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“Yeah. My backpack. Clothes and stuff. I’ve got ’em stored in a cabinet in the men’s room.”
“Really?” As far as Co
“It’s just-I don’t want to be caught. I’m not really supposed to be here, remember. Hidden in a crowded bar is one thing, but out in the hallway, exposed…”
The more they talked, the more uncomfortable Ed seemed to become. “You mentioned to me that you used the underground tu
“Did I?”
“As a matter of fact, you kind of bragged about it. So let me ask you a question. How did you find out about the tu
“How did I find out?”
“That was the question, Ed. Got an answer?”
There was a brief pause. “I found a diagram on the Internet.”
Co
“On a Web page run by an underground golf groupie. Calls himself the Ping.”
“The Ping?”
“Yeah. After the once-tournament-illegal clubs. He loves golf, but he’s got kind of a counter-culture approach to it.”
“I guess so.”
“Anyway, he published the schematics on his Web page and encouraged people to use them to break into the oh-so-exclusive Masters.” His face fell. “Guess I’m the only one who did.”
Co
“No. Well, other than you.”
And Co
Ed took a step toward the door. “Well… if you don’t mind… I really should make myself scarce…”
Co
After Ed disappeared, Co
The sky was still as dark as it had been earlier. But for a few halogen lamps dotting the landscape, it would be just as dark as it had been out on the golf course. He still had to focus hard to see anything.
How had it come to this? he silently pondered. How had buddying up with John led to investigating his murder a million years later? How had falling in love with golf led to delivering a bag full of money at the Masters? How had falling in love with Jodie led-?
He stopped himself short. There was no point in going there. No cheese down that tu
His thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched noise buzzing just beside his ear, followed by a crackle of thunder.
He whirled around. What-?
He reached up and touched his left ear. His hand came back with blood on it.
Someone had taken a shot at him.
26
All at once, Co
A moment later, he heard footsteps moving rapidly away from him.
Co
He might never find out who it was.
He didn’t have time for protracted analysis. He pushed himself around the corner of the clubhouse and ran in the general direction where he’d heard the shots and the footsteps.
There was something moving over there, toward the cabins. He could just barely see the outline of a figure moving fast. Co
Co
The shadowy figure was well ahead, but Co
Co
What the hell-? His hands groped for the glistening steel object that had knocked him over.
A golf club. The SOB had thrown a golf club at him!
Co
He’d passed three more cabins when he spotted the silhouette. Hah!-the fool had made the mistake of stopping, checking to see if the coast was clear. He was history now.
Co
The figure ahead saw him coming and started sprinting, but it was too late. Co
Co
“Ace? Ace Silverstone? Why did you do it?”
“Co
Co
“You’re even crazier than I thought.”
“You were firing a gun.”
“I’ve always suspected you had some mental problems, Cross, but you’ve outdone yourself this time.”
“Don’t feed me that. I saw you. I heard the shots.”
“I heard those shots, too. That’s why I came outside. What was going on?”
Co
“This your idea of a good time, Cross?”
Co
“What gun? I’ve never had a gun. What are you babbling about?”
“Someone took a couple of shots at me. I’ve been chasing him all the way from the clubhouse.”
“Well, it wasn’t me. Assuming this isn’t all some bizarre psychosis created by your paranoid brain. May I get up now?”
Co
“Barely a minute. If that long. Since I heard the first shot.”
“If you just came outside, why are you sweating?”
“I’ve been exercising. You should try it sometime, Cross. You are an athlete, in theory, anyway.” He pushed up with his hands. “Now get off me, you oaf.”
Reluctantly, Co
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t file a complaint with the PGA,” Ace said, brushing himself off.
“Don’t bother. The PGA loves me. Today, anyway.”
“You ought to consider getting some counseling, Co
Ace went inside, closing and locking the door behind him.
Co
He pointed himself north, toward his own cabin. It’d been a hell of a night, and he needed rest. He was playing in a tournament tomorrow, after all. The last day of the Masters. The Big Enchilada. If he could keep his head together, could keep on playing like he had today, it was just possible he could be heading back to Watonga in a spiffy green jacket.
But somehow, he couldn’t get his brain to focus on the tournament. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept wandering back to the same thought.