Free Rush for the Gold: Mystery at the Olympics by John Feinstein Page A

had ever seen him. He didn’t say another word to James. Instead, he turned to Mike Unger, who looked pretty horrified by the exchange himself. “Where’s Chuck Wielgus?” Kelleher said.
    “Probably on deck somewhere waiting for Phelps to swim—”
    Kelleher didn’t wait for him to finish; he just headed out the door. Stevie figured somebody from the
Herald
better stick around. Plus, he wanted to see Susan Carol. And a moment later, she walked in the back door with Christine Magnuson. Susan Carol was clearly searching the room for him because the minute she spotted Stevie, she veered away from the path that had been cleared in the middle of the room for the swimmers and darted over to him.
    She hugged him and, before he could congratulate her, said, “Where are Bobby and Tamara?”
    “Long story,” Stevie said. “I’ll tell you when you’re done … if I’m allowed to talk to you.”
    She gave him a look, but Trevor James was calling her name. “Ms. Anderson. We need you up here,” he said.
    “Walk with me on the way out,” she said, and headed up the aisle to join Magnuson on the podium.
    Most of the questions were for Susan Carol: How surprised was she by the time; did she think she could catch Magnuson those last few meters; how surprised was she by her improvement in the last twelve months? When someone finally asked Magnuson a question, it was about Susan Carol.
    “How amazed are you by the way she has come out of nowhere to be such a threat in the upcoming Olympics?”
    Magnuson looked frustrated. “Look, she’s a terrific swimmer,” she said. “But teenage phenoms are nothing new in our sport. Almost every year someone new comes along, especially among the women.
    “She put up a really good time for this early in the season, but we’re all going to have to go a lot faster than that to win anything in London. And if I hadn’t been swimming through the meet, I wouldn’t have died the way I did.”
    Stevie knew that “swimming through” the meet meant she hadn’t cut back on her training to be less tired for the real races. He also knew Susan Carol had done the same thing. He looked at her to see if she would make that point. She didn’t.
    Someone who had apparently not picked up on Magnuson’s simmering frustration asked a follow-up. “Don’t you think this is kind of special, though? Especially swimming like this practically in her hometown …”
    Magnuson looked at Susan Carol and said, “Didn’t you tell me you live, like, three hours away from here?”
    Susan Carol nodded.
    “Hardly her hometown,” Magnuson said. “And trustme, there won’t be a hometown crowd when we get to Omaha and, I hope for both of us, to London. Look, she’s a damn good swimmer and, from the little time I’ve spent around her, she seems like a real nice person. But let’s be honest here: What makes her special as opposed to other promising young swimmers is the way she looks. That’s why she’s got all these agents and sponsors and, frankly, you-all, trailing in her wake.”
    Stevie was studying Susan Carol as Magnuson talked. He thought he saw an eyebrow twitch, but other than that she seemed composed. After a moment of silence, a reporter asked Susan Carol if she had any response to what Magnuson had just said. Susan Carol smiled. It wasn’t The Smile, but Stevie suspected it was the best she could do.
    “Well,” she said, “I think Christine is a great swimmer who has earned my respect by her consistently strong races. I hope to be around long enough to earn hers, and yours, with my swimming as well.”
    After that there were a couple more mundane questions before James said the fifteen minutes were up. When the swimmers made their way off the podium, there was a security guard leading them and one following as they walked up the aisle. Susan Carol waved Stevie over as they got close to the door, but when he walked in her direction, one of the security people put a hand out.
    “Sorry, no