Free All-Star Pride by Sigmund Brouwer Page B

bigger.
    â€œYeah. Chandler was probably tired of looking at those ugly stitches across your mug.And if you haven’t noticed, what Chandler wants, Chandler gets.”
    â€œWhat you’re telling me is if we learn to score goals by the buckets, we’ll get the same kind of treatment?” I was doing my best not to show any concern. How did I have a hope of watching Harris from this hotel room? And was this switch an accident, or had Harris changed his mind about taking me along on his next night excursion?
    Before I could say anything further, there was a knock on the door. Because my mind was on Chandler Harris, I fully expected it to be him.
    Nathan opened the door to see Nadia standing in the hallway.
    â€œMay I speak with Goreela?” she said quietly.
    â€œWrong room,” Nathan told her.
    I was already moving past him. “It’s for me.”
    â€œGoreela?” Nathan asked.
    â€œLong story, Nate,” I explained. “Tell you later.”
    â€œWe can go for a walk?” Nadia asked.
    â€œSure,” I told her.
    She looked at Nathan. “Please. Will you tell no one I was here?”
    Nathan probably caught the nervousness in Nadia’s voice. He pulled me aside and spoke in a low voice.
    â€œBig guy, I’m worried. You haven’t been yourself. It’s like...” He struggled for words. “Like you forgot hockey is supposed to be fun. What’s going on, anyway?”
    â€œToo much,” I said. “It’s about some money I need to return.”
    Nathan looked me directly in the eyes. “Remember those long road-trip talks we had back when we played for the Blazers? Stay true to what you believe, bud. If I can help—”
    I shook my head. No sense getting him into my trouble. It was nice, though, knowing the help was there. And nice, too, the reminder I needed to be able to live with my conscience.
    â€œHe won’t be long,” Nadia broke in, her voice urgent. “But I need to speak with him.”
    Nathan nodded.
    I followed Nadia down the hallway, feeling like a moose trying to keep pace with a ballerina.
    At the end of the hallway, she opened the exit door to the same stairs we had taken on a night that seemed very long ago. Without speaking, she led me up to the roof again.
    The evening was just beginning to darken, and the Moscow skyline formed box edges against a cloud-covered sun.
    â€œI will talk quickly,” she said. “The less I am seen with you, the safer it is for both of us. Those government men. They spoke with you on the train?”
    I nodded.
    â€œThey are worse than rats.” She spit onto the graveled tar of the hotel roof. “I do not trust them at all.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” I said. “They said you were working for them. They said you gave them my name.”
    â€œYes, I am working for them.” She raised her head and looked me directly in the eyes.“Yes, I gave them your name, but only because I have decided I can trust you.”
    â€œYou always could. I told you that.”
    â€œWords mean nothing.”
    â€œThen how—”
    â€œDid I decide to trust you? After we spoke in St. Petersburg, Boris met with Chandler Harris. Boris took me along to translate. Boris told Chandler he intended to have you killed.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBoris said you could not be trusted.”
    â€œWhat did Chandler say?” I could hardly believe people had calmly discussed whether I should die.
    â€œChandler said you knew nothing of this. He said he only took you along because you were the strongest person he had ever met. He said you were the perfect bodyguard. Big and stupid.”
    I thought of how I had lifted Chandler from the airplane seat, trying to make him understand it was a mistake to mess with me. I remembered how he had suddenly become friendly after that and how I hadlet him lead me along. Chandler was right about one thing: I was