The Boxer and the Spy

Kip Carter was the best running back that had ever played in this town. Himself, Kip Carter. He knew that. He was probably the best running back in the state. And he had size. At eighteen he was 6’1” and weighed 205. He knew he could play in the Big Ten. He might even get pro size as he matured, with maybe a little help from the juice. Kip Carter was going to be somebody. Hell, he was somebody now! Every guy in school was afraid of him. Even the older townie guys didn’t give him any trouble... Terry Novak had to be scared of Kip Carter. So why did he keep doing stuff that Kip Carter had told him not to do? And the little alley cat girlfriend—she had actually hit him, Kip Carter, and cut his lip.

He watched the gang of kids, Novak’s groupies, head down the street with Novak toward the cafe. He watched as Mrs. Trent came out of the office where Novak and his girlfriend had just been. Mr. Bullard wouldn’t like them talking to Mrs. Trent. It was not always exactly clear to him what Mr. Bullard was doing, but he knew it had something to do with Mrs. Trent, and he knew that Bullard didn’t want Novak and the girl nosing around in it. He was a little scared of Mr. Bullard. His authority. His size. His rage. But Bullard was his ticket to ride. He’d got him the scholarship to Illinois. He was the source for the ’roids, which had moved him to another level, like Bullard had said it would. And if Kip Carter had a hero, it would be Mr. Bullard.

Mr. Bullard would want to know about this. He’d want to nip it in the bud. Maybe he should take some independent action. Maybe he could nip it, whatever it was, in the bud, before Mr. Bullard even heard about it.

Bullard had told him not to do anything unless Bullard said so. But he didn’t get to be Kip Carter by always doing what he was told, even by Mr. Bullard. He knew that Terry’s gang of kids was down there. Most of them were girls or nerds. But Tank worried him a little. And Carly. He wanted some backup of his own. He made a couple of calls on his cell. Then he stepped out of the movie theater entry and walked down Main Street toward the café.

Chapter 41

Tank came into the café and said to Terry, “Kip Carter is outside with about four other guys. He wants to see you.”

“No,” Abby said.

Terry didn’t say anything.

“We’ll back you,” Tank said. “Me and Carly, and I bet Steve would jump in.”

“No,” Abby said again.

Terry nodded slowly.

“Yes,” he said.

“It’s about me,” Abby said. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Terry said, “but it’s about me too.”

“I know who he has with him without looking,” Abby said. “Tookie, Ray...”

“Yeah,” Tank said.

“They are big mean guys, Terry,” she said. “You don’t need to do this. You don’t need to defend my honor or whatever it is.”

“It’s my honor too,” Terry said.

She felt desperate.

“Think, what would George say?”

“I think George would understand,” Terry said.

He stood up. She stood with him. He patted her on the upper arm for a moment, then he turned and went out the front door of the café. Tank followed him. Abby stood frozen for a minute. Then she went after them, out the front door of the café, and, on the dead run, past them, and across Main Street toward the building where George had his gym.

Abby was right, Kip Carter’s side was all football team. The kids had formed a big circle. Terry’s side of the circle was more diversified. In the center of the circle was Kip Carter in a tank top and jeans. To Terry he looked like something out of WWE SmackDown! Terry walked into the middle of the circle and stood facing Kip Carter.

“I told you what would happen, you kept causing trouble,” Kip Carter said.

Terry nodded.

“I want to know what you think you’re doing bothering Mrs. Trent.”

Terry shook his head.

“You better tell me now, Novak,” Kip Carter said.

“Or what?” Terry said. “You try to beat up on Abby? Last fight you had with her, I heard she won.”

Kip Carter seemed to freeze up for a moment. His face got red. He didn’t speak.

He’ll probably rush me, Terry thought. He could almost hear George’s voice. Keep him off with the jab. Cover up. Move. Carter couldn’t last long if he were swinging wild and off balance. Nobody that strong, George said. Even in boxing shape you can’t be flailing with both hands and no feet under you and keep it up.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw George strolling across the street with Abby. George was talking, but Terry couldn’t hear what he was saying. But George looked calm. It made Terry feel steadier.

“How’s your lip,” Terry said to Kip Carter.

And Carter rushed him. Terry went into his stance. Covered up. Crouched to make himself a smaller target. He moved right and stuck a jab out at Carter. Carter swarmed him, punching with both hands. Terry took most of them on his arms and moved back and jabbed again. He could hear George’s voice. Stick and move, the voice was saying. Stick and move. He wondered if it was really George’s voice. Kip Carter connected on a half-blocked roundhouse that staggered Terry. But Carter was off balance when he threw it, and all his weight wasn’t in it. Street fight, you don’t want to break your hand on his head. Want to use the side of your fist if you can. Or your forearm. Elbow. Use your fists on his body. Carter swung another big roundhouse left. Terry was able to lean back and check the punch past him with his right, block it hard with his left. He dropped a little lower and hit Carter hard with a right hook in his rib cage. He heard Carter grunt. He backpedaled and shuffled left while his head cleared. He could hear Carter’s breath starting to rasp.

“Stand still and fight, you little freak,” Carter gasped.

Terry kept circling left. His hands high, in a low crouch. It was odd how everything had come down to the fight. He didn’t feel much. He didn’t see much beyond Carter’s movement before him. Carter was hitting him mostly on the arms and shoulders and he didn’t really feel it. He was not aware of anyone around him. Of the kids standing in a circle. Of George standing with Abby. Of Paxton Bullard driving up behind the circle and easing himself out of his too-small car. All he saw was Carter, and only in a kind of faceless movement that he tracked and responded to without thought.

Carter tried to grab him with his right hand, but Terry stepped into him, which Carter didn’t expect, and turned and blocked the right hand hard with both of his forearms. Then he drove his right elbow up and across, catching Carter on the cheekbone. Carter staggered. He followed with his left forearm, turning with the natural torque of the movements, and Carter staggered backward. His arms dropped and Terry, his feet still under him, holding his stance, hit him in the middle of the face with a straight right. And Carter went down. A kind of sigh went up softly from the circle of kids.

Carter stayed down for a moment, sitting on the ground. Then he struggled to his feet.

“I’ll kill you,” he gasped, and with his head down rushed at Terry.

Terry stepped aside. He heard George’s voice through the murk of his intensity.

“Finish,” George’s voice said. “Finish it.”

Carter came at him again, bull-rushing with his head down. Terry hit him with a left hook and then straightened him with the big uppercut George had taught him. It stopped Carter. He stood motionless for a moment, then slowly dropped to his hands and knees and stayed there, head hanging. There was no sound except for Carter’s breath heaving painfully in and out.

Terry was still. As the fog of his intensity began to dissipate, he became aware that he was breathing hard. His hands would probably hurt in a while. He felt kind of bad for Kip Carter. He looked at Abby. He couldn’t read her face. But there was no pleasure in it. He wasn’t sure what it was. He looked at George. George nodded slightly. Terry understood that. He knew it was approval. George and Abby walked into the center of the circle. George squatted on his heels beside Kip Carter. He put a hand under Carter’s chin and raised his head a little and looked at his eyes.

“How you feel?” George said.

Carter shook his head.

“Got a headache?” George asked.

Carter shook his head again.

“Follow my finger,” George said, and moved his raised forefinger back and forth in front of Kip Carter’s eyes.

“You dizzy?” George said.

“I... don’t... think... so.”

George nodded and stood up.

“He be all right,” George said. “He more wore out than hurt.”

Terry nodded slowly. Abby stood next to him without speaking.

“Lemme see your hands,” George said.

Terry held them out.

“Nothing broken,” George said.

Mr. Bullard pushed through the circle of kids. He stopped next to Carter and looked down at him, and shook his head slowly and made a sound as if he were spitting. Then he looked around the circle.

“Okay,” he said. “What’s going on here?”

“Come on to my place,” George said to Terry. “We need to get some ice on your hands.”

Terry nodded again and, with Abby, he followed George through the quiet circle of kids and across the street toward George’s gym.

“Hey,” Bullard shouted. “Don’t you just walk away from me.”

“Ice’ll ease the swelling,” George said. “Maybe won’t hurt so much tomorrow.”

They walked on. Bullard stared after them for a moment, then he turned toward the circle of kids, which had already started to thin.

“You all get out of here,” he said. “Move!”

The remaining kids began to move. Kip Carter was on one knee now, leaning on the other one. Bullard stood over him with his arms folded.

“Stand up,” Bullard said scornfully, “and get in my car now.”

Carter rose slowly and, still unsteady, moved carefully toward Bullard’s car. Bullard stood for a moment staring after Terry, Abby, and George as they went into George’s building. Then he turned on his heel and walked angrily toward his little car.

Chapter 42

Terry soaked his hands in ice water, taking them out periodically when the cold got too much. Abby watched him quietly.

“So,” Terry said. “Whaddya think?”

“I didn’t like it,” Abby said.

George was stowing things: boxing gloves, trainer’s tape, jump ropes.

“Would you have liked it better if Carter won?”

“No. I’d have hated it more,” Abby said.

Terry was thrilled with his success, and the fact that Abby wasn’t treating him like a hero was bothersome.

“He started it,” Terry said.

“I know,” Abby said.

“Well, you don’t think he deserved it?” Terry said.

“I’m not thinking about Kip Carter,” Abby said.

George picked up a couple of towels and tossed them in the hamper.

“I don’t get it,” Terry said. “I won the damn fight against the high school hero and you seem mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Abby said. “And I’m glad you won. I guess it just scared me a little.”

“Hell,” Terry said. “It scared me a little too. But it’s over now. What’s your problem?”

“If it had happened when he... bothered me in the woods,” Abby said, “I would have been thrilled. I was so scared... and so mad... and you would have saved me from him.”

“And this isn’t saving you,” Terry said.

“No,” Abby said. “This is like revenge.”

Terry stared at her.

“Well,” George said. “Might be more than just revenge, might prevent him from bothering you again.”

Abby nodded.

“I suppose,” she said.

“Not a bad thing,” George said.

“No.”

“But that ain’t what really bothering you, stuff about revenge.”

“It’s not?” Abby said.

George shook his head and grinned at her.

“You don’t like the Terry Novak you saw in the fight. You never seen him before.”

“He was so angry,” she said. “He was, like, cruel.”

“For god’s sake,” Terry said.

“Ain’t gonna argue none about whether fighting’s good or bad,” George said. “My own guess is that it be good and bad, like most things. Hitting somebody is cruel, even if you have to do it. But say that you do have to do it, then being angry and cruel probably a good thing. Long as you control it.”

“You think he had to fight?” Abby said.

“I think there are some things worth fighting ’bout,” George said.

He grinned at her.

“I was Terry,” George said. “You might be one.”

Abby looked at Terry.

“But I don’t know if I could spend my life with someone cruel and angry like that,” she said.

Terry felt the familiar electric thrill when she mentioned spending her life with him and the equally charged flicker of fear when she suggested there could be a reason not to.

George nodded.

“There it is,” George said. “Isn’t it?”

Terry and Abby both looked at him.

“You known him nearly your whole life,” George said to Abby “And you never seen him angry and cruel before.”

“No.”

“That the control thing,” George said. “The good ones, like Terry...” Wow! Terry thought. “They can control it and use it only when they fight.”

“And the bad ones?” Abby said.

“Kip Carter,” George said.

“They don’t control it,” Abby said. “They let it out all the time.”

George nodded.

“You think everybody has cruelty and anger in them?” Abby said.

“I hear you punched Kip Carter on the lip when he grabbed you in the woods,” George said.

Chapter 43

In his office, in the now-empty school, Bullard loomed in front of Kip Carter.

“Nice going,” Bullard said. “You’ve fixed it so now I’m going to have to do something about him. Her too, probably.”

“I was trying to help,” Kip Carter said.

“He beat you like a drum,” Bullard said.

Kip Carter looked at the floor.

“A ninth grader...” Bullard said.

Kip Carter couldn’t think of anything to say. He looked at the floor some more.

“You’re yellow,” Bullard said.

“Mr. Bullard,” Kip said. “I’m not.”

The veins in Bullard’s neck were bulging. His face was red. His breathing was heavy and fast. His voice was hoarse.

“I told you not to touch him unless I said so,” Bullard said. “Didn’t I?”

Kip Carter nodded.

“But no, you jerk,” Bullard said, “you had to be a hero. You thought you could beat him up easy, everybody thought you could beat him up easy. You even fooled me, but no more.”

The color in Bullard’s face deepened.

“You know why he beat you?” Bullard said. His voice was shaking.

“Because you quit,” Bullard rasped. “Because he landed a couple of lucky punches and you folded like an accordion. I thought you were going to cry.”

“I didn’t quit, Mr. Bullard,” Kip Carter said. “He beat me, but I didn’t quit.”

“You quit,” Bullard said. “You think you can play in the Big Ten? You think a quitter like you can make the team? When I get through talking to the coaching staff out there, they won’t give you a scholarship for cheerleading.”

“My scholarship?”

“Forget about it. You go along with me, I go along with you. You only cross me once.”

“I was trying to do the right thing for you, Mr. Bullard,” Kip Carter said. “Novak was getting too close. I thought I could pound the fear of God into him.”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” Bullard said. “You turned yourself into a joke. I got no use for a joke.”

“And now you’re going to ruin my scholarship.”

“Absolutely.”

“Mr. Bullard, I... You can’t just throw me away... I know stuff.”

“And you’ll keep your mouth shut about anything you know,” Bullard said. “Or you’ll be swimming with the fishes like the other guy.”

Despite the obvious rage he was in, Bullard’s voice was suddenly quiet and hard as winter ice. Kip Carter realized he was seeing the Mr. Bullard that Jason must have seen, just before he died.

“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “You can trust me, sir.”

“And you can trust me,” Bullard said. “You say one word and I’ll bury you.”

“Yes sir,” Kip Carter said. “I won’t say anything.”

Bullard stared at him for a long time without speaking. Then he nodded slowly.

“No,” Bullard said. “You won’t.”

Bullard jerked his head toward the door and Kip Carter turned and left. He appeared cowed and his head was down, but to himself he said, The hell I won’t.

Chapter 44

Terry was through soaking his hands when Kip Carter walked into George’s training room.

“Fight’s over, son,” George said to him.

“I don’t want to fight,” Kip Carter said.

Terry looked at him silently.

“So what do you want?” Abby said.

“I want to tell you about Mr. Bullard,” he said.

Behind him the doorway was suddenly blocked by Bullard’s huge frame.

“You three,” he said. “Come with me.”

“No,” Terry said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“He’s got nothing to say and you three are coming with me.”

Again Terry said, “No.”

Bullard reached out and grabbed Terry by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

“No?” Bullard said. “No? You don’t say no to me.”

Abby made a little sound.

“Let go the boy, Mr. Bullard,” George said.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, George was a sturdy middle-sized man, but he looked frail, Abby thought, compared to Mr. Bullard. Bullard let go of Terry and turned his head as if he had heard a fly buzz.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t put your hands on the children,” George said.

“Who the hell are you?” Bullard said.

“My name’s George.”

“Well, George.” Bullard drew the name out so that it sounded mocking. “I am the principal of the high school, and these children are facing disciplinary action of a serious nature. If you stand there quietly and keep your mouth shut, you may not get into trouble.”

“Talk to them right here,” George said. “And don’t touch them.”

Bullard was trembling with partially contained rage. He looked volcanic.

“They’re coming with me,” Bullard said.

George shook his head.

“No? You’re telling me no? You really think you can stop me?”

“Maybe so,” George said.

Bullard spit on the floor in contempt.

“You three, now, come with me.”

Terry, Abby, and Kip all said, “No,” at the same time. Bullard’s voice was thick, as if his throat was clogged.

“Then by God, I’ll drag you out of here,” Bullard said.

George stepped away from the wall and stood between the kids and Bullard. His arms were no longer folded. He held his hands relaxed in front of his chin, tapping his fingertips together lightly.

“Why don’t you go someplace, Mr. Bullard,” George said. “Have some tea. Take a shower. Calm down so’s you won’t do something crazy.”

Bullard put his right hand out to shove George aside. George checked it aside with his own right and blocked it hard with his left.

“We don’t really want to fight, do we, Mr. Bullard? Two grown men, in front of the kids?”

Bullard made a sound like a loud growl and lunged at George. George slid to his right and, as the lunge passed, knocked Bullard down with a right hook. Bullard sat down hard and looked startled for a moment. Then he growled again and struggled to his feet. Terry pushed Abby behind him to the wall and stayed in front of her. Kip Carter, too, got out of the way.

“Oh my god,” Abby said.

Terry and Kip Carter said nothing.

George was in his boxer’s stance now, hands protecting his head, arms and elbows protecting the body. His feet were in the right place.

“It’s not too late, Mr. Bullard,” he said. “We could stop here.”

Bullard snarled and swung at George with a massive fist. George blocked it and countered. George’s hand movements were almost too fast to follow. Straight right, left to the body, right to the body, turning the hip, pushing off with his legs. Left hook to the head, right cross, left jab, and a brutal right uppercut that put Bullard down and kept him there. He wasn’t exactly out, Terry thought. But he couldn’t get his legs under him. It all took less than thirty seconds.

“I believe you saw this man assault me,” George said.

They nodded.

“I think it’s time to call the cops,” George said.

Kip Carter went and stood over Bullard, looking down at him.

“He killed Jason Green,” Kip said.

“Imagine the cops might be interested in that too,” George said.

Chapter 45

They were in the Cabot police station with a Cabot police detective named Morris and a state police detective named Fogarty. Bullard was in another room with two other detectives. George was in the waiting room. Fogarty was doing the questioning.

“None of you is under arrest,” Fogarty said. “You understand that? You are free to leave if you wish.”

The three kids said they understood.

“You two are minors,” he said to Terry and Abby, “so we’d rather not question you without your parents here. But I’d like to have you hear Carter’s story, so when you have the proper adult supervision, you can comment on it.”

Terry nodded.

Abby said, “Yes sir.”

“But you,” Fogarty said to Kip, “are eighteen. We will be very happy to listen to what you got to say.”

“Sure,” Kip said.

Morris clicked on a tape recorder.

“I’m Detective William Morris of the Cabot Police Department. We are taking a statement, voluntarily given by Kippen L. Carter, age eighteen, of Cabot, Massachusetts, a student at William Dawes Regional High School. The interview is being conducted with me by State Police Detective Lieutenant Alan Fogarty at Cabot, Massachusetts, Police Headquarters.”

He gave the date and looked at Kip.

“You ready?” he said.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell us your story,” Fogarty said.

“Mr. Bullard, was, ah, a big football freak, you know? He was a big star in college and coulda gone pro but hurt his knee.”

“Where?” Fogarty said.

“Where?”

“Where’d he go to college?”

“Illinois.”

“University of?”

“Yes. He got me a scholarship there.”

Terry and Abby sat side by side in the interrogation room listening. Terry had his hands folded in his lap. Abby rested her hand on Terry’s forearm.

“And you were grateful,” Fogarty said.

“Yes sir,” Kip said. “He used to give us, the guys on the football team, the ones that were good, he used to give us steroids.”

“Can you name what he gave you?”

“Not really,” Kip said.

“Hard to remember,” Fogarty said. “We’ll come back to that later.”

“We won the state super bowl last fall,” Kip said.

“I’ll need the names of the other kids getting steroids from Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Do I have to?” Kip said.

“ ’Fraid so, son,” Fogarty said. “It’s all out of the bottle now. There’s no stuffing it back in.”

Kip took in a deep breath.

“I gotta get through this,” he said. “Can I give you a list, after?”

“Sure,” Fogarty said.

“So one day he...”

“Bullard,” Fogarty said.

“Yeah, Mr. Bullard, he brings me in his office and he says to me, how he helped me out with the ’roids and how he got me the scholarship to Illinois. And I say yes, like, I’m very grateful. And he says that the school is building a house, you know, the technical arts guys, and he says they need a little supervision, and would I be his man on the project? And I say sure, what am I supposed to do, and he says it’s an experimental project and he doesn’t want it talked about yet, and I’m to make sure none of the kids working on the project asks a bunch of questions or talks about it to other people, you know?”

“And you agreed,” Fogarty said.

“Sure. It was easy, they were all scared of me...” Kip paused and looked at Terry. “Except him, I guess.”

“What was the experiment?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t think there was one. I think him and Mrs. Trent were building the houses and selling them and keeping the money.”

“Mrs. Trent the current candidate for governor,” Fogarty said.

“Yes.”

“Why did you think it’s a scam?” Fogarty said.

“Well, she was around a lot, and he was around a lot, and all the kids, me too, kept wondering what was going to happen to the house when it was done.”

“Were there other houses?”

“I guess so. Some of the older kids say there were,” Kip said.

“What happened to them?” Fogarty said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know even where they were built.”

“Why do you think Mrs. Trent was involved?”

“She was there with him a lot. And sometimes they would, ah, sort of paw each other when they thought no one saw them.”

“Who was the project supervisor?”

“Mr. Malcolm is head of the tech arts curriculum,” Kip said. “I guess it was him. He wasn’t around much. And the construction supervisor guys, they just knew about carpentry and wiring and stuff. Plus, you know, I was supposed to keep the kids from even asking.”

Fogarty nodded slowly. He looked at Morris.

Then he said, “And what about Jason Green?”