Two nights after their sparring session, the phone rang in Carl’s apartment. He took the call in his room, hoping that it was Vanessa, but the caller was Morris Wingate. The General had never phoned him before, and he worried that something had happened to Vanessa.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Wingate said. “I’m in D.C., but I’ll be back in California on Thursday night. Do you have any plans?”
Actually, he didn’t. He and Vanessa both had midterms and had agreed to study all week and not see each other.
“Good,” Wingate said. “I have a surprise planned for you on Thursday night. I’ll send a car at seven. Don’t tell Vanessa.”
The General hung up before Carl could ask him any questions. He wished that Wingate had not told him to keep their meeting a secret from Vanessa. What if he obeyed and she found out? If you loved someone-and Carl thought he might be in love with Vanessa-you shouldn’t have secrets. But Carl didn’t know why he wasn’t supposed to tell Vanessa. What if the General was planning a surprise for her and wanted him in on it? He’d be ruining everything if he told. Carl decided to wait and see what the General was planning. He could always tell Vanessa what had happened afterward.
A black town car parked in front of Carl’s apartment complex precisely at seven. Chauffeur-driven cars were a rarity in Carl’s neighborhood, and it drew stares.
“Where are you going?” Evelyn Rice asked her son.
“I don’t know, Mom. I told you, the General said it’s a surprise.”
“Why isn’t your girlfriend going with you?”
“I don’t know that either.” Carl put on his jacket and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’ve got to go.”
Evelyn wrapped her arms around her body to keep her emotions in as Carl closed the apartment door behind him. Her son had been tight-lipped about this girl he was seeing. All Evelyn knew was that Vanessa was very rich, her mother was dead, and her father lived in Washington, D.C., most of the year and ran an intelligence agency. Evelyn did not approve of leaving a child unsupervised for long periods of time, and she thought it was odd that someone as important as General Wingate would invite her son out for an evening without asking his daughter along; but Carl had been so happy lately that she had kept her forebodings to herself.
Some of the neighborhood kids made remarks when the chauffeur opened the door for Carl, and he felt self- conscious as he slipped into the backseat next to the General. A bodyguard sat in the front seat next to the driver. Both men wore their hair long and were dressed in civilian clothes. Wingate was wearing a black shirt and dark slacks.
“How are your exams going?” the General asked when they were under way.
“Okay, I think. I took two this week and I have three more next week.”
“Vanessa thinks she did well on her calculus test. She credits you with her improvement.”
Carl colored. “She would have done okay without me.”
“She also told me how you protected her from Sandy Rhodes.” Carl looked away. “That took courage. I’ve seen Sandy and his friend. They’re much bigger than you.”
“I surprised Sandy, and they didn’t know how to fight,” Carl mumbled.
The General studied Carl for a moment before speaking. “Modesty is a good trait, Carl, but you shouldn’t overdo it. Using surprise in a fight is admirable. Men only fight fair on TV. Fighting is not a game. In any event, I am indebted to you for protecting Vanessa.”
Carl didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. The General dropped the subject, and they rode without speaking until the car turned off the highway and headed east into farm country.
“I think you’ll find tonight interesting.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a sporting competition,” Wingate answered with an enigmatic smile. “Your fight with Sandy and his friend wasn’t your first, was it?”
“No,” Carl answered suspiciously, not sure where Wingate was going.
“Did you ever join the Marauders?” Carl’s eyes widened. “I know you’ve participated in some of their gang fights but it’s not clear how far the association goes.”
“How did…?”
Wingate smiled. “I’m the head of an intelligence agency, Carl. How good an agency would it be if it couldn’t even run a background check on my daughter’s boyfriend?”
Carl darkened. “I don’t think that’s right, sir.”
“My daughter hates me. She blames me for her mother’s death and she goes out of her way to hurt me. On occasion she takes up with boys who could hurt her badly. She dates them simply to cause me pain. I love Vanessa very much. Sometimes I have to protect her from herself. That means finding out what I can about her friends and, on occasion, dealing with boys who could be a problem.”
The General read the alarm in Carl’s eyes. He smiled warmly. “You’re not someone who’s bad for her, Carl. I’m greatly relieved that she’s finally found someone like you, someone with character.”
Carl felt the tension drain from his shoulders.
“I still have to know about the Marauders, though,” the General insisted.
“There’s not much to know. I have friends from my old school who are in the gang. I’m not. When I earned my black belt I wanted to see how I would do outside a gym, you know, on the street where there weren’t any rules. I was in one fight and the cops picked me up. They couldn’t prove anything, so they let me go. There weren’t any charges, but being arrested shook me up. I told my friends I wasn’t going in with them. We’re still friends.”
“How did you do without any rules?”
Carl looked the General in the eye. “Very well.”
Wingate smiled and dropped the conversation. In the east, the hills slowly faded in the growing darkness and the sky filled with stars. The town car turned onto a dirt road and drove through an orchard. Carl saw a light in the distance flickering through the trees. Moments later they were in front of a large barn, parking beside a sleek limousine. Several other expensive cars were parked nearby. When the driver opened the door for the General, Carl heard noise coming from the interior of the barn. The General’s bodyguard had gone ahead. He knocked on a door. It opened an inch and a fat man who was smoking a cigar peered out. Wingate’s bodyguard gave the fat man a wad of cash and said something that Carl could not hear. The fat man slipped the money into his pocket and broke into a smile.
“General, it’s a pleasure.”
“It sounds like you’ve got some interesting contests planned.”
“We’ll keep you entertained,” the fat man assured Wingate as he stepped aside to let Carl, the General, and Wingate’s protection into the barn.
A series of spotlights were focused on a cleared sand rectangle in the center of the barn, leaving the majority of the interior in shadow. Thick clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke created a haze, and excited exchanges took place between the people seated on folding chairs that ringed the open space. They were an odd mix of men and women. Some were dressed in formal attire, others in casual clothes. There were men in cowboy boots, plaid flannel shirts, and jeans and a few men who looked as if they’d just left a Vegas casino.
At the far side of the barn several men were exchanging money in front of a portable bar. Wingate led Carl to some chairs in the first row. There were “reserved” signs on the seats. The driver and the bodyguard stood behind the last row of chairs, where they could keep an eye on everyone.
“What’s going on, sir?” Carl asked.
“The man who let us in is Vincent Rodino. He organizes unorthodox sporting events. I learned about this one a few days ago and thought it might interest you.”
Carl was about to ask another question when the lights dimmed and Rodino walked to the center of the sand rectangle that the seats surrounded. Two men were entering the rectangle from opposite sides. The man who entered from the left was stocky and his thick chest was matted with black hair. His legs were short and heavily muscled, as were his arms. There was a layer of scar tissue above the man’s eyebrows, and his nose had been broken more than once. He wore boxing trunks and footgear but no gloves.
Carl recognized the other man from a recent karate tournament. He was tall, slender, and bare-fisted and wore only the black bottoms of his karategi.
