The Boxer and the Spy (15 page)

“My scholarship?”

“Forget about it. You go along with me, I go along with you. You only cross me once.”

“I was trying to do the right thing for you, Mr. Bullard,” Kip Carter said. “Novak was getting too close. I thought I could pound the fear of God into him.”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” Bullard said. “You turned yourself into a joke. I got no use for a joke.”

“And now you’re going to ruin my scholarship.”

“Absolutely.”

“Mr. Bullard, I ... You can’t just throw me away ... I know stuff.”

“And you’ll keep your mouth shut about anything you know,” Bullard said. “Or you’ll be swimming with the fishes like the other guy.”

Despite the obvious rage he was in, Bullard’s voice was suddenly quiet and hard as winter ice. Kip Carter realized he was seeing the Mr. Bullard that Jason must have seen, just before he died.

“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “You can trust me, sir.”

“And you can trust me,” Bullard said. “You say one word and I’ll bury you.”

“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “I won’t say anything.”

Bullard stared at him for a long time without speaking. Then he nodded slowly.

“No,” Bullard said. “You won’t.”

Bullard jerked his head toward the door and Kip Carter turned and left. He appeared cowed and his head was down, but to himself he said,
The hell I won’t.

T
erry was through soaking his hands when Kip Carter walked into George’s training room.

“Fight’s over, son,” George said to him.

“I don’t want to fight,” Kip Carter said.

Terry looked at him silently.

“So what do you want?” Abby said.

“I want to tell you about Mr. Bullard,” he said.

Behind him the doorway was suddenly blocked by Bullard’s huge frame.

“You three,” he said. “Come with me.”

“No,” Terry said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“He’s got nothing to say and you three are coming with me.”

Again Terry said, “No.”

Bullard reached out and grabbed Terry by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

“No?” Bullard said. “No? You don’t say no to me.”

Abby made a little sound.

“Let go the boy, Mr. Bullard,” George said.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, George was a sturdy middle-sized man, but he looked frail, Abby thought, compared to Mr. Bullard. Bullard let go of Terry and turned his head as if he had heard a fly buzz.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t put your hands on the children,” George said.

“Who the hell are you?” Bullard said.

“My name’s George.”

“Well, George.” Bullard drew the name out so that it sounded mocking. “I am the principal of the high school, and these children are facing disciplinary action of a serious nature. If you stand there quietly and keep your mouth shut, you may not get into trouble.”

“Talk to them right here,” George said. “And don’t touch them.”

Bullard was trembling with partially contained rage. He looked volcanic.

“They’re coming with me,” Bullard said.

George shook his head.

“No? You’re telling me no? You really think you can stop me?”

“Maybe so,” George said.

Bullard spit on the floor in contempt.

“You three, now, come with me.”

Terry, Abby, and Kip all said, “No,” at the same time. Bullard’s voice was thick, as if his throat was clogged.

“Then by God, I’ll drag you out of here,” Bullard said.

George stepped away from the wall and stood between the kids and Bullard. His arms were no longer folded. He held his hands relaxed in front of his chin, tapping his fingertips together lightly.

“Why don’t you go someplace, Mr. Bullard,” George said. “Have some tea. Take a shower. Calm down so’s you won’t do something crazy.”

Bullard put his right hand out to shove George aside. George checked it aside with his own right and blocked it hard with his left.

“We don’t really want to fight, do we, Mr. Bullard? Two grown men, in front of the kids?”

Bullard made a sound like a loud growl and lunged at George. George slid to his right and, as the lunge passed, knocked Bullard down with a right hook. Bullard sat down hard and looked startled for a moment. Then he growled again and struggled to his feet. Terry pushed Abby behind him to the wall and stayed in front of her. Kip Carter, too, got out of the way.

“Oh my god,” Abby said.

Terry and Kip Carter said nothing.

George was in his boxer’s stance now, hands protecting his head, arms and elbows protecting the body. His feet were in the right place.

“It’s not too late, Mr. Bullard,” he said. “We could stop here.”

Bullard snarled and swung at George with a massive fist. George blocked it and countered. George’s hand movements were almost too fast to follow. Straight right, left to the body, right to the body, turning the hip, pushing off with his legs. Left hook to the head, right cross, left jab, and a brutal right uppercut that put Bullard down and kept him there. He wasn’t exactly out, Terry thought. But he couldn’t get his legs under him. It all took less than thirty seconds.

“I believe you saw this man assault me,” George said.

They nodded.

“I think it’s time to call the cops,” George said.

Kip Carter went and stood over Bullard, looking down at him.

“He killed Jason Green,” Kip said.

“Imagine the cops might be interested in that too,” George said.

T
hey were in the Cabot police station with a Cabot police detective named Morris and a state police detective named Fogarty. Bullard was in another room with two other detectives. George was in the waiting room. Fogarty was doing the questioning.

“None of you is under arrest,” Fogarty said. “You understand that? You are free to leave if you wish.”

The three kids said they understood.

“You two are minors,” he said to Terry and Abby, “so we’d rather not question you without your parents here. But I’d like to have you hear Carter’s story, so when you have the proper adult supervision, you can comment on it.”

Terry nodded.

Abby said, “Yes sir.”

“But you,” Fogarty said to Kip, “are eighteen. We will be very happy to listen to what you got to say.”

“Sure,” Kip said.

Morris clicked on a tape recorder.

“I’m Detective William Morris of the Cabot Police Department. We are taking a statement, voluntarily given by Kippen L. Carter, age eighteen, of Cabot, Massachusetts, a student at William Dawes Regional High School. The interview is being conducted with me by State Police Detective Lieutenant Alan Fogarty at Cabot, Massachusetts, Police Headquarters.”

He gave the date and looked at Kip.

“You ready?” he said.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell us your story,” Fogarty said.

“Mr. Bullard, was, ah, a big football freak, you know? He was a big star in college and coulda gone pro but hurt his knee.”

“Where?” Fogarty said.

“Where?”

“Where’d he go to college?”

“Illinois.”

“University of?”

“Yes. He got me a scholarship there.”

Terry and Abby sat side by side in the interrogation room listening. Terry had his hands folded in his lap. Abby rested her hand on Terry’s forearm.

“And you were grateful,” Fogarty said.

“Yes sir,” Kip said. “He used to give us, the guys on the football team, the ones that were good, he used to give us steroids.”

“Can you name what he gave you?”

“Not really,” Kip said.

“Hard to remember,” Fogarty said. “We’ll come back to that later.”

“We won the state super bowl last fall,” Kip said.

“I’ll need the names of the other kids getting steroids from Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Do I have to?” Kip said.

“‘Fraid so, son,” Fogarty said. “It’s all out of the bottle now. There’s no stuffing it back in.”

Kip took in a deep breath.

“I gotta get through this,” he said. “Can I give you a list, after?”

“Sure,” Fogarty said.

“So one day he ...”

“Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Yeah, Mr. Bullard, he brings me in his office and he says to me, how he helped me out with the ‘roids and how he got me the scholarship to Illinois. And I say yes, like, I’m very grateful. And he says that the school is building a house, you know, the technical arts guys, and he says they need a little supervision, and would I be his man on the project? And I say sure, what am I supposed to do, and he says it’s an experimental project and he doesn’t want it talked about yet, and I’m to make sure none of the kids working on the project asks a bunch of questions or talks about it to other people, you know?”

“And you agreed,” Fogarty said.

“Sure. It was easy, they were all scared of me ...” Kip paused and looked at Terry. “Except him, I guess.”

“What was the experiment?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t think there was one. I think him and Mrs. Trent were building the houses and selling them and keeping the money.”

“Mrs. Trent the current candidate for governor,” Fogarty said.

“Yes.”

“Why did you think it’s a scam?” Fogarty said.

“Well, she was around a lot, and he was around a lot, and all the kids, me too, kept wondering what was going to happen to the house when it was done.”

“Were there other houses?”

“I guess so. Some of the older kids say there were,” Kip said.

“What happened to them?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know even where they were built.”

“Why do you think Mrs. Trent was involved?”

“She was there with him a lot. And sometimes they would, ah, sort of paw each other when they thought no one saw them.”

“Who was the project supervisor?”

“Mr. Malcolm is head of the tech arts curriculum,” Kip said. “I guess it was him. He wasn’t around much. And the construction supervisor guys, they just knew about carpentry and wiring and stuff. Plus, you know, I was supposed to keep the kids from even asking.”

Fogarty nodded slowly. He looked at Morris.

Then he said, “And what about Jason Green?”

“And
...
I guess I was kinda, um, flattered he asked me. ”

F
ogarty walked out of the interview room with Terry and Abby.

“You kids got nothing to worry about,” Fogarty said. “We’ll need you to testify, but you haven’t done anything bad, and a lot of what you did was good.”