Vanishing Act

by John Feinstein

  “And you believed him right away?” Susan Carol said.

  “Not exactly. I knew they were angry at SMG, and I knew how much they hated the Symanovs. But the next day, I saw Norwood walking around with that movie producer.”

  “O’Donahue,” Susan Carol said.

  “I cornered Norwood. I told him I knew the kidnapping was a fake—even though I didn’t—and I took a flyer and said, ‘You’re already planning the movie, Hughes. I’m going to blow the whistle on you.’

  “He tried the you-have-no-proof speech for a while—which was true, of course. I didn’t. But eventually he asked me what I was looking for. Which shook me up a little—I hadn’t really thought about it until then. So I told him I would think about it.”

  “Why, Uncle Brendan?” Susan Carol asked. “Why didn’t you just go to the police right then?”

  Gibson shook his head. “I should have,” he said. “But I really didn’t have proof at that point. I decided to see where the trail would lead. I went back to Norwood and said if I got a cut of the movie deal and if he promised not to make any move on Evelyn, I’d keep quiet. He agreed. That’s why I was in that meeting at the U.S. Open Club.”

  “So who actually kidnapped Nadia?” Stevie asked.

  “No one kidnapped her,” Gibson said. “I’m guessing those two guys you just arrested were in on it and a couple more guys. I think there were four in all. But they were hired by SMG. All they did was hide her out in SMG’s offices on the East Side until it was time for her to make her triumphant return.”

  “By which time the whole world wanted a piece of her incredible story,” Susan Carol said.

  “Exactly,” Gibson said. “This was probably a hundred-million-dollar kidnapping. Symanova will be endorsing everything—for millions—within a month. She’s going to be on the cover of Time and Newsweek, not to mention all the glamour magazines. The bidding for her shoe deal was at eighteen million a year on Thursday—and climbing. Rolex wants to sign her and so does Cartier. Those are massive deals. Some British publishing house is offering ten million for her life story. The movie deal will be worth at least thirty million. Lots more if it does well in the theaters. O’Donahue claims he’ll get Britney Spears to play Nadia.”

  “She’s not tall enough,” Susan Carol said.

  “Yeah, but she’s famous enough,” Gibson said.

  “You realize, Mr. Gibson, you’re subject to an accessory charge for not turning them in,” Dowling said.

  “I understand,” Gibson said. “Like I said back in the apartment, I know I screwed up.”

  “Odds are your helping us now and what just happened to you will be seen as mitigating circumstances.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” Gibson said.

  “So where did it fall apart?” Dowling asked. They were passing Shea Stadium now. Getting close.

  “After Evelyn’s second-round match,” Gibson said. “They got a good look at how much she had improved and got scared. Norwood told me the whole deal could fall apart unless Evelyn lost to Nadia today. I told him that was out of my control, that even if I tried to get Evelyn to throw the match, she wouldn’t do it. He said I needed to get control somehow, because if Evelyn won, the movie deal would go down the tubes. Nadia can’t lose so early in the tournament to a nobody. She needs to at least make it to the quarters.”

  “What about Serena Williams in the fourth round?” Susan Carol asked.

  “Serena’s hurt. Plus, she’s a power player. Power players don’t scare them. They think she can beat Serena and Makarova, and they’re even convinced she would beat Davenport or Venus Williams or Sharapova. There are only three players in the draw who make them nervous: the two Belgians—Clijsters and Henin-Hardenne, who she can’t play before the final—and Evelyn. Because those girls play with finesse; they’d run her around, tire her out.

  “If she loses to one of the Belgians in the final, it’s okay. But if she loses to Evelyn today, everything could go away. In fact, a lot of the deals might swing to Evelyn.”

  “But Symanova’s a star. She’s a beautiful kidnap victim…. Are these people that fickle?” Susan Carol asked.

  “You bet,” Gibson said. “As long as Symanova keeps winning, the stakes go up. But if she loses…”

  “She could have lost to Kim on Friday,” Stevie said.

  “Yes, she could have. I think that match is what panicked them. Kim plays finesse tennis but not nearly as well as Evelyn. That’s when I got the call saying they needed to meet with me that afternoon. At first I told them there was nothing to meet about, but they upped the ante.”

  “How?” they all asked.

  “They threatened Evelyn. That’s why I went to the apartment. As soon as I walked in, expecting Norwood and the Symanovs, the two guys jumped me. You know the rest. Susan Carol, I don’t know how to thank you. What you did was unbelievably brave.”

  “And stupid,” Dowling said.

  He pulled the car off the Grand Central Parkway and flashed his badge at the guards in front of the entrance to the players’ parking lot. The guards looked baffled but waved them through.

  They parked and got out of the car. Dowling told Ades to head for the security office and round up several police officers. “It’s a crowded place and we’ve got a bunch of people to arrest,” he said. “We’ll meet up inside and figure out how best to proceed.

  “Now,” Dowling said, “let’s go find Evelyn.”

  They had just walked inside the gate when Susan Carol’s cell phone rang. She opened it, smiled, and said, “It’s her.”

  Stevie could hear Evelyn’s excited voice coming through the phone as they walked. “We’re walking inside right now,” she said. “Where should we meet you?…Okay. Be there in about three minutes.”

  She closed the phone. “She was on a practice court,” she reported. “She’ll meet us outside the junior women’s locker room.”

  As they headed for the junior locker room, Stevie noticed people lined up to get into the stadium—even though the start of the match was more than an hour away. Dowling noticed too.

  “Gonna be a lot of disappointed people,” he said.

  “Why?” Stevie asked.

  “Won’t be much of a match with Symanova under arrest,” he answered.

  Stevie and Susan Carol both stopped in their tracks. Stevie could tell that, like him, Susan Carol hadn’t thought through the implications yet. Dowling read their body language.

  “You guys understand that Symanova has to be arrested, don’t you?” he said. “Clearly, she knew what was going on the whole time.”

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” Gibson said. “She knew exactly what was happening.”

  Stevie had realized that but hadn’t focused on the idea of Symanova not playing the match.

  “I’d have liked to see Evelyn beat her,” he said.

  “Me too,” Susan Carol said.

  “Me three,” said Gibson.

  They walked quietly down the halls and found Evelyn waiting for them. As soon as she saw Brendan Gibson, she ran into his arms. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said.

  “Thank Stevie and Susan Carol,” he said. “And Agent Dowling.”

  Evelyn shook hands with Pete Dowling, hugged Susan Carol, and then kissed Stevie—quite firmly—on the lips. Stevie felt his legs get a little bit weak. He thought—maybe he imagined it—that Susan Carol looked miffed.

  “Thank you all for everything,” she said. “God, Brendan, you had us scared to death.”

  “I had me pretty scared too,” he said, smiling. “But it’s all over now.”

  Evelyn took a deep breath. “I know. Well, I better pull myself together. I’ve got a match to play in about an hour.”

  They all looked at one another. It was Dowling who finally said something.

  “Ms. Rubin, you understand that Nadia Symanova was involved in Mr. Gibson’s abduction, among other things….”

  Evelyn’s face clouded. “Oh no! You’re not going to arrest her now
?!”

  “We have no choice. We have to arrest everyone involved.”

  Evelyn looked as if she was going to cry. Bob Ades rounded the corner. “Everyone’s waiting at the far end of the hall,” he told Dowling in a low voice. “I talked to that Kantarian guy and he said the parents and the agent are in the players’ lounge waiting for the match to start. And we believe Symanova is in the locker room here. Kantarian wanted to talk to you before we do anything. He’s not very happy.”

  Brendan Gibson put an arm around Evelyn. “Agent Dowling, let me ask you a question,” he said. “As long as you know where everyone is going to be, is there any reason why you can’t make the arrests after the match is over?”

  Dowling didn’t answer. “Agent Dowling, please,” Evelyn said. “It isn’t as if anyone is going to make a run for it. Please let me play this match. I know I can beat her. It won’t mean anything if I win by default.”

  “As long as I stay out of sight, no one will have any idea things aren’t going according to plan,” Gibson said.

  Dowling looked at Ades. “Any thoughts?”

  Ades smiled. “It’s not exactly our normal procedure,” he said. “But they’re right. No one is going to bolt, especially with the match going on.” He looked at Evelyn. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. Why deny her this moment?”

  “I forgot you’re a tennis fan,” Dowling said, smiling. “Okay. Let’s go meet with Kantarian. We need a safe place to hide Mr. Gibson, and we need to make sure the agent and the parents are being closely watched throughout.”

  Evelyn, who was apparently in a hugging mood, threw her arms around Dowling. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Dowling shook his head. “My life today is being run by teenage girls. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  Evelyn went into the locker room after they all had wished her good luck and cautioned her to stay as far away from Symanova as possible in there. They all went back down the hall, and Ades took Dowling in to see Arlen Kantarian while Stevie, Susan Carol, and Gibson hovered in the hallway. The FBI men weren’t gone for long. When they came back, a police officer was with them. “Officer Olmstead is going to take us to Mr. Kantarian’s box to watch the match,” Dowling explained. “Mr. Gibson, here’s a hat for you—try to be inconspicuous. Once it’s over, Olmstead will have people where they need to be. Mr. Kantarian’s only request was that the arrests be made out of sight of the public. They want as little commotion as possible.”

  Olmstead took them to a box halfway up in the stands in a corner of the court with a perfect angle to look down at the two players. He gave Dowling the seat locations for the Symanovs and Norwood. Dowling nodded and told him he and Ades would stop Symanova in the tunnel coming off the court. “We’ll need a female officer there,” he said.

  “I understand,” Olmstead said.

  “This is awful for women’s tennis,” Gibson said as they sat down. He was in the back corner of the box, hat pulled over his head to ensure that no one in the stands might notice him.

  “If Evelyn can win, she might be just what the women’s game needs,” Susan Carol said.

  “I’m not sure she even wants all this attention,” Gibson said. “She’s still just a kid.”

  The two players walked on court at exactly three o’clock to thunderous applause. “This feels like a final,” Gibson said. “Only bigger.”

  Both players looked nervous when the match began. But after the first few games, each seemed to find a groove. Rubin was moving Symanova around, trying to extend the points, making her run as much as possible. Symanova was using her power—especially on her serve—to try to end the points quickly. The momentum swung back and forth.

  Down six games to five and serving at 30–all, Evelyn tried a drop shot that Symanova got to and crushed into the corner. Set point for Symanova. The huge crowd was silent for one of the first times all afternoon. They had taken turns screaming for Symanova and then for Evelyn. They couldn’t seem to make up their collective mind about who they wanted to see win. Evelyn twisted in a serve and Symanova attacked, coming to net behind a forehand. Evelyn lifted a lob and the crowd gasped as Symanova backpedaled, preparing to hit an overhead. But the lob was so deep, she had to turn and chase it down. She sent a backhand across the net, but Evelyn had surprised her, coming to net herself. She picked off the shot and flicked a perfect volley into the corner. Set point saved. Then Evelyn won the next two points in rapid succession to make it 6–all in the set. Tiebreak.

  Then the tiebreak went to 6–all. Evelyn netted a nervous forehand. Set point Symanova. Stevie’s heart was in his throat. After all they had done, was Symanova still going to win—and then go to jail? The stadium was silent. Evelyn, bouncing on her toes, moved in a half step when a Symanova backhand landed a little short. She took it on the rise and cracked a backhand that Symanova never even moved for. It hit just inside the line. Seven–all.

  Now Symanova got nervous and she netted a forehand. Set point for Evelyn. The two teenagers stood at the baseline exchanging ground strokes. Finally, Evelyn went for a crosscourt dink. Symanova managed to run it down, but her lunging forehand sailed wide.

  “Game and first set Rubin,” the umpire said. “She leads one set to love. Second set. Rubin to serve.”

  Gibson was on his feet screaming along with the rest of the crowd—until Susan Carol reminded him to cool it. Mike Lupica had been right, this match was the gorgeous victim against the girl next door—or so the fans believed—and the crowd loved them both.

  Still, the second set was all Symanova and the crowd got fully behind her—clearly wanting the match to go to three sets. Symanova’s power seemed to be wearing on Evelyn. Symanova broke Evelyn’s serve at 4–all and then served the set out, winning 6–4. Stevie had thought the noise at the Final Four was as loud as he had ever heard. This felt louder.

  The third set was filled with remarkable shots and exchanges but each woman managed to hold serve until Symanova broke to lead 3–2. It looked over for Evelyn. But this time she broke right back, seeming to find an extra reserve of energy. Both players then held serve for 4–all.

  The match had now gone on for almost two and a half hours. Symanova was taking more time between points. It seemed like she thought she had the match won when she had broken Evelyn’s serve. But Evelyn breaking her back had thrown her and now she was trying desperately to regroup. Evelyn held to reach 5–4 again after hitting a drop shot that Symanova couldn’t get to. Suddenly, Evelyn was one game from winning the match.

  “In the first set, she gets to that ball,” Gibson said. “Symanova’s tired. I think she may be done!”

  Not quite. Serving at 4–5, Symanova summoned all her strength and held again with an exquisite backhand down the line that was on the line. Five games each. Then they each held serve for 6–all.

  They would play another tiebreak. The tension was unbearable. The crowd was on its feet now for every point. It sounded more like a football game than a tennis match. People were shrieking during points, causing others to shush them, but it was hard to hold back.

  As the tiebreak began, Olmstead reappeared. Stevie had almost forgotten about the impending arrests. “We’re all in position,” he said. “Both players will be interviewed on court when the match is over—loser first—so there’s time for you to get down to court level. I’ve got an elevator standing by for you.”

  “Thanks,” Dowling said.

  The third-set tiebreak was like the first-set tiebreak—only more excruciating. Evelyn had a match point at 6–5 but netted an easy forehand. Then Symanova had a match point of her own at 7–6, and just as she had done behind her first-set lob, Evelyn surprised her, coming to net and putting away an easy volley on a forehand that Symanova floated.

  “Can you believe she had the guts to do that?” Susan Carol said. “She’s amazing.”

  It went to 10–all and Evelyn attacked again, coming in behind a serve to set up a forehand volley for a winner.
It was 11–10—her third match point. They had been playing almost three hours. Stevie remembered the intensity of the final seconds of the national championship game at the Final Four. But this felt more tense because it was taking so long.

  Symanova served. Evelyn had to lunge to return and her backhand came back short. Symanova closed and hit a backhand volley that was just a tad tentative. Evelyn ran it down in the corner and lined up a forehand as Symanova waited at the net. “Crosscourt!” Gibson screamed. “Go crosscourt!”

  Symanova seemed to read his mind and moved a step to the right to cut off a possible crosscourt shot just as Evelyn uncorked a bullet straight down the line. Symanova lunged back—too late. The ball flew past her and landed cleanly inside both lines.

  “Game, set, match Rubin!” The umpire was shouting to be heard.

  The stadium had exploded in sound. Symanova, shoulders slumped, waited for Evelyn at the net. They hugged. On a TV monitor in the box, they could see Symanova was crying. It appeared Evelyn was too.

  “Come on,” Dowling said, already on his feet. “We need to move.”

  They hurried out of the box and Olmstead led them to an open elevator. They went straight to the basement and sprinted through the hallways toward the tunnel leading to the court. There were two more cops, both women, waiting for them at the top of the tunnel. They all ran down the tunnel, stopping just short of the entrance to the court. The crowd was still standing and cheering for both players. CBS had Bill Macatee on court for interviews. Macatee was talking to Symanova. The interviews were piped throughout the stadium, so they could hear loud and clear.

  “Nadia, I know this is a heartbreaking loss, but after what you’ve been through this week, to play in a match like this, you deserve cheers—win or lose,” Macatee said. The crowd erupted—the applause was staggering.

  “This has been a long, long week,” Symanova said over the noise. “Evelyn played so well.” She paused as the crowd cheered again. “I am happy to be part of a match like this, just sad that I lost.”