John Feinstein - The Rivalry - Mystery at the Army-Navy Game

“Do you really think…?”

“Yes,” Stevie said. “I do.”

Army was lining up to punt, having failed to pick up a first down. There was 2:14 left in the half, and Navy had called time out hoping to get good field position and put together some kind of drive in those last two minutes. TV had taken yet another time-out for more commercials.

“What do we do?” Susan Carol asked. “How could we prove it? We can’t just walk into the referees’ locker room at halftime and accuse them of bettin’ on the game.”

“No, we can’t. But the Secret Service and the FBI can. You know there are FBI agents here today. There have to be. And fixing a game is a federal offense.”

She pulled out her cell phone and began dialing.

“Who’re you calling?”

“Mr. Dowling.” She paused. “Mr. Dowling, I know this sounds crazy, but are there FBI people here today?” She paused again. “Is there any way you can meet us in the tunnel near the referees’ locker room? Like now?”

Dowling said something in response and Susan Carol nodded. “I swear I wouldn’t bother you if it was.

“Okay, thank you. We’ll walk over there right now.”

She snapped the phone shut. “He can’t come himself because the president is going to cross the field soon. But he’s sending two FBI guys to meet us.”

“Wow,” Stevie said. “I guess he trusts us a little, anyway.”

She nodded. “I know-I hope we’re right about this.” Stevie smiled, and then she said, “Wait, I mean, I wish we were wrong, of course, but I hope we’re right…”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “Let’s go.”

They jogged in the direction of the tunnel, stopping in the end zone to watch Army punt. Navy came with a ten-man rush, trying to block the punt. Someone broke through the middle and ran right at punter Kyle Delahooke. Stevie saw the ball come off Delahooke’s foot and smack into the Navy defender’s outstretched hands. The ball careened off his hands to the right and there was a mad scramble for it.

A Navy player scooped it up-Stevie saw it was number 15-and ran toward the end zone. As he crossed the goal line, the Navy sideline exploded.

But Susan Carol was shaking her head. “Look,” she said, pointing across the field.

Sure enough, there was a flag.

“Would you like to bet this call goes against Navy?”

“Oh no,” Stevie said. “I’m not a betting man.”

Mike Daniels was consulting with line judge Terry Ramspeth and solemnly nodded.

“Offside,” he said. “On the defense. It’s a five-yard penalty. Repeat fourth down.”

Stevie looked down the sideline just in time to see Kenny Niumatalolo steaming toward Daniels, headset off, screaming. “Who was it?” he demanded. “What number? You didn’t even give a number! What game are you guys watching out there?”

“Come on,” Susan Carol said. “Let’s go find the FBI.”

They took off for the tunnel, where guards and Secret Service agents were posted, blocking people from coming onto the field.

“If you leave now, you can’t come back until the president has crossed the field,” someone in a suit warned them.

“It’s okay,” Stevie said. “We understand.”

They turned the corner and ran for the officials’ locker room.

Two men in dark suits were waiting.

“Are you Steve and Susan Carol?” one of them said. He was very tall, with short-cropped dark hair.

“That’s us,” Susan Carol said.

“I’m Agent Mayer; this is Agent Caccese,” the tall one said. “What have you kids got?”

“Your theory, Stevie,” Susan Carol said. “Tell them.”

Stevie did, talking as fast as he could about all the calls and about Ramspeth’s reaction when Dean Taylor had mentioned making sure no one scored.

Mayer looked at Caccese. “What do you think?”

“I’ve heard crazier theories that have been proven out,” Caccese said. “And after all the fuss at the Notre Dame game, we’ve been watching for anomalies here. Gamblers come in all shapes and sizes.”

“And stripes,” Mayer added.

Caccese rolled his eyes and pulled out his cell.

“Tom, when the officials come off, stall them a minute. Tell them the service is sweeping their locker room one more time.”

“What’re you going to do?” Stevie asked.

“I’m going to put a bug in their locker room,” Caccese said. “See if they say anything interesting during halftime. I’ll need about fifteen minutes to get it done.”

After a few more phone calls and about five minutes, four more FBI guys appeared, two carrying suitcases. Also two Secret Service agents and two bomb-sniffing dogs. The six of them walked to the door of the officials’ locker room and knocked while Mayer, Caccese, Stevie, and Susan Carol held back in the hallway. Todd, the attendant, answered. Stevie couldn’t hear what the FBI and Secret Service agents said, but he heard Todd say, “There are only twenty-two seconds left in the half; the guys’ll be in here in about two minutes.”

Whatever was said in response, Todd came out and the six men and two dogs went in. Todd leaned against the wall and shook his head.

The half ended while they were waiting. Stevie and Susan Carol shrank back behind Mayer and Caccese while the seven officials walked past, escorted by several yellow-jacketed security men, but none of them looked left or right as they walked.

When they got to the door and saw Todd, Mike Daniels said, “What’re you doing out here?”

Todd pointed at the door. “Secret Service is in there. They said they had to have the dogs check one more time.”

“Why?” Daniels asked. “The president isn’t coming anywhere near here again.”

“Ask them,” Todd said.

At that point, Agent Caccese walked down the hallway to Daniels.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s strictly procedure when the president is still in the building. We rechecked the team locker rooms and everything else on this level too. It shouldn’t be more than another minute.”

“We need to get in there and prepare for the second half,” Daniels said.

“I understand. If you need, we can delay the start of the second half for an extra couple minutes.”

The door opened at that moment and the Secret Service men with the dogs came out first. The FBI guys-who Stevie hoped looked no different from the Secret Service guys to the refs-followed.

“All clear,” an agent said to Caccese. Turning to Daniels, he said, “Sorry for the delay. We won’t need to bother you again.”

The officials made their way into the locker room and Todd followed. If any of the officials had spotted Stevie and Susan Carol, they gave no indication of it.

Caccese walked back to them and Agent Mayer.

“It’s all set. We’ve got people in the command center listening, and we’ll go back there now. We’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

“Thank you,” they said, just as strains of “Hail to the Chief” began again.

“Any way you can help us get back on the field to watch this?” Susan Carol asked. “We’d really like to see it.”

Caccese nodded. “Tom, take them out and see what you can do, will you? I’ll meet you back in the command center in five minutes.”

“Follow me, guys,” Mayer said.

He led them to the tunnel, which was blocked. “I’ve got two who have clearance from Pete Dowling to go back out,” he said.

Apparently those were the magic words. Mayer walked them onto the field. “You’ll be okay from here,” he said. “We’ll talk soon.”

Stevie checked the scoreboard clock and saw there were still twenty minutes left in the break.

He could see that the president had just reached the field. Representatives from the army, the navy, and the marines lined both sides of the 50-yard line; all of them snapped to attention. As the president passed each person, he or she saluted.