Bobby Maurice was arrested by members of Scotland Yard on charges of bribery and race-fixing while he was having a drink and eating some shrimp with Bill Arnold in the NBC corporate area. Maurice instantly fingered Arnold—somehow thinking he had brought about his downfall. Apparently Arnold had once been one of Trevor James’s business partners and had introduced Maurice to him.
Stevie’s only disappointment was that Arnold insisted J. P. Scott wasn’t involved. All Scott knew was what he had told them before the race: that if Krylova and Susan Carol finished one-two—regardless of order—Brickley was going to give each of them a five-year contract worth ten million dollars with the winner getting a two-million bonus. They would have rolled out the new line of Brickley Gold swimwear together in a hands-across-the-sea marketing campaign.
Krylova knew nothing, just as Susan Carol had known nothing. Krylova’s father had been negotiating, it turned out, for her as well.
When Wielgus presented the cell phone evidence to FINA and the IOC, a brand-new three-member protest committee consisting of FINA officials from Brazil, France, and Australia was instantly formed. They looked at the tape for less than five minutes and ruled Elizabeth Wentworth’s turn legal. She was restored to first place, Susan Carol to second, Krylova to third.
Because of the unique circumstances, the two American swimmers had been taken into one of the ready rooms along with several people they had asked to see before the medal ceremony finally began.
Stevie, Bobby, and Tamara were there along with Ed Brennan and Peter Ward, the US assistant coach who had been working with Elizabeth. Mike Unger was there so that Stevie and Bobby could tell him what they’d done to get the phone.
“He’s telling Scotland Yard you assaulted him,” Unger said. “Unfortunately, witnesses say he just slipped.”
“Witnesses?”
“Well, one witness,” Unger said. “Me. I was just turning the corner when I saw him slip and drop his phone. Nice of you to pick it up for him.”
“The security guards?” Stevie asked.
“I don’t think they saw anything,” Unger said. “Shame.”
Susan Carol and Elizabeth had both greeted Stevie with lengthy hugs. Elizabeth had squeezed him so tight he thought he might explode.
Don Anderson was clearly stunned and horrified by everything that had happened. “Honey, I am so sorry. You’ve been trying to tell me not to trust these guys. But I never imagined … I mean, I wanted … But not …”
“I know,” said Susan Carol—and somehow, she did.
“I don’t care what contracts we have to break, but we are through with these people. From now on you just swim, and we’ll figure it out together.”
“Daddy, I’m retiring from swimming,” Susan Carol said quietly. “At least for a while.” He started to say something, but she put up her hand. “Nothing I do will ever match the two races I swam here this week. I’ll swim the relay, but then I need a break. I think we both do.”
Stevie looked at Reverend Anderson, waiting for a protest. None was forthcoming.
“I’ll support whatever you want to do, 100 percent,” he said, nodding. He turned to Stevie. “And, you, I owe you a big apology and a thank-you. Bobby and Tamara too. You and Ed were Susan Carol’s true friends through all of this.”
Susan Carol put her arm around Stevie. “He’s my best friend,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “In so many ways.”
She gave him The Smile. “Ready to be partners again?” she said.
“Oh yes, Scarlett,” he said. “Definitely, yes.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, with their friends and family allowed to watch from the deck, the three 200-butterfly medalists marched back into the pool area for the medal ceremony. Amazingly, the place was still almost packed, and Susan Carol couldn’t help but notice that the entire American team had stayed. Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte were holding an American flag over their heads.
Svetlana Krylova had graciously hugged Susan Carol and Elizabeth just before they walked onto the deck and said, “I hope we race many more times.”
The cheers were long and loud as each of them was given her medal. Then Susan Carol again heard: “Ladies and gentlemen. Please rise for the playing of the United States’ national anthem.”
As the first notes began to play and the three flags started up to the rafters, Susan Carol felt a hand on her shoulder.
It was Elizabeth.
“Hey,” she whispered. “They’re playing our song. Get up here.”
She grabbed Susan Carol’s hand and pulled her up onto the gold medal stand.
So they stood there together, arms around one another, tears streaming down their faces, singing at the top of their lungs.
Rush for the Gold: Mystery at the Olympics Page 24
