Amanda and Elise were jogging up and down a corridor inside the catacombs of the Moscow stadium.
“I saw Bernadette outside, so don’t whine,” Amanda grinned, bringing her knees high up.
“Poor Polly,” Elise panted. “I don’t understand why she didn’t dump Bernadette after the Olympics.”
“They have a good chance to make it to Istanbul,” Amanda answered, turning around at the end of the corridor. In a few weeks the Top 8 singles players of the WTA and the Top 4 doubles teams would fight for the Year End Championship.
Elise followed Amanda along the hallway and watched her red ponytail.
“Perhaps we can make it next year as a doubles team,” she suggested while catching up with her girlfriend.
Amanda nodded. “You might even make it on your own in singles.”
Elise swallowed. She had started the year with a ranking inside the Top 20, the best she’s ever had. Everyone expected her to crack the Top 10 sooner or later, but since the Olympic Games she hadn’t fared too well. Her ranking had slightly dropped out of the Top 20.
“Okay, it is cold,” Amanda said with a shiver. She had started to run more quickly from one end to the other.
“Two more weeks and we’ll be home in the sun,” Elise smiled while Amanda passed her by. But when she saw Amanda frown she bit her tongue.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elise continued. “I forgot.”
Amanda didn’t have a home anymore. Selling the apartment had seemed the only possibility to dig up the money for the lost mara. But Natsumi didn’t want the money. After she had ripped the check apart, Amanda had tried to revoke the sale but it had been too late. The apartment was resold and all her furniture and belongings had been put into a self-storage house. She was homeless.
To make matters worse, they hadn’t found a good explanation for Elise’s parents yet as to why Amanda had sold her apartment while being on tour. They had two weeks to figure out a solution or Amanda would have to move in with Elise and her parents until she had found a new place to live.
Amanda sighed and stopped running.
“You know I saved for a bigger apartment anyway, don’t you?”
Elise nodded. “Have you made up your mind about it?”
“Yes.” Amanda had found the heating and went down in a squat, leaning her back against the warm radiator.
“Will it be closer to me?” Elise grinned. She had never liked the long ride between her parent’s home and Amanda’s apartment. Perhaps there was something good in the fact that Amanda had sold it.
But Amanda grimaced. “I’m afraid not. I’m afraid it’s even further than my old apartment.”
“Oh.” Elise frowned. “What neighborhood have you thought about?”
“Mornington Peninsula.”
Elise hesitated. Mornington? Peninsular? She had heard about it before but for a moment she couldn’t say where in Florida it was located. Then she realized.
“Melbourne?” she squealed. “You want to move back to Australia?”
Amanda shrugged apologetically. “I wanted to move back for a while actually. Melbourne is my favorite place.”
Elise remembered how Amanda raved about the food culture of the city where the Australian Open was held every year. When they didn’t order from Killer Kurry they had dined out in one of the many roof top restaurants and bars of Melbourne.
Thinking about Killer Kurry reminded her of the mara mystery that had quickly turned into the mara misery. Because of the stupid woodpecker Amanda had sold her apartment in Florida – and now she wanted to move away from Elise.
The German sat down on a chair and watched Amanda, who had placed her hands over her head and had grabbed the heating. It looked funny, but Elise couldn’t smile.
“So, we won’t spend the off-season together?” she asked quietly.
“Actually I had hoped that you would come with me,” Amanda replied. “And not just for the off-season.”
Elise frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I want us to move in together.”
***
Martina Rodriguez stroked Antonia’s long dark hair. The Italian girl had closed her eyes while Martina ran the brush through the strands.
“Hold still,” the Argentine whispered. She had pulled back three tails and was plaiting them into one braid.
There was still time as Antonia’s singles match would start in one hour. The Italian was scheduled first on center court as they would also play their doubles match later that day. If they won it, they would have booked their ticket to Istanbul for sure.
Martina sighed. More than anything she wanted to go to Istanbul with Antonia. The Italian would be going as an alternate in the singles competition, as she had climbed the rankings steadily in the last few months and was ranked No. 9 at the moment. Martina was still stuck in the Top 20 and without a seed in the doubles competition she would have to accompany Antonia as a guest.
Martina finished braiding and put a tie on the end.
“Knock, knock,” a voice behind them said.
They both turned around. Ted had stuck his head inside the girls’ locker room.
“Come in,” Antonia said. “Nobody’s here yet.”
“Not that I was interested in your assets anyway.” He winked and closed the door behind him.
He took a look around anyway before he sat down.
“I wanted to talk to you about our picture quest,” he stated.
Antonia and Martina raised their eyebrows. It had been one year since they had received their picture in Luxembourg. Nothing had happened since and Martina had to admit that they had almost forgotten about the matter, especially since Antonia was doing so well and was kept busy with sponsorship and publicity duties. They didn’t want to spend the sparse time they had left for themselves worrying about old pictures. Even though they should.
“What about them?” Martina asked.
“Well, after we ruled out Anastasia as a suspect Tom and I went through the list again,” Ted explained. “The only one we couldn’t eliminate as a suspect was Bernadette.”
“Bernadette?” Antonia shook her head. “She’s far too busy bossing Polly around.”
Ted nodded. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions. We’ve done that and we were completely wrong in Anastasia’s case. But Bernadette has behaved suspiciously of late. She obviously keeps an eye on the young couples.”
“She is a bit weird,” Martina remarked and Antonia nodded. They looked at each other and shrugged, still not convinced about Tom’s suspicion.
Ted’s cell phone buzzed in his trousers.
“Excuse me, girls,” he said and answered the call.
Martina and Antonia watched him. First he frowned, then his eyes grew wide.
“Yes,” he whispered a couple of times. He began making hand gestures pointing to the phone, then switching his finger as if he was taking a picture. Antonia looked at Martina and shrugged.
“When?” he finally said. Having gotten an answer he nodded and hung up.
“Who was that?” Antonia asked.
Ted opened his mouth in dramatic fashion. “You will not believe it! It was the picture thief. She wants to meet. She said she had the pictures and that I surely want them back.”
“Was it Bernadette?” Martina and Antonia both blurted out.
“No, I don’t think so.” Ted shook his head. “The voice was much younger. But – the woman did have a Canadian accent.”
***
Lynn squeezed into the row and quickly sat down on an empty seat.
It was 5-2 for Antonia in the third set and the umpire hoped that this was the last changeover of the match. She looked at her colleague, Anastasia Stea, who was sitting high in the umpire’s chair.
“Time,” the Romanian said into the microphone and Antonia Sapore and Ukrainian player, Yelena Kovalenko, got up from their chairs.
Three minutes later the match was decided by a beautiful backhand winner by the Italian.
Lynn stood up and wa
ved to Anastasia when she climbed down the high chair.
“Hungry?”
The Romanian nodded and they headed to the exit to get a cab that would take them to Yuri’s bar in the heart of Moscow. When they entered the cozy restaurant they were the first to have arrived. Anastasia checked the scores of the ongoing matches and shook her head.
“Probably another hour before the others arrive,” she informed Lynn.
“Let’s have drinks then.”
They both ordered Moscow Spring Punches. When the drinks arrived and they had taken a sip, Lynn closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying that fact that she had her feet on the ground.
“Holy shit!” The muffled yell from Anastasia made her jump.
“What?” she asked. The older umpire turned her head to the left – and raised her eyebrows. At a table near the window, hidden from view when you entered the restaurant, were Sasha Mrachova and Gabriella Galloway. It had to be Gabriella, as Lulu was playing the smaller tournament in Luxembourg.
“So, Sasha and Gabriella,” Anastasia whispered. “And there was me thinking she didn’t like the Galloways.”
Lynn watched the younger umpire, who seemed astonished to see the pairing. The Romanian umpire was still looking at the two Grand Slam champions, shaking her head.
“I’m not surprised to see them together,” Lynn chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Anastasia turned back to Lynn. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“I don’t know,” Lynn vetoed. “But I see things.”
Anastasia leaned forward. “What did you see?”
“Have none of you noticed that Sasha was constantly following the Galloways around last year?”
“Following them? Well, that would explain things,” she said with a side glance to Sasha. Lynn didn’t understand the mysterious remark but guessed Anastasia was referring to her fling with the Czech player.
“And wasn’t it obvious that Sasha mishit that ball on match point during the U.S. Open final on purpose?” she continued.
Anastasia shook her head. “I thought she was perhaps distracted by the fact that Gabriella was lying on the ground.”
“Yes, I’m convinced she was,” Lynn smiled. “She looked horrified when Gabriella didn’t get up. She believed Gabriella was injured, and deliberately shoved the ball into the net.”
“But what is all this rivalry talk about?”
“The media needs something to talk about,” Lynn shrugged. “They make up stuff just by looking at the results.”
“So, you are saying they are actually close?” Anastasia wondered with a confused look.
“Close?” Lynn smugly looked Anastasia over. “I’m saying they are lovers.”
***
Monica walked down the long hotel corridor and plucked a blossom from the bouquet of flowers, which were arranged in a vase on a table in the corner. Just to check if they were real. They were. Monica wondered how long they would bloom, considering the fact that there was no window in the corridor. Then she found the room she was looking for. After knocking, Agnes opened the door and waved her inside.
“Candice is making drinks,” her friend and doubles partner informed her with a wink.
“Is it that bad?” Monica chuckled, following Agnes into the living room. Twenty minutes earlier Agnes had called her and ordered her to the couple’s room. They had news.
“We don’t know,” Candice said. She finished mixing the drink and handed it to Monica.
“Moscow Mule?”
Candice nodded.
“Even though I’m afraid we don’t need to talk about mules, but moles.”
Monica knew who the communications manager referred to. For the whole season, Morgana Doré had been digging up information on some of the players’ pasts. And there was some reasonable suspicion that the players she focused on were – amongst others – Monica and Agnes.
“Morgana is absolutely clueless,” Candice sighed. “She honestly believes we are threatening people to shut them up.”
“What shall we do about it?” Monica asked. She had taken a seat and put her feet up on the sofa.
“We have to convince her that the person who writes those e-mails to her is not the real Larissa, making it clear that the information she is receiving is not credible at all,” Candice stated. “The question is, who is writing the e-mails? And do we want Morgana asking exactly that question? Because if she finds out that somebody is trying to discredit us, she will ask for the reason. And we don’t want that.”
Agnes and Monica shook their heads. No, they didn’t want that.
“So, what’s the news?” Monica asked.
“Alice said, Morgana’s almost finished with her thesis and would have it done after the off-season.”
“We cannot let her publish it,” Monica said.
“Well, I can’t believe Morgana would publish without reassessing and questioning these claims her informant gives her,” Agnes doubted.
“What if she verifies them?” Monica shot back. “What if the claims are actually informative?”
“Only a handful of people know enough to get us into trouble by speaking out.”
But Agnes’s argument did not calm the others down.
“Yes,” Candice mumbled. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That we are dealing with a mole.”
“Do you think it’s Bernadette?” she asked gravely.
“Very likely,” Candice replied. “But it could very well be someone else.”
Yes, Monica thought, the group hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends back in the day.
She swallowed a mouthful of the ice-cold vodka drink. Mole. Traitor. Defector. There were many names for renegades who stepped outside the circle that had sheltered them – whether it was a state, or a group of eight people. There were also many reasons to do so. Some were noble, others not so much. Love. Freedom. Greed. Power. Monica clenched her teeth. Two days ago, when strolling through the city, they had passed the infamous Lubyanka building, which housed the headquarters of the KGB and its prison. It didn’t take much that a shelter became a prison, Monica thought. Freedom was a good reason to defect.
But the matter with Morgana’s source had a different smell to it. Revenge.
***
The restaurant wasn’t too crowded and, after a quick look, Polly decided to take the table at the end of the room between the large window and the bar counter.
“Ted’s not here yet,” Mint whispered. They came fifteen minutes earlier to find the best spot for the planned interrogation.
“I think I should sit here, facing the restaurant room,” Polly pondered. “This way Ted will have to sit with his back to the room and you can observe us from the bar without him noticing you.”
Mint nodded. Polly could tell that the American still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of confronting Ted Curry with the pictures. She pushed Mint to the counter and sat her down on one of the bar stools.
“A beer for the young lady here,” she ordered, pointing at Mint. She squeezed Mint’s shoulders to buoy her up, then sat down at the table and wrote Ted a text where to find her.
Punctually at 6 p.m. the British player hurried around the bar counter with a bewildered look. She waved him over and gestured him to sit down. But before Polly could start with her rehearsed speech Ted had opened his mouth.
“Polly!” He shook his head. “Why you? Where is Bernadette?”
Polly didn’t understand. Bernadette?
“What does she want with the pictures?” Ted continued. “What have you done with them?”
“Ted, stop please,” Polly yelled. “I don’t know what you are talking about. The question is rather what do you want with the pictures.” She tried to get the conversation back on her track.
“Me? I want to save them, of course,” Ted stammered.
“Save them from what?” Polly inquired.
“From being published,” Ted answered. “So, please tell me what do you want? Money?”
Pol
ly hesitated. “Wait a moment. You want to save them from being published?”
Ted nodded.
“But why did you take them in the first place?”
“I didn’t take them,” Ted retorted. “I tried to save them, but I lost them in New York. And then Bernadette found them, right? Did she give them to you then?”
Polly shook her head and held up her hands to slow Ted down.
“Why do you keep asking about Bernadette? She has nothing to do with it.”
“But how did you get hold of the pictures then?” Ted wondered. “Who gave them to you?”
“I did.”
Mint had gotten up and come over from the bar. Ted turned around and looked at the American for a moment. He squinted his eyes, looking at her face, then he understood.
“You were at the hotel!” he blurted out. “You let me in through the balcony door.”
Mint nodded.
“What were you doing at the hotel?” Polly jumped in.
“I told you already. I tried to save the pictures,” Ted said angrily. Then he hesitated, looking for words. “Someone took them and had planned to publish them.”
“Who?” Mint asked, sitting down next to Polly. But Ted shook his head and shut his lips tightly.
“It’s not important, as the person changed his mind,” he finally revealed. “But by then it was too late. The pictures were gone.”
He sighed, looking Mint and Polly over. “Why did you give the pictures to the girls? Anonymously! It scared the shit out of us.”
Polly turned around to Mint and looked at her. She had asked the American the same question two weeks ago in Beijing but the American had only shrugged. Now Mint grew tense.
“At first I thought it was funny,” she said quietly. “And then I thought they would like them somehow. They are actually really good pictures.”
She threw Polly a quick side glance and bit her lip.
“I’m sorry,” she added. “I didn’t want to scare anybody.”
Polly looked at Ted who seemed a bit lost, having his eyes closed and trying to steady his breath. He seemed really relieved, Polly thought with a chuckle. Interesting that he had suspected Bernadette though.
Love Game - Season 2012 Page 36
