want her to know anything about this, and the mayor’s on his side.”
“We’re really fucked, aren’t we?”
Randie chuckled. “Not fucked, Kotter. Sold down the river on account of money and politics. You get fucked when someone wants to hurt you. You get sold when you don’t matter enough to get fucked.”
“Here I thought you were just a police captain, and it turns out you’re a philosopher, too.”
Randie smiled. “Well, the lecture’s over. It’s time to get back to your tennis star. And leave through the back of the station so you don’t go by Cranshaw again. I don’t have time to listen to him bitch about you.”
I stopped at my place and got enough clothes for the next four days, which would take me beyond the end of the tournament until the players left town. I figured I would be at the College Inn for the duration.
I found Sam Van Doren in the hallway outside Alie’s room. “How’s it going?” I asked.
“No problems. She had lunch with a couple of the other players, and then they went out by the pool. She came back up here about an hour ago and hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, and she’s been quiet ever since.”
“What did you do, Sam, slip her some Valium?”
“Just lucky, I guess. She’s been giving you a hard time, hasn’t she? I heard you had to be up at the crack of dawn this morning.”
“If anybody’s thinking about kidnapping her, they ought to talk to me first.”
Sam smiled, but then he got serious. “Well, she’s all yours. I have to get back to the station. I’ve got a long stretch ahead. I’m going to get out the old police reports, dating to the time her father lived here, and see if he shows up in anything. Wouldn’t you know the guy left town before the records were computerized.”
“That’s not going to be easy.”
“Tell me about it. See you later.”
I unlocked my room across the hall from Alie’s and left the door open. I put my stuff away and loafed around, waiting for the next summons. She surfaced in late afternoon and surprised me with a welcoming smile.
“Kotter! Can you take me over to the tournament? I want to hit some more before I play tonight.”
I was really keyed up. This was the first time I had Alie out in public since the trouble began. I was furious with Papa de Ville, too. If he’d given us a description of those goons, we’d know if they showed up. This way they had the jump on us.
Alie was spotted as soon as we arrived. I had to hand it to her, she was good with the crowds. She kept moving, but she talked and signed autographs as she went. Since Hillsboro was pretty awestruck at having her here, no one got rude, and we didn’t have any problems.
I was relieved to find the place blanketed with cops, most of them in uniform to be visible. I personally was in my blue suit and a new pair of sunglasses, doing my imitation of the Secret Service. All I lacked was one of those little buttons to talk into and a wire in my ear.
Alie went into the locker room, hooked up with a player I didn’t recognize, and then the two of them headed for a practice court. Within minutes there was a crowd, pressed against the chain link fence to watch. I think Alie had more people watching her warm up than did the two low-ranking pros playing the afternoon match.
Alie seemed restless, though. She wandered amid the practice courts, the dining hall and the locker room until it was time for her to go on.
Of course, she was the featured match of the night. Dusk was closing in as she entered the stadium court, the contrast between the growing darkness and the bright lights making it hard for me to scan the capacity crowd. Damn Papa de Ville, anyway.
People stood and cheered, but Alie was all business. She didn’t even glance at her father, sitting in a courtside box with the mayor, the diamond stick pin in his tie catching the light. Papa looked expansive. This tournament was obviously everything he wanted it to be—recognition,
“We’re really fucked, aren’t we?”
Randie chuckled. “Not fucked, Kotter. Sold down the river on account of money and politics. You get fucked when someone wants to hurt you. You get sold when you don’t matter enough to get fucked.”
“Here I thought you were just a police captain, and it turns out you’re a philosopher, too.”
Randie smiled. “Well, the lecture’s over. It’s time to get back to your tennis star. And leave through the back of the station so you don’t go by Cranshaw again. I don’t have time to listen to him bitch about you.”
I stopped at my place and got enough clothes for the next four days, which would take me beyond the end of the tournament until the players left town. I figured I would be at the College Inn for the duration.
I found Sam Van Doren in the hallway outside Alie’s room. “How’s it going?” I asked.
“No problems. She had lunch with a couple of the other players, and then they went out by the pool. She came back up here about an hour ago and hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, and she’s been quiet ever since.”
“What did you do, Sam, slip her some Valium?”
“Just lucky, I guess. She’s been giving you a hard time, hasn’t she? I heard you had to be up at the crack of dawn this morning.”
“If anybody’s thinking about kidnapping her, they ought to talk to me first.”
Sam smiled, but then he got serious. “Well, she’s all yours. I have to get back to the station. I’ve got a long stretch ahead. I’m going to get out the old police reports, dating to the time her father lived here, and see if he shows up in anything. Wouldn’t you know the guy left town before the records were computerized.”
“That’s not going to be easy.”
“Tell me about it. See you later.”
I unlocked my room across the hall from Alie’s and left the door open. I put my stuff away and loafed around, waiting for the next summons. She surfaced in late afternoon and surprised me with a welcoming smile.
“Kotter! Can you take me over to the tournament? I want to hit some more before I play tonight.”
I was really keyed up. This was the first time I had Alie out in public since the trouble began. I was furious with Papa de Ville, too. If he’d given us a description of those goons, we’d know if they showed up. This way they had the jump on us.
Alie was spotted as soon as we arrived. I had to hand it to her, she was good with the crowds. She kept moving, but she talked and signed autographs as she went. Since Hillsboro was pretty awestruck at having her here, no one got rude, and we didn’t have any problems.
I was relieved to find the place blanketed with cops, most of them in uniform to be visible. I personally was in my blue suit and a new pair of sunglasses, doing my imitation of the Secret Service. All I lacked was one of those little buttons to talk into and a wire in my ear.
Alie went into the locker room, hooked up with a player I didn’t recognize, and then the two of them headed for a practice court. Within minutes there was a crowd, pressed against the chain link fence to watch. I think Alie had more people watching her warm up than did the two low-ranking pros playing the afternoon match.
Alie seemed restless, though. She wandered amid the practice courts, the dining hall and the locker room until it was time for her to go on.
Of course, she was the featured match of the night. Dusk was closing in as she entered the stadium court, the contrast between the growing darkness and the bright lights making it hard for me to scan the capacity crowd. Damn Papa de Ville, anyway.
People stood and cheered, but Alie was all business. She didn’t even glance at her father, sitting in a courtside box with the mayor, the diamond stick pin in his tie catching the light. Papa looked expansive. This tournament was obviously everything he wanted it to be—recognition,
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