Vanishing Act by John Feinstein Page B

right back.”
    Stevie followed orders. As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw a guard. No sign of Susan Carol. The guard looked at him. “I’m trying to find the stadium court,” he said.
    â€œYou took a wrong turn,” the guard said. “All the way at the other end of the hall.”
    â€œThanks,” Stevie said. He walked back to Kelleher. “She’s in,” he said.
    â€œWas there a guard?”
    Stevie nodded. “Yup. But there’s never been a guard born she can’t talk her way past.”
    Kelleher laughed. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
    The two of them made their way back down the maze of hallways until they came to a large double door on the left. “I’ll wait to make sure you get in,” Kelleher said. There were two security guards on this door. People were whizzing past them and, surprisingly, they didn’t seem to be checking badges that carefully. Kelleher noticed too. “I’m guessing they’re more concerned about people going out than in right now,” he said. “Get going.”
    Stevie squared his shoulders, then tried to relax so he could look casual. He waited to let a couple of people he assumed were players get in front of him and then walked up to the doors, giving one guard a nod and a quick “Hey.” The guard didn’t even look at him, which was fortunate because if he had he might have seen how terrified Stevie was. Worse, he might’ve heard his heart pounding. Stevie walked inside and stopped to look around. There were tables and couches all over the vast room and people sitting or lying everywhere. Most wore tennis clothes, but some were dressed more formally. There were several offices that ran along the inside wall of the lounge, which all had large windows, so Stevie could see inside. In one of them, Kelleher’s friend Arlen Kantarian was seated behind the desk, surrounded by at least fifteen people who had crowded into the room.
    Rather than get caught staring, Stevie kept walking. He could smell food coming from the far end of the room and saw that there was a dining area with a number of people waiting in line at a buffet. He heard an announcement over the PA system: “Ms. Hetherington and Ms. Russell, please report to court 14. Ms. Hetherington and Ms. Russell, court 14, please.”
    He hadn’t really given any thought as to whether matches were still being played, but realized that not only was the tournament still going on, the people in this room might not even be aware yet that Symanova was missing. He looked at his watch. It was 2:20. He remembered that the players had been due on court at two o’clock, so it had only been twenty minutes since she had disappeared.
    If anyone in the lounge cared that he was there, they didn’t show it. People were chattering away in different languages, and when Stevie walked by, even if he looked right at them, they looked either past him or through him. He realized that to these people he was completely invisible. Which, for the moment, was a good thing.
    There was an empty table in the dining area, and Stevie thought maybe he could sit down there and pick up conversations around him. He took a bottle of water from a cooler and sat at the table sipping from it, trying to look as if he belonged. He realized that he had forgotten to follow Kelleher’s instructions to take off his media credential once inside, but he was afraid if he took it off at that moment it would look suspicious. Then again, it was possible that even if he took off all his clothes no one would notice. He slipped the credential off, hoping no one would see him do it.
    But someone did.
    â€œAre you going undercover?” a voice said behind him.
    Stevie froze, convinced he was about to get thrown out. He turned and saw Evelyn Rubin holding a tray of food, standing next to him. “Mind if I join you?” she said.
    â€œOh, um, of course, I