Foul Play Read online

  “Hey,” I said. “You mind if I sit here?”

  “Yes,” Marco replied.

  But Flynner shoved his shoulder. “Don’t be rude. Hardy’s my boy. Right?”

  “Uh, right,” I forced myself to say.

  “Sit. Study.” Flynner grinned.

  I sat a couple of chairs away from them and pulled out the printout of the playbook that John Roque had delivered to my dorm room. I had to admit, I was kind of surprised that Flynner was bothering to study the thing. He seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care at all what Coach told him to do. Especially since he was planning to lose the game.

  Marco was shooting me dirty looks, and he and Flynner were both really quiet. I got the feeling I’d interrupted something. So I pulled out my ATAC music player and stuck the earbuds into my ears. That way, they would think they had privacy. They’d figure I was listening to music and couldn’t hear them. Of course, what I was really doing was listening to them, using the superpowerful mike on the device.

  Marco gave me another look, then shifted in his seat to move closer to Flynner. “What are you doing?” he muttered. “Who is this dude?”

  “New backup kicker,” replied Flynner.

  “We were in the middle of a conversation,” Marco hissed.

  “He doesn’t care,” Flynner said, unconcerned. “He’s not even paying attention.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Marco sounded furious. “So tell me how much.”

  “First tell me you’re in,” Flynner countered.

  “No, I need to know a dollar amount. I’m not doing this for nothing. I have standards.”

  Flynner snorted. “Yeah? You’re willing to throw a championship game and you think you have standards?”

  “What are you talking about? You’re willing to throw the game too,” snapped Marco.

  He glanced over at me. I kept my eyes on the playbook and my face blank. But inside I was doing a victory dance like a receiver in the end zone. I didn’t even have to bother investigating Marco. He’d basically just admitted that he was in on it. These idiots were actually discussing their illegal plan right next to me!

  “Yeah. But I’m not pretending to be all noble,” Flynner said. “I’m in it to secure my future.”

  “Don’t you even care how you’re going to look?” asked Marco, frowning. “It’s the last game of the season, and I’m gonna go out looking bad. What if Coach doesn’t want to start me next season because of this game?”

  “You don’t have to be terrible,” Flynner pointed out. “Just fumble a few times. Let yourself get tackled. It will look like you had an off day.”

  “But it’s embarrassing,” Marco said. “And it’s your last college game, ever. You’re a senior. Doesn’t it bother you that thousands of people are going to see you lose the game for Pinnacle?”

  Flynner shrugged. “It’s only one game. I have a whole career ahead of me.”

  Marco was silent for a minute, his forehead creased in concentration. But I knew he wasn’t trying to memorize plays. He was thinking about messing up at the big game. He obviously wasn’t too sure about the whole thing. Flynner didn’t seem bothered by the idea at all, but Marco was a different story.

  Maybe I could use that. Maybe I could convince him to tell me who the mastermind of this whole plan was.

  “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” Flynner said. “You said I could count on you.”

  “You have to tell me how much we’re talking about,” replied Marco. “If it’s not enough to cover my credit card bill, it’s not worth it to me. My parents will kill me if they find out I racked up that kind of debt.”

  “How deep are you in?”

  Marco glanced at me again. Then he scribbled something on the edge of his playbook copy and pushed it across the table to Flynner.

  Flynner read it and laughed out loud. “What have you been buying, diamonds for your prissy little girlfriend?”

  “Forget it,” Marco grumbled.

  “Nah, it’s cool. My friend will pay you that much, no problem. You can wipe the whole thing out at once. We just have to clear it with him.” Flynner pushed back his chair and stood up. “Eight o’clock in the weight room. Be there.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder as he walked off.

  Eight o’clock in the weight room, I thought. I’ll definitely be there.

  8.

  Paying for the Past

  I hate driving my motorcycle slowly. It’s made for speed! But I’d been following Anthony Aloia all the way from the Pinnacle campus. If I sped up right behind him, he’d notice me for sure. I’d been on enough ATAC missions to know that the first rule of following a suspect is to stay two cars behind at all times.

  Anthony’s car was a beat-up old Chevy, which kinda surprised me. Most of the other players had expensive wheels. Flynner’s Hummer had to be worth at least fifty grand. But I had to admit, Anthony’s car fit in pretty well with the neighborhood we were in right now. It was only a twenty-minute drive from Pinnacle, but the place had seen better days. The houses mostly looked like they could use a paint job, and several of the front yards were overgrown with weeds. A few had just been paved over with concrete. Some mean-looking dogs barked at me from behind chain-link fences, and I couldn’t help noticing that a lot of homes had bars on the windows.

  Still, there were kids playing outside. It had the feel of a lower-income area, but not a dangerous one. Anthony pulled into the driveway of a corner house. The name on the mailbox was ALOIA.

  Got it, I thought. This is his parents’ house. Probably where he grew up.

  I sped on by. Then I turned onto the next street and parked my bike. I jogged back toward Anthony’s place. He must have already gone inside. I checked out the house. It looked good. In fact, it was the best-kept house on the whole block. The paint was clean, the roof seemed new, and the grass was neatly mown.

  In the driveway, next to Anthony’s car, was a sweet little Volvo convertible.

  That’s weird, I thought. Anthony drives an old wreck, but his parents have a new car? It wasn’t the most expensive car in the world, but it still seemed out of place in this neighborhood. I glanced around, checking for witnesses, then I hurried across the lawn and crouched behind the bushes that grew under the big front window. I inched up until I could see inside. Anthony was about six inches away!

  I hit the dirt.

  Five seconds went by. Ten seconds.

  Nobody came out.

  Whew! He must not have seen me.

  I decided not to push my luck. I stayed down under the window. But I pulled my ATAC surveillance device from my pocket. The earpiece doubled as a supersensitive microphone. I reached up and carefully pressed it against the glass. I stuck the other piece in my ear.

  Perfection. I could hear everything as clearly as if I was in the room myself.

  “… ruining my life!” Anthony was yelling.

  “Calm down, sweetheart,” a woman said. Anthony’s mother, I figured.

  “No! I will not calm down,” snapped Anthony. “You two have been telling me to calm down for two years now—”

  “That’s because there’s nothing wrong,” a man cut in. That had to be Anthony’s dad. “You’re always worrying about things that aren’t important.”

  “Well, this is important,” Anthony said. “I told you over and over that you weren’t supposed to take gifts from that jerk. But you just ignored me. You had to have your precious plasma TV and your nice car and your—”

  “Why shouldn’t we have nice things?” Anthony’s mother cried. “We deserve them as much as anybody else!”

  “I’m not saying you don’t deserve them,” replied Anthony.

  “You know we can’t afford this kind of stuff on our own,” his father put in. “If Dr. Roque wants to give us things, why shouldn’t we take them?”

  “Because it’s against the rules!” Anthony exploded. “This stuff was all a bribe to get me to go to Pinnacle instead of another school.”
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  “Son, you didn’t want to go to any other school,” his mom observed. “You never wanted to go far from home.”

  “That’s not the point,” said Anthony. “The point is, Dr. Roque didn’t know that. So he gave you all these expensive things to make sure you sent me to his college. That’s all he cared about. It’s not like he’s your friend or something.”

  “We never thought he was,” Mr. Aloia said. “But that’s no reason not to take what he was offering—”

  “It could get me thrown out of school,” Anthony interrupted. “Because of you, I could get kicked off the football team.”

  His parents were both silent.

  “The boosters aren’t allowed to give personal gifts,” Anthony went on. His voice was quieter now. “It’s against the regulations that govern college football. I kept telling you that.”

  “But you didn’t take any gifts,” his mother protested.

  “My family did. That’s still against the rules. If the Ethics Board finds out, I’m done,” said Anthony. “Pinnacle will kick me out, and no other college team will have me. And if I can’t play college ball, you can forget about professional football. I’ll never get into the NFL. I won’t even have a chance.”

  “I don’t understand,” Anthony’s father said. “Why are you so upset about this all of a sudden?”

  “Listen.” I heard Anthony moving around inside, so I risked another peek through the window. Anthony was punching the buttons of his cell phone. He set it down on the coffee table. “It’s on speaker,” he told his parents. “I’ve gotten three of these calls in the past hour. When I stopped answering my phone, he left a message.”

  He punched one more button on the phone, and his voice mail began to play.

  A strange voice came over the line. It sounded almost like a computerized voice, flat and distorted. But there was something human and threatening in the tone, something a computer could never convey.

  “Aloia. I know you took bribes from a booster. I have proof. And I’m willing to take it to the Ethics Board,” the voice said.

  Anthony’s mother gasped.

  “There is only one way to stop me,” the voice went on. “You have to drop the ball on Saturday.”

  “What? What is that supposed to mean?” Mr. Aloia sounded frightened.

  “It means he wants me to throw the game,” said Anthony. “And I have to do it.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Anthony was being blackmailed!

  9.

  Conspiracy

  “No one will hear us in here,” I said, glancing around.

  Sure enough, the laundry room in the dorm was totally empty. A lot of students had gone home for the winter break, and the football team probably didn’t even care about having clean clothes.

  Frank stuck a quarter into one of the dryers and turned it on. “Just in case,” he said over the noise.

  “Okay, so here’s what we know. We know Flynner is definitely planning to lose the game,” I stated.

  “In return for the best NFL draft slot,” Frank put in.

  “And Marco is planning to help him, maybe….”

  “If Flynner’s mysterious ‘friend’ coughs up enough dough,” added Frank.

  “And Anthony will also help, because he’s got no choice. The so-called friend will ruin his whole football career if he doesn’t.” I frowned. “So we’ve got the quarterback, the star receiver, and the best running back.”

  “Everyone you really need,” Frank summed up. “Those three guys score most of the points. Even if the defense manages to keep Miller State from scoring, Pinnacle still needs to put the ball in the end zone in order to win.”

  “Yeah. We’ve got everything we need to bring this ring down … except the person who’s behind it.” I leaned against one of the washing machines. “That’s the one we need.”

  “But instead we keep finding everyone else,” complained Frank. “We have to get these guys to tell us who’s running the show. We only have three days.”

  I grinned. “No problem.”

  “What do you mean, no problem?”

  “I’m on it,” I told my brother.

  Frank rolled his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, I’m in good with Flynner. He thinks I’m like a little puppy dog who will follow him around and love him no matter what.”

  “Yeah, you’re good at kissing butt,” Frank joked.

  “And I happen to know that Flynner and Marco are meeting in the weight room in about ten minutes. Flynner’s supposed to tell Marco how much money he’s gonna get.” I shrugged. “So I’ll be there.”

  “Huh?” asked Frank.

  “I’ll go to the weight room. They’re talking about the ‘friend.’ They’re talking about the plan to lose the game. They’ll probably tell us everything we need to know.”

  “Sure. Except that if you’re there, they won’t be talking about any of it,” Frank pointed out.

  “Flynner doesn’t care who finds out. He’s an idiot,” I said. “He told me straight to my face that he was gonna throw the game.”

  “But Marco cares.” Frank paced around the small room. “You have to get him to trust you too.”

  “How?”

  “Tell them you want in,” he suggested. “I mean, Flynner asked you to help him. So you tell him yes.”

  “And if I do it in front of Marco, Marco will believe that I’m on their side,” I said.

  “Yup.” Frank headed for the laundry room door. “You better get going. The weight room is on the other side of campus.”

  “Are you coming?”

  “You know it. I’ll listen in and see if there’s anything worth recording.” He patted the music player-surveillance device on his belt. “We can use the remote record feature.”

  “Cool!” Our ATAC devices had this awesome thing where we could connect to each other wirelessly, and still use the microphone and record functions. I’d just turn my device on, link to my brother, and talk to Flynner and Marco like everything was normal. But Frank would be eavesdropping though his device—and taping anything that sounded important.

  “Let’s go.” I led the way out of the room and up the stairs from the dorm basement. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe the ringleader will show up for this little meeting.”

  “I’ll be happy if we just get his name,” Frank said. “Then our mission will be over. I’m getting tired of mopping floors!”

  Score! I thought when I shoved open the weight room door. Not only were Flynner and Marco inside, but Anthony was there too. This looks like a meeting of the whole gang. Now I just needed Flynner’s influential friend to show up, and we’d be all set.

  I was psyched.

  The football players weren’t.

  “Hardy? What are you doing here?” Anthony cried. He looked nervous.

  Marco spun around to face Flynner. “Did you invite this loser? You told me he wasn’t even listening in the library!”

  “I didn’t invite him.” Flynner walked over and pulled the door shut. “But it’s no big deal.”

  “Hey, guys—,” I started.

  “It is too a big deal!” Anthony exploded. “I don’t even want to be here! It’s bad enough I have to do this thing. If anyone—anyone—finds out, I’ll get kicked off the team. And that’s what I’m trying to avoid!”

  “He’s right. We’re in huge trouble if anybody catches us,” Marco agreed. “And the more people who know, the better the chance that our secret will get out.”

  “Chill. Hardy’s not a snitch,” said Flynner. He lay down on the bench as if he were taking a relaxing nap.

  “Did you tell him the whole plan?” cried Anthony. “Flynner, you moron!”

  “You guys, seriously, calm down,” I cut in. “I’m not gonna tell. I’m just here because I want in.”

  They all stared at me.

  “You asked me if I wanted to help. I do,” I told Flynner.

  “I was kinda kidding,” he replied.

&nb
sp; “Well, I’m not,” I said.

  “Why?” Anthony looked at me like he wanted to punch me. “Why would anyone want to lose a championship on purpose?”

  “Don’t be such a goody-goody,” Marco snapped. “Flynner and I are both here because we want to be. Maybe you should leave.”

  “Believe me, I want to,” Anthony retorted, getting in Marco’s face. “I think you guys are complete traitors.”

  “You’re still here,” Flynner pointed out.

  Anthony backed down. “I have no choice. Your friend is blackmailing me.”

  Flynner shrugged. “Sorry, man. I offered you money to do it.” He bench-pressed a three-hundred-pound weight, looking bored.

  “I don’t want money. I want to win the game,” said Anthony.

  “Well, it wasn’t my idea to blackmail you,” Flynner replied. “I don’t even know what he’s got on

  you. Is it anything good?”

  “Shut up,” Anthony muttered.

  “I just want the money,” I put in. They all looked at me again. I think they’d forgotten I was there. “I have my eye on a new motorcycle,” I added.

  Anthony shook his head, disgusted.

  “Forget it,” said Marco. “Why should our friend give you any money? You can’t help us.”

  “I can miss a field-goal kick,” I said. Without even trying, I added silently.

  “You’re just the backup kicker. You won’t even get the chance to miss a field goal. You’re not gonna be playing,” Marco told me.

  “And even if you were, why should we trust you?” Anthony asked. “You just got here, like, three days ago. We don’t know anything about you.”

  Flynner stood up. “That’s no problem. Hardy will just have to prove that he’s trustworthy.” He grinned at me. “You want in? You got it. But I’m not gonna bother my friend with this until you show us you’re serious.”