this? The South Africans could really benefit from recognition by the Olympic Committee, but not enough to make it worth the Klan's while to get involved this deep. More than the Klan's involved.'
'What was the shooting around here all about?' Jackson asked.
Lyons gave it to them straight. 'This morning three dudes from a local motorcycle gang walked into the women's gymnasium and shot at Babette. They killed Tracy Shaw.'
That news brought the first strong emotional reaction from the group. That news hit home.
'We're telling the press that the gang members were shooting at each other and that a stray bullet caught Tracy,' Lyons said. 'I'll tell you that the gunmen were using weapons that are manufactured in East Germany and don't often reach the West. We're also telling the press that the same motorcycle gang, the Riding Devils, came here to finish the war that started this morning.'
'And what are you telling us?' another athlete asked. 'The truth, I hope.'
'The entire gang rounded up any weapons it could find and came to finish the job on Babette. The FBI had planned to get a substitute Babette over here, but the real one arrived first. The bikers attacked her but they didn't succeed with anything other than getting themselves wiped out.'
There were a few weak smiles around the room. Babette was well liked and highly respected among the athletes. When she had selected the ones she wanted present at the meeting, she had picked athletes who were leaders, who could sway other athletes' opinions if unity among the blacks was needed.
Knuckles rapped on the door. Two men carrying three attache cases entered the room.
'Lyons?' one asked.
Lyons nodded.
The men placed the attache cases on an empty desk. Lyons was required to sign a form, and then the men left.
Gadgets got up and seated himself at the desk. He opened the attache cases. One case held tools, a second had two directional receivers, the third a large assortment of the squealers he had requested along with a batch of spare parts carefully mounted in foam rubber.
The Able Team wizard began dismantling the first small broadcasting unit.
'Any more questions?' Lyons asked the group.
'Yeah,' one replied. 'Why are you telling us all this?'
'I want something.'
'That much we figured, but I'm beginning to suspect it's more than an oath of allegiance.'
Lyons told them what he wanted. It took some time and discussion. While they batted ideas back and forth, clarifying points, Babette went over to help Gadgets.
One by one the black athletes agreed to the plan and left the stuffy trailer to walk in the late-afternoon sun.
When the last athlete was gone, Gadgets wiped the perspiration from his face and turned to Babette. 'Where did you learn to solder like that?'
Sadness gripped her tone. 'In Czechoslovakia, an athlete must start gymnastics so young. When I was nine I objected to such a strenuous life. I was always practicing or doing schoolwork. I never had time to play. I became bitter, and my performance dropped. Czech authorities knew I might act this way and they had a cure — putting me to work in a factory, twelve hours a day, six days a week. In the factory I soldered small electronic components. In the factory I learned to love the athletic life.
'It took me eleven months to be accepted back into the athletic program. When I was accepted, I became the hardest-working member of the gymnastics team.'
Gadgets was held by her story; he was held because she was a fascinating woman. She could solder and soldier with the best, on top of coaching the U.S. team. She had placed her life on the line and yet she radiated warmth, a sense of humor, a love of life.
They stood looking at each other for seconds and would have remained that way if they had not been interrupted by a knock at the door. Gadgets was closest to the door. He opened it and was greeted by the grinning face of Petra Dix, the West Coast's famous face on television news.
8
'Yes?' Gadgets inquired.
'Jesus, you're a hard man to track down,' Petra Dix said, her voice ringing as strong and clear as a cowbell.
'How did you manage it?' Gadgets asked, not budging from the doorway.
'Hey, come on. What's with the cold treatment? This is Petra Dix. We were rolling around on the ground together three hours ago. Don't pretend like you don't remember.'
Lyons and Blancanales looked at each other and grinned. Babette glided over to the door to take a look at the brash-voiced creature who had the back of Gadgets's neck turning red.
'How could I ever forget,' he said.
Dix wasn't quite sure how to take the comment. After a pause she said, 'I want to thank you for saving my life.'
'Anytime.'
'I also wanted to tell you that you're harder to fall on than pavement. Come on out here for a moment so I can thank you properly.'
'I see you've got a cameraman waiting out there,' Gadgets said. 'I can't go out there, I'm shy as hell.'
Dix laughed. 'A man who makes a flying tackle at a lady in a public place can hardly go around calling himself shy. Come on.'
Gadgets stayed indoors in the shadow of the doorway, carefully watching the cameraman. The video eye had not yet been trained on him.
Dix let out a huge sigh. Gadgets smiled. From his vantage point, he could understand and clearly see why the local joke about Petra Dix was: 'The biggest thing she contributes to the news is cleavage.' She made a sign of resignation then turned and spoke to her cameraman.
'Tony, put that damn thing down for a moment. Take a break.'
Gadgets was about to step forward into the sunlight when a strong hand pulled him back. Before he could recover his balance, Babette had slipped out past him and was standing at the bottom of the trailer's metal steps. She surveyed the situation carefully. Petra Dix surveyed her.
Gadgets stood in the shadow watching the two women. Both were well built, but there the similarity ended. Babette's hair was cut short and had been brushed so that every hair was in place. Dix's hair was long and had a deliberately unkempt look. Her makeup, overdone for the television lights and cameras, looked wild. To Gadgets, she did not compare with Babette, who wore no makeup at all, preferring the natural look.
Petra wore an expensive, stylish suit. Babette wore jeans, sandals and a T-shirt. One woman was the product of careful packaging; the other was simply herself.
'What about the other cameramen you have in the van?' Babette asked Dix.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Dix replied, her voice controlled, and odd.
'Let's take a look then,' Babette suggested.
She started across the small parking lot toward an unmarked blue van. The cameraman Dix had called Tony swung his scanner to his shoulder and started to follow her. Gadgets joined the procession, keeping Tony between himself and the van.
Just before Babette reached the van, the cameraman sprinted to one side to catch her profile. He crowded in closely as the gymnastics coach tugged at the handle on the van's rear doors. They were locked. She turned, the cameraman took a step closer and his camera flew from his hands. They all heard the boom of the heavy rifle that had fired the bullet.
Reactions were swift. Gadgets shoved the cameraman and Dix between the parked cars. 'Get down and stay down,' he yelled.
