by Ford Murphy
“Because everyone who has faced him is afraid of him. They go down early to save themselves a little misery.”
“But that could be the answer. Stamina might be his Achilles heel. The question is, how do I stay alive long enough to tire him.”
“Keep running around the ring as fast as you can.”
“Funny guy. I think we need something a little more solid than that.”
“Seriously, just keep moving. Ride the punches as much as you can, stay away from the ropes and whatever you do, don’t let him pin you on the ground.”
The door to the dressing room opened and a voice shouted, “Come now. We go start fight.”
Finn and David stood up and embraced.
“I’m proud of you, man,” David said. “Win or lose, I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dave. By the way, on the off chance that we do win, we’ll need to get out of here fast. I imagine the hometown crowd will not be pleased if their hero goes down.”
“All sorted. Transportation to the airport is arranged. From there we fly to Paris to go chat up all those gorgeous mademoiselles. So, try not to let your face get too bashed in. You need all the help you can get to pull one of those pretty things.”
Fin grinned. “That’s what I like about you, buddy. You have your priorities fully in order.”
“Damn straight.” David laughed. “Oh and by the way, just remember—the home town crowd may hate you but every other fighter and trainer is pulling you and hoping that you’ll beat the nasty pig.”
Finn knew this was true, Litkov had no friends in the mixed martial arts world but he was still the one who had to face him.
They left the dressing room and started the walk down the center aisle towards the raised ring. The room was packed, very smoky and very hot.
The raucous Russian crowd jeered at him as they chanted, “Sergei, Sergei, Sergei.”
Finn reached the ring and climbed in through the ropes. The announcer half-heartedly introduced him and the crowd booed mightily when they heard his name.
Suddenly, the room reverberated with blaring music as Sergei Litkov and entourage made their way towards the ring. The crowd went mad with excitement and the “Sergei, Sergei, Sergei” chants multiplied tenfold to compete with the blaring music. Litkov jumped into the ring, pranced around a bit, and then stood silently as the ring announcer, now with passion and fervor, introduced the man of the hour.
Litkov approached Finn, glared at him and snarled something in Russian.
Finn didn’t understand a word but he was sure he understood the gist. It was Litkov’s common approach to strike even more fear into his opponents’ hearts by abusing them in Russian, especially when he was on home soil.
Finn stared back at him equably. Ugly fucker. He leaned towards Litkov and said, “Ni ceapaim go bhfuil tú go hállain.” Finn figured telling him he was ugly in Irish was far safer than saying it in English. He felt confident that other than himself, only David Kirk would know what he meant.
Litkov snarled what was certainly another ugly Russian epithet before the referee sent them to their respective corners.
Ah yes, the referee. Finn reminded himself not to expect any help from that quarter.
The bell rang and the fight was on. Litkov charged out like a raging bull determined to end this fight just as quickly as he had all the others.
Finn though was ready. He ducked and weaved constantly, took his chances to strike when they came and generally ended up frustrating the hell out of Litkov. By the time the bell for the third round sounded, Finn’s face was a mess, his left arm was useless and he was essentially hobbling on one leg. He had defied all the odds and lasted into the third round. Though Litkov was far and away ahead on points, he was visibly tiring and Finn knew this fight would not be settled by points.
Finn managed to survive another three minutes, and then his moment came. Litkov left his guard down for a split second. That’s all Finn needed. He did a full three sixty degree spin and mustering every bit of power left in his body drove his foot directly into his opponent’s kidney. Finn almost heard it burst there and then as Litkov fell to his knees in agony. Finn immediately smashed his foot full force into Litkov’s face then jumped on top of him and started to pummel him with both fists.
Litkov had stopped trying to defend himself much too soon. Son of a bitch. Finn wanted to administer the kind of beating Litkov was famous for but he couldn’t. He stood and stared at the now unconscious fighter. There was stunned silence in the room and the referee, who was as dazed as the audience, lifted Finn’s arm in victory.
David shouted, “Yes, yes, yes.” But the crowd began to rumble and objects started to land on the ring.
“Time to scarper,” he shouted to David and they fled to the dressing room. Five minutes later they were in a taxi heading to the airport.
Finn sighed. “Phew, that was way too close for comfort.”
“You did it. You are the top fighter in all of Europe. That’s huge, man. Next stop, the world championship.”
Finn sat back. As sore he was he savored the moment. “Maybe I will go to Brazil. What’s there to lose? At least Litkov won’t be there.”
“That’s for certain. In fact, I suspect Litkov will never fight again.”
“And that’s not a bad thing. You’ve heard the same stories I have, about him being an enforcer for the Russian mob.”
David nodded. “Word is he’s silenced many people for his paymasters.”
“Well, that’s unlikely to be the case going forward.”
“Too bad the results of this bout won’t ever make it out of Russia. You deserve bragging rights.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s better this way.” Finn knew he’d need anonymity down the road.
A little over two hours later, after Finn had cleaned up and David had patched him up as best he could, they sat on an Air France flight to Paris. David flirted shamelessly with the air hostesses, who kept plying him with champagne.
Finn, much to the disappointment of one particular hostess, did not participate.
“Don’t mind him,” David said with an evil grin. “He wouldn’t be much use to any of you tonight anyway. Luckily though, I can do the job of two.” And so it went until they landed in Paris.
“Come on champ,” David said once they had picked up their luggage. “Let’s get you to the hotel. It’s been a hell of a day. Tomorrow, we go the hospital and let them put you back together again.”
Chapter Sixteen
Friday, July 5, 1986
Week Two: Day Five
The rest of the week had passed relatively uneventfully for Finn. For the first time he felt he was actually getting a chance to do the job he was hired and being paid for. He’d had lunch with Julia every day this week and yesterday Laura had joined them at the table for a while. This had passed off without incident and it seemed that people were gradually becoming less nervous to interact with Julia.
Tension was still high in the town but it seemed like an uneasy ceasefire had broken out. There was a higher police profile, a lower criminal profile by gang members and a few green shoots here and there of borderline normality were emerging.
Early that afternoon, his boss summoned him. He was the slightest bit concerned about why.
Once he was seated, the man gave him a stern look and without preamble asked, “So Finn, do you have a passport?”
This wasn’t what Finn expected. Maybe a discussion about Roan’s working hours or at best the direction of his research. But his boss was a no-nonsense guy who detested small talk and usually just got straight to the point. “I do.”
The man nodded and his expression softened. “Good. There’s a conference on in Lugano, Switzerland the week after next. We’ve had representatives there for the last three years. I’d like you to attend this year. Obviously, we’ll pay all expenses. It’s also a nice spot. Mountains nearby, you’re surrounded by the lake and you can drive through the Alps into Italy. The
conference is Tuesday through Thursday but you should stay the weekend and come back Sunday night.”
This really wasn’t what Finn expected and it seemed to be a fait accompli. If Finn had had other plans, they were clearly inconsequential. Finn smiled broadly. “Sounds great. Thanks.”
“Perfect. We’ll get you all particulars next week. I’ll expect a detailed report on the conference but not on your weekend.”
Finn looked at him for a moment, a little taken aback. He could have sworn he saw a smirk on his boss’s face when he made the last comment. He’s just trying to be funny. Cut him some slack. Don’t be paranoid.
Just before it was time to quit for the day, Finn bumped into Julia in the corridor.
She gave him a sort of a funny look. “How’s your Italian?”
“What?”
“How’s your Italian?”
“Well, I have enough to make sure that I wouldn’t starve or die of thirst if I was over there.”
“Excellent. You’re responsible for food and drink so.”
“I don’t think I follow you, Julia. This is going was over my head.”
She laughed. It was perhaps the first truly happy laugh he’d ever heard from her. “Well I guess you weren’t let in on the secret.”
He would have been irritated had it been anyone else, but she was so clearly enjoying herself, he went with it. “Obviously not. Care to enlighten me?”
“We’re going to the conference in Lugano together. It’s in the Italian-speaking part of the country.”
They were going together? His boss was a sly fucking cupid—and it thrilled him. He must have had looked like a gormless idiot, standing there with his mouth open.
Julia’s smile faded a little. “I was just trying to be funny. Are you upset?”
“Oh God, no. I’m thrilled. I just didn’t expect it.” He frowned. “How do you feel about this? Are you okay? It’s a bit contrived, don’t you think?”
Her smile warmed again. “Of course it’s totally contrived but let’s talk about it later. Will I see you tonight?”
“You bet. I’ll swing by at half-seven.”
“Bring the vino.” She grinned. “I’ll cook us a classic Italian meal.”
The classic Italian meal turned out be pizza from the new restaurant that had opened a few weeks earlier. Finn didn’t care. He really enjoyed Julia’s company. But he also accepted that their relationship was totally platonic and he knew any wrong move would totally scare her away. He had to be sure this trip to Lugano wasn’t too much too soon.
After dinner, as they sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine each, he raised the subject again.
“So, are you okay with going to the Lugano conference with me?”
“To be honest, I’m excited and a little scared. I don’t know if I would want to go if it was with anyone else.” She smiled and added, “But if it was with anyone else I wouldn’t be as nervous. Does that make sense?”
“It does. I get it. But you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. Nervous, but okay.”
“Then there’s something else. My boss said that I should stay the weekend. He said it’s a lovely area and you can up into the mountains or drive into Italy. No pressure, but would you be interested in doing that?” He watched her expectantly as she processed this suggestion. He half thought that she’d dismiss it out of hand.
After a moment, a slow smile spread across her face. “Yes. Let’s do it. But you understand the ground rules, right? Separate bedrooms. No expectations.”
Yes! “Great. I got it. No expectations.
We’re on the same page. Let’s plan it out properly to maximize our time there.”
Chapter Seventeen
October, 1983
Edgarville, Kentucky
Finn settled in quickly to life at KenTech. He was having so much fun and learning so much that, at times, he began to wonder how he would ever settle back in Cork. The days fairly flew past, until one morning he realized he’d already been there for two months. Only four months left, but he was determined to make the most of them.
He was very pleased with how his research was progressing and was convinced he’d accomplished more in two months here than he had in the previous year in Cork. He had settled into a punishing daily workout routine but he also attended enough parties to be sociable.
He particularly enjoyed going to sporting events, especially football. While KenTech was only a Division 3 school and didn’t compete against any of the top teams, to Finn the whole experience of going to a game was fascinating. His colleagues patiently tried to teach him the rules and finer points of the game but he still found many passages of plays confusing.
Whitney Campbell continued her efforts to take ownership of him and even though he gave her no encouragement whatsoever, it didn’t stop her from coming on to him occasionally. To his surprise, he had grown to like Morgan Herman, who if at all was jealous of the obvious attention his fiancé lavished on Finn, never once showed it.
Finn had been at KenTech for seven weeks when he learned the chemistry postgrads had a softball team that participated in a local league. While the overall purpose of the league was primarily social, the games were very competitive and taken very seriously. The chemistry team had lost their first game to the local fire department team. Finn had hoped to go see the game but an issue with one of his experiments had confined him to the lab that evening.
The team was slated to play the reigning champions from the school board in their next game. Unfortunately, the second game was scheduled on a day when four of the roster were going to be out of town at a major chemistry conference. In fact, so many chemistry postgrads were going to be away, they had no substitutes. Not wanting to forfeit the game, they turned to Finn and Paul Oxhill as last resorts.
Paul was postgrad from Gainesville, Georgia who spoke with such a strong southern accent Finn often had to strain to understand what the hell he was saying. For some reason, Whitney disliked Paul, calling him a “hillbilly hick”. Still, Paul was good fun and he and Finn had attended several sporting events together. Paul was a fanatical supporter and a fountain of knowledge about every single detail one would ever need to know about a variety of sports. However, he’d never actually played any.
Finn, on the other hand, was pretty sure he could swing a bat but he didn’t even know what softball was. He had a vague idea of baseball but had never even seen a game.
His colleagues tried to explain. “It’s a lot like baseball, only—”
Finn stopped them. “Sorry, lads, the comparison might be helpful if I knew the first thing about baseball, but I don’t.”
Paul grinned. “That ain’t no never mind. I’ll give you the Cliff notes version.”
Finn had no idea what that was, but it didn’t sound at all promising to him.
On the evening of the game, the team assembled early for warm ups. There were just nine of them, enough to fill the outfield, Finn was told. Whitney Campbell was there all decked out in short shorts and a tight tee-shirt, but Morgan Herman was away at the conference.
Finn was a little worried that with Morgan away, he might have to fend off another of Whitney’s advances after the game. With any luck, she’ll distract the opposition. Or maybe they’ll distract her.
Finn’s team were fielding first and Finn was positioned in right field with instructions to try to catch any ball that came his way or at least get it back to the pitcher as quickly as possible.
“Seems straightforward enough,” Finn said to Paul who had been assigned center field.
“Just wait. Unless they have a lefty that pulls, ain’t much gonna come your way.”
Finn had no fucking clue what that meant.
“On the other hand failure is my destiny. I’ll bet dollars to donuts every ball will be sent in my direction and I undoubtedly will screw up.”
Finn tried to encourage him. “Nonsense. You’ll be fine.”
It turned out Paul was exactly right
on both counts. A lot of balls came his way, none of which he caught and those that came along the ground bounced right through his glove. Even after he switched positions with Finn at the third inning, the batters still seemed to find him with great regularity. Finn felt bad for Paul but since they were being slaughtered anyway, he reasoned it didn’t matter.
Having been put at the bottom of the roster, Finn hadn’t been at bat yet. By the time he was up to bat, there were two out and runners on first and second bases. Whitney was on first having been walked by the pitcher, who seemed to take pity on her. Finn could not expect the same gentle treatment.
When the ball left the pitcher’s hand and came his way, Finn paused a moment then swung the bat with all his might. To his and everyone else’s surprise, he connected and the ball sailed into the outfield. Finn stood there mesmerized, watching it.
“Run, Finn, run,” he finally heard Paul yelling at him. He took off running towards first base.
“Drop the bat, drop the bat,” people screamed at him.
Damn. He finally dropped the bat as he got to first base.
“Go to second,” Paul yelled, so he took off running again. He reached second base and saw that the ball had not come back in yet so he decided to try for third. When he got halfway there he saw Whitney standing on the base and heard her screaming at him to go back to second. By now the ball was rapidly coming in and it didn’t look like he was going to make it back to second base in time.
“Slide, slide,” voices chanted at him.
Finn had no clue how to slide but he decided to try it and covered the last eight feet on the ground in a movement that someone remarked later resembled a crab that was completely constipated. He barely made it and stood up triumphantly to see Whitney and everyone else doubled over with laughter.
An opposing team player touched the ball to him.
Surprised, Finn asked, “Am I out?”
“No.”
“Then why did you that?”
The other player grinned. “You ever play this game before?”
