Hearts Racing (14 page)

She reached a hand up but couldn’t quite reach the concrete floor of the balcony above. She went inside her room and grabbed a chair, placed it on her balcony, and stood on it. Now she could reach easily. Was she really going to do this, though? She looked down. If she lost her grip, she’d have a big problem. Actually, if she lost her grip, all her problems would be over because she would splat on the concrete below like a grocery bag full of Bordelaise sauce.

She recalled the pep talk she’d had with Buck. She needed to get her shit together. Get her mind right. This was the only way to get into Polini’s room, so she was doing it.

She reached up and grabbed the concrete floor above hers, going up the side of the balcony so the building’s wall was to her right. She pulled her body up then moved first one hand then the other to the balcony’s vertical bars. If those popped loose, she’d be a goner. After a deep breath, she put some weight on the bars. They held.

She kicked her leg to her right and was able to bend her knee enough to get her foot jammed against the wall where it met the balcony floor. She wasn’t much of a rock climber, but she’d seen them do this move before. By pulling on the bars and digging her toe into the space between the balcony floor and the railing, she was able to shimmy her hands up their bars until she got her hands on the railing. Then it was a simple matter of throwing her leg over the railing, and, voila! She was standing on Polini’s balcony. The whole thing had taken no more than five seconds. She hoped no one below had seen her swinging around like some kind of urban parkour exhibitionist, but she figured if they did she’d have heard a shout or something.

She tried the sliding door. It was unlocked. Polini must have been out here before, watching the race unfold. She slid it aside and stepped in, fearful she’d hear a man’s voice asking her what the hell she thought she was doing, but none came. A sense welled up inside her that she needed to be as fast as possible. Her heart pounded and thrummed as she looked around. The room was neat. It had the same basic layout as hers, but both the beds were in. If the New Orleans team had a massage table set up somewhere, it wasn’t in here.

She tiptoed to the bathroom and looked inside. Usual toiletries: Toothpaste. A comb. Some deodorant. A razor and shaving cream. It smelled like someone had just taken a shower, and there was water in the tub. But there was nothing untoward to be seen. She checked the trash cans. Nothing. Under the beds. Nothing. Closets and drawers. Nothing. Polini’s suitcase lay at the foot of his bed. Faith only hesitated for a moment before unzipping it and rifling through, figuring she’d need to get into the mess of it if she were to find something damnable. There were a few photos of Polini in one of the pockets that he’d already signed his name on—to save himself time later if he was mobbed for an autograph she guessed? What a smug prick.

She looked in the room’s refrigerator: Bottle of water that would be charged heavily to the room bill if it was touched. Some candy. Basic toiletries, like a can of old-style shaving cream. Where else could she possibly look?

She pulled out her cell phone and called LeMond. He picked up.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Not good,” she whispered. “I’m in Polini’s room, and I don’t see anything.”

“How’d you get in there?” LeMond sounded impressed.

“No time. Tell me where I can look for something incriminating.”

“Hmm. Did you check the fridge? The good drugs need to stay cold.”

“Yeah I did, but I—” She stopped talking. The fridge!

“Did what? See something?”

“Gotta go. Call you back.” She clicked her phone off and looked at the fridge with new eyes. Now why, she asked herself, would someone refrigerate shaving cream?

She opened the door again. She’d taken it for something the hotel had put in the refrigerator for a guest to use if he was out of shaving cream, but no. The can didn’t have a price tag on it. And when she picked it up, it had a peculiar weight. Something clunked within. She tried pulling on the top, but nothing happened. Then she twisted the bottom relative to the top and felt it give way. She unscrewed it fully, and the shaving cream canister came apart, revealing two glass vials and a handful of syringes.

Now who’s gonna have a smug look on her face, Polini?

Chapter 22

Buck put in an effort he could he happy with at the time trial. He was experienced enough, and honest enough with his body when he was thinking right, to know when he’d given his all. He’d given his all that day, despite a throbbing and painful rib from the crash. But Polini had been able to give more.

Polini had beaten his time on the time trial course by a decisive thirty seconds, meaning he was now ahead in the overall standings by two-and-a-half minutes, with one mountain stage and one flat stage to go.  In normal conditions, Buck should have been able to claw that time back on any sizable climb, but the way Polini had ridden away the day before . . . Buck wasn’t so sure. In fact, he thought he was pretty much screwed.

But LeMond was adamant that they were doing their job, fulfilling their role. The press was certainly excited. They mobbed Buck, as he finished the stage and sat panting on his bike, peppering him with questions as Polini finished his ride and turned in the fastest time of the day. They’d even found some reporters who spoke Spanish so they could crowd Jose and the rest of the Miami team.

Once they were away from the press, though, LeMond said into his ear, “He’s doping, kid.”

Buck bobbed his head. Yeah, yeah. Maybe. But whatever he’s doing, Buck thought, he’s winning.

“No, really,” LeMond said, still quietly. “Faith snuck into his room and found his stash. Let’s get back to the hotel and we’ll discuss.”

Back in the room, Faith was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Sneaky, smug prick,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He’s got a shaving cream can that unscrews to hide his stash.”

“How’d you get in his room?” Buck asked.

“I climbed.”

“What, up the building?” Buck asked. “Who are you, Spiderman? You could have been killed!”

“There was no other way. I got spotted in the hall outside his room by the staff.”

“We have to take this to the authorities,” Buck said. “They’ll give Polini a test, disqualify him.”

LeMond shook his head. “No good. I already brought it up to race control.”

“And?”

“And you’ll never guess who the person in charge of the cheating department is. Hint: he’s also a team director.”

“Bernard ‘the Asshole’ Wolverine,” Buck said. Of course it would be Bernard. Who else would have the stones to pull something like this except someone who knew there was no possibility of consequences?

LeMond put one finger on the tip of his nose and pointed to Buck. “You guessed it.”

“Shit,” Buck sighed. “So, what, he’s just allowed to inject himself?”

LeMond and Faith were both smiling. “Oh, he’s allowed to inject himself,” Faith said. “But tomorrow, he’ll be injecting himself with water. And a tiny bit of salt.”

LeMond’s eyebrows rose, and he spread his hands toward Faith in a “see how good she is?” gesture.

“I don’t get it,” Buck said.

Faith explained. “The drug he’s using boosts his ability to process oxygen. In technical terms, it raises his hematocrit levels so he’s able to go harder per breath than anyone else, even people who’re naturally very strong.”

“Okay, so?”

“So, the drug is a clear liquid, injected into the bloodstream daily. And right now, it’s somewhere in the hotel’s sewer system. I poured it down the toilet and replaced it with water.”

“And a little bit of salt,” LeMond said.

“And a little bit of salt,” Faith said.

“Why salt?” Buck asked.

Faith shrugged. “It just helps the body accept the water better. At the dosage levels Polini would be using, it wouldn’t really be necessary. A straight water injection of a few CC’s wouldn’t hurt him. But there was a little salt packet there, and I figured why not do it right?”

“So he’ll be back to his usual ability tomorrow? Shitty on the climbs?” Buck asked.

“Well, yes and no,” LeMond said, tilting a hand back and forth. “The effects of the drug in Polini’s blood won’t wear off immediately, but you’ll have a fighting chance at least.”

“Well, that’s a hell of a lot better than nothing,” Buck said. “Nice going, Faith.”

“Just doing my job to help the team,” she said.

What a woman. Buck wondered if there was anything she couldn’t do.

“Right now, what would help the team best is a quiet night and some sleep,” LeMond said, standing. “Big day tomorrow.”

Faith stood too. “I’ll leave you guys alone then. Get some good rest. We’ll kick ass tomorrow.”

A smile spread across Buck’s face. They were back in the game, and it felt good. Better than good. Buck watched Faith walk out, and she gave him a little wave with her fingers and a smile.

When the door clicked closed, LeMond grabbed a magazine from the nightstand, folded it in half, and swatted one of Buck’s legs with it.

Buck glared at him. “What’s that for?”

“How many kids you think you’ll have?” LeMond grinned.

Buck burst out laughing. “Shut your face,” he said. “You’re lucky I’m tired and busted up or I’d whip your ass.”

“In your dreams, kid. Now get some rest.”

Buck took that to mean he should lie on his bed and watch TV. The news was peculiar. The French anchors were reporting terrorist activity in the Southwestern US in conjunction with some military training exercises. Could it be a sign Miguel’s Mexican supporters were succeeding?

“What do you make of this?” Buck said, watching the reports.

“I think if they’re reporting anything at all, something serious is happening,” LeMond said. “And I also think your coach told you to get some rest.”

In the morning, Polini’s smug face showed no change. In the overall standings, he was ahead by a good margin and seemed sure he was going to win today’s stage as well, by the looks he gave the other riders. He straightened his yellow shirt and gave the press all the shots they wanted. Buck just hoped the cheating drugs had worn off enough that he’d have a chance to catch up. There was a huge climb at the end of the stage, and he’d need everything in his body to claw the time back.

Chapter 23

Faith watched the second to last stage from the team car with LeMond, listening to the transmissions from the riders’ radios. It unfolded almost the same as the previous climbing stage, except, thankfully, without a painful roadside crash. Still, she feared for Buck. Maybe Polini had figured out her ruse. He had to have heard that LeMond requested extra testing.

LeMond hadn’t been able to say why he suspected Polini of cheating when he went to the race director. His case might have been stronger if he’d revealed that Faith had snuck into Polini’s hotel room and discovered the drugs, but the race director might also have disqualified Buck for having a team support member who moonlighted as a cat burglar. So, LeMond just said he had “strong suspicions” based on Polini’s sudden, unprecedented abilities as a climber. The lack of credible evidence against Polini opened the door for Bernard to refuse to investigate. In a perfect world, an impartial race director would have tested and disqualified the entire New Orleans team, but this was far from a perfect world.

What a strange sport, Faith thought. Still, she was kind of getting into it. Or maybe she just wanted Buck to be happy because she . . . what? She knew it was still wrong, but something happened to her when she was around Buck. It was unsettling. And it was happening forcefully to her right now as she watched Buck’s face twist into a grimace as he struggled to wrest time back from Polini.

Please, she thought. Please, just don’t fall off the bike or hurt yourself any worse. What if a cracked rib punctured his lung? That would be a lot worse than losing the race.

Buck had been towed partway up the climb by Alfredo and Alfonso, both of whose faces were equally as tortured as Buck’s. Polini and one of his lieutenants hung on as well, having dusted the rest of the field. As they tapped out their rhythm on the pedals, the support men faded away, once again leaving only Buck and Polini to suffer on to the summit. Polini was surging ahead again and again, trying to break away from Buck completely, but Buck managed to catch up each time.

“Buck,” LeMond said, keying the radio mic. “How are you feeling?”

Faith stole a glance at LeMond to see if he was looking worried or not. He was. Watching Buck’s face on the monitor, you’d think he could barely stand to turn the pedals one more time.

Buck reached for the mic clipped to his race jersey. His voice came back through crackles of static. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m about to leave this guy.”

“What?” Faith asked. “Is he really okay?” He looked on the monitor like he was in the worst pain of his life.

LeMond was laughing. “Yeah, sounds like it. He’s just putting on a show to sucker Polini into attacking on this climb. He’ll make his move soon.”

Faith watched as best she could while steering the team car along the mountain roads far back from the head of the race. She slowed to a stop behind the rest of the race caravan. These tiny mountain roads caused a lot of pauses like this one, and she was glad of it.

As she watched, Buck was leading Polini around a left hand turn. The road looked impossibly steep. Buck stood up on his bike and twisted his body to look Polini in the eye. But Polini was staring at the ground, apparently exhausted. Seeing this, Buck turned forward once more and rode away, leaving Polini as though the big sprinter were standing still. The press chatter over the car’s radio went positively insane as the commentators relayed what had just happened.

Faith was obliged to drive again, as the convoy pulled away, but she could barely keep her hands on the steering wheel. She wanted to yell loud enough for Buck that her voice would carry up the mountain to help spur him on, but if the radio were anything to go by he needed no encouragement. He danced up the remainder of the climb, even shifting into his bigger gears once he reached flatter ground in the hamlet near the summit where fans were gathered, screaming their heads off.

Now Faith was yelling, whether Buck could hear or not. LeMond was yelling, too, out the window, clapping his hands, eventually holding up the radio mic and continuing to shout. “He’s done it! He’s gone! Polini’s got nothing! He’s done it!” LeMond bounced his body around in the passenger seat like an ecstatic kid having seen the ice creamery. Tears showed in his eyes, and Faith wanted to hug him, but she focused instead on driving the car through her own tears of joy.

By the time the convoy reached the summit, the race was over but for the arrival of the main pack. They found Buck but couldn’t stop next to him without holding up the rest of the convoy. He bellowed wordlessly at them, and they both went “Woo!” back, too excited to form words. Buck started to run after the car, not even caring what happened to his bike, but realized he couldn’t run in his cycling shoes. He tore them off his feet and thrust them at Jose, who was also grinning like a mad fool, then ran at the car and stuck his body in the window on LeMond’s side. LeMond went to hug him, but Buck yelped amidst his triumphant yelling.

“Agh! My rib!”

LeMond apologized, and Buck laughed and withdrew himself from the car. Faith was thankful. All they needed was for him to fall out while she was driving, even at these crawling speeds, and get a foot or leg run over. She kept expecting something like that to happen: maybe a race director would decide that Buck had missed some point of protocol that invalidated his stage win, or Barker or Bernard would show up waving a piece of paper that said they were screwed. But nothing like that happened.

Finally, something had gone right for a change.