Cover-up (17 page)

Susan Carol came back in, closing her phone. “Stevie, I think your phone is off,” she said. “Eddie said he got voice mail. He wants us to meet him at the Dome after practice,” she said.

“Why?” Stevie asked, checking his phone and seeing he
had
accidentally turned it off.

“I'm not sure exactly,” Susan Carol said. “He just said, ‘Enough is enough, we need to settle this.' He wants to meet us in one of the owner's boxes so we'll have complete privacy. He says he can set it up.”

“We might have trouble getting in the building,” Kelleher said. “It's off-limits to the media until Sunday.”

“He's making arrangements for us to get in through the back loading dock,” Susan Carol said. “Power of being a star. But…”

“What?” Tamara said.

“He doesn't want you guys there. He's afraid if the four of us show up it will draw too much attention.”

Kelleher was shaking his head vehemently. “We just had this conversation,” he said. “I already feel guilty about what happened this morning. I can't let you guys go off on your own again.”

“This is different,” Susan Carol said.

“Bobby, relax. I don't think Eddie Brennan is laying a trap for them,” Tamara said. “Why would he?”

Kelleher sighed and looked at Mearns. “Are you sure we want to have kids?” he said.

“Cats aren't a lot of trouble, you know,” she said.

“Let's go listen to the commissioner,” he said. “We've got two hours to figure out what to do.”

Stevie had read that Roger Goodell was only forty-seven when he was named commissioner. He looked younger, with his wavy blond hair and snappy, perfectly fitted blue suit. His comments were pretty predictable: selecting Indianapolis to host the Super Bowl had been a masterstroke on the part of the owners; the new dome was spectacular; he anticipated a great game and was proud of the fact that an expansion team had reached the Super Bowl in only its third season. The questions were, for the most part, hohum. The local TV people wanted him to talk about what he had enjoyed most in Indianapolis. “Today's weather!” he replied enthusiastically, then went on to talk about the “remarkable” hospitality everyone had experienced all week.

It was Mark Maske of the
Washington Post,
someone Tamara had introduced Stevie to during one of the media sessions in the Dome, who finally asked a question that got Stevie's attention. There were rumblings, Maske said, that the new drug-testing system was less than perfect, that positive tests might be “slipping through the cracks.”

Goodell had obviously been prepped that such a question might be coming. “No system is perfect right out of the chute, Mark,” he said. “We knew and the union knew that once we got into blood testing, especially with the need to confirm any positive test with a B sample, there would be complications. But I think the fact that we've tested every player in the league, some on several occasions, and had only twenty-seven suspensions since training camp is proof the system is working—and also proof that the HGH problem may not be as widespread as some people feared. Twenty-seven positives out of close to two thousand tests isn't awful.”

Stevie and Susan Carol looked at each other. Did Maske know something that would cause him to ask such a question? Mearns read their minds. “Mark's good,” she said. “But there's been talk about trouble with the new system. He's just on top of that—nothing more.”

When the session was over, they filed out with every other media person in the city and then made plans to go get the real story.

Kelleher agreed Stevie and Susan Carol could go alone, but he extracted a promise.

“If you check in with us every fifteen minutes, I won't call your parents and tell them what's going on.”

Stevie wondered if he was joking. It didn't look like he was. “How about every thirty minutes?”

“Nope,” Kelleher said. “Every fifteen. If you go past fifteen minutes once, I call Dome security or the cops or both. You can take turns making the call.”

“Okay then, Dad,” said Stevie.

Tamara snickered.

“Fine, laugh—but
call
me.”

They left the hotel shortly after three o'clock. Stevie and Susan Carol circled to the far side of the Dome in search of the loading dock as directed by Eddie. Stevie was very happy that the day was relatively warm because the walk took a good fifteen minutes. As they approached the dock, they saw several police cars with their lights flashing and three buses.

“Whoa,” Susan Carol said. “Let's wait until they pull out of here. No need to take a chance on running into Snow getting on one of those buses.”

They angled over to stand in the shadow of the building while the players, still in uniform but with their cleats off, trudged out to the bus.

“This is the only day they actually practice in the Dome—but I guess they shower back at the hotel,” Susan Carol said. “Why don't you call Kelleher while we're waiting.”

Stevie nodded, dialed Kelleher, and told him they were about to walk into the Dome.

“Call me again in fifteen minutes,” Kelleher said. “You were a minute late this time, but I cut you some slack because I know it's a long walk around the building.”

Stevie recognized Coach Skyler Kaplow, dressed in a Dreams sweatshirt, walking to the bus. If Snow was with the group, they didn't see him. They waited until the police escort pulled out with the buses following and then walked the last few yards to the loading dock entrance. As soon as they reached the bottom of the ramp, they found several security guards.

“Can we help you?” one of them asked.

“I'm with CBS,” Stevie said, flashing his credential. “I think you have our names there anyway—Steve Thomas and Susan Carol Anderson?”

“Uh-uh,” the guard said. “There are no names and no list today. If you're CBS, you have to go back around to the front entrance….”

Stevie was about to become exasperated when another guard walked up from behind. “Actually, they're okay, Frank,” he said. “They're with Brennan. He told me about them coming in.” He smiled. “Sorry, kids, I had to go inside to show Ed to the elevator. Follow me, he's waiting for you.”

Relieved, Stevie and Susan Carol followed the guard into the hallway.

“So, couple of kid reporters getting an exclusive with Eddie Brennan, huh?” the guard said. “Boy, is he a good guy.”

“Great guy,” Susan Carol said, turning on the smile.

“Yeah,” the guard said. “He told me the team has the rest of the day off, so he had some extra time for you.”

They had reached an elevator bank. The guard pushed the
UP
button and the door opened immediately. He stepped onto it, turned a key of some kind, and hit 6.

“Just turn right when you get off on six and go about a hundred yards,” he said, stepping out of the elevator. “It's box twenty-four. It'll be Meeker's box on Sunday.”

Stevie shuddered just a bit at the thought of walking into Don Meeker's box. But Susan Carol boldly knocked on the door.

“Come in!” a voice said.

They opened the door. As promised, Eddie Brennan was waiting for them. But he wasn't alone.

“Come on in, guys,” Brennan said. “I want you to meet someone.”

17:
HAIL MARY!

FOR A MOMENT,
Stevie semi-panicked. Brennan was wearing a friendly smile, though, and he decided he would look like a fool if he grabbed Susan Carol and made a run for it.

“Stevie, Susan Carol, this is Bob Arciero,” Brennan said, nodding at a man with jet-black hair, graying at the temples, and wire-rimmed glasses. He was smiling too as the four of them met in the middle of the box to shake hands. Stevie noticed that the box was spacious, but nothing like the one he had met Steve Bisciotti in a couple of days earlier. “Bob is another one of our team doctors. He's the orthopedic surgeon who fixed my shoulder a couple years ago.”

“Did a hell of a job too, if I say so myself,” Arciero said, laughing.

“He's known for his modesty,” Brennan said. At that point he stopped smiling. “And unlike Dr. Snow, he's also known for his honesty. So when I saw him here today, I told Coach Kaplow that I needed to stay behind this afternoon so he could look at my shoulder.”

Arciero shook his head. “I feel so bad about this. Eddie just filled me in on what's gone on this week. What Meeker and Snow are doing is beyond inexcusable. To be honest, I'm shocked the coaches are allowing it, but I'm sure Meeker told them all they'd be fired if they opened their mouths.”

“You mean you didn't know anything about it?” Susan Carol said.

Arciero shook his head emphatically. “Not until just now. Like Eddie said, I'm the orthopedic surgeon. So I'm not around every day. But now that I
do
know, I'm not going to sit idly by and allow this to happen.”

“What can you do?” Stevie said.

“I can get you the results of the drug tests,” Arciero said calmly.

Stevie and Susan Carol looked at each other.

“I should have gone to Bob with this sooner,” Brennan said. “I wasn't thinking straight until Darin filled me in on the details of what Snow did to you two. Then I got mad.”

“
How,”
Susan Carol said to Arciero, “can you get the drug tests?”

“The test results should be on file at the team's training facility. One of the other doctors in my practice is still in L.A. and can go over there this afternoon and pull the records.”

“They'll just let him walk in and do that?”

“Of course. We all have access to the medical files of all our players. They probably won't even ask him why he needs to get into the files, but if they do, he'll just say he needs to pull some information on game-day meds that I need.”

“And the drug tests will be in the files?” Stevie said.

“I suspect that's the
only
place they'll be. If they're trying to hide them, they'd get someone to ‘lose' the results at the lab, where they don't know who has access to files and who doesn't. But at the training facility, the only people who have access to the files are the team's medical staff. Gus, that's my partner, can fax them to me today and then bring hard copies with him when he flies in tomorrow.”

Stevie looked at Susan Carol. “That would be perfect,” she said. “If we've got the documents, you don't need to go on record, Eddie.”

Brennan nodded. “Which, to be honest, is important. If the other players knew I was involved in this, I might not survive the game on Sunday.”

Arciero agreed. “That's for sure,” he said. “Cheaters aren't the bad guys in professional sports; the ones who expose the cheating are.”

“But if we write the story to run on Sunday, what do you think will happen?” Stevie asked.

“I don't know,” Brennan said. “I doubt the league will suspend the guys on the day of the Super Bowl. It will be a bombshell, but I think we'll still play the game.”

“How will you feel if you win?” Susan Carol said.

“I'm not sure,” Brennan said. “I mean, I want to play. I want to
win.
But all I've been able to think about this week are the drugs that
I
didn't even take! I feel like I've got to help you to clear my own head. I couldn't do nothing. But I can't go on record….”

“Because your teammates would hate you?” asked Stevie.

“Oh yeah.”

“But how do you feel about
them
? Your teammates who tested positive?” Stevie asked.

“I'm torn,” Brennan said. “They're my friends. I like them all. I even understand why guys feel like HGH could help their careers. The chance to make big money in this sport doesn't usually last long. But I can't condone this. I just can't.”

They were all silent for a moment. “If we're going to do this,” Arciero said, “I should call Gus right away.”

Stevie and Susan Carol looked at Brennan.

“Make the call,” he said.

Arciero pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.

In the end, they decided faxing the reports was a bad idea. The fax would have to go to the hotel, and it was too dangerous to have some hotel employee looking at the test results and deciding he had important information that should be shared with, say, ESPN or USTV.

Arciero agreed to have his partner take a red-eye out of Los Angeles. He would land in Chicago early Saturday morning and be in Indianapolis in time for breakfast. That would give Arciero plenty of time to get the documents to Stevie and Susan Carol and allow them to write something for Sunday's paper.

“I will drive downtown with the documents myself,” Arciero said.

They were all shaking hands when Stevie's cell phone started ringing. Seeing the number, he smiled. “Whoops. Forgot to call Bobby.”

He could hear Susan Carol explaining their deal with Kelleher to Brennan and Arciero while he talked. “We'll be back in a few minutes,” he said. “Everything is okay.”

But even still, Stevie caught himself looking over his shoulder a couple times as they circled back around the Dome.

“What are you looking for?” Susan Carol asked.

“Not sure,” Stevie said. “Mike and Moe? Snow? Anyone? I just keep thinking something is bound to happen.”

“I know what you mean,” Susan Carol said. “Look, we're still a long way from getting this done. Even if we do get those documents, you can bet the lawyers at the
Herald
are going to have a lot of questions.”

“Lawyers?” he said. “Why would a newspaper have lawyers?”

She gave him the “you are too stupid to live” look. “Every newspaper has lawyers,” she said. “The TV networks do too. You can't just print a story accusing someone of something like this without being a hundred percent sure you've got it right. Newspapers don't like getting sued. There's an old saying in the newspaper business that if you lose a lawsuit, you might lose a printing press.”

“How do you know everything about everything?”

She smiled. “I think it's called reading? You may have heard of it while you were watching
Daily News Live,
once upon a time.”

“Now you sound like my mother.”

“Remarkably smart woman, your mother.”

A minute later, they walked into the Marriott and found Kelleher and Mearns waiting for them. They sat down in the lounge and Stevie and Susan Carol filled them in.

“Brennan is really out on a limb here,” Kelleher commented. “Anyone finds out he's involved in this, his career could be over.”

“But why?” Susan Carol said. “He's doing the right thing.”

“According to you and me and most reasonable people,” Bobby said. “But in the culture of the locker room, he'd be nothing but a snitch.”

“The drug-test results will come out eventually anyway,” Stevie said. “He's not turning his teammates in as much as he's exposing Meeker's cover-up.”

“You're being logical, Stevie,” Tamara said. “You can't apply logic in situations like these.”

They had to figure out a plan to get a story written the next day when the documents were in hand, and decide where the story should run. There was no way the
Post
and the
Herald
were going to agree to run the same story written by the same writers. “My editors won't be at all happy with this story breaking in the
Herald,
” Tamara said. “But Stevie's here for the
Herald
and Susan Carol isn't here for the
Post.
You should write it for the
Herald.
”

“What's going to happen when the story breaks?” Stevie asked.

Kelleher sat back in his seat. “Honestly? I don't know,” he said. “All hell will break loose, that much I guarantee. The league will have to decide whether to try to suspend the players for the game. They probably can't, really, since the rules require a second test to be positive too.”

“True,” Tamara said. “But the league can't just sit back and do nothing. An owner has manipulated the rules—completely ignored them, actually. There's no way Goodell will want to hand the Lombardi Trophy to Meeker on Sunday night after this story breaks on Sunday morning.”

Susan Carol, who had been staring at a TV screen over Kelleher's shoulder, snapped back into the conversation. “You want to know the truth?” she said. “At this point, I don't care what the league does on Sunday. I don't know what the solution is. But I know what the problem is, and I want everyone else to know too so something—anything—can be done.”

Tamara smiled. “Remember when I told you a few months ago you weren't cut out for TV?” she said. “This is why. You have the heart and soul of a reporter. You're not an entertainer. You're a reporter.”

“Well,” Susan Carol said, “I'm ready to do some serious reporting tomorrow.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent doing background research. One statistic Kelleher came up with was fascinating: the five accused linemen had started the season weighing an average of fifteen pounds more than when they first came into the league.

Susan Carol had no USTV obligations until after the game on Sunday. The network would devote Saturday to coverage of the Hall of Fame announcement and endless analysis of the game, so
Kid-Sports
was off the hook and off the air until after the game.

Stevie and CBS were another story. Stevie called Andy Kaplan to find out if he was expected to do anything for the pregame show. “Right now I think the answer's no,” Kaplan said. “It isn't because they didn't love what you did, but because we have so many people down here jockeying for airtime. Sean's got to try to keep his stars happy.”

Stevie wasn't disappointed to hear that news. He wondered if he owed CBS any kind of tip-off. After all, they had been very good to him, and this story would certainly affect their game coverage—not to mention the pregame show. But he doubted they'd believe him without proof, and they didn't have that yet, so he told Kaplan nothing at all.

They ate dinner at St. Elmo again because it was easy—thanks to Mike D'Angelo. Stevie didn't think it was possible, but there were more stars in the place than on the previous nights.

“City is really starting to get crowded,” Kelleher commented as a wave of security people led Matt Damon to a private room. A few minutes later, Stevie saw another wave of security people coming: Dan Snyder, the owner of the Washington Redskins, was coming in along with Tom Cruise.

“Place is really crawling with celebs tonight,” Mearns said.

“Ever since Snyder signed that deal with Cruise, he trots him out every chance he gets,” Kelleher said. “He must be pretty sick of the whole thing.”

“Sick of it?” Mearns said. “Look at him—he's wearing sunglasses indoors in February. The guy's nuts anyway.”

“I liked
Mission: Impossible,
” Stevie said.

“Oh please,” Susan Carol said. “The last good movie he was in was
Rain Man,
and Dustin Hoffman was the reason that worked.”

Stevie had never seen
Rain Man,
so he decided not to argue.