CHAPTER 48

LONGSHORE AND THE OTHER SECURITY AGENTS watched their mystery man as the game came to its dramatic conclusion. He seemed agitated at first and then became enraged. He dialed a number on his cell phone but no one answered. He held a cane, but he walked as if it didn’t need it. The man paced throughout the sports book before storming toward the black jack tables. Then chaos.

He took his cane and slamming it on black jack and poker tables, raked all the players’ cards onto the floor. Chips were strewn everywhere.

“Get him now!” Longshore yelled as security personnel scrambled across the floor toward the epicenter of the man’s tirade.

Then he moved to another table and then another. Women screamed and fled their tables. A couple of men tried to subdue him, but the man promptly whacked them and marched to his next target.

It took three security guards to tackle and pin the man down. But not before he had wreaked more havoc than Longshore had ever seen while working at the Oasis. Security guards zip tied the man and escorted him off the floor.

Once off the main floor, Longshore stopped the guards.

Longshore spoke first. “Well, Mr. Nixon. You made quite a scene tonight. Needless to say, you’ll never darken the door of this casino ever again. You understand?”

The man kept his head down, unwilling to look at Longshore.

“But before you leave, let’s find out who you really are.”

Longshore walked behind the man and fished out his wallet. He walked back in front of the man and tried to compare his face with the one depicted on his driver’s license. The man looked up for a brief moment and put his head back down.

“Yep, that’s you all right. The media is going to love this story.”

Longshore shoved the man’s wallet into his chest and continued.

“You ought to be ashamed of what you did,” Longshore said. “And I’m not talking about what went on here tonight.”

Finally the man broke his silence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. And I think that I’m wasting my breath telling you not to come back here. You’ll be lucky if you get to see the light of day again, much less a casino in Vegas. And trust me when I say this: This isn’t staying in Vegas.”

Longshore stared in disgust at the man. “Get him outta here!”

He turned and watched the security guards march the man away. Longshore knew he’d be seeing the man’s face on television every day for the next three months, if not more.

* * *

CAL LEFT THE SCENE with Gio and another FBI agent, questions swirling in his mind. If Hernandez wasn’t behind this scheme, then who was? Who would go to those lengths to hire him? Who needed money that bad? Or worse, who hated Noah Larson and Brandon Gomez? Those questions would have to wait.

Cal mulled over the facts as they headed downstairs. In the lobby, the bar patrons buzzed over the game’s ending. It was an unlikely one for sure, and it irked Cal that he wasn’t writing about it. A few rowdy Seahawks fans enjoyed taunting the miserable Miami fans. To be so close yet to lose? It was the worst agony any fan could know. But Cal knew nothing of it tonight, for this was his chance to celebrate, to put aside his objectivity for a moment and soak in the exhilarating feeling of having his favorite NFL team take the world title.

The agent driving zoomed Cal and Gio toward the stadium. A flashing light in the windshield parted a sea of cars at every congested area.

Cal looked at Gio and stopped thinking about football for a moment. Instead, he thought about how scared the kid next to him must have been—so scared that he shot his kidnapper. Cal wanted to forget what had just happened. He wanted to wish it away, cover it up with a mental white sheet and never show it the light of day. But no matter how traumatic his past few days had been, it surely didn’t compare to Jake’s or Gio’s experience. Nabbed by a filthy stranger. Threatened at gunpoint. Separated from your family. No one deserved this, especially not a kid. Not Jake. Not Gio. Not anyone.

“You want to talk about what happened?” Cal asked.

Gio gazed out the window.

“I understand if you don’t. I just thought you might want to.”

Finally, Gio said something, his voice quivering. “What do you want to know?”

Cal paused. “What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did they try to scare you?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you think they were going to kill you?”

Gio nodded.

“How old are you? Twelve?”

“Thirteen.”

“No thirteen-year-old boy should have to go through what you just went through.”

Then Gio began sobbing, heaving as he let loose his suppressed emotions.

“It’s OK, Gio. You’re OK now.”

Gio continued crying for another minute before he regained his composure.

“I think what you did today was very brave. Who knows what might have happened had that man stabbed me with a knife.”

Gio nodded.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“I visit my cousins every summer in Colombia—and you need to know how to defend yourself there. My dad taught me how to shoot a gun. I never thought I would have to shoot another person.”

Gio then buried his head in his hands. Occasional sniffles broke the otherwise thick silence in the car.

Cal took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t like the idea of being a vigilante and getting his own justice, but in a way he was relieved. He knew Hernandez would’ve likely hunted him his whole life. But not now. Almost the entire cartel had been wiped out earlier in the day, but it was a 13-year-old kid who unwittingly cut the head off the snake.

As he stared at the fragile boy sharing the backseat with him, Cal wondered what effect this experience would have on Gio. Would it harden him? Send him into a depression? Hopefully, he would recover from this event in his life and be a better person for it. Cal could only hope for the best.

In the distance, Cal saw the lights glowing from the stadium. It seemed like he was re-entering some alternate reality after being entrenched in the real world—a hard world—for the past few days.

Cal’s team had escaped with a Super Bowl victory, but Cal had escaped with something much more important. He had escaped with his life, a fact that helped him put everything back into perspective.

The car came to a stop and the agent opened the door for the boy. Cal got out and joined them as they all rushed through security and a sea of jubilant Seahawks fans and depressed Dolphin fans exiting the stadium en masse.

A few pieces of confetti trickled from the upper reaches of the stadium toward the field as Cal walked through the tunnel with Gio. Apparently, no one had notified Gomez of the events over the past hour. Several Seattle players had yet to walk off the field, hoping to hold onto the moment just a little bit longer. But not Gomez. He sat on the end of a bench with his head buried in his hands. His helmet rested between his feet on the ground as he shook and sobbed. Almost anyone else taking in this scene would have assumed they were tears of joy.

When Gio realized his father was crying, his brisk walking pace turned into a full sprint.

“Daaaad!” he yelled.

Gomez looked up, mouth agape. A grin then spread across his face as he ran toward Gio before embracing him. More tears from Gomez. Then Gio broke too. Their hug seemed to last for over a minute, their voices breaking as they shared their joy.

Cal took it all in from 30 yards away, folding his arms and watching with satisfaction. This beats the winning moment of the Super Bowl. And not a soul was watching them but Cal. He knew he would never know what the Gomez family had been through, but Cal did know what it was like to almost lose someone you care about.

* * *

IN THE TUNNEL BENEATH THE STADIUM, reporters crowded around the 30-plus podiums set up for the players to answer questions. A few of the podiums were larger than others with more space for journalists to gather. Noah Larson stood behind one of those podiums.

“How does it feel to finally get the stigma off your back of being one of the league’s best quarterbacks without a Super Bowl title?” asked one of the reporters.

“Well, I know you guys all talk about that stuff, but even if we had lost tonight, it wouldn’t have changed how I felt about my career. I’ve worked hard and did my best every time I stepped on the field. And that’s not always good enough. There are plenty of guys in this league who work hard but never win a Super Bowl. That shouldn’t change how they are viewed. It’s hard to get here once, let alone twice.”

“Was that fake field goal called by the coaches?” another reporter asked.

“Absolutely not.” Noah laughed. So did the reporters. But Noah knew it wouldn’t have been a laughing matter if he didn’t score on the play.

“So, what possessed you to take off with the ball like that?” another reporter asked.

“To be honest, I love Gomez. He’s done a great job all year long for us and if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have won a few close games. But I just had a feeling and I went with it. It’s a play we practice, but one that was never called. Fortunately it worked out for us tonight.”

“Did any of the coaches say anything to you after that?”

“Yeah, something like, ‘We’re Super Bowl champions!’”

More laughs erupted from the reporters.

“Earlier you said if you lost it wouldn’t have changed how you felt about your career, speaking in the past tense. Are you considering retirement?” one of the reporters questioned.

“Well, I didn’t want to steal any thunder from our team tonight by announcing this, but yes. That was my last game. I promised my wife before the game, so that was it either way.”

Noah stared into the blinding camera lights. Photographers’ cameras began flashing. He could feel the pool of reporters swelling as a buzz hummed around the open area near his podium. Noah sipped his bottled water and waited in silence for the next question.

“Why now?” one of the reporters asked. “You just had one of the best seasons of your career and you just won the Super Bowl. Don’t you feel like you could keep doing this for a few more years?”

“Sure, I could. But it’s a few more years I would miss out on getting to be there for my family. Look, I’ve had to work hard to get where I am, and it’s only going to require a greater commitment as I get older. But I love my family more than anything in the world, including football. And quite frankly, I’d rather spend my time with them moving forward than studying film.”

Noah looked off to the side of the podium and saw Jake with Ellen. He motioned for Jake to join him. Without hesitating, Jake scampered over to his dad and plopped into his lap. Suddenly, a new flurry of flashes exploded in the room.

“You don’t think you’ll reconsider retirement?” one reporter asked.

“Absolutely not. I gave my wife my word—and you don’t know my wife.” Noah’s remark drew some chuckles. Then he continued. “I love Seattle and the fans here have been great. And tonight was what the past ten years have been about, getting to this point. But this franchise has some great young talent and it’s time for me to get out of the way and let somebody else have the spotlight.”

An NFL media relations personnel announced that there would be no more questions for Noah. He walked toward Ellen and gave her a big hug.

“Convinced this is it?” he asked.

“Well, you’ve convinced me,” she said, smiling. “Do you think you even have a chance of backing out now?”

“I wouldn’t think about it—besides, I meant every word I said up there.”

Ellen hugged him again.

An NFL employee then tapped Noah on the shoulder. “Mr. Larson, a Cal Murphy said he needed to speak with you. Is it OK if you speak with him?”

“Sure,” Noah said, spinning around and seeing Cal.

Cal approached the Larsons.

“Cal, how can I ever thank you enough for what you did?” Noah asked.

“Well, an exclusive would be nice,” Cal said, smiling.

“Anything you want.”

“Seriously, I’m glad I could help. I would hope someone else would do that for me one day if necessary.” Cal looked down and rubbed Jake on the head.

“I just can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, I’ll call you tomorrow and get your side of the story for this article. But before I go and let you get back with your family here, I need to tell you that Hernandez wasn’t really behind all this.”

“No? Who was?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I know there was someone else.”

“Well, are we safe?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to talk to somebody with the FBI about that. But be careful, OK?”

Noah nodded. He shook Cal’s hand and turned toward Ellen and Jake, pulling them in tightly.