Michael Balkind - Sudden Death

“Hey, I’ve come this far on your crusade, I’m not quitting now. Let’s go.” He smiled and said, “Then let’s roll.” They pulled up to the front doors at Westchester Country Club. “Let me go in and speak with the manager first,” Reid said. I’ll be out in a minute. Shane, will you come with me?”

They walked into the lobby, and all heads turned to look at them. Here, everyone knew who Reid was. The clubhouse was enormous. Everything about it was distinguished, especially its members. It exuded old world charm and sophistication. The lobby had multiple sitting areas. The furniture consisted of immense dark leather couches and elegantly upholstered armchairs. The stone fireplace at the head of the room was big enough to park a golf cart in. Gigantic vases of fresh flowers brightened the room. No one ran up for Reid’s autograph. Not here. An older couple walked by. The gentleman politely tipped his cap, gave a small nod and said, “Welcome, Mr. Clark.” Reid nodded and respectfully said, “Thank you, sir.” Word spread that he had arrived and Steve, the club manager, came out to greet him. Steve was clean-cut, around 40 years old, and wore a beige suit with a dark green tie. Reid introduced him to Shane, then explained his intentions of walking the back nine with a few friends. Steve said, “Let me call Jimmy, our starter, to see what we look like on the west course.”

They followed Steve to his large office. Motioning for them to sit in the black leather chairs in front of his desk, he dialed the starter and reiterated Reid’s desire to walk the back nine. After listening, he hung up. “There are four groups on the west course now. Three are on the back nine, but you can walk the front. Jimmy will send anyone who wants to tee off over to the East Course for the next two hours.”

“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be around quite a bit over the next week and a half. In fact, I’d like to walk the back nine tomorrow. How about having lunch with me afterwards?”

“Excellent, you name the time. By the way, here.” He handed Reid a cigar from his humidor. “I know you enjoy them.”

“Wow, thank you,” Reid said as he ran the cigar lengthwise under his nose, inhaling the spicy aroma. “Excellent, Buck will be so jealous,” he said in Shane’s direction. “Here, take another for him.” Steve reopened the humidor. “Thanks, he’ll appreciate it. I’ll let you know about lunch as soon as I can. I need to check timing on a press conference first.” Reid and Shane walked out to the front of the building, where everyone was waiting. “Follow me,” he said. He found Jimmy standing proudly beside the starter’s shack, wearing a golf shirt and cap with WCC logos. “Hi, Jimmy, it’s good to see you. I appreciate your help,” Reid shook his hand and tried to hand him 50 bucks.

“No thanks, Mr. Clark,” Jimmy said, “wouldn’t take it even if I was allowed. It’s my pleasure to help.” He then added, “I wouldn’t mind a couple of autographs for my kids, though. When you have the time, that is.” “Absolutely Jimmy, you got it. I’ll obviously be around for a while.” “Enjoy your walk.”

The group walked the front nine, listening as Reid explained his plan of attack for the course. He discussed some of the tougher holes and the possibilities of hitting lay-ups versus long shots. Ball placement achieving the best approach to the green was critical.

“This is so beautiful,” Shane said. “Now I understand why my friends have been trying to get me to play for so long. Well, I guess it’s time for me to start, huh?”

Reid turned toward her and with a deadpan face said, “Wait a minute, you don’t play golf? I don’t believe this. Somebody get her out of here! I can’t be with this woman any longer.”

Silence followed, accompanied by looks of astonishment on many faces. Finally, Reid started to laugh. “Wow, you all thought I was serious? You really think I’m a jerk, huh?” Everyone nodded and Shane slugged him in the arm. “Ow! Don’t do that, I’ve got a big tournament coming up,” he said with another laugh. “Where did you learn to punch like that anyway?” “From two overprotective big brothers, so consider yourself forewarned.” “Duly noted. Alright,” he said rubbing his arm. “In all seriousness, I’m really looking forward to teaching you how to play.” He turned and gave her a hug. “That’s better,” she responded. They walked the last few holes holding hands. When they got back to the clubhouse, there was some commotion at the valet parking desk. A car had been stolen from the lot. It was a Porsche and Reid quickly learned that it belonged to Jim Turner, one of the golfers he had placed on the suspect list. Turner, at the moment, was yelling at the valet manager. “How could you let this happen, you idiot?” he growled.

Reid couldn’t help himself. He walked up to Turner and said obnox iously, “Oh, Jim, your car was stolen? What a bummer. Hope you have better luck on the golf course.” “Fuck you, Reid,” Turner said, steaming. “Right back at you, bud,” Reid said as he turned and walked away. “Dammit, Reid,” Joel said, “don’t pull shit like that.” “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. He’s a jerk.” “I mean it, Reid, cut it out. Do not provoke anyone else. You seem to forget that someone threatened your life. You need to take it more seriously. Besides, the guy’s car was just stolen.”

“Okay, no argument, you’re right. Let’s go get the vans, since the park ing attendants are all caught up in that nonsense.” He turned and yelled to the others, “We’ll be right back. We’re going to get the vans.”

The two men walked to the vans and each climbed into one. Reid start ed his and was just about to put it in gear when Joel gave a quick honk to get Reid’s attention. Joel was waving him over. Reid got out of the van and approached Joel. “This was under the wiper on the windshield,” Joel said. It was an envelope with Reid’s name printed on it. An icy chill ran through Reid as he reached for the envelope with a trembling hand. He weakened as blood drained from his head. He quickly grabbed hold of the side-view mirror to keep from falling.

Joel awkwardly reached for Reid’s shoulder through the open window, trying to help stabilize him. “Breath deeply,” Joel said. “Take it nice and easy.” Joel waited until he saw the color come back to Reid’s face. “Are you okay?”

Reid took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yeah…I guess.” He slow ly let go of the mirror and tested his shaky legs. Joel was still holding him through the window. “Can I let go?” Reid nodded and took another deep breath. He looked at the envelope.

“Why don’t you open it and read it to me.” Joel nodded and carefully opened it up. He unfolded a blue note and read:

I don’t care how much security you have,

They can’t stop my bullet. Don’t win the classic.

Reid started to shake again. He fell to his knees and heaved. Joel couldn’t open the van door without hitting him. He climbed out the passenger door and ran around the van. He put his palm on Reid’s back as he retched violently.

Reid remained hunched over for another minute. He waited until his breathing and heart rate stabilized. Then he slowly stood up with Joel’s help. “Is there a towel in the van that I can clean up with?” “I’ll go check. Can you stand on your own?” “I think so.” Joel came back with a couple of towels. Reid wiped his face and hands and asked Joel to get the waterless sanitizer and a clean shirt from his bag in the other van. He cleaned himself up and asked for an inspection.

“You look pretty good; this should do it.” Joel handed him a stick of gum.

Munching on the gum, Reid asked, “You think whoever did this stole the Porsche?” “That would be my guess,” Joel answered. “Let’s not tell everyone about this. You tell Stu, and when we get back to the house, we’ll call Jay.” “Agreed. Do you feel well enough to drive?” “Yeah.” They drove to the clubhouse and everyone piled in. Reid was very reserved on the ride home. “Are you okay? You’re so quiet,” Shane said. “I’m fine, thanks,” he lied. “Just thinking about the tournament.” They drove the rest of the way without much talk. Jared and Judy, protection team three, were already at the house when they arrived. “I’ve got to pick up the fried chicken and salads for our picnic,” Joan said. “How many will we be?” “Get enough for 25,” Reid said. “Those not coming with us will eat here.” He handed her some cash. “Good thinking,” she said. “Who’s coming with me?” Hunter, Judy and Jared all went with Joan. Joel, Stu and Reid went into the den and closed the door. They called Jay on speakerphone and told him about the note and Turner’s stolen Porshe.