did we’d take him right there, but I wanted to see what he’d do. He glanced over his shoulder back toward the washroom. No one came out. He leaned against the wall at the corner and took out what looked like a spyglass. He aimed the spyglass down the ramp, leaning it against the corner of the kiosk. He adjusted the focus, raised and lowered a little, then took a large Magic Marker and drew a small black stripe under the spyglass, holding the spyglass like a straight edge against the building. He put the Magic Marker away, sighted the spyglass again by holding it against the line on the wall, and then collapsed it and slipped it away in his pocket. Without looking around he went in the men’s room.
Maybe three minutes later he came out. It was noon. The morning games were ending and the crowd began to pour out. From almost empty, the corridors under the stands became jammed. I forced after Paul and stayed with him to the subway. But as the train for Berri Montigny pulled out of Viau I was standing three rows back on the boarding platform calling the man in front of me an asshole.
27
By the time I got back to the stadium, it had cleared. Ticket holders for the afternoon games would not be admitted for an hour. I hung around the entrance marked for our ticket section and Hawk showed up in five minutes. Kathie wasn’t holding his arm. She was walking a little behind him. When he saw me he shook his head.
I said, “I saw him.”
“He alone?”
“Yeah. I lost him, though, in the subway.”
“Shit.”
“He’ll be back. He was marking out a position up on the second deck. This afternoon we’ll go take a look at it.”
Kathie said to Hawk, “Can we eat?”
“Want to try the Brasserie down there?” Hawk said to me.
“Yeah.”
We moved down toward the open area before the station stairs near the Sports Center. There were small hot- dog and hamburg stands, souvenir stands, a place to buy coins and stamps, a washroom, and a big festive-looking tent complex with the sides open and banners flying from the tent-pole peaks. Inside were big wooden tables and benches. Waiters and waitresses circulated, taking orders and bringing food and drink.
We ate, beer and sausage, and watched the excited people eating at the other tables. A lot of Americans. More than anything else, maybe more than Canadians. Kathie went to stand in the line at the ladies’ room. Hawk and I had a second beer.
“What you figure?” Hawk said.
“I don’t know. I’d guess he’s got a shooting stand marked. He was looking through a telescope and marked a spot on the wall at shoulder level. I’d like to get a look at what you can see from that spot.”
Kathie came back. We walked back up toward the stadium. The afternoon crowd was beginning to go in. We went in with them and went right to the second level. On the wall by the corner of the washroom near the entry ramp was Paul’s mark. Before we went to it we circled around the area. No sign of Paul.
We looked at the mark. If you sighted along it, pressing your cheek against the wall, you would look straight down into the stadium at the far side of the infield, this side of the running track. There was nothing there now but grass. Hawk took a look.
“Why here?” he said.
“Maybe the only semi-concealed place with a shot at the action.”
“Then why the mark? He can remember where it is.”
“Must be something here. In that spot. If you were going to burn somebody for effect at the Olympic games, what would you choose?”
“The medals.”
“Yeah. Me too. I wonder if the awards ceremonies take place down there?”
“Haven’t seen one. There ain’t many at the beginning of the games.”
“We’ll watch.”
And we did. I watched the mark and Hawk circulated through the stadium with Kathie. Paul didn’t reappear. No medals were awarded. But the next day they were, and looking down along Paul’s mark on the washroom wall I could see the three white boxes and the gold medalist in the discus standing on the middle one.
“Okay,” I said to Hawk. “We know what he’s going to do. Now we have to hang around and catch him when.”
“How you know he ain’t got half a dozen marks like this all over the stadium?”
“I don’t but I figured you’d keep looking for them and if you didn’t see any we could count on this one.”
“Yeah. You stay on this one, Kathie and me we keep circulating. Program say there’s no more finals today. So I guess he ain’t gonna do it today.”
And he didn’t. And he didn’t the next day, but the next day he showed and he brought Zachary with him. Zachary was nowhere near as big as an elephant. In fact he wasn’t much bigger than a Belgian draught horse. He had a blond crew cut and a low forehead. He wore a blue-and-white striped sleeveless tank top jersey and kneelength plaid Bermuda shorts. I was staked out by the shooting mark when they arrived and Hawk was circulating with Kathie.
Paul, carrying a blue equipment, bag with OLYMPIQUE MONTREAL, 1976 stenciled on the side, checked his
