In the clubhouse a near-apoplectic Champion could barely speak when he saw us. Harry told him we’d gotten banged around a bit in traffic. Which was true enough.
Brainard and Waterman had not accompanied us, for the simple reason that we couldn’t find them. I tried to read their faces as they listened to what had happened. I wondered if Waterman was in on the deal too. As usual, neither of them showed much. Deciding to tackle the toughest first, I approached Brainard, who worked his toothpick in irritation when I said I wanted to talk privately.
“Ain’t the time, so close to the match.”
“That’s exactly what we need to discuss. The match. And your future.”
He eyed me warily and stood. We moved down the long room to a bench near the equipment closet.
“Word has it you’ll sell us out today,” I said with brutal directness. “To show the deal is on, you’ll start with two wild pitches.
The toothpick stopped moving. “Where’d you hear that?
“Does it matter? Harry doesn’t know. Yet.”
“Throwing off a match is a serious charge.”
Very serious.”
He stared at me, trying to determine, I imagined, what I wanted.
“Asa, I’m not gonna make you tell me whether it’s true—”
“Goddamn right you’re not!”
“—but if you’ve got a deal with McDermott, it had better be good for life. You’ll be through with baseball.”
“Horseshit.”
“You think Harry will just forgive and forget? You think Champion won’t crucify you?”
He worked at a piece of tape on the floor with his spikes.
“Whatever the arrangement is,” I said, “we’re not losing today.”
He glanced up, his eyes ironic, world-weary. “No?”
“That’s right. I know the stakes are high. And I know better than you that McDermott plays rough and wouldn’t look kindly on a double cross. So here’s what you’re going to do.”
“Look, Fowler, I’ve listened to—”
“Quiet, we don’t have much time. You’re going to make those two wild pitches to open the game. Meanwhile I’ll tell Millar you were approached by gamblers and offered a bribe.”
His eyes widened. “You what?”
“We’ll start it circulating as a rumor. Maybe I can get him to print something. You’ll be vague, shrug it off as one of those things. I’ll line up police protection during the game and after. Look, Asa, if you did take money from them, for God’s sake give it back. You can forget what you owe me—I’ll even give the five hundred back if you need it.”
The toothpick began waggling as Harry called us. Brainard rose and said, “Who else you talked to?”
“Nobody. Just throw your two pitches and I’ll take care of the rest. After we kick the Haymakers’ butts, I’m going to be scarce the next few days. You might do the same.”
He gestured casually, brushing me away. But I sensed that he was calculating like mad.
“Who’s the other?” I asked.
He looked at me. “What?”
“The other Stocking. Is it Waterman?”
“Don’t you say that,” he snapped. “Fred’s on the square.”
“Sweasy, then?”
“I ain’t saying nothing to you about any of this,” he said flatly. “And I won’t.”
Looking us over, his own face bandaged, Harry shook his head. We didn’t inspire confidence. Sweasy was hobbling, Gould was practically one-armed, and the rest of us bore marks from the fight. My shoulder felt leaden. I might be able to bat, but throwing was out of the question. Andy, ironically, had come out in the best shape among us.
But we must have made a brave picture as we emerged in the sunlight. An earsplitting sound swelled from the crowd. Spectators clustered on the roof of the Grand Duchess, overflowed the new stand, clung to the fences, covered carriages and drays circling the outfield, and were packed outside the foul lines so densely it would have been impossible to sit had they wanted. Police worked to clear the diamond, a slow process.
We warmed up methodically, no sleight-of-hand exhibitions today.
I stood next to Sweasy while we waited for the Haymakers to appear.
“Remember the guy on the landing?” I said. “The one who told me where Andy was?”
“What about him?” Sweasy said.“He told me a few other things.”
Sweasy fumbled an easy throw from George and looked at me with stricken eyes. “What’d he say?”
I knew I had him then; how much easier he was than Brainard to crack. “He mentioned Acey,” I said casually. “And you.”
“I didn’t go back on us!”
“How much did you get?”
“God Almighty.” His voice quavered. “I told ’em I wouldn’t throw off. They said they’d pay me just to listen to their proposition. No fault in hearing them out, was there? I turned ’em down!”
The last piece clicked in place in my mind. “You stupid asshole, where’d you meet them?”
“I can’t tell,” he protested. “I promised.”
“What happened while you were gone?”
He stood as if frozen. George yelled at him.
“Throw the damn ball,” I said. “They set you up, didn’t they? They knew Andy’d be alone, and that’s when they took him. You couldn’t go to the cops because you’d compromised yourself. So you tried to put it all on me, sweet guy that you are.”
“I didn’t know.” It was almost a whisper.
“That’s right,” I said. “You didn’t know shit, so you ended up selling Andy out.”
His eyes stabbed into mine, imploring. “You ain’t gonna tell him.”
A gathering murmur came from the crowd, punctuated by loud cheers from the visitors’ area behind third, as a pennant-festooned omnibus rumbled through the carriage gate in right field and moved around the track.
“It depends,” I said. “If we lose I’m gonna beat you to a pulp and go public with the whole shoddy story. How does that sound?”
“We won’t lose,” he said nervously. “Not on
