“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 second 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, comp
letely 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’v
e 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.”
Sudden Death Page 20
