t help it.” “I know, me too,” he admitted. They spent a few hours riding the waves, eating lunch and soaking in the sun, but the news of the second threat had put a damper on things. The only highlight of Reid’s day was finding out that Stu had played college lacrosse. After an easy warm-up catch, they began throwing the ball harder and harder until they were firing shots at each other at breakneck speed. They had to quit after a little while because they had attracted an audience. After all, how many times do you get to see the nation’s top golfer throwing a lacrosse ball at Jones Beach? Kids rushed from all over the beach with their sticks to join in. He threw a ball with them until Joel said, “Sorry, kids, we have to go.”

After a quiet dinner it was time for bed. The day at the beach hadn’t been as much of a distraction as Reid had hoped. The relentless thoughts of the threats were now etched into his brain. Usually, Reid looked forward to a good night’s rest after an active day. But sleep was becoming more difficult every night. Reid was beginning to dread the thought of going to bed in fear that lying alone would magnify his turmoil.

In season, Sundays are rarely a day of rest for a PGA golfer; quite the oppo site, in fact. Today, Reid wanted to do absolutely nothing but relax and maybe take a walk. Betsy had to get back to her family in Connecticut. She hadn’t seen them in more than a week. She agreed to drive back down with Steve and the kids the following weekend to watch the final rounds of the Classic. Hunter had made plans to spend the day with her friend, Dayle, who lived in the area. After lunch, Reid, Shane, Joel and Stu drove Betsy to the airport. She had to fly to Hartford where her car had been parked since she had flown to Augusta. They dropped her off, then drove to Ward Pound Ridge Reservation and took a two-hour hike through the woods. It was exactly what Reid needed to help him relax.

Later, he watched the end of the LPGA tournament on TV. It remind ed him that he needed to make hotel reservations. He couldn’t chance the distractions of staying at the house during the tournament, and he would need his daily massage. He called and reserved a suite and four additional rooms at The Rye Town Hilton, which was only a few miles from the golf course.

It was decided that Joel, Stu, Buddy and Reid would head to the hotel in the morning, while Lance and Beebs would drive Shane to her apartment. She would return to the house on Wednesday and stay through the tournament.

Reid was breaking one of his own rules: No girlfriends around during tournaments. Never mix women and golf. It’ll be okay, he tried to convince

himself. I just need to get into the zone during the tournament and I’ll be fine. Nothing distracts me when I’m in the zone.

They ate takeout Chinese food for dinner. Afterward, Reid brought a box of cigars out to the deck. Joan and Hunter went inside while Shane stayed out with the guys. Shane put up with the smoke without a complaint. She even took a puff from Reid’s cigar for kicks. Reid smiled. This girl is definitely marriage material, he thought. Upon finishing the cigars, they called it an evening.

Chapter 27

Monday morning arrived. After breakfast, Reid and Shane went outside to say goodbye. “I’ll call you tonight,” he said after a tight embrace. “Please be careful. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose you.” “I’m going to miss you. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I think I’m falling in love with you.” It was out before he realized what he was saying. It was a first for Reid; he had never said that to any other girl.

“Me too.” She smiled and kissed him again, more passionately this time. “I’ll see you Thursday.” The others came out, said their goodbyes to Joan and Hunter, and left. Buddy had been waiting in the lobby when Reid, Joel and Stu arrived at the hotel. Reid said, “Let’s check in and put the stuff in the rooms; then I want to get a massage. If any of you want one, just put it or anything else you want on my room tab. After that, I want to head to the course to practice.”

They all went for massages, then headed to the club. The driving range was empty, so Reid suggested that Stu and Joel hit some balls while he worked with Buddy. Joel was pretty good. Stu would have been better off going for a bike ride. They followed Reid from the range to the chipping area to the practice green, then took a lunch break.

The clubhouse was starting to buzz with tournament activity. Some of the members’ kids were waiting in the lobby to get autographs. They attacked Reid as he walked in. In spite of his better judgment, he signed away. What’s with me? he thought. A month ago I would have walked right past these kids. The truth was he was having fun, more so than he’d had in a long time.

Howard Brock walked into the lobby and a bunch of the kids ran over to him. Reid took advantage of the moment and exited after a quick nod to Howard. He headed for the dining room with Stu, Joel and Buddy. They sat at a table, reserving a seat for Howard.

After lunch, Reid and Howard talked about the course and its areas of difficulty. There was a brief discussion of security, at which point Howard asked Stu and Joel, “If you don’t mind me asking, have you guys made any headway?”

“We’ve narrowed the possibilities down, but the guy is still playing with us,” Stu said. “We’ll get him,” he added with absolute confidence. “I just hope he doesn’t get me first,” Reid said. “Why don’t you just do as he asks, Reid?” Howard joked. “You mean I shouldn’t win? Ha, very funny, Howard. You got as close

to beating me as you’re going to get.” “Can’t blame me for trying, can you?” They all chuckled. “Do you want to join me on the range?” Reid asked. “I’ll meet you there in a little while.” They left the dining room and fortunately for Reid, the kids were gathered around another golfer in the lobby. Reid was able to get by without the kids noticing. The other guy mouthed, “Help!” but Reid was no fool; any more autographs and he’d get writer’s cramp. With a quick wave, Reid mouthed back, “Sorry,” then walked out. At the range, Reid noticed the sportscaster, Bobby Lee, interviewing a golfer at the far end. Not in the mood for an interview, Reid stepped up to a practice tee with his back toward Bobby. He started swinging a club to loosen up. As he turned to get his driver, he heard Bobby yell, “Reid, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Damn,” Reid said under his breath. He then he noticed that Bobby had been interviewing Jim Turner. Bobby and his cameraman walked over. “Reid, how about a quick

interview?” Reid didn’t see that he had much choice. Turning him down would only provoke Bobby to retaliate on national TV. “Great, Bobby, I hoped you were coming over.” “Oh, such lies,” Bobby said. “No, really, I’m sure after your interview with Turner I need to defend

myself.” “Good point, you’re right. Jim is not very happy with you or your

investigators at the moment. So are you ready? Can we shoot?” “Yeah, but only if you use a different word.” “Oh. Sorry, I really didn’t mean to say that.” “I know. Go ahead and start, but please keep your questions related to

the tournament.” The camera’s light turned red. “I’m here with Reid Clark. As you know, Reid recently won the Master’s after receiving a death threat. You just heard me speaking with Jim Turner, who complained about how Reid’s investigation team questioned him as to his whereabouts during the death threat. Reid, is Jim a suspect?”

“Bobby, you know I can’t talk about the investigation. Talk to me about my strategy or how I’m going to win the Classic. Talk to me about my arrogance and cockiness. That stuff I can talk about. But please don’t ask me about the investigation.”

“Okay, if you won’t talk about the investigation, how about your new girlfriend? I hear you met her at Ross Misrok’s party and practically stole her away from Jamie Freed, the Wall Street mogul.”

Reid’s irritation showed in his reddening face. “You son of a bitch, you’re totally out of line. I thought you were a sportscaster, not a gossip reporter. Consider this interview over.” Reid turned his back to the camera, picked up his club and started taking practice swings again, almost hitting Bobby with his back swing.

“Hey, easy,” Bobby said. “Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, I was out of line. Come on, let’s start over again. Only golf, I swear.”

Reid looked at Bobby and growled, “Don’t ever come near me with a microphone or camera again, Bobby. Now leave me alone. I need to practice.” Bobby did the smart thing and backed off. Reid turned to his ball, muttering obscenities. He raised his club and hacked at the ball. A wad of turf flew into the air but no ball. He outright missed. Reid cursed again, louder this time. He took another swing, hitting the ball with the heel of the club. It flew left into the trees. Reid tensed and stamped his foot. He teed up another ball and swung again. The ball took off sharply to the right, into the short divider between the practice tees. It hit with a loud bang and bounced back at Reid. Jumping out of the way, he cursed and slammed his club into the ground. His face turned crimson with the heat of aggravation.

He paused, leaned on his club and hung his head. I better get myself together, he thought. Or I’m going to have a heart attack. Or worse, lose this tournament. Taking a few deep breaths and closing his eyes, he began to simmer down. He felt the gentle breeze wash over his face. Just as the heat in his face subsided and his heart rate slowed, Jim Turner approached, fuming.

“Hey, asshole, you think I’m dumb enough to send you death threats?” Turner seethed. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t bother with the fucking threats, I’d just do it. Right now, just looking at you makes me sick.”

It took Joel, Stu and Buddy all together to hold Reid back. He was enraged. Joel said calmly, “Turner, I have some advice. I think you should get the fuck out of here before we let him go, because if we do, he’s going to rip you apart. Both you and Bobby Lee make a fine pair, one dumber than the other. Now get the hell out of here.” “Fuck you all,” Turner said before he turned and stormed off. When they let him go, Reid turned toward Turner to tell him off. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. There, not 20 yards from him, Bobby and his cameraman stood in full glory with the camera running.

“Shit!” Reid screamed, picking up a golf ball and throwing it as hard as he could at the cameraman.

The man easily dodged the ball and, with an evil smirk, he flipped Reid the bird.

Reid watched both men hurry to their van and drive away. He turned and kicked a pyramid-shaped pile of balls that flew in all directions. Bobby was going to have his day.

It’s never smart to alienate a news reporter , he thought. So why do I keep doing it? It took Reid a long time, but he finally settled down. He wasn’t leaving the range until he was hitting balls consistently long and straight again. He knew if he left now, it would not bode well for him mentally. After regaining his composure, he started to laugh at the whole episode. “What a mess that was. Buck is gonna to go crazy when he sees it on TV. Guys, please tell me that wasn’t my fault. Was it?”

“No, Reid, they were both way out of line, but you can’t react like that any more,” Joel said. “I know I overreacted. I just can’t stay calm in situations like that.” “I don’t think I could have either, if it makes you feel any better,” Stu

said. Buddy laughed. “What’s so funny?” Reid asked. “I was just imagining the headlines,” Buddy said. “The Bad Boy of Golf takes a few days off to be nice to his fans, but never fear, he’s back with a vengeance,” he said, drawing an imaginary line in the air as if pointing to a headline. “I actually think your fans will love it.”

Chapter 28

Back at the hotel, the men went for their second massages. Afterward, they relaxed by the pool. Everyone except Reid, that is. Incessant fear was eating him up. He tried unsuccessfully to meditate. He thought it ludicrous that at a time he needed relaxation the most, his stress and fear prevented him from getting anywhere close to nirvana. He finally deemed it fruitless and gave up.

After a light dinner in the garden café, Reid, Buddy, Joel and Stu went to the bar to relax. A celebrity gossip show was on TV. Reid looked around to see if anyone else was watching. Seeing no one, he said, “Hey, Buddy, why don’t you go ask the bartender to change the channel?”

Buddy stood up and turned to walk to the bar when Reid snapped, “Wait. Hold on. Oh no!”

They all watched as the reporter said, “And during practice at the Classic today in Westchester, The Bad Boy of Golf proved once again how he got that label.” The next image was the scene from the driving range. “Reid Clark and Jim Turner, who by the way had his Porsche stolen earlier, were at each other’s throats on the practice range. The two, known to dislike each other, had to be held off one another by Reid’s caddie and bodyguards. Turner told us that earlier this week, Jay Scott, the PI handling Reid’s death threat investigation, had actually questioned him on his whereabouts during the incidents. Reid Clark could not be reached for comments.”

Reid was cursing as his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and brash ly said, “Hello.”

“What the fuck was that all about? Keep it up, pal, and your endorse ment contract is going to go right down the toilet,” Buck yelled. “I can do damage control, but I’m not a fucking magician. Stop the bullshit now, kid. I mean it.” “B…Buck, listen, he…,” Reid stammered. “Save it, I don’t have the time. I’ll be there Wednesday.” Buck ended

the call. “Dammit!” Reid yelled, snapping his phone shut. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Joel said. Up in the suite, Reid dialed Shane’s number. “Hi, this is Shane.” “Hey, I miss you already.” “I miss you, too. What was that all about on TV?” “You saw it?” he said, embarrassed. “No, Jamie just called and told me. He’s called and left a few messages since I broke up with him. He just asked if I saw the news and said that he wanted me to know what kind of guy I was getting involved with. You didn’t get hurt, did you?” “Just my pride. I feel pretty dumb. Buck is totally pissed at me.” “Rightfully so, I guess.” “Please, don’t you start too,” he begged. “Hey, why don’t you come up tomorrow instead of Wednesday and we’ll go out for dinner. You can help keep me out of trouble.” “Out of one kind of trouble and into another, right?” she said. “What do you mean?” “You’re breaking all your tournament rules because of me, aren’t you?” “My rules weren’t intended for you. They were pre-Shane rules. How

do you know about them anyway?” “Your sisters. They told me a lot about you.” “Well, don’t they have a couple of big mouths?” “They love you and you’re lucky to have them.” “I know, I know…. So are you coming up tomorrow or what?” “I’ll be there, but not till late in the afternoon. I have a deadline for an

article I’m writing. I’ll meet you at the hotel around 5, okay?” “Perfect, see you then. Wear something nice, I’m taking you to a fancy

restaurant.” “That will be nice.” “Good. Well, I’ve got to hit the sack, I’m beat. I love you.” Wow, he

thought, I said it again. “I love you, too. Goodnight babe.” He hung up, then stuck his head out into the living room and said,

“I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” “Goodnight,” Joel, Stu and Buddy said.

Tuesday was a better day. No cameras, no autographs, no fights, almost boring. Reid played the front nine in the morning, had a quick bite of lunch, then spent the afternoon playing the back nine. Joel, Stu, Buddy and Reid went back to the hotel at 3 p.m. for massages. Afterward, they went out to the pool, where Reid did some laps, then went to lie down.

The next thing he knew, someone was kissing him and whispering in his ear, “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!”

Peeking through one sleepy eye, he caught a glimpse of Shane. He pulled her down on top of him and returned her kiss. Although dressed to the nines, ready to go out for dinner, she didn’t complain. They lay there together for a few minutes, just holding each other. It was the most peaceful moment he’d had in two days. “Thank you,” he said. “For what?” “Just for being you.” After another brief hug, he said abruptly, “Now

get off me, woman. We need to get ready to go.” She hit him playfully and asked, “Where are we going?” “A restaurant called Lori’s Place; it’s supposed to be excellent.” They passed Howard on their way to the suite and Reid introduced them. Other golfers walking by stopped and stared, probably waiting for an introduction to Shane. Reid wasn’t in the mood for them.

In the suite, Shane sat in the living room while Reid went to change. When he came out, Joel and Stu had joined her. “Guys, you need to move it. We have reservations for two tables at 7:30 p.m., one for you two and one for us.”

They were ready in 10 minutes. Upon arrival to the restaurant, they were greeted by Sal Ferro, the actor who owned the place. He joined Reid and Shane at their table, per Reid’s request. “Why don’t you order for us? You know what’s good.” Reid immediately corrected himself. “I mean, I’m sure everything is excellent but…. Oh, you know what I mean.” “No, Reid, what exactly do you mean?” Sal asked, feigning resentment. Reid stammered apologetically. “Take it easy, I was only kidding. I’ll be happy to order for you,” Sal

said with a laugh. “I can’t believe you thought I was serious.” Reid rolled his eyes and shook his head in relief. “I don’t know whether to be more embarrassed for what I said or for being so gullible. This is the last time I have dinner with an actor.”

Shane chuckled and said to Reid, “Ha, look who can dish it out but can’t take it.” “Oh, please don’t start with that,” Reid pleaded. “Don’t be so sensitive,” Sal said with a smile. “So, what are you guys in the mood for? The tuna, duck and Beef Wellington are all excellent. My chef is known for them.”

“They all sound so good, why don’t we get one of each and share between the three of us?” Reid said. “I didn’t think I was joining you for dinner.” “Please, join us, Sal. Otherwise I have to listen to him all night,” Shane

said with a grin. Taken off guard, Reid responded, “Excuse me?” “Calm down, you know I love you.” Shane leaned over and gave him a

kiss. “Very nice, this must be a new relationship between you two. Am I

right?” Sal asked. “Very,” they both agreed simultaneously, smiling at each other. “Well, it looks like it’s working.” “It is,” Shane said, with a subtle smile. Reid reached over and covered her hand with his. “Are you sure you want me to join you for dinner?” Sal asked. “Absolutely,” Reid responded. “I’d love to hear what you’re working on;

anything interesting?” “Let’s order, then we’ll share golf and acting stories. I’d love to hear

about the Masters, and if you can talk about it, the death threat situation.” Reid visibly tensed at the mention of the threat. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sorry,” Sal apologized. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.” Shane reached over and rubbed his thigh. Sal waved a waiter over and ordered various appetizers and the three entrees. Dinner was every bit as excellent as the rave reviews had claimed. Conversations switched back and forth between Ferro’s movie roles, Reid’s golf and even the threat.

As Reid described the threat scenario, Sal was all ears. Afterward, Sal said, “Sounds like it would make a good movie. What do you think?” “Guess that will depend on the outcome,” Reid said with a chuckle. “Of course it will, but I’m serious, Reid. I’m always looking for a good

movie idea. This could be a blockbuster. Just think about it.” “Sal, I think I have enough on my plate at the moment, between the tour and trying to stay alive. Can we just have dessert for now? I need to get back to the hotel.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, that was way out of line. It’s my biggest fault. Every time I hear a good movie idea, I kind of lose my head. I get so one-tracked, I visualize the movie set in my mind and become consumed with it. Please accept my apology. I was completely insensitive.” Sal’s embarrassment poured out.

“Take it easy, Sal, I understand. It’s the same for me when I’m golfing,” Reid said. “I get so focused, I don’t hear or see anything but the ball. I’ll tell you what, if I get through this thing alive, we’ll talk about a movie. Let’s wait and see how it plays out.”

The desserts Sal ordered were like edible art and tasted as good as they looked. Reid and Shane turned down Sal’s offer of after dinner drinks. Reid had to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, and they still had to drop Shane off at Joan’s. Sal graciously accepted Reid’s invitation to the tournament.

The drive to Joan’s was quick. She and Hunter were there with Judy and Jared. Reid said hello and goodbye to everyone and gave Shane a hug. “We’re heading back to the hotel,” he said. “I need my beauty sleep.” Reid was very relaxed during the ride. It had been a good day followed

by a great meal with the woman he was falling in love with. He felt good. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. He wanted to get in some early putting practice. Buck was coming up and probably had scheduled a late morning press conference. He knew yesterday’s issues were going to haunt him tomorrow. Oh well, he thought, Que sera, sera.

Reid parked the van and went straight up to the suite with Stu and Joel. The lounge was packed with players and caddies. The elevator also was filled with players. One said, “You should’ve kicked Turner’s ass, Reid. He deserved it.” “I’ll do it on the golf course,” Reid said. “Good, hopefully we all will,” someone said. Entering the suite, Reid went directly to his room. He called the front desk for a 5 a.m. wake-up call. He got ready for bed and was asleep minutes after his head hit the pillow.

Chapter 29

Reid opened his eyes. Still dark. He looked at the clock; it was 4:59 a.m. He thought, I’ll never understand how my mental alarm clock knows what time it is. He shifted his gaze to the phone and waited. In his mind, he counted down, five-four-three-two-one. Silence. Again, five-four-three-two-one. Again, silence. Rolling his eyes, he tried one more time, five-four-three-two-one. Nothing. He laughed at himself, thinking, I’m more intuitive in my sleep than I am awake. Too bad I can’t golf while sleeping. Giving up, he turned over on his back. The phone rang. Chuckling out loud, he picked up the handset and dropped it back in the cradle. After a few moments, he called room service and ordered breakfast.

As he got out of the shower, room service knocked on his door. He threw a robe on and let in the waiter, tipped him and showed him back out. Famished, he lifted the cover and looked at the plate. “Oh shit,” he groaned. “Not another one.” Sitting on the plate, instead of his breakfast, was a golf ball with a hole through it. Tied to the ball, through the hole, was another blue note. It read:

The ball didn’t feel the bullet.

YOU WILL. Do not win this week.

Reid collapsed into the chair behind him and yelled, “Joel, Stu, get in

here.” They came running. “What’s the matter?” Joel asked. Reid tossed him

the ball with the note still attached. After a quick look he asked, “Where did you find this?” “The room service guy. It was under the cover on the plate,” Reid

answered, a little shaky. “I’m on him,” Stu said. He turned and bumped into Buddy, who was

entering the room as Stu ran out the door. “What happened now?” Buddy asked. “I got another threat,” Reid said with a sigh. “Oh shit,” Buddy said. Joel studied the ball and note. He grabbed his two-way and radioed

Jay. “Go ahead,” came Jay’s voice through the speaker. “We got another threat. This one’s creative. A golf ball with a bullet hole through it, and a note tied to it through the hole. Same paper, same font. It says the ball didn’t feel the bullet. You will. Do not win this week.” “Where did it come from?” Jay asked. “Room service. Stu took off after the waiter,” Joel said. “I’m on my way. Don’t let Reid leave the room.” Reid protested, “I can’t stay here! I need to practice.” Jay heard Reid and responded, “Reid, just wait for me to get there. I’ll

be quick.” “Fine,” Reid said in disgust. Jay added, “Like glue, Joel!” The rest was understood. “We’ll both be right here in the suite. Hurry up!” Joel put the radio

back in his belt clip. “My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest,” Reid said as he stood up. “I need fresh air; I’m going out on the balcony.” “No, you’re not. Sit down and take some deep breaths. Stay away from

the window,” Joel said. “This sucks. I can’t stand it anymore.” “Look, you’ve been great so far. You’ve handled it like a champ. Don’t

fall apart now. We’re closing in. We’ll get him soon.” “Who are you kidding? You don’t even know who you’re looking for yet. Yeah, you’ll get him, alright. After he puts a bullet in me,” Reid said sourly.

“I understand how you feel, but we’ll get him before he gets you, I promise. Just stay put till Jay gets here.”

After a minute of silence, Reid said, “I’m sorry, I know you guys are doing everything possible. It’s just really making me uptight.” “No need to apologize, I understand,” Joel said. Jay arrived and asked, “Where’s Stu?” “He hasn’t come back since we spoke on the radio,” Joel said. “Where’s the note?” Jay asked. Joel handed him the ball and note. Jay asked the obvious question. “Why are we handling this? It should have been sent to the lab without our prints.”

“Reid tossed it to me as I walked into the room. I didn’t bother saying anything; it was already too late.”

As Reid heard his mistake, he smacked himself in the head and said, “Damn! How could I be so stupid.”

“Forget about it, Reid. It was probably wiped clean anyway. Chances are we would have found nothing.” Downtrodden, Reid just said, “Sorry.” Jay nodded and looked at the ball. “This was probably shot at close range with the ball clamped in a vise or something like it. Otherwise, I think the ball would have ricocheted.” He looked closely at the hole and said, “We’ve got to talk to the local police immediately. The state police and the feds will probably want in on this, too. I want them all over that golf course during the tournament.”

Jay sat down and thought for a while before continuing. “Turner’s Porsche was found. It made its way to a chop shop in Harlem. Lucky for us, NYPD was already in the process of busting them. It was a huge “jack and chop” ring. The car was brought in two days ago and was still intact when the bust went down yesterday. There were plenty of prints in the shop but the car was wiped clean. I’m convinced Turner and Rogers have nothing to do with the threats. Turner’s an ass, but he wouldn’t have confronted Reid the other day if he were mixed up in this. He’s not clever or brave enough to have his car stolen as a cover-up. Same for Rogers; he’s a wimp. The minute we mentioned doing time, he fell apart. He admitted he hated Reid but would never jeopardize his PGA earnings by threatening or killing him. I put a little pressure on him and he broke down like a baby. It’s not him, I’m sure of it.” Jay picked up a glass of orange juice from the room service tray. “Are you going to drink this, Reid?” “No, go ahead.” Jay took a sip, then continued. “Morgan and Jacobs, the basketball players who were thrown out of AllSport, are in California. We’ve talked to some of the members of Slam, their gang. They’re pretty protective of each other and very abrasive. They wouldn’t give up much information, except that Morgan and Jacobs are living in L.A. Seems the gang has a West Coast counterpart. Each gang dominates their home turf in street basketball, and there seems to be a lot of money at stake, enough that they trade players across the country, depending on the needs of either team. Believe it or not, there are bookies that take bets on these games every day. A big piece of the take goes to the players. If they were smart enough to save and invest, they’d be set for life. Most of the guys we spoke with were high on something. The bulk of their money is probably spent on drugs. Anyway, since Morgan and Jacobs are in Los Angeles, I took them off the list. We’re going to try to keep an eye on as many of the local members of the gang as possible. There also was mention of some family members of Morgan’s whom we are trying to locate, specifically his brother, who belongs to another gang. Word on the street has it that Morgan’s brother was hoping to share in his brother’s riches when he made the NBA.

“We found Gatto, the last of the GolfCo partners. He’s living in Maui and is part owner of a golf course there. He’s making a ton of money and living in paradise. That leaves Jennifer and Eli. I still don’t have a good read on Jennifer. She was very convincing when I questioned her. Reid, I think you were right, she may be a golddigger, and while she might make idle threats, she wouldn’t threaten your life.” Reid nodded. After another gulp of juice, Jay resumed his analysis. “I like Eli more and more for this. We still can’t find him, but we know he’s wanted in Philadelphia for grand theft auto. Philly law enforcement has been looking for him for six months. It’s starting to add up. He obviously feels shafted for being fired before getting his big bonus. The stolen Porsche is icing on the cake. I put out an APB on him and we’re circulating his picture throughout the area.” He stopped a moment to let them absorb the information, then concluded, “Gentlemen, this case is not as tight as I would like, but at least our list is shrinking.”

Fidgety, Reid said, “Jay, I need to get out of here. I’ll go crazy if you keep me cooped up any longer. I want to go play nine holes to loosen up and calm down. Give me as much protection as you think I need; just let me out.”

“I’m sorry, Reid. I promise you’ll get out soon, but give me a little more time. I called a friend of mine, Michael Pastore, who owns VIP Security Service. He’s sending up his four best men. They should be here any minute and they’ll go with you, Joel and Stu. I want you surrounded wherever you go. We’re going to have problems protecting you on the golf course. We obviously can’t surround you while you’re hitting the ball. We’ll be able to cover your back and sides. We’ll stay as tight as possible. It won’t be easy for you, but there’s not a heck of a lot of choice.”

“I’ll deal with it. I just hope they get here soon. What are you going to say to the press?” Reid asked.

“I’m actually going to use them to bluff Eli into thinking we’re after someone else. If we can make him feel comfortable, he might get sloppy and make a mistake. All we need is one mistake and he’s ours. I called a press conference for 2 p.m.” “I don’t have to be there, do I?” “No, Buck and I will handle it.” There was a knock at the door. Reid got up to get it but Joel cut him

off. “Sit down, I’ll get it.” Reid shrugged and turned away. “Who’s there?” Joel asked through the door. “It’s Buck, and four big guys with guns. I think they’re on our side, though,” he joked. Joel took out his gun, opened the door with the chain attached and

peeked out to see Buck with four men. “Gentlemen, I need to see I.D.’s.” They passed their cards through the opening. “Now I need to have you

each stand where I can see your face. One at a time, please.” Each man took his turn near the door while Joel matched each one with the appropriate photo. Kevin, Eric, Steve and Pat. He removed the chain and said, “Come on in, sorry for the delay.” “If you hadn’t checked, I’d be worried,” Steve said. “Glad you understand.” Steve walked over to Jay and Joel. “It’s an honor to meet you both; Mr. Scott, Mr. Rebah.” He shook their hands. “We consider this a dream assignment. You guys set the standard for the industry, and we’re honored to be part of your team.” He looked at Reid. “Mr. Clark, for your peace of mind, we have each worked on several presidential security details. We’ve been through the best formal training in the industry. More important, we have dealt with situations similar to yours and have taken down almost every perp we’ve been after.” “Almost?” Reid asked. “Reid, we’ll talk about it later,” Jay said. “These guys are good. Their company is one of the best in the industry, and they are the best the company has. You’re in good hands.” “Thanks, Jay,” Steve said. “Gentlemen, here’s the deal.” Jay handed out Eli’s picture. “We think this is our man; he used to be Reid’s caddie. We just received our third threat this morning.” Jay held up the ball and note. “It was delivered on the room service cart. He’s playing with us now and I am not amused. Feds, troopers and local cops will be situated everywhere on and around the golf course. I want this guy, gentleman. I want him before this tournament ends.” Stu walked in just as Jay finished. “What’d you find?” Jay asked. “Nothing. Nobody saw anything or anyone suspicious. The tray was put on a cart that sits in the room-service prep area until it’s brought up. Someone had to get to it while it was in the prep area. I’ve got the crew dusting but there is so much traffic in there, I don’t think we’ll get anything. Did anybody dust the cart and tray?” “Yes. Nothing there,” Joel said. “Hey, I hate to be a nuisance, but can we go now?” Reid asked. “Yeah, go ahead. Were done here,” Jay said. “And Joel….” Joel cut him off, “I know, I know, like glue. Don’t worry; we’re all over

him, Jay.” Reid left with his security detail and Buddy. He had to get used to being completely surrounded by bodyguards. It was difficult for him. It was his nature to be in front, leading the way.

Buck and Jay remained in the suite. Jay’s cell phone rang. Buck listened as he answered, “Jay Scott…. Of course not, that would have made things too easy…. In Harlem. Hmmm…. Everything helps, Tim…. Thanks. Hate to say it, but we need it on this one.”

Jay hung up, turned to Buck and explained. “That was Tim Parker, a detective assigned to the case. He said they tracked the paper to a store near Columbia University, up in Harlem.” Buck nodded. “The good news is they only sold one ream from that dye lot. The bad news is it was a cash sale, so there’s no paper trail.” He rolled his eyes. “Interesting use of words, huh? Well, anyway, equally bad is that the store has no video surveillance system. They questioned the clerk who sold the paper. He vaguely remembers the customer was a young, black female. That’s it.” “That’s not much to go on,” Buck said. “Nope. The epitome of a needle in a haystack.” Jay paused, clasped his hands together in prayer like fashion, raised his forefingers to his lips and said, “Help me, Buck, I’m getting mixed signals. The paper was bought in Harlem by a young black girl. The stolen Porsche was found at a chop shop in Harlem. At this point in the investigation, Eli is at the top of my list of suspects, but there are several problems with that theory. First, and most obvious, Eli is white. Second, he wasn’t part of the ‘jack and chop’ bust. His prints were not found anywhere in the chop shop, while everyone they busted left prints. Everyone involved was black. The prints were also checked against those they have for that street gang, which include just about every member. None matched. Damn, Buck! Nothing fits.” “Take it easy, Jay, you’ll figure it out; you always do,” Buck said trying

to console him. “Thanks for listening, anyway.” “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” “Just repeating the facts sometimes helps. It can make me see things

from a different perspective.” “Was it any help this time?” “No, not really,” Jay sighed.

Chapter 30

Reid and his entourage arrived at the club. He put on his golf shoes and went to ask Jimmy when he could get out on the back nine.

“Right now, Reid. How many are playing?” Jimmy asked, looking at the group of men. “Just me.” “But..,” Jimmy started to ask, pointing at the group. Reid cut him off sighing, “Please, don’t ask, Jimmy.” “Sorry.” “Don’t worry about it.” They went out to the 10th tee and Reid asked Buddy for his five-iron. He stretched and swung the iron to loosen up. He chuckled, thinking, Sure, I’m going to get loose. I’m as tight as gut on a tennis racket. He went to the tee box and teed up a ball. He traded the five-iron for his driver, swung it a few times, then approached the ball, mumbling, “Relax and focus, relax and focus…oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous.” He stepped away from the tee. “Sorry guys, I’m having a difficult time.” “You don’t need to apologize to us,” Joel said. “Reid, look around you; you’re safe with us. No one is going to get you while we’re here.”

“You’re right. I mean I wouldn’t want you guys gunning for me. Somebody would have to be crazy to try to get by you. Wait…oh yeah, this guy probably is crazy,” Reid said sarcastically.

“Alright, alright, point taken. Just do your best to relax. We’ve got you covered,” Joel said.

Reid walked back to the tee. After a practice swing, he took his usual cleansing breath and swung, completely missing the ball. He shook his head as he walked away silently, then suddenly yelled, “If you’re out there, you son of a bitch, come and get me already!”

The group quickly tightened up, forming a shield around him. Everyone remained quiet until he settled down and said, “Alright, I think I got that out of my system. Let’s try it again.” He went back to the tee, took a couple of practice swings, then hit a lousy shot.

He shook his head again. “Looks like I’ve got some work to do.” He quickly started toward his ball. The guard detail had to run to catch up.

“Guys, please give me a little room. It feels like you’re on top of me. I need to walk next to Buddy so we can talk.”

After a few holes, the detail figured out how to keep Reid surrounded without bothering him too much. “I think we’re getting the hang of this,” Reid said. “I have to warn you though, during the tournament, my focus will be on golf. If you get in my way, I’ll probably snap at you. My bark is worse than my bite, but once I’m in the zone, I tend to get a little ornery if someone distracts me.” Buddy grinned but let it go. Reid played the first few holes fairly well, although not the way he wanted. Buddy tried to help him strategize, but Reid disagreed with almost everything he said. He took his four-iron instead of the five that Buddy recommended. Then, when he overshot the green, he said, “I should’ve listened to you.” Buddy just shrugged. Reid did this for three holes, undershooting and overshooting the

green. Each time he said, “I did it again. Why don’t I just listen to you?” On the next hole, as Buddy was handing Reid his seven iron, Reid asked for his eight. Joel interfered, “Reid, just listen to him this time, will you?” “You’re right. Sorry, Buddy. Go ahead, give me my seven.” “No, hit what you’ve got,” Buddy said. “No, give me my seven-iron!” “No, use your eight,” Buddy said before starting to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” Reid asked. “For the past five holes, you’ve disagreed with everything I’ve said. This time, I intentionally recommended the wrong club so you would take the right one, and now you decide to listen to me.”

Everyone, including Reid, fell apart laughing. He listened to Buddy from then on and played the last two holes very well, parring both. Reid finished the back nine and decided to continue with the front nine immediately. He asked Stu to go to the snack bar and get hot dogs and sodas for everybody.

Stu caught up with them on the second hole. Nobody was behind them, so they sat and ate lunch right there on the tee box. As he finished, Reid said, “This is a first; I’ve never had a picnic on a tee box. Maybe we’ll start a new trend. What do ya think?” “Doubt it,” Stu mumbled with a mouthful. Done with lunch, Reid continued to play. By the fourth hole, he was in the zone. He birdied four, five and six, missing an eagle on six by inches. On the last three holes he shot par, birdie, par. He turned to the others and said, “Gentlemen, I think we’re going to be okay. If I can play like this for the rest of the week, this tournament is ours. You guys do your job and I’ll do mine. Buddy, if I stop listening to you, just hit me. Lightly of course, but hit me.”

“Do me a favor,” Buddy said. “Don’t disagree with me during the tour nament. I really would like you to win, and I don’t want to hit you. Although, I’ll admit there are times when I’d like to knock you out.” Reid laughed. “I’m sure.” They went back into the locker room to change shoes and clean up. Other pros were sitting around talking. As Reid walked by, he noticed that conversations would stop until he passed. Ordinarily, this would have pleased him. Today, it got on his nerves. He changed his shoes next to two golfers who had stopped talking when he sat. What the hell is this? he thought. Enough already. He quickly stepped up on the bench. Surprised, Joel said, “Now what the hell are you doing? Get down!” Reid disregarded him. “Can I please have everybody’s attention?” The

room quieted. Joel and Stu quickly stood up on either side of him. “Look guys, I know you’re all trying to give me room, but this is ridiculous. You make me feel like I have a disease or something. Some of you might be nervous to play with me in the tournament. Some of you probably think I should back out. But if I don’t play, I’m just letting this bastard win. I’m sure you’ll agree, that’s not our style. We’re all winners in this room. We’ve worked damn hard to get here. We can’t let something like this beat us. Can we?” Nobody uttered a word. “Well, can we?” he repeated, louder. A few “no’s” were heard around the room. From the far side of the room, Howard Brock piped up, “He’s right, guys. We need to support Reid right now, not shut him out. If it were any of us, we’d want the support, right? Look, we may play hard against each other. We may not even like each other at times. But in a situation like this, we need to be a team, in a manner of speaking. We are each a member of an elite group, the PGA. We have a duty to support one another. Don’t you agree?”

One by one, the players started slowly clapping. Gradually, they all joined in, culminating in a thunderous applause. As the noise slowly died down, Reid continued, “Thank you, Howard. Thank you all. I am going to play in this tournament and, in spite of this bastard, I’m going to do my best to beat you all. I may be a little more irritable than usual, impossible as I know that may sound. But I will try to represent the PGA as professionally as possible. For those of you who have been on the receiving end of my wrath, please accept my apologies. If any of them are not in here right now, please convey my apologies to them. If they want to approach me, I will certainly tell them myself. Once again, thank you for your support this week, and may the best man win.”

The room once again erupted in applause and cheers. Many of the play ers walked up and shook hands with Reid or patted him on the back, wishing him luck, obviously more so with the lunatic than with the tournament. The competitive edge that always looms throughout a PGA gathering was temporarily laid to rest. It was an uncommon moment in the PGA. Reid walked over to Howard and shook his hand. “Thanks for the

help.” “Hey, things are tough enough on tour. We don’t need to give each other a hard time. By the way, you are doing the right thing, and I would be happy to play with you this week,” Howard replied. “You’re one of a kind, Howard.” “Will you be at the dinner tonight?” Howard was referring to the sponsor’s pre-tournament buffet. “Rumor has it, Donny Peret is supposed to perform.” Concert tickets for acoustic rock musician, Donny Peret’s shows were near impossible to obtain. His music was loved by three generations.

“I’m not sure. It’s up to Jay Scott.” Reid glanced at Joel. “There may not be enough room for my security team, and Jay’s not about to let me go without them. I’ll either see you tonight or tomorrow. Either way, thanks again, and good luck on the golf course.” “Thanks, Reid.” “See ya later, man.”

Chapter 31

Reid went up to the lobby with Joel, Stu and the others on his tail. The room had the subtle scent of fresh flowers. To Reid’s surprise, Shane, Joan, Hunter, Jay and Buck were sitting there, waiting for him. “Hey, guys,” he said. “How’d you hit ‘em?” Hunter asked. “Let’s just say it was interesting out there today.” “That good, huh?” she said. “Well, if you must know, I started lousy and ended well. If I play the rest of the week like I played the last nine, I can take the tournament. We’ll see.” He turned to Jay. “What do you think about tonight’s festivities? Should we attend or not? As much as I prefer not, I really should be there.”

“I’d prefer not as well, but if they’ll make room for all of us, I guess we can go.”

“I’ll go ask the maitre d’. I’ll be right back.” He started to walk and the team went right with him. “Not even a moment’s peace, huh guys?” “Sorry, Reid, you’re stuck with us,” Joel said. “Yeah, I know, like glue,” Reid muttered, getting a little fed up. “Superglue,” Stu emphasized. Reid found the maitre d’ in the dining room and asked if there was room enough for his party. “The only way I can fit you in is at three tables back there.” The maitre

d’ pointed. “That’ll be fine, thank you,” Reid said. The maitre d’ made the changes in his table assignment book. “All set,”

he said. “Thanks,” Reid said. He turned and walked back to the lobby with the

guys on his heels. “They’ve given us three tables in the back,” he told the group. That should be more then enough room for all of us. Dinner starts at 7. The entertainment starts at 8 and ends at 10. I need to go back to the hotel, and get a massage. Ladies, if you want to come back to the hotel I’ll treat you to facials, manicures and pedicures.”

Joan, Hunter and Shane all perked up. Shane said, “I’ve never turned down an offer like that before, and I’m not going to start now. Come to think of it, I’ve never gotten an offer like that. Come on, girls!”

Walking into the hotel a short time later, Jay said, “Everyone please be back here ready to leave by 6:45. I’d like to be discreet tonight, and a late entrance by a party of our size would draw too much attention.”

They all split up and went their separate ways. Reid, Buck and Jay went for massages. It was a little awkward getting a rubdown with bodyguards in the room watching.

The girls could not have been happier with their pampering. Joan got her hair done along with her manicure and pedicure. Luckily, Reid had thought to have the women bring their evening attire to the hotel, just in case.

Everyone was totally relaxed when they met in the lobby at 6:45. They went back to the club and entered the dining room without fanfare. During dinner, key executives from the hosting company welcomed everyone to the event and spoke about how proud they were to be sponsoring such a wonderful week of PGA golf.

Bill Taylor then went to the podium and, after thanking the sponsors, he thanked Tom Burnett, the president of the club, for hosting the tournament, making sure the course was in impeccable condition and providing such excellent weather. After a quick laugh from the crowd, he spoke about the interesting season the tour was having. He informed the crowd that there had been more tiebreakers than in any other season in PGA history. He said that every player in the room should be proud of such a competitive season with such close finishes. He spoke about how good it felt to be the commissioner of such a fine organization.

“I didn’t think that there was anything that could enhance my pride in the PGA until I witnessed something earlier today.” He asked Reid and Howard to come up to the podium. He described the difficult issues of the threats and the hardships that Reid was facing. He said, “Folks, I did not inform these gentlemen of what I am about to do. I was in a back office of the locker room earlier, writing this speech, when I overheard a remarkable few minutes of inspirational dialogue between these two men and a locker room full of PGA players. Luckily, I had my mini voice recorder with me and was able to tape it.” He held up the device. “If the two of you don’t mind, I’d like to play the tape right now for everyone to hear.”

Reid and Howard looked at each other and shrugged. Reid joked, “I hope you at least edited out some of my more colorful language.” “No Reid, this is the real you. Okay?” “I guess.” “Folks, let me set the stage,” Bill continued. “Reid has just walked into the locker room. As we know, he has had a difficult week and a half. With a lunatic on his tail and pressure from the media, he now feels like the players are not backing him. Listen to this.” Bill placed the recorder near the microphone and pressed play.

“Can I please have everybody’s attention? Look guys, I know

you’re all trying to give me room, but this is ridiculous….”

The tape rolled on, playing the rest of the locker room conversation. When it was finished, everyone in the room rose in a standing ovation. Bill let the applause continue for a full minute, then came back to the microphone, wiping tears from his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little choked up. I’ve listened to that tape three times already and it’s gotten to me each time. Folks, these are remarkable men. I feel so proud that they are members of the PGA. Let them be examples to us all. Reid, Howard, good luck this week. Reid, I’m very glad you decided to play and as Howard said, it is the right thing to do. We can’t let terrorism run our lives into the ground; don’t mistake it, folks: This is terrorism.

“Jay.” Bill looked at the back table and spoke directly to Jay Scott. “Please get this nut before he hurts Reid or anyone else. The PGA and the country need Reid Clark alive.” He walked over and embraced Reid, then Howard.

Once again, the crowd rose from their seats and applauded as Reid and Howard went to their seats. Reid got hugs and handshakes from everyone at his table.

Bill finished by welcoming Dennis Manak, the popular comedian renowned for his edgy political satire. Immediately following Dennis would be an acoustic folk-rock performance by Donny Peret. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the show. Dennis was hilarious of course, making fun of hitting a little white ball as a profession. He threw a few quick jabs at Reid saying, “I thought this was pro golf, not pro wrestling. What was that on the range the other day? And the threats, maybe we should call it Gangsta Golf. What do you think?” he asked the crowd.

They all booed and he held up his hands and said, “Sorry, you’re right. Alright, let’s get some music crankin’ up here. But before Donny comes up I have one last question for Reid. Are you going to bring an extra pair of pants to the tournament tomorrow? You know, in case you get a hole in one?”

The audience applauded once again as Donny Peret took Dennis’ place on the stage. Peret sat on a lone stool centered on the dark stage with a soft spotlight shining on him from above. He played many of his fans favorite tunes. His acoustic guitar music was mesmerizing, and the audience sang his hit songs along with him. He finished as requested by 10 p.m., but in true concert fashion, the audience gave a standing ovation and yelled “encore” until he asked Bill if it was okay to continue. Bill walked to the podium and said, “I hate breaking my own rules, but you all look like you might riot if I say no. Okay, Donny, rock on.”

The festivities ended at last and the guests dispersed. Once outside, after goodnight hugs, Reid’s group split up into the two vans, one going to the hotel, the other to Bedford. Jay said, “You were right, Reid, I’m glad we came. It was fun, and you certainly needed to be here. That was some tape. I’m really proud to be working for you.”

Shane walked over and they gave each other a hug and kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, babe. Sleep well,” he said. “You too. This was fun. I’m very proud of you.” “Aw, shucks,” he kidded. “Hey, I love you,” he said and gave her anoth

er quick kiss. “Now get out of here.” “I love you too. Goodnight.” Reid drove the van back to the hotel where he, his bodyguards, Jay and Buddy went straight up to the suite. The other golfers waiting at the elevator approached Reid, shook his hand and congratulated him. They all wished each other luck.

When they got to the room, Reid announced that 5 a.m. was wake-up time. He wanted to be at the club by 6:30. He called for a wake-up call, got in bed, closed his eyes and imagined he was teeing off from the first tee. Completely exhausted, he fell asleep before any worrisome thoughts crept into his head.

Chapter 32

Reid was ready to leave for the club by 6 a.m. It was tournament time. Time to focus, even if the outcome of this tournament was going to be different than others. Usually the stakes were: win or lose, increased or decreased tour standings, big money or not. This time, it was life or death. Or was it? In spite of his worn nerves, he thought he was ready. This might be the last tournament he would ever play. Was he going to die? Get maimed? Be paralyzed? If so he wanted the world to remember he was the best.

He went through his game day regimen at the club. His tee time wasn’t until 9:30, and he was playing with Richard Edwards. Rich was having a good season, consistently finishing in the top five, with a couple of second place finishes, one in a tiebreaker.

Reid spent some time stretching and hitting balls, then rested a little before his start time. As usual, he stayed clear of other golfers. He didn’t go near the first tee until 15 minutes before his time. When he was announced, the applause was deafening. After a couple of practice swings, he stepped up to his ball and thought, Okay Reid, it’s showtime. He took a deep breath and swung the club. His drive was short and faded into the left rough. It was safe and playable, but a disappointment nonetheless.

Once again, it was awkward playing while surrounded by guards. He hit some good shots and some not so well, but no disasters. He finished the day two shots behind the leader. Satisfied with his round, he knew he needed to improve the next day. That is, if he really wanted to win.

He spent a quiet evening with Shane, Buck, Jay, Hunter and Joan. They ordered room service and after dinner, the men enjoyed cigars on the balcony. When they went back in, Reid announced, “I hate to be a party pooper, but I need to get some sleep. See you all tomorrow.” He hugged and kissed the “girls”. “Guys, see you at 5,” he said to the guards as he went to his room.

Unsuccessfully, he tried to block all thoughts of the threat from his mind. With each day, his level of fear had escalated, and it became harder and harder to concentrate on golf.

He sat on the bed with his feet on the floor, trying to meditate. Allowing his body to loosen up and his mind to wander, he actually slipped into a state of tranquility. He emerged completely relaxed. Well, not quite completely, but at the moment, even partially was an accomplishment. He lay back and slowly resumed his thoughts of golf until sleep came.

On Friday, Reid played his round with Mickey Fels, an Englishman.

They had been casual friends since Reid joined the tour. By the fourth hole, a wave of new energy washed over Reid. Despite all the negative things that had been going on in his life and all the worries that had been tripping him up lately, he finally managed to let them go and just relax. His concentration came back. He body felt good and his mind seemed to put everything but the game out of his thoughts. He found his rhythm and moved into the zone.

At the fifth tee, he stepped up to take his turn. He took a deep breath and looked down the fairway to where he wanted to send the ball. He adjusted his grip and prepared to swing back. Suddenly a shot rang out. Reid dropped to the ground in panic as the team scrambled to surround him. He felt Joel’s long body land heavily on top of him, creating a human blanket.

Screams erupted from the crowd. Spectators scattered, some diving to the ground, others ducking behind trees. There was complete pandemonium. After a few moments, Stu yelled, “Relax everyone. It was only a car

backfiring.” Reid closed his eyes and sighed. After Joel stood up, Reid got up slow

ly and brushed the grass and dirt off himself. The bodyguards looked at each other with big grins. Seeing them, Reid began to chuckle. The laugh was infectious and spread through the men and even into the gallery.

“Okay,” Reid commented, “so much for being in the zone. I guess we can call that a trial run. Guys, thank you. I’m still shaking a little, but I’m impressed. You were quick. Now we need to get back to golf.” Reid turned to Mickey and said, “Sorry. Are you all right? I’m sure if you need a moment, everyone will understand.”

“No, I’m okay, thanks. Got to admit though, that was a first. I’d think about suing for emotional distress,” he kidded in his strong Cockney accent, “but I volunteered to play with you today.” “Volunteered?” Reid asked. “Yeah. They asked for volunteers before they assigned someone. I’ve got to tell you, the list of volunteers was a mile long. You’ve got friends out here in spite of yourself, Reid.” “Thanks, that makes me feel pretty good. Ready to play?” “Ready when you are,” Fels said. Reid stretched a little and walked to the tee. The gallery applauded his perseverance. He took a practice swing, then hit a fantastic shot. Mickey walked up and hit a great shot as well.

Reid was a little shaky on his following shots and bogeyed the hole. He settled down afterward and by the next hole found his rhythm again.

He finished the day in third place, four shots behind the leader. All things considered, Reid was okay with his standing. If he could finish like he did today in spite of the huge distraction, he could win tomorrow as long as there were no unexpected interruptions.

That night he needed to relax. He decided they would have dinner at the Cobblestone, a small local pub, which was far enough away that there would be no players or press to bother them. Reid had spent most of his summer nights at the pub during his college years. It was located about half way between the golf course and Joan’s house, so the girls would have a short ride home after dinner. In spite of the relaxing evening, Reid was having trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t purge his mind of the horrible possibilities. What if this lunatic tries to kill me but fails and only injures me? What if I’m paralyzed or have to live on a respirator? No way, not me. I’d rather be dead!

Once again, Reid was awakened by the ring of the telephone. He fum bled for it and lifted the handset to his ear. As he mumbled, “Hello,” a deep voice said, “This is your last warning, if you win this tournament, you die.” Then he heard a click as the caller hung up.

An intense feeling of dread swept over him. He was going to be sick again. He sprang out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet, he retched. He then sat slumped over on the tiled floor until his queasiness subsided. Trembling, he stood up and leaned against the wall for a moment, settling down. After splashing cold water on his face, he went to the living room. Mench, who was on duty, asked, “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “He just called with another threat.” Mench picked up his radio and sent an alert to Jay. Seconds later, Jay’s

groggy voice came over the radio asking, “What is it?” Mench explained the call. “Who’s on duty besides you?” Jay asked, now fully alert. “Greeny’s just outside the door and Pat is on the balcony.” “Alright, I’m on my way. Send an alert to everyone except teams three and four. Wake up the others here at the hotel and station someone at every entrance. Have Stu call the phone company and check the call. Tell Joel to get over to the hotel switchboard. Our bug should have recorded it. Get the tape up to the suite immediately. And Mench, do not let Reid out of your sight.” “I’m on it.” Mench rapidly made all the calls. “Oh boy,” Reid sighed. “Another great start to a day.” “Listen to me, Reid….” started Mench. Reid cut him off. “I know, I know, you’re going to get him. You know what? I’m getting kind of tired of hearing it. You guys are no further along then when this whole thing started. I know you’re all the best, you’re certainly the most expensive, but why don’t you cut the crap and admit it. You’re clueless.”

Doing his best to keep his temper in check, Mench remained silent for a moment. With his face reddening, he said, “You know what, Reid? Maybe you’d be happier taking care of yourself. Maybe I should just leave. Maybe we should all leave. We’re with you 24 hours a day ready to take a bullet for you. You think we’re worthless? Well, good luck on your own, pal.” He got up and started to leave.

The door opened and Joel walked in. Mench passed him brashly. In a seething tone he said, “I’m done. See you on the next job. The one where the client appreciates the danger we’re in.”

“Hold it, Mench. What the hell are you talking about? Come back and sit down. Don’t leave, not yet anyway.”

“I’m tired of hearing Reid question our ability. He doesn’t get it. Tell him how often we find the perp while the threats are being made. It’s rare, right? Most jobs aren’t finished until the perp tries for the kill. That’s when we nail them. Go ahead, Joel, tell him.”

“He’s right, Reid. We rarely catch anyone during the threat stage. Our job is to take the perp down before he takes you down.” He turned to Mench. “Give the guy a break. He just got woken up at 3 a.m. by his fourth death threat and he’s in the middle of a huge tournament. You think maybe he’s a little uptight? Of course he’s upset with us; he’s upset with everything right now. Let’s all just settle down.” The three of them sat in silence for a minute. Reid broke the silence. “Mench, I’m sorry.” “No Reid, I’m sorry. I should know better. I’ve worked with clients who broke under half the pressure you’re under. You’re a credit to the PGA. In fact, you’re a credit to professional athletes. Most people in your position would be hiding out somewhere. You’re out in the middle of the crowds, doing what you’re supposed to do, not letting this guy get to you. Forgive my insensitivity.”

“Forgiven. Now it’s my turn. I’m sorry for doubting you guys. I wasn’t aware of the statistics on cases like this. I do appreciate what you are all doing for me, and the danger you’ve put yourselves in for my safety. Please accept my apology.” They shook hands. “Reid, it’s 4 a.m.,” Joel said. ”There is nothing you can do to help us here. I’m sure you can’t go back to sleep, but you’ve got a long day ahead of you. Why don’t you just go lie down?”

“Yeah, you’re right. First, I’m going to cancel my wake-up call. If I do fall asleep, please make sure I’m up by 8.” “You got it,” Joel said. Reid went back to his room and shut the door. Joel gave Mench a nod toward Reid’s room. Mench got up, knocked on

the door and went in. “It’s only me, Reid,” he said. “I’m just going to keep you company

while you sleep. Make believe I’m not here.” “That should be easy.” “Don’t start that again.” “Just fooling, just fooling,” Reid said with a chuckle. “Real funny. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you at 8.”

Meanwhile, Jay arrived and was listening to the tape. Every call to the room had been recorded since they had checked in. They had the entrances to the building covered and had combed the entire hotel. Joel explained the altercation between Mench and Reid.

Jay was annoyed. Inside he felt Reid was right; they were clueless. They couldn’t find their top suspect, and if the threats were real, they had only two days to make things happen, or else. The clock was ticking. He preferred to catch the perp during a proactive hunt versus a reactive shootout amid thousands of spectators. Damn, he was as tense now as Reid and Mench were earlier. Well, he thought, maybe I’ll think clearer under pressure.

Chapter 33

Eight o’clock rolled around way too soon. Mench woke Reid. Irritable and weary, he muttered a request for coffee, then immediately changed it to a double espresso. After a massage, Reid showered, dressed and left for the club.

On the driving range, Mike Kuplicki, a reporter, approached Reid. Joel stepped in front of Kuplicki, saying, “Sorry, not now.” “Get out of my way,” Kuplicki snapped. “I don’t think so, and if you don’t smarten up, you’re gonna regret it,”

Joel warned him calmly. “Don’t threaten me, pal. I’m here to do a job, and I’m gonna do it.”

He tried to walk around Joel saying, “Hey Reid…” Before he knew what happened, Kuplicki was pinned, his face in the dirt, with Joel holding his arm up behind his back. Joel quickly looked back, hoping the cameraman was not filming. He was relieved to see Stu with the camera in one hand and the cameraman’s arm twisted behind his back in his other hand.

“Wow, that was cool,” Reid said. “You know, that was the first time I’ve seen you two in action. You guys are good.” “Hey, you wanna let me up?” Kuplicki pleaded. “Are you going to leave Reid alone?” Joel asked. “Yeah, and I’m going to sue the hell out of you.” “Go right ahead; you think a judge is going to rule against us on this?

I don’t think so .” “Look, just let me up and we’ll get out of here.” After Joel let him up, Stu gave the camera back and they left in a huff. “Sorry, guys, I guess I’m a little uptight too,” Joel apologized. “Sorry?” Reid said. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have to blow off steam sometimes too, and like I said, I enjoyed watching it. Maybe when this is over you can show me some of your moves.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Stu said. “You teach us how to play golf and we’ll teach you some maneuvers.” “You’re on.” He took out a club and stretched for a while. He actually felt pretty good. After hitting a few balls with each club, he was ready to play. He thought it was kind of funny that every time there was some sort of action around him, instead of affecting his game negatively, it actually helped him play better. “Who knows?” he mumbled to himself. He couldn’t forget the reality of the threat, or the fact that his troubled mind could shift gears at any time and put him in a funk. But, he thought, I might as well take advantage of the moment and go for the gusto.

He had a 2:15 tee time with Kenny Goodman. Kenny played consis tent golf and over the years had won his share of tournaments. Reid liked Kenny and felt his last name fit him well, but he wondered why Kenny had volunteered to play with him.

“Come on, guys,” Reid said. “Let’s head over to the locker room. I need to use the bathroom so I can pee off before I tee off.” “Oy vay,” Stu said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Joel added, “Better stick to golf, Reid, because your jokes are way

below par.” “Below par? I always thought that was good,” Reid said. “Oh shut up. You know what I mean.”

Inside the locker room, Kuplicki was shooting his mouth off, telling a group about his run-in with Reid’s bodyguards.

Appalled, Stu walked over and glared at him. “Didn’t learn your les son, did you? I highly recommend that you don’t mention our little bit of fun for the rest of the day. If you had listened to Joel in the first place, there would be nothing to tell. Do yourself a favor and get the wax out of your ears. If I hear you’ve been talking about it, I’ll come looking for you, and take my word for it, you don’t want that! Consider this a warning. Smarten up.” Stu walked back to Joel. “That guy is going to be a problem.” “Forget him. Worst thing that happens is we end up in court. It’s not

important right now.” “You’re right,” Stu agreed. They followed Reid out to the first tee. There was one group in front of Kenny and him. He saw Kenny and walked over. “Hey, Kenny, how are you?”

“Great, thanks. I guess I should know better than to ask you the same.”

“No, I’m okay. Sure, it’s been a little stressful, but to tell you the truth, I feel like I’m playing better because of it. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.” “Maybe some of that will rub off on me,” Kenny said. “You don’t need it. You’re playing great golf.” “Well there’s a big difference between my great golf and yours,” Kenny

said. Just then, Kenny’s name was announced. “Go for it,” Reid said. Kenny hit an excellent shot, long and down the middle. He turned and winked at Reid. Reid nodded back as the announcer called his name. Once again, the applause was tremendous. Reid looked at Buddy, who gave him the thumbs up. He looked back to see Shane, Joan, Hunter and Betsy along with her family. Good, they made it, he thought as he winked at Betsy’s kids. He teed up his ball, looked out and focused directly on the pin. After two practice swings, he stepped up to the ball. One more look at the pin, then one last time down at the ball. He inhaled, exhaled slowly and swung. He hit one of the best shots of his career and started to walk. Applause, hoots and hollers followed him down the fairway.

“Hey, if that’s what a little action brings out in you,” Buddy said, “I’m gonna line up reporters and cameramen along the entire 18. That was the best drive I’ve ever seen you hit.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. Hey, guys,” he said to the sur rounding protection team, “stay sharp because I’m going to win this tournament.” “We’re ready, pal,” Joel said. “Do it.” He played a spectacular round. Ten pars, six birdies, one eagle and one

bogie tied him for the lead with Brock at the end of the day, once again. After golf, Jay wanted Reid back in the suite for the evening. That was fine with Reid. He called the spa and had a masseuse come to his room. She brought her portable table and worked on him for over an hour. Shane, Joan and the rest of the group joined him for dinner.

After dinner and a cigar, he was ready for sleep. It was only 9 o’clock, but last night’s interruptions were taking their toll on him. He said, “Please stay if you wish, but I’ve got to turn in. I’m exhausted.” He hugged and kissed all the women, then asked Shane to come to his room for a minute. They went into the room and closed the door. He turned to her and they embraced. While he held her, he said, “I can’t wait till this is over so we can spend some time together, just the two of us. I want to take you away somewhere special. Where should we go?” “You decide,” she said. “How about the French Riviera?” he said without hesitation. “That was a quick decision.” “It’s the most romantic place I can think of. It should be fun.” “Sounds good to me. I love you Reid.” “I love you, too.” They kissed long and hard. “You need to get out of here before we get into trouble,” Reid said, “but how about a rain check for tomorrow night?”

“You’ve got it, babe,” she answered as she reluctantly pulled away and said goodnight to him.

The girls left at 10 o’clock. Jay asked the entire protection detail to gather round for a strategy meeting. He positioned specialists on every floor and at every entrance to the hotel. He even put two on the roof. Between his staff and the police, he had a small army. It was enough manpower to cover the entire hotel and still let tomorrow’s scheduled teams get some sleep. There was nothing worse than tired security specialists, Jay thought. They tended to make mistakes. There was no room for error from this point on.

They all expected the lunatic to call in the middle of the night. Jay had the switchboard shut off Reid’s phone and reroute any incoming calls to him. He was spending the night on the suite’s pullout couch. The night passed without any problems.

The phone rang at 8 a.m.; Jay had been awake and waiting. Picking up the receiver, he heard the computerized voice announcing the time and dropped the receiver back on the cradle. He had been hoping the perp would call again. He went in and woke Reid, whose eyes sprang wide open as Jay lightly tapped on his arm. “Easy does it, Reid, everything’s fine. It’s time to get up.”

With a faint sigh of relief, Reid got out of bed. Still half asleep, on his way to the bathroom, he walked right into the portable massage table that had been left after yesterday’s massage. When he came out of the bathroom, another masseuse was waiting for him. Reid found it hard to completely relax while Jay was in the room, but he knew better than to ask him to leave. When the masseuse was done, she and Jay left the room so Reid could shower. Jay came back in as Reid was getting dressed. “Might as well put this on now, so you can get used to it,” Jay said, handing Reid a bulletproof vest.

“Oh shit, I can’t play with that on,” Reid said with a long face. He took the vest and weighed it in his hand. “It doesn’t feel as heavy as I expected.”

“It’s Zylon. It’s much lighter than Kevlar. I didn’t think you could play in a Kevlar vest. There is some controversy over Zylon’s safety level, but I figured you’d put up a fight if I wanted you to wear heavy body armor. I’ve been wearing Zylon since its introduction.” “I guess if you’re here talking about it, it must work.” “The fact is I haven’t been shot at while wearing Zylon, but I know people who have and are alive to talk about it. Of course, the biggest and most obvious shortfall of any vest is that it won’t stop a shot to the head or any other body part it doesn’t cover. The potential for lead poisoning, while decreased, is still a possibility.”

Reid chuckled. “Lead poisoning, that’s good. I can’t believe you have me laughing about the possibility of getting shot. I guess at this point, I’ll take whatever protection I can get. Actually, if I thought I could swing a club with it on, I’d wear a suit of armor,” Reid said as he put on the vest.

He swung his arms around with exaggerated movement, testing the flexibility of the vest. Grabbing a four-iron that happened to be in the corner of the room, he took his stance and swung.

Crash . The club shattered a lamp. Jay couldn’t help from bursting out in laughter. Simultaneously, Stu flew through the door with his gun drawn in a firing stance. Reid, bug-eyed, dove to the floor screaming, “It’s all right, I just broke the lamp.” After a quick assessment of the situation, Stu lowered his gun.

It took a moment for everyone to calm down, especially Jay, who had found the entire scene hilarious. Reid waited for his nerves to settle, then, after making sure he had enough room, he took a few practice swings. “This really isn’t so terrible; I can actually swing without much restriction. Now Jay, if you can get a grip, I’d like to get out of here.”

Jay took a deep breath to help stop his laughter. It worked briefly, but his face reddened with pressure until he burst out again. Slowly, he regained control of himself and the eruptions ceased. “Sorry, I just keep picturing the whole situation. I don’t know what was funnier, you breaking the lamp, or your response to Stu pointing his gun at you.”

“That’s some reaction to have over a client in terror. Glad I could make you laugh. Now get over it already,” Reid said with a grin. “I really need to get to the golf course and try this thing out.”

Chapter 34

By 10:30, Reid was hitting balls at the range. Before leaving the hotel, he had tried on a bunch of shirts, picking the only one in the closet that hid the bulky vest. The shirt was a baggy, button-down golf shirt with a brown argyle print. It was totally out of character for Reid, and as far as he was concerned, really ugly. He didn’t even know where it had come from until Jay saw him wearing it and said, “Good, I’m glad you like the shirt. I thought you might need something nice that could hide the vest, so I bought it and had it hung in your closet yesterday. Looks pretty good. What do you think?”

Reid wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “It’s nice, Jay, real nice. Does it hide the vest well enough? It feels pretty awkward.”

“No, you look great. It hides the vest perfectly. As they say, you’re stylin’, dude.” “Who says that?” Reid asked, frowning. “I don’t know, heard it someplace. Sounded cool when I heard it, no?” “Can we go now?” At the club, Reid was caught up in thought as he changed into his golf shoes. The day he had been dreading was here. Totally uptight, he had to go through his regular game day regimen and try to loosen up if he wanted to win. Then he thought, Do I want to win? Is it worth the risk? Is someone really going to try to kill me if I win? Am I going to die today? Tomorrow? Reid was so caught up in thought, he didn’t notice that Buddy had walked up next to him. “You all right?” Buddy asked. “You don’t look so good.”

Reid was startled. Buddy had snapped him out of his reverie. “What did you say?” he barked.

“Take it easy, man, I only asked how you’re doing, but it’s kind of obvi ous. You want to take a walk or something?”

“No, thanks. I need to stretch and hit some balls. I’m so damn tense. I’ve got to loosen up.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled. “What are you laughing about now?” “It’s kind of funny if you think about it. I need to loosen up to win. But, if my fear keeps me from loosening up, I’ll probably lose. If I lose, I have nothing to worry about. Hell of a conundrum, huh?” Reid chuckled again.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a little strange, but right.” Buddy gave Reid a questioning look. “So what’s it gonna be, boss? Win or lose?” “You know the answer. Let’s go kick some ass.” The vest was cumbersome but only evident if one looked very closely, and today, no one would be allowed that close. The security team was staying as tight as possible around Reid. He had to hit a few extra balls to loosen up. After his second bad shot, Stu kidded, “If you want me to go kick someone’s butt, I’d be more then happy to. That is, if you think it will help.”

Reid chuckled. “Thanks Stu, I appreciate the offer. If I can’t get it together in a minute or two, I might accept.” “Just say when…and who. If you care.” “Believe me, I could pick a few out here.” Reid nodded his head in the direction of the other players. He proceeded to hit more balls, getting better with each one.

“Aww,” Stu said as he watched. “Guess I won’t get my chance. Oh well.” “Sorry, Stu, I just needed to loosen up a little. I hate to disappoint you.” After a few more balls, Reid said, “Let’s go grab a bite. I skipped break

fast, and my stomach is starting to growl.” After lunch, they headed for the practice green. “Oh great, look who’s here,” Reid said. Bobby Lee looked over at Reid and tilted his microphone toward him

with a look of hope. Reid gave him an evil stare. “Wow,” Buddy mumbled, “If looks could kill….” “I’m not in the mood for him right now,” Reid growled. He dropped some balls on the green and started to putt. He missed the first two, then sunk the next four from about 10 feet. He continued to putt well from different positions all over the green.

Howard walked over to him. “Now how the heck am I supposed to beat you while you’re putting like that? You’re on fire, man.”

“You never know. There’s a big difference between the practice green and the real thing.”

“Yeah, you got that right, but I was kind of hoping that maybe, due to your circumstances, you’d be a little nervous today. You know, if I win, it would be like I was saving your life. What do you think?”

“What do I think? I think you should play golf and let them keep me alive,” he said, nodding at his protection team. “That’s what I think. C’mon, let’s go.”

Reid and Howard were playing right behind Jim Turner and Kerry Lawrence, who were third and fourth on the leader board. Turner was just teeing off when Reid and Howard walked up to the first tee. They watched him hit a short shot into the gallery lining the fairway. The crowd scattered to dodge his ball. Turner stepped away, visibly frustrated. Lawrence then hit his ball nicely, right down the center. Turner took a quick look around and locked eyes with Reid for moment. Reid winked and watched Turner grimace with rage. As Lawrence and Turner walked from the tee box, Reid said to Howard, “Maybe I should tee off now. I could put Turner out of his misery.” “No Reid, you have enough problems already. Let me do it!” After Lawrence hit his second shot, Howard was announced. Reid said, “Let’s see something good. It’s just you and me, pal.” Howard turned and held out his fist at arm’s length and Reid gave him a knuckle tap.

Howard hit a good shot and Reid followed, hitting his ball close to Howard’s. The crowd loved it. Both men tipped their hats as they walked off the tee box.

The protection team was much bigger today. Reid hadn’t noticed the additional guards until now. There was enough room inside the human ring of security for Reid, Howard and both caddies.

On the way to Reid’s ball, Buddy quietly asked, “What’s with the funky shirt?”

Reid sneered back, “Just shut up about the shirt. Another word about it and you’re fired.” Then he quietly whispered, “Here, take a look.” He unfastened a couple of buttons and opened the shirt just enough for Buddy to see the vest.

“Wow, cool!” Buddy whispered, “How’s it feel? I can’t believe I didn’t notice it. Now I understand the need for the ugly shirt. Well, the vest certainly didn’t hurt your tee shot. It wasn’t quite as long as usual, but it was good.”

“That’s the only problem I’ve had with it. Did you notice at the range I was hitting a little short with all my clubs? We’ll have to adjust as we go today. Keep it in mind.” “Got it.” Reid and Howard chipped their second shots near the pin a few feet

from one another. Both putted for par and moved on to the second tee. They each parred holes two, three and four. The fifth was a long par five. Howard birdied it while Reid shot another par. Howard was now on top of the leader board, one shot ahead of Reid. After pars on six and seven, the standings remained the same.

They were walking up to the eighth tee when Buddy quietly gasped “Holy shit! There’s Eli! He’s in the gallery.”

“What? Really? Where?” Reid tensed, stopping dead in his tracks. He quickly backed up into the circle of security, telling Joel about Eli. The guards tightened around him. “Where exactly is he, Buddy?” Joel asked. “He’s wearing a red cap on the far side of the tee box. He’s in the sec

ond row.” Reid peeked over the guards and said, “Oh yeah, I see him.” “Stay down!” Stu hissed. Joel glanced over and spotted Eli. His entire demeanor seemed to change from casual bodyguard to strike force commander. Always the consummate professional, he seemed to come alive at the critical moment. He spoke quietly and precisely into his radio. “TG to Jay — Target’s in view. He’s in the gallery at the eighth hole. Request permission for take-down.” Joel had his earphone in so only he heard the response. In a hushed, stern voice he said, “VIP team, disperse and come around his back. You know what he looks like. He’s wearing a green shirt and red golf cap. Stu, Greeny, Mench, come around the tee box with me. Buddy, I want you to create a diversion. When I rub my eye, I want you to drop Reid’s golf bag. Ham it up a little, make some noise. That’s when we make our move. Everyone else stay tight around Reid. Gentlemen, I don’t want anyone hurt, but if he resists, we end it as quickly as possible, whatever it takes.” He paused briefly. “Okay, everyone ready?” They all quietly answered, “Ready.” “Move out,” he said, softly yet firmly. They all got into position quickly with only a few questionable looks

from the crowd. Joel reached up and rubbed his eye. On cue, Buddy dropped the golf bag with a loud, “Ouch, damn, my foot,” drawing the attention of the entire gallery. Within seconds, the security team dragged Eli from the crowd and had him pinned with his face in the grass. The crowd screamed and scattered. It was all over in minutes.

Jay arrived in a four-seat golf cart with two heavily armed, uniformed officers. As they cuffed Eli and threw him into the cart, he complained, “What’s going on? What did I do?”

Reid had walked over by this time; he looked Eli in the eye, shook his head and asked, “Why?”

Eli gave him a confused look and asked, “Why what? What the hell is this all about?”

Having spent years together, Reid could tell Eli was truly mystified. Either that, or he had become a great actor, and Reid couldn’t accept that even as a possibility. He knew anytime Eli had told a lie, his facial expression and body language gave it away. To Reid, this could mean only one thing. The killer might still be out there. He thought, Why the hell couldn’t it have just been Eli? Damn, that would have been too easy…. Oh, screw it, enough already! I’ve come this far, I’m just going to keep playing and win this game.

“Reid, go back and finish,” Jay said. “We’ll see you after the ninth. Joel, Stu, come back with me.” “No,” Reid said quickly. “I want Joel and Stu with me. I don’t think

Eli’s our man.” “What are you talking about? Why not?” Jay was surprised. “Because I know the guy, and when I talked to him, he… he….” Reid

couldn’t find the words. “Well, let’s just say my gut tells me it’s not him.” “Great! Okay, guys, you heard the man, resume your posts. Everyone on duty and stay alert. I need to go have a little talk with Eli.” He turned his cart and drove off.

The whole thing had lasted only eight minutes. Reid looked at Howard and asked, “Do you need some time?” “Me? I’m all right. How about you?” “Actually, I’m kinda charged. Let’s go finish this thing.” When the crowd finally settled down, Howard and Reid teed off, both hitting good shots. Reid’s was long with a small draw. “I don’t believe it,” Buddy said. “He did it again. Give this guy a dose of adrenaline and watch him go.”

Reid laughed and said, “C’mon, let’s go win this tournament.” While he was walking, he asked Joel, “Hey, when you were talking to Jay on your radio, you called yourself TG. What’s that all about?” “Please don’t ask.” “It stands for Top Gun,” Stu said. It’s been his nickname ever since that

movie came out. Cute isn’t it.” “Fuck you,” Joel said. “Sensitive are we?” Stu said. Joel turned and quickly threw a jab, stopping only a fraction of an inch from Stu’s jaw. His second punch was caught by Stu’s iron grip, inches from his nose. Then they both smiled and Stu lightly swatted the back of Joel’s head. Watching, Reid was amazed. Joel’s first punch, although playful, would have knocked out most guys if it had connected. Reid had winced just watching. Stu had been as cool as a cucumber, not even flinching. The second punch would easily have broken Stu’s nose if he hadn’t stopped it with his last minute reaction. Reid thought, Holy cow! These guys are like lethal weapons. Stu either has ice in his veins or the ultimate trust in Joel. And Joel had to know Stu was going to catch his second punch or he wouldn’t have thrown it. Not many people could have stopped that punch. What would these guys be like in a real fight? Hope I don’t have to find out, even if they are on my side.

It took a moment to shake off all thoughts of the fiasco and refocus on his next shot. By the time he took his stance, he was mentally prepared. They played out the hole, par, par.

On the ninth hole, as they walked up to the green near the clubhouse, the crowd was enormous and the cheering was out of control. Word of the arrest had obviously made its way around the golf course. Both players were on the green in three. Howard had a 17-foot putt and Reid’s was about 12. The hole was a par five; therefore, they were both putting for birdies. Howard’s putt stopped inches before the hole. He walked up and tapped it in for par. Reid sunk his for birdie and the crowd went wild. They were even after nine.

As they walked toward the clubhouse, Shane, Joan, Hunter and Betsy greeted Reid. They all gave him huge hugs, accompanied by sighs of relief. He returned their hugs and quickly said, “Sorry to rush, but we want to continue.”

Reid and Howard made a quick stop at the bathroom, grabbed some fruit and water from a cooler and went to the 10th tee. They each played the 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th well, both parring each hole. The 14th hole brought trouble for Reid. His tee shot was long, but sailed over the crowd into the heavy rough on the back side of a hill. It took a few minutes to find his ball. It was buried deep in the long grass about 20 yards from the fairway. He was still about 230 yards from the green with trees blocking his shot to the pin. He had no choice but to punch out, playing it safe. He had to hit a 70-yard shot to the far side of the fairway. Anything less and he would have a big tree blocking his next shot. Except for the foot-high heavy grass, no view over the hill and wickedly steep stance, it was an easy shot.

Buddy handed Reid his wedge. He walked to the ball and took some practice swings. It was so steep that when he stood facing the hill, he could touch it without leaning over. The long grass grabbed at his club. If he didn’t follow through, his shot would end up short. Oh what the hell, he thought, I’m over-thinking this. Just do it. He assumed an awkward stance, swung his club and chopped into the hill. The ball flew straight up into the air and fell way short of the fairway, leaving the tree directly between him and the pin. There was a big “Ooohhh!” from the crowd. Reid looked at Buddy, frowned and shook his head in dismay. His ball was short of Howard’s, so it was still his turn. He studied his shot. The tree was huge, completely blocking his line to the green. He was going to have to slice it low and around the tree. Buddy gave him his two-iron, and he took a practice swing. He adjusted his stance so the ball was lined up with his front foot. Swinging hard, he hit the ball; it came around, but not enough, and after a few bounces, rolled into a greenside bunker.

Howard was up; he hit his ball onto the green about 15 feet from the pin.

They walked up to Reid’s ball; it was deep in the trap, about 20 yards away from the green. Using his wedge, his shot came to a stop just inside Howard’s. They both two putted; Howard for par, Reid for double bogey.

Reid’s drive on 15 was exceptional. His second shot, equally as good, put him on the dance floor. He putted in for a birdie. Howard’s par kept him ahead by one shot. They both parred the 16th, making it look easy. Howard ran into trouble on the 17th, the signature hole on the course, a 466-yard par four. His tee shot did not make the necessary turn on the dogleg-right fairway, making his second shot almost impossible. The approach shot had to carry over water to a medium-sized green. As soon as he hit it, he knew it was going for a swim. He bogeyed the hole while Reid shot a clean par. They were tied for the lead once again, with the next player four shots back. It was like a replay of the Master’s.

Howard hit a poor tee shot on the par five, 18th hole. Reid’s drive was very good, but his second shot was a disaster. The ring of guards had tightened around him. Until now, Reid’s emotions were as volatile as a small boat in high seas. The highs of a potential win were countered by the lows of potential death. But since he had come this far, his competitive nature took over and he became more determined than ever.

They were both on the green in four, but Howard’s putt was going to be much easier than Reid’s. As they walked to the green with the crowd applauding, Reid’s heart was pumping strong. His body tingled with the warm rush of blood through his veins. He loved this powerful feeling; it was his ultimate high. It was his body’s typical reaction to an impending win, and he craved the sensation.

The sun had fallen below the treetops. The men tipped their caps as they walked onto the shaded green. From the look of the balls’ positions, a betting man would have been happy if his money was on Howard. Reid had a long putt with a big break in his line. Howard had a five-footer that looked fairly straight. Reid knew he had to sink this putt or chances were that Howard would win. He studied his putt from various angles with Buddy. Crouching down about four yards behind his ball, he evaluated the break in the green. Standing behind him, Buddy leaned over Reid’s shoulder and mumbled, “Gotta hit it about nine inches to the left.” They both stood up and Buddy stepped away as Reid lined up for his putt. He took a few practice swings, looking from the ball to the hole and back. He had nothing but sinking the putt on his mind. At the moment, nothing else in the world existed. His focus was absolute. He was in the zone. He pulled his putter back and hit the ball; he had read it well; the ball broke slightly to the right and curved as it rolled toward the hole. Reid held his breath. From the lack of any sounds, it seemed as if the entire crowd was holding their’s, as well. The ball slowed as it neared the hole. It was the perfect putt…or was it? Stopping at the edge of the cup, it actually looked like it was going to fall in. Reid grimaced and walked slowly toward the hole, hoping the ball would drop by the time he reached it. No such luck. A collective, “Oohh,” came from the gallery. Reid tapped it in for a painful bogey and sighed. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help thinking, Well, at least I’m going to live to see Shane later.

Those watching him saw a reaction never before seen on Reid’s face during a pending loss. He was smiling.

After a quiet round of applause, it was Howard’s chance to win the tournament. He studied his putt with his caddie, whose hand signal showed a straight shot. Howard walked up and took a few practice swings. He looked extremely nervous. He lined up and hit his shot straight; it rolled in a perfect line, then broke and stopped just left of the hole. The crowd moaned. Howard covered his face with his hands; he couldn’t believe he missed. He walked up and knocked in the ball, matching Reid’s bogey.

Reid walked over and patted Howard on the back. “New match, huh? Sudden death!”

Chapter 35

The crowd was huge; people everywhere scrambled to the next hole for good position.

After the announcer explained the sudden death playoff, both men hit excellent drives down the middle of the fairway. Howard was first to hit his second shot, and with just the right touch, he landed it on the green. They walked another 15 yards to Reid’s ball. He lined up, went through his preshot ritual and swung. His shot landed on the hill just to the left of the green and kicked right, ending on the dance floor, too.

Reid walked to the green, flanked by his tight circle of security, as the crowd cheered. Howard had a 14-foot putt. Reid was about three feet closer to the pin on the same line. Reid marked his ball’s position and stepped away, leaving Howard to study his putt. Reid was pleased, knowing he would get an education from Howard’s putt. Howard walked to his ball and took a few gentle practice swings. He lined up, slowly brought his putter back and swung through the ball. It rolled, broke a little toward the hole and slowly stopped about three inches short. Howard’s body slumped as the crowd moaned. He walked to his ball in aggravation and tapped it in for par.

Reid was up. He and Buddy studied the putt from both sides. Having watched Howard’s putt gave Reid a tremendous advantage. He saw the break and just had to follow it with the right speed. Howard had hit the right shot just a little too soft. Reid stepped up and took a couple of practice swings. He closed his eyes for a moment, raised his head to the sky and took a deep breath. He looked down at the ball, then to the hole, then back down again. He pulled his putter back and hit his putt. The ball rolled, following the same break as Howard’s, slowing a little on its journey.

Suddenly, a loud shot rang from the woods. Reid felt something slam into his chest. He was knocked off his feet and flew backward crashing to the ground. He felt the tremendous weight of his bodyguards as they landed on top of him. Each one squeezed out a little of what air he had left in his lungs. He felt intense searing pain in his chest. His head felt as if it had exploded. He couldn’t breath. His gasps for air were fruitless. The pain was unbearable. He thought, So this is what it feels like to die.

Shane, Joan and the others arrived at the hospital 20 minutes after the Medivac helicopter had delivered Reid. Tension and tears filled the waiting area. Was Reid alive?

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, there was still no news. Buck, who had been sitting alone in absolute silence, could wait no longer. He stood up, walked to a nurse in the hallway and asked abruptly, “Excuse me, we need information. Reid Clark has been in the emergency room for more than 30 minutes and we have no idea what’s going on. Is he alive? Is he going to live? Get a doctor out here now, please.” “Sir, please stay calm, I’ll….” Buck cut her off, “Calm? I am calm. Believe me, you’d know it if I were

upset. Look, I don’t want a lecture; I want a doctor, now.” “I’m sorry, sir. Let me see what I can do.” She turned and walked

briskly through the oversize double doors. Another 10 minutes passed, but there was still no word. The hushed, somber atmosphere was broken only by an occasional sob. Some sat quietly; others tried to console each other. All had moist tissues in their hands.

Finally, a doctor came through the doors. The group converged around him. “I’m very sorry for the delay. First, I want to tell you that, although there are some complications, Reid is alive.”

A collective sigh of relief emanated from the group. Joan and Betsy both let out loud gasps. Shane was holding her breath, her teary eyes riveted on the doctor.

The doctor continued. “Although his vital signs are good, he remains unconscious. The vest he was wearing stopped the bullet; in fact, it was still lodged in the vest when we took it off. The bullet hit fairly close to the center of his chest; even without penetration, the impact to the heart could have killed him. We’ve brought in a cardiologist and a neurologist, both the best in their fields. They’re running tests now. Dr. Kutscher, the neurologist, is unsure why Reid has not regained consciousness; the blow to his head from hitting the green was not that hard.”

“He had a serious head injury a long time ago while playing college football,” Joan interrupted quietly. “The doctors said another severe blow to his head could kill him or cause permanent damage. That’s when he switched his focus to golf.” She put her hands over her face and began to cry. “Ma’am, do you know where we can get in touch with those doctors?” Buck chimed in before Joan had a chance to respond. “Reid keeps an explanation of the injury and the doctor’s contact information on a note in his wallet.”

“I have his golf shoe bag right over there,” Buddy said. “His wallet should be in it. Let me check.” He pulled Reid’s green bag out from under a chair, unzipped the outer pocket and said, “Yeah, here it is.” He handed the wallet to Buck.

Buck opened it and flipped through the contents. He pulled some cred it cards out and found the folded note. He opened it and nodded, saying, “This is it.” He handed it to the doctor.

Looking at the note, the doctor said, “Post concussion syndrome, trau matic brain injury? Alright, now things are beginning to make some sense.” He turned to head back through the double doors. “I’ll be back in a little while to give you an update.”

They ran a battery of tests on Reid’s brain. The final results would take time. There was nothing to do but wait until he regained consciousness. The electrocardiogram had confirmed his heart was in good shape.

They moved him to a private room. Joan and Shane stayed with him overnight. Everyone else remained in the waiting room.

Shane fell asleep holding his hand. Around 4 a.m., he squeezed her hand lightly as he began to regain consciousness. She woke up before he opened his eyes and quietly said, “Joan, wake up. I think he’s coming to.”

Joan woke and reached for his other hand. Reid slowly opened his eyes and silently observed his surroundings. “What happened?” he slurred.

Shane explained everything through a haze of tears. Joan slipped out to inform the others. The on-duty nurse was making rounds, and with no one to stop them, they all went into Reid’s room. Tears flowed as they entered. They each took turns gently hugging him.

Always the comedian, Reid quietly said to Joel, “Guess your save record is still unblemished, huh?” “Thanks to the vest,” Joel sighed. The doctor came in and was taken aback at the sight of the crowd in the room. “I’m sorry to do this, but I have to ask everyone except Mrs. Clark and any other family members to leave the room immediately. We still don’t know the severity of Reid’s head injury. He needs to rest until all the tests come back and we have some answers.”

“Hey,” Reid said quietly as they began to leave. “I have two questions. First, who shot me?”

“You remember the guys that Art had faxed us the report on?” Buck said.

Reid shook his head. “Not really. I’m a little foggy, Buck. Refresh my memory.”

“Art sent us a report about two guys we kicked out of camp. One of them was a guy named John Morgan. Well, the shooter was his brother, Joe. The take-down was pretty intense. The police found him in the woods right away. He was perched in a tree about 15 feet off the ground. They surrounded him with guns drawn, so he threw down his rifle and surrendered. A cop climbed up and pushed him from his position. He dropped like a rag doll, hitting branches before landing with a thud. He was a bloody mess when they dragged him from the woods. They cuffed him and threw him into a waiting patrol car. Jay has been interrogating him. We’ll know more soon.” Reid nodded with a slight smile. They all started to leave the room again. “Hey, I said two questions,” Reid blurted out. “Easy, Reid,” the doctor said. “What’s number two?” Betsy asked. “What happened to my putt?” Everyone laughed. “You sunk it. Congratulations, you won,” Buddy said. Reid smiled and sighed. “Now I can rest.”

Reid recovered quickly. The tests showed there was no serious damage. The doctors confirmed that as long as he was careful, he had a long life ahead of him.

He was released from the hospital after three days. He wanted to go back to his apartment, but Joan and Shane insisted he stay in Bedford. He agreed, as long as Shane stayed, too. The doctors wanted him to remain quietly in bed for at least three more days. Then he could start taking short walks. Anything more strenuous, including golf, was out of the question for three weeks. That meant he would miss only one tournament. “I can live with that,” Reid commented. “I’m so glad, Reid,” the doctor said sarcastically. Every bump in the road during the ride home caused Reid to grimace in pain. His headache, which had become tolerable in the hospital, was now pounding. His bruised chest, which had already healed significantly, still ached with every little jostle, as if a knife were piercing it.

During the three weeks of recovery in Bedford, Reid and Shane were together every waking moment. She had a calming effect on him. When he got fidgety, which was quite often, she would sit with him and hold his hand as they talked quietly. They had so much to learn about each other.

As soon as he was able, they went for long walks on trails in local parks. Joan joined them occasionally, but mostly stayed out of the way. It was a unique time for them; how often do young couples get to spend so much time together in the beginning of their relationship? While this could damage many relationships, with Reid and Shane, it helped form an inseparable bond. He found her to be as beautiful inside as she was out. He loved the way she treated him; she was extremely caring, yet firm. As for his constant playful mind games and taunts, he had met his match. If he gave her a hard time, she gave it right back. It was quite obvious to them and anyone who visited during his short recovery that they were absolutely made for each other.

After a week of rest, Jay and Buck had come up to visit. Jay told Reid and Shane about the shooter.

“John Morgan had paid his older brother Joe five grand for the hit. Joe’s plan had been to become his brother’s agent and manager when John went pro. He was enraged when John had been kicked out of AllSport. He would have been happy to shoot you for no money at all. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Believe me when I tell you, this guy is crazy. I couldn’t shut him up. He started telling us about some of the crimes he’s gotten away with. He bragged about the fact that he put two cops in the hospital without being armed at the time of the fight. Then when we arrested John, he wouldn’t shut up, either. He told us Joe uses PCP regularly and, with a little in his system, he thinks he can take on the world. They were both very upset that you’re alive. But don’t worry about it. The two of them are going away for a long time, so you can feel safe…for now anyway.” “What do you mean, for now?” asked Shane. “Sorry, Shane, I don’t mean to worry you, but Reid has made a few enemies over the years. Sometimes it takes a situation like this to get everyone to realize it. That’s one of the reasons I came up today. Reid, I don’t want to seem pushy, but I think you need me on retainer as your security consultant.” “What’s that going to cost me?” Reid asked. “Don’t worry, my fees are reasonable.” “Who are you kidding? I saw your last bill and I’m still tying to figure

out how I’m going to pay that!” “Cut it out. Just say no if you don’t want me.” “Can’t you take a joke? Of course I want you. You’re hired.” Buck then jumped into the conversation. “Excuse me gentlemen, but I think, as Reid’s managing agent, I should know how much this is going to cost him.” “How about two hundred grand a year?” Jay said. Reid and Buck looked at each other and nodded. “You’re hired,” Reid said.

Chapter 36

Two weeks later, Shane and Reid went into New York City for the day, just to walk and have dinner. They strolled up Fifth Avenue, then continued uptown to his apartment. They went in to get cleaned up for dinner. He had made reservations, but wouldn’t tell her where. At 6:30, they went out and got a cab. He gave the cabbie the address and she looked at him as if he were crazy. “Isn’t that Harlem? Where are you taking me?” “Trust me,” he said with a smile. “Sounds like trouble to me,” she said. The cab drove them to Morningside Heights, where they entered a building and took the elevator to the top floor. Shane was very nervous until the elevator opened to reveal one of the most beautiful restaurants she had ever seen. They were shown to a table with a window view of the entire city. A waiter soon arrived at the table with a bottle of Crystal. Another waiter came over with a plate that he placed in front of Shane. On the plate was a small gift-wrapped box. “What’s this?” she asked. “Dinner here always starts with a gift. They’re known for it. Go ahead,

open it. Let’s see what it is.” With a look of doubt, she slowly unwrapped the box and opened it. Her eyes widened. Reid got down on one knee and said, “Shane, will you please marry

me?” “Oh my God, yes, of course I will,” she exclaimed without any hesitation. He took the biggest diamond ring she had ever seen out of the box and put it on her finger. Everyone in the dining room, patrons and the entire staff, applauded. Reid and Shane kissed. He asked the waiter to pour champagne for everyone.

After dinner, they went back to his apartment and made passionate love.

He left all the wedding decisions up to Shane. “Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there,” he said.

Shane planned an engagement party one month later at Bedford Country Club. The party was great; everyone was having a fabulous time. Reid was outside on the stone patio with some of the men, smoking cigars. They were all taking turns poking fun at him.

“You know, Reid, you’ve changed,” Buck said. “What happened to The Bad Boy of Golf? I think this marriage stuff has gotten to you.”

“You’re right, Buck, marriage, getting shot, the endorsement, winning the Master’s - it’s all had an affect on me. I have changed; The Bad Boy is gone from my life.” “Riiight,” Buck said mockingly. “Let’s not get carried away now.” “No, seriously Buck, I’m a changed man. I’m going to be more respon

sible and stay out of trouble.” “Ha, not a chance.” “You’ll see,” Reid said confidently. “I’ll tell you what. Are you ready to put your money where your mouth is? I’ll bet you one million dollars that The Bad Boy comes back to visit within a month.”

“You’re on.” They shook hands. Everyone within earshot had a good chuckle.

Just then, Shane came outside and said, “There you are. I’ve been look ing all over for you. I should have known.” Reid quickly looked at the guys and put his finger to his lips. He gave her a quick kiss and they stepped off the patio onto the lawn. They hadn’t walked five feet when a paparazzo jumped from the bushes, snapping a picture with a bright flash in their faces. Furious, Reid reached

Michael Balkind

out, grabbed the photographer by the collar and cocked his arm, ready to punch. Then, instead of hitting him, Reid let go of his shirt and slowly swung his right fist into his left palm. “Oh, what the hell, go ahead, take another, but just one,” he said as he pulled Shane close and posed.

The photographer took one shot, thanked them, then, as asked, he walked away.

Shane turned to Reid and, with a look of pure astonishment, gave him a big hug and told him that she was proud of him.

Reid was facing the others on the patio as he enjoyed Shane’s embrace. Looking at Buck, he winked and, while pushing his finger on an imaginary cash register button, he mouthed, cha-ching.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36