Vanishing Act by John Feinstein

they’re in charge whenever they get a chance.”
    â€œKind of tough to argue with guys when they have guns,” Stevie said.
    â€œNo kidding.” Kelleher pulled open the door that led back inside with a frustrated yank. The scene inside the building was chaotic. People were running in and out of the entrance to the media center shouting, as far as Stevie could tell, in a variety of languages.
    â€œOkay,” Kelleher said, pausing just outside the pressroom entrance. “We need a strategy of some kind. I think we should split up—”
    He broke off in midsentence as a middle-aged man with graying hair ducked out of the media center and made a quick turn away from them.
    â€œArlen!” Kelleher said, heading toward the man. “Arlen, hang on a second!”
    The man half turned, still walking, and waved a hand as if to say, “Go away.” “Not now, Bobby. I can’t talk. We’re organizing a press conference. We’ll let you know what’s going on in a while.”
    He had slowed down enough that Kelleher was able to catch up to him. Stevie and Susan Carol followed at what they hoped was a discreet distance.
    â€œIn a while?” Kelleher said. “Come on, Arlen, give me a break. Don’t give me that press conference crap. What happened out there? Where the hell is Symanova?”
    The man stopped and turned to face Kelleher. Stevie noticed he was quite pale. He looked around as if to be sure no one could hear him and dropped his voice to a whisper so that Stevie, standing right behind Kelleher, could barely hear.
    â€œWe don’t know,” he said.
    For a second, Kelleher just stared at him. “What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know? Wasn’t she on her way over to Armstrong with Walsh?”
    â€œ
Yes!
She
was
!” Arlen said, clearly exasperated, still looking around as if he was afraid someone would hear him. “They were on their way over there and she disappeared.”
    â€œDisappeared!”
Kelleher shouted.
    â€œBobby, please,” Arlen hissed, signaling Kelleher to keep his voice down. “Yes, she disappeared. You know what it’s like out there between the stadiums. We had four security guys surrounding the two players. A group of people cut across their path, headed for the food court. The security guys got jostled. Walsh and her two guys kept going—no one bumped them. By the time Symanova’s guys got untangled, she was gone.”
    â€œBut how is that possible?”
    Arlen held up his hand. “For crying out loud, Bobby, if we knew, she wouldn’t be missing, would she? We’ve sealed all the exits from the place, but that’s the problem—we’re right on the edge of a park. There are plenty of ways to get off the property without walking through an exit.” He looked around again. “I’ve got to go. There’s a meeting in about two minutes. I’ve told you everything I know.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Kelleher said. “Can I quote you on this stuff?”
    Arlen smiled wanly. “At this point, that’s the least of my worries.” He turned and walked down the hallway.
    â€œWho was that?” Stevie asked.
    â€œArlen Kantarian,” Kelleher said. “He’s the CEO of professional tennis for the U.S. Tennis Association. It means he’s in charge of the tournament. He talks to me because his brother Harry’s a friend of mine.” He took a deep breath.
    â€œOkay, this story is officially huge. Beyond huge. We’ve got a big leg up on people right now—let’s do something with it.”
    â€œLike what?” Susan Carol said, for once looking as baffled as Stevie felt.
    Kelleher took a deep breath. “Good question,” he said. Then he snapped his fingers. “Listen, Susan Carol,
you
can get into the junior girls’ locker room.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” she