The Edge

by Nick Hale

  Veronika drove out of the complex and away from the town, past a second-hand car garage and out into the landscape of the Florida Everglades. As Jake watched the miles of deep green forests and swamps pass, he struggled for something to say. It was Veronika who broke the silence.

  ‘So I heard your dad’s famous. He’s here, right?’

  Jake could have screamed. Can’t I for one minute escape the shadow of the famous Steve Bastin?

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘it was as much of a surprise to me. He stepped in as Coach Garcia’s emergency replacement. It’s not doing much for my cred.’

  Veronika nodded. ‘I know a thing or two about parental baggage.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Jake said. ‘But I bet your dad isn’t standing on the other side of the net serving aces at you.’

  Veronika laughed. ‘You got me there. I don’t think my dad even knows the rules of tennis. I don’t see him often, and when I do it’s always on his schedule.’

  They drove on until they reached a signpost that read Saddleback Swamp, 200 yards. Veronika turned on to a track.

  ‘One of the cleaning staff told me about this place,’ she said. ‘I’ve been a couple of times, when I want to be alone.’

  Jake couldn’t imagine someone like Veronika hanging around with the cleaning staff. Perhaps he had her wrong, after all. They drove through a gate and into a gravel car park leading to a clutch of picnic tables. The sun was a disc of pale light just above the horizon.

  There were no other cars, so Veronika parked the Porsche at a skewed angle facing the swamp. As she popped her door, a blast of warm air filled the interior. She reached behind her seat and plucked out a couple of bottles of water, handing one to Jake.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m glad it’s not Olympic Edge.’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ she replied. ‘I’m fed up with that stuff. Do you think it does what they say it does?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’ve not been drinking it. Tastes like crap.’

  Veronika sucked in an exaggerated breath. ‘Don’t let Phillips find out.’

  They wandered over to a picnic table. Jake was about to take a swig of his water when he saw a sign saying ‘Beware Alligators’.

  ‘You sure this place is safe?’ he asked.

  ‘Apparently they rarely come out when it’s hot,’ Veronika replied. ‘You want one of these?’ She handed Jake an energy bar as they sat side by side on the bench, watching the sun deepening to orange. Jake looked out of the corner of his eye at Veronika. Her hair was golden now, and she seemed happy to sit in silence and enjoy the view. But why had she brought him up here? A day before, he’d have been surprised to get a smile off her. The sky dissolved to grey as the sun sank out of view. The heat went out of the day quickly, and Jake felt goose bumps rise along his arms.

  ‘So what are you going to do about your dad?’ Veronika asked.

  Jake sighed. ‘Keep my head down, practise hard. Try not to lose my temper . . . Easier said than done.’

  Veronika chewed on her energy bar and swallowed. ‘My dad’s got a temper too. Problem is nobody dares tell him to stay cool.’

  ‘What does your dad do?’ Jake asked.

  ‘He’s a businessman.’ Veronika chuckled. ‘Does what’s necessary to earn the almighty buck.’ She took out the final piece of the energy bar. ‘Watch this.’ She threw it into the swamp, a good twenty metres out. It landed with a plop in the murky water.

  A few seconds later, movement stirred the surface. A shushing sound reached Jake’s ears. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘Not scared, are you?’ Veronika asked, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs.

  Jake swallowed. ‘I hear they always go for girls first.’

  Now a large section of the swamp swirled to life. Scaled backs emerged from the water like rising submarines, and massive tails waved sinuously, driving the alligators towards the place the energy bar had landed.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Veronika said.

  As she stood up, something rolled to the surface against one of the swamp banks. Not an alligator. Something that didn’t belong.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said, squinting and pointing.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ Veronika said. It was almost dark now.

  ‘Flick the headlights on,’ Jake said.

  Veronika went back to the car, and did as he asked. Suddenly the swamp was illuminated in the beams. The light caught the alligators’ eyes, making them look like silver coins floating just above the water.

  But Jake stared at the edge of the left bank where the object had surfaced. Something like a half-submerged log rested in the shallow water. His heart was thumping and his skin felt icy cold.

  Veronika walked over to him. ‘What is it?’

  Jake moved to stand between her and the swamp. ‘Don’t come any closer.’

  She frowned. ‘Don’t be such an idiot, Jake.’ She came up and peered past him. Half a second later, she screamed. The sound pierced the night, making a couple of the alligators thrash in the water.

  Jake pulled Veronika close and she folded into him, shielding her eyes from the awful sight.

  The thing in the water wasn’t a log. It was a body, or part of one, with a red baseball cap floating in the shallows.

  ‘Looks like we found Coach Garcia,’ Jake said.

  8

  The winch attached to the police pick-up made a high-pitched grinding noise that set Jake’s teeth on edge. The alligators had mostly disappeared again beneath the surface, but the spotlights set up around the edge of the water showed a few watching the scene dispassionately. A couple of cops with high-powered rifles patrolled the bank, just in case any got too curious. Coach Garcia’s car emerged from the water like a forgotten shipwreck, spilling water out of the broken rear windscreen.

  Jake had phoned the police immediately, and they’d taken less than ten minutes to arrive at the scene. An hour and a half after the call, an unmarked sedan carrying detectives from the homicide squad in Miami had pulled up too.

  Jake tore his gaze from the covered stretcher that held Garcia’s body. Or what was left of it. He was missing both legs and an arm. Jake was glad it was dark. One of the cops who’d helped drag the corpse out of the water had hurled his guts up behind his squad car.

  ‘So tell me again,’ said Detective Merski. ‘You guys just happened to drive to this spot?’

  They were standing beside the detective’s car, going over what had happened. Or their ‘version’, as Merski insisted on calling it.

  ‘Someone at the camp told me about it,’ Veronika explained. ‘Said it was pretty up here. Rita, or Ruth, or something like that. Oh, God, I can’t believe it . . .’

  ‘Calm down, young lady,’ said Merski. ‘I need to get the facts straight. You and your boyfriend here were making out, you see the body –’

  ‘Hey, we weren’t making out,’ Jake interrupted. ‘We just came for a drive, that’s all.’

  Merski fixed him with tired eyes. One of the uniformed officers came up alongside him.

  ‘Sir, looks like the deceased’s car came off the main road. There’s broken foliage and skid marks consistent with that.’

  Merski sighed. ‘Thanks, Harris.’ He waved a hand at Jake and Veronika. ‘I’ve got a lot more questions for these two lovebirds, but I’m gonna let them go for now, unless you have anything else to ask them.’

  Harris stared at them. ‘Cut them loose. I’ve spoken to Bruce Krantz. Their story checks out so far. They are attending Krantz’s camp. He said we can question them there later if need be.’

  Merski left them and went to speak with the paramedics, who were loading Garcia into the back of an ambulance to ship to the morgue. Veronika was pale in the starlight.

  ‘You OK?’ Jake asked her.

  She snorted. ‘No, Are you?’

  Jake didn’t want to say it wasn’t the first dead body he’d seen. ‘Bit of a shock,’ he said.

  They walked past w
here Detective Harris was picking weeds off the dented wreck of Garcia’s car. He tugged open the door on the passenger side and more swamp water poured out, splashing over his shoes. ‘Damn it!’ he said, before peering in. Then, ‘He’s been at the booze,’ he continued.

  He reached inside, and pulled out an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. When he noticed Jake and Veronika watching, he gave them a dark stare. Jake saw there were several empty bottles of Olympic Edge in the passenger seat too.

  ‘You two, get outta here!’ Harris snapped. ‘This is a crime scene, not a spectator sport.’

  Jake and Veronika got into her car. She paused with the key in the ignition. ‘I don’t think this was an accident.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Jake replied. ‘Two dead bodies in three days, both linked to Olympic Advantage.’

  ‘You think Otto and Garcia’s deaths are connected?’ Veronika asked.

  Jake nodded. His experiences over the last few months had taught him to question everything. They stared through the windscreen at the eerie scene. Police and alligators swarming the swamp. It didn’t appear that Merski and his crew believed in deadly coincidence either. ‘We can’t just sit around and wait for something else to happen. What if someone else gets hurt, or worse?’

  Veronika started the engine. ‘We probably should leave it to the police.’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust Merski to tie his own shoelaces,’ Jake quipped.

  Veronika smiled, then caught herself. ‘You’re right. Maybe it’s time to do a little investigation of our own.’

  ‘What have Otto and Garcia got in common?’ Jake asked, his detective skills already in overdrive.

  ‘Nothing other than Olympic Advantage,’ Veronika replied. ‘They weren’t the same nationality, the same sport, or the same age.’

  ‘The first thing we need to do is collect the facts. What’s really going on at Olympic Advantage?’

  ‘Whatever it is, someone would kill for it,’ Veronika added. ‘We should divide and conquer. I can take Krantz. He’s due to come by and watch the tennis tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll speak with Phillips,’ Jake said. ‘I can pretend I want to know more about these branding grants. Let’s meet up at the track-and-field exhibition tomorrow afternoon.’ Jake paused, suddenly unsure if getting Veronika involved was such a good idea. ‘If we’re going to do this, we have to be careful, OK? We can’t trust anyone.’

  ‘Except each other.’ Veronika turned to face Jake. ‘Give me your hand.’

  Jake did as she asked. She grabbed a pen from her handbag and scribbled ten digits on his palm. ‘You might need this.’ She closed his hand and smiled her stunning all-American-girl smile.

  A day ago, Jake would have been pleased to have scored the phone number of such a beautiful girl, but under the circumstances it felt more like a business transaction. ‘I’ll text you so you have mine.’

  ‘Guess we’re a team now,’ Veronika said, and spun the wheels as she accelerated out of the parking lot. They drove back to the complex in silence. Jake let the reality sink in. Was there really a killer on the loose at Olympic Advantage?

  Tan was asleep when Jake finally got back to his room. Jake had a shower to get rid of the stench of death that seemed to cling to his skin. But when he crawled beneath the sheets, he couldn’t sleep. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Coach Garcia’s mangled body and imagined those moments after he’d crashed into the swamp. Jake hadn’t liked the guy, but he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. He only hoped Garcia had been dead or unconscious before the alligators got to him.

  Next morning Jake was up with the sun. His morning session was circuit training. Half the footballing group was teamed up with athletes from other disciplines, including Tan. They went through two hours of high-intensity, multiple-repetition exercises in Olympic Advantage’s state-of-the-art gym studio. Their tutor was an ex-marine called Sandy, who seemed capable of only two things: shouting and blowing a whistle loudly.

  The mood among the others was grim, partly because of the gruelling training, but also because the news of Garcia’s death had seeped across the complex. No one seemed to know exactly what had happened, or that Jake and Veronika had been involved. That suited Jake fine.

  As the marine was winding down with a few stretches, Jake saw Phillips passing the window in a golf cart. He made some excuse and left the studio. He jogged along the track searching for Phillips’s buggy, but couldn’t see it anywhere. He was about to turn back when he saw the cart pulled up alongside the rear wall of the medical centre.

  Jake watched Phillips walk round the back of the cart and take out a full crate of Olympic Edge. Laden under the weight, he staggered out of sight again. That was weird: how come the head of marketing was acting as a delivery boy?

  Jake walked over, ready to offer his help, but as he rounded the corner of the building he saw Dr Chow holding open the back door. Something about the way she was standing, nervously glancing this way and that, made Jake retreat out of sight.

  What’s she so worried about?

  He peered round again, and saw Phillips emerge from the open door. As he did, he slid his arm behind Dr Chow’s back, and they leant together, kissing each other passionately.

  Jake backed off again. Hadn’t Dr Chow been seeing Pedro Garcia? Jake wondered. If so, she was over him quicker than a common cold.

  Maybe Jake had got it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Garcia on the phone that day during the physical making Dr Chow act like a teenager; maybe it had been Phillips. Garcia might have been just an unwelcome pest, trying to hit on Dr Chow when she wanted nothing to do with him. In that case, Phillips – and perhaps Dr Chow too – had a motive for wanting Garcia out of the way.

  Jake waited until he heard the electric whine of the golf cart, then watched Phillips head towards the gym block. He followed at a quick walk.

  The gym was all glass on one side, retractable in good weather. It was half open now, and Jake could see Oz and a few of the others side by side on the rowing machines. The fixed and free weights were at the back of the building, along with a full-size boxing ring. Phillips stopped the cart beside the building and carried in an armful of Olympic Edge bottles, passing them out to the athletes.

  Jake entered the gym and got on to a cross-trainer. He was close enough to hear when Phillips’s phone rang. In the reflection of the window glass, he saw the marketing man break away from the boxing ring, and lift the phone to his ear.

  Jake couldn’t hear much of what followed, because Phillips was speaking with his voice low, and Oz and his guys were shouting to each other as they raced on the rowers.

  ‘I got you,’ Phillips was saying. ‘I’m handling it as best I can. I know we don’t need any more bad publicity. What can I say? Garcia was a drunk.’

  Phillips hung up as he walked out of the door. Jake climbed off the cross-trainer and caught up with him at the cart. Oz was watching him suspiciously from the rowing machine. Probably wondering why he’d only done two minutes on the cross-trainer.

  ‘Mr Phillips, can I have a word?’ Jake asked.

  Philips turned round, and found his smile in a split second. ‘Hey, Jake Bastin, isn’t it? Call me Ed. What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s about the grants you were talking about,’ Jake said. ‘I’m interested in becoming a brand ambassador.’

  Phillips raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure you are, young man,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure LGE would be interested in being associated with someone of your –’ name, Jake thought – ‘calibre,’ Philips continued, ‘but there are official channels to go through.’

  Jake realised he’d given the wrong idea. ‘You’ve misunderstood,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean I wanted special treatment. I just wondered if you’d give me more details.’

  Philips smiled wider, and took Jake’s arm, turning him away from the gym.

  ‘Actually, I think it’s you who’ve misunderstood.’ Phillips gave him a sly look. ‘You see, marketing isn’t about crossing the finish line first
. Some people . . . well, they deserve special treatment. It all depends on what they’re prepared to give in return. You follow me?’

  Jake wasn’t sure he did, but from the glint in Phillips’s eyes and his lowered voice, Jake guessed he was being asked to give Phillips some sort of kickback.

  ‘You’re talking about something to sweeten the deal?’ Jake whispered. ‘Something in it for you?’

  Phillips winked. ‘Your words, not mine. I guess you know how it works, what with your dad being in the game too.’

  Jake nodded. Hell, this guy was as slippery as an eel.

  ‘I get it.’ Jake reached for a bottle of the yellow Olympic Edge – Solar. ‘Where can we talk about it further?’

  Phillips climbed into the driver’s seat of the cart. Jake caught the flash of a name on the bottom of his shoe, something Italian. ‘Don’t worry,’ Phillips said. ‘I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Hey, wait . . .’ Jake started.

  But Phillips was already driving away. Jake watched him go, frustration building.

  So his suspicions were right. Phillips was as dodgy as he looked. But he was clever too. He hadn’t promised anything, hadn’t implicated himself. If he was effectively selling grants to the athletes – and that meant hundreds and thousands, if not millions of dollars – then that might explain why people were dying. Otto had been a handsome guy, full of potential. Definitely in line for the big time. Perhaps he’d refused to play ball with Edgar Phillips and paid the price. Maybe Garcia had found out too. Jake felt the pieces fitting into place, even if the puzzle picture was still a bit fuzzy.

  He walked back towards the dorm block, wondering if now was the time to tell his dad what he suspected. Or did his dad already have a theory of his own? Two deaths and him conveniently showing up were too much to be a coincidence.

  First he needed to speak with Veronika.

  As Jake passed the administration buildings, he saw two guys standing by the main doors keeping a lookout. Both were smoking cigarettes, despite the fact there were signs all over the complex saying it was strictly prohibited. Something about the way they stood, arrogant and threatening, primed Jake’s senses: these guys looked suspicious.