hear of a magazine called Inside Football?” I ask.
“Sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“It’s a magazine that’s folded. I need a list of the people that wrote for it in the last ten years and copies of any stories that included Kenny Schilling or Troy Preston.” I have a hunch and decide to throw it in. “I also want to know if any of the writers are currently at the New York Times.”
“That’s all?” he asks.
“That’s all.”
“Give me two hours,” he says.
“You’re a genius.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Vince then proceeds to use up five minutes of the two hours making me swear repeatedly that he will get whatever story comes out of his labor, as well as any story that doesn’t. I’m happy to do so. Vince’s contacts are amazing, and if I’m going to need to learn anything in the media world, he is a person who can absolutely make it happen.
Two hours gives me just enough time to take Tara for a short tennis ball session in the park, as long as I drive there. I haven’t thrown a ball with Tara in a while, but one of her twelve million great qualities is that she doesn’t hold a grudge. Willie and Cash join us, which is fine with me: Though Tara doesn’t have many dog friends, she has always liked Cash.
Cash is the more competitive of the two dogs; it’s very important to him that he retrieve each thrown ball. Tara is more out for the fun of the game, though I toss the ball in her direction often enough that she gets her share.
Willie lets me do the throwing, and I note that his eyes are constantly sweeping the park, probably looking for one of Quintana’s people. I’m just about to suggest that we leave when I hear Willie say, “Andy, get the dogs and get in the car.”
We are near the Little League fields, and I see Willie looking off in the direction of what we called Dead Man’s Curve when we rode bikes down it as kids. It’s about three hundred yards away, and I can see a dark sedan navigating the curve, which will eventually lead to where we are. It is a classically ominous-looking car.
I don’t pause to ask questions, yelling for Tara and Cash to follow me. All three of us are in the backseat within seconds, and Willie follows along right behind us and gets in the driver’s seat. He pulls out, quickly but without screeching the tires, and in moments we’re driving in the security and anonymity of Route 4.
“Was that who I think it was?” I ask.
Willie looks at me in the rearview mirror and shrugs. “Don’t know. But I didn’t think we should wait around to find out.”
“I can’t run away every time I see a car,” I say.
“What are you gonna do, stay and fight?” he asks. “They’ve got Uzis, you’ve got a tennis ball.”
This is no way to live.
THE PHONE IS RINGING as I walk into the house.
“You want me to fax you the articles?” is Vince’s replacement for a normal person’s “Hello.”
“Fax them.”
“I’ll include the list of writers, but only one of them works for the Times.”
“What’s his name?”
“George Karas.”
George Karas has, over the last few years, become one of the more well-known sportswriters in the business. He’s done this, as have others, by branching out past writing into television, becoming one of the pundits that are called on to give opinions about the games men play.
Karas would therefore certainly qualify as a “famous” sportswriter, someone Adam might well have bragged to his parents that he had spoken to. It gives me more hope that we’re on the right track.
“How do I get to him?” I ask.
“He’s waiting for your call,” Vince says, and gives me Karas’s direct phone number.
“Vince, this is great. I owe you big-time,” I say.
“You got that right. That reminds me, I set up the meeting with Petrone.”
“For when?”
“Eight o’clock tomorrow night. They’ll pick you up in front of your office.”
“Thanks, Vince. I really appreciate all of this.”
Click.
Since Vince is no longer on the phone, I hang up my end and call Karas at the number Vince gave me, which turns out to be his cell phone. We’re only ten seconds into our conversation when I catch another break: He’s on his way home to Fort Lee and offers to meet me for a cup of coffee.
We meet at a diner on Route 4 in Paramus, and Karas is waiting at