Unsuccessfully, he tried to block all thoughts of the threat from his mind. With each day, his level of fear had escalated, and it became harder and harder to concentrate on golf.
He sat on the bed with his feet on the floor, trying to meditate. Allowing his body to loosen up and his mind to wander, he actually slipped into a state of tranquility. He emerged completely relaxed. Well, not quite completely, but at the moment, even partially was an accomplishment. He lay back and slowly resumed his thoughts of golf until sleep came.
On Friday, Reid played his round with Mickey Fels, an Englishman.
They had been casual friends since Reid joined the tour. By the fourth hole, a wave of new energy washed over Reid. Despite all the negative things that had been going on in his life and all the worries that had been tripping him up lately, he finally managed to let them go and just relax. His concentration came back. He body felt good and his mind seemed to put everything but the game out of his thoughts. He found his rhythm and moved into the zone.
At the fifth tee, he stepped up to take his turn. He took a deep breath and looked down the fairway to where he wanted to send the ball. He adjusted his grip and prepared to swing back. Suddenly a shot rang out. Reid dropped to the ground in panic as the team scrambled to surround him. He felt Joel’s long body land heavily on top of him, creating a human blanket.
Screams erupted from the crowd. Spectators scattered, some diving to the ground, others ducking behind trees. There was complete pandemonium. After a few moments, Stu yelled, “Relax everyone. It was only a car backfiring.” Reid closed his eyes and sighed. After Joel stood up, Reid got up slow ly and brushed the grass and dirt off himself. The bodyguards looked at each other with big grins. Seeing them, Reid began to chuckle. The laugh was infectious and spread through the men and even into the gallery.
“Okay,” Reid commented, “so much for being in the zone. I guess we can call that a trial run. Guys, thank you. I’m still shaking a little, but I’m impressed. You were quick. Now we need to get back to golf.” Reid turned to Mickey and said, “Sorry. Are you all right? I’m sure if you need a moment, everyone will understand.”
“No, I’m okay, thanks. Got to admit though, that was a first. I’d think about suing for emotional distress,” he kidded in his strong Cockney accent, “but I volunteered to play with you today.” “Volunteered?” Reid asked. “Yeah. They asked for volunteers before they assigned someone. I’ve got to tell you, the list of volunteers was a mile long. You’ve got friends out here in spite of yourself, Reid.” “Thanks, that makes me feel pretty good. Ready to play?” “Ready when you are,” Fels said. Reid stretched a little and walked to the tee. The gallery applauded his perseverance. He took a practice swing, then hit a fantastic shot. Mickey walked up and hit a great shot as well.
Reid was a little shaky on his following shots and bogeyed the hole. He settled down afterward and by the next hole found his rhythm again.
He finished the day in third place, four shots behind the leader. All things considered, Reid was okay with his standing. If he could finish like he did today in spite of the huge distraction, he could win tomorrow as long as there were no unexpected interruptions.
That night he needed to relax. He decided they would have dinner at the Cobblestone, a small local pub, which was far enough away that there would be no players or press to bother them. Reid had spent most of his summer nights at the pub during his college years. It was located about half way between the golf course and Joan’s house, so the girls would have a short ride home after dinner. In spite of the relaxing evening, Reid was having trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t purge his mind of the horrible possibilities. What if this lunatic tries to kill me but fails and only injures me? What if I’m paralyzed or have to live on a respirator? No way, not me. I’d rather be dead!
Once again, Reid was awakened by the ring of the telephone. He fum bled for it and lifted the handset to his ear. As he mumbled, “Hello,” a deep voice said, “This is your last warning, if you win this tournament, you die.” Then he heard a click as the caller hung up.
An intense feeling of dread swept over him. He was going to be sick again. He sprang out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet, he retched. He then sat slumped over on the tiled floor until his queasiness subsided. Trembling, he stood up and leaned against the wall for a moment, settling down. After splashing cold water on his face, he went to the living room. Mench, who was on duty, asked, “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “He just called with another threat.” Mench picked up his radio and sent an alert to Jay. Seconds later, Jay’s groggy voice came over the radio asking, “What is it?” Mench explained the call. “Who’s on duty besides you?” Jay asked, now fully alert. “Greeny’s just outside the door and Pat is on the balcony.” “Alright, I’m on my way. Send an alert to everyone except teams three and four. Wake up the others here at the hotel and station someone at every entrance. Have Stu call the phone company and check the call. Tell Joel to get over to the hotel switchboard. Our bug should have recorded it. Get the tape up to the suite immediately. And Mench, do not let Reid out of your sight.” “I’m on it.” Mench rapidly made all the calls. “Oh boy,” Reid sighed. “Another great start to a day.” “Listen to me, Reid…” started Mench. Reid cut him off. “I know, I know, you’re going to get him. You know what? I’m getting kind of tired of hearing it. You guys are no further along then when this whole thing started. I know you’re all the best, you’re certainly the most expensive, but why don’t you cut the crap and admit it. You’re clueless.”
Doing his best to keep his temper in check, Mench remained silent for a moment. With his face reddening, he said, “You know what, Reid? Maybe you’d be happier taking care of yourself. Maybe I should just leave. Maybe we should all leave. We’re with you 24 hours a day ready to take a bullet for you. You think we’re worthless? Well, good luck on your own, pal.” He got up and started to leave.
The door opened and Joel walked in. Mench passed him brashly. In a seething tone he said, “I’m done. See you on the next job. The one where the client appreciates the danger we’re in.”
“Hold it, Mench. What the hell are you talking about? Come back and sit down. Don’t leave, not yet anyway.”
“I’m tired of hearing Reid question our ability. He doesn’t get it. Tell him how often we find the perp while the threats are being made. It’s rare, right? Most jobs aren’t finished until the perp tries for the kill. That’s when we nail them. Go ahead, Joel, tell him.”
“He’s right, Reid. We rarely catch anyone during the threat stage. Our job is to take the perp down before he takes you down.” He turned to Mench. “Give the guy a break. He just got woken up at 3 a.m. by his fourth death threat and he’s in the middle of a huge tournament. You think maybe he’s a little uptight? Of course he’s upset with us; he’s upset with everything right now. Let’s all just settle down.” The three of them sat in silence for a minute. Reid broke the silence. “Mench, I’m sorry.” “No Reid, I’m sorry. I should know better. I’ve worked with clients who broke under half the pressure you’re under. You’re a credit to the PGA. In fact, you’re a credit to professional athletes. Most people in your position would be hiding out somewhere. You’re out in the middle of the crowds, doing what you’re supposed to do, not letting this guy get to you. Forgive my insensitivity.”