Outlaws Of The Game

By D.D. Miro

Sophie Dubois wasn’t naive to the political games that were played off the field but never expected to find herself entangled in a plot of murder for power within the highly competitive world of International football. When Sophie gets dragged into work at The Porter Agency on a Sunday afternoon by her boss, Simon Porter, she’s NOT HAPPY and ready to tell him exactly that.... until she finds his blood-soaked body lying on his office floor. From that moment on Sophie is pulled into a world of sports outlaws and intrigue. With her help, Montreal police detective, Patrick McNab, and WADA [World Anti-Doping Agency] agent Pedro Cordova race to uncover a diabolical scheme designed to benefit one man's career at the cost of countless lives. With the upcoming FIFA U-20 games scheduled to take place in Montreal and indications of an impending terrorist act, they have no time to lose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Miro
• Release date: Dec 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311026125

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Saturday Evening - The history of competitive sport goes back to the beginning of mankind. Sport, it has been said, has been used by humans to attain superiority over nature and each other and it has taught us a great deal about ourselves. It has taught us that basic human skills can be developed and perfected with training, practice and increasingly, by the use of drugs. The importance of sports in human history is undeniable, for without competition there would be no drive to be the best. Without that inspiration, how would we have advanced as a species? Most importantly, how would we know who the winners were?

And who, the losers.

The Man contemplated this as he had many times throughout his life but never more so than during these last couple of months.

From his position in the luxury penthouse apartment on Isla Margarita just off the northern coast of Venezuela that he currently called home, he gazed out over the Caribbean Sea in all its beauty. The floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding his penthouse afforded a magnificent view of the island and coastline.

Sipping from a glass of champagne, he turned from the view and slowly scanned the crowded room. All the beautiful people were in attendance tonight. His guests included sports stars from a dozen different countries and even movie stars from Europe, South America and the United States but the most important guests in attendance were the political stars.

Over the years The Man had developed a vast network of resources and the majority of them were here now and mingling comfortably. The Man smiled at the thought that this would be the last party he would ever have to host for these degenerates.

The Man had put together extensive dossiers on most of the people in the room. It had been a great deal of work and he had been forced to solicit favours along the way which put him in debt to some very unsavory people but he was confident that no one would be able to piece it all together until it was too late. He knew exactly how he would realize his goal but it would not be before he was one hundred percent ready. He would not spoil things by being impatient.

After one of his waiters had refilled his Champagne flute and went away, he turned back to the sunset across the sea and raised his glass in a toast to the red and purple sky. A toast to his upcoming victory.

He had acquired almost everything that he needed. Almost.

CHAPTER 2

The tall, attractive redhead slowly made her way to her seat. She had arrived at the Estadio Olimpico in Caracas just prior to the commencement of the match, as instructed. The stadium was only full to half of its 25,000 seat capacity and the game was scheduled to start in 5 minutes. She easily made her way down the aisle in section 237 and then over to row D, slipping into seat number 4. She followed instructions well.

She went unnoticed for a few minutes but then a group of young Venezuelan boys who occupied two complete rows lower down from where she sat saw her and detected that she was alone. They began cat-calling and miming enthusiastic invitations for her to join them.

No me siento como sentarse con los niños esta noche. she told them.

She did not want to sit with the children tonight. One of the boys, the oldest, had stood and made a move as though to approach her but just at that moment the home team ran onto the field and the stadium exploded into applause and screams. The blare from the Vuvuzelas guaranteed that no further discussion would be taking place.

Linda sat and watched the first half of the match, wondering when and how she would be contacted. It was never the same way twice and she was getting accustomed to this aspect of the job.

Finally, her cell phone rang. She answered it and a woman’s voice on the other end instructed her to reach down under her seat and she would find an envelope. The caller hung up and Linda was left with a dial tone.

As instructed, always as instructed, Linda reached down under her seat and found the envelope. She pulled it loose and opened it. Inside was a slip of paper with a Paris bank account number under her name and a notation for a deposit in the amount of €170,000. All Linda had to do for this was deliver a small statue of the Virgin Mary that she had brought with her from Paris to a contact at the stadium. The small statue was sparsely painted; red and white details on the robes and The Virgin’s face painted with a pale brown. She had carried it in her handbag through customs without a problem.

Also inside the envelope were instructions on how to complete her task.

She rose and made her way along row D, now packed with spectators, and went back the way that she had come. As she exited section 237 she glanced back and saw that the stadium was now full and every seat seemed taken. As she made her way back up the aisle her thoughts were on how football was big money here.

As per her instructions, she found a man standing in front of the women’s rest area in the main corridor. As she approached, he asked her in English [albeit with a strong eastern European accent] if she was a big football fan. These were the passwords she needed. She handed off the statue to him without pause and continued walking.

She didn’t know for sure what was inside the small statue but she had her suspicions. This was not her first delivery.

CHAPTER 3

Sunday Morning - It was a beautiful late Sunday morning in Montreal and Sophie Dubois was enjoying her run on Mount Royal tremendously. Her favorite seasons were spring and fall, and spring, while arriving late, was finally here. The city was slowly coming back to life after having been in a coma for all those cold winter months. Already the faithful were returning to the mountain in force. The regulars had already arrived; families, other joggers, speed walking groups, lovers and dog walkers. Who could resist such a perfect day on the mountain?

Mont Royal Park was situated on a small mountain [more like a large hill] that was situated in the center of the city of Montreal. It could be seen from all directions upon approaching the city and if you were from here you felt at ease once setting your eyes on it. One of the most comforting sights for her when flying was the approach to Pierre Elliot Trudeau airport when she would get her first glimpse of St. Joseph’s Oratory. The oratory was a catholic basilica, a domed structure near the park with the mountain as its backdrop. In 1904 it was only a small chapel on the northern slope but by 1924 ambitious renovations had begun and when they were finally completed in 1967 it was an impressive structure. The oratory could also be seen on her approach back from the north of the province where her parents lived. For Sophie it meant coming home and being home.

After being cooped up in their homes for most of the winter, spring was akin to rebirth for the majority of Montrealers. The surrounding smell of budding trees and plants was an irresistible draw for those people who made Mont Royal their second home. If you didn’t get out and at least ski during the winter months in Quebec then you spent a lot of time indoors. While Sophie did ski, she considered herself an intermediate at best and did not go very often. When she did go out in winter though, she always ended up on the mountain.

The spring season here was usually very short; there were years when the snow was still on the ground as late as mid-May. She was pleased to see that there was no snow left even deep in the woods on either side of the trail she used for her run. It had all melted in late March this year, giving the season an extra boost. She knew that all the outdoor restaurant and bar terraces in the city center would be packed by one pm and then stay that way for the rest of the day as her fellow city dwellers celebrated the end of their winter hibernation.

She made her way around Beaver Lake waving to the regulars she had come to recognize as she continued on her run. She was in pretty good shape thanks to her regular routine. If not for the jogging, the ice cream she treated herself to almost every day would surely have taken its toll long ago. She was tall at five feet ten inches, and with her short curly auburn hair she had what she liked to think of as an athletic look but jogging was the only good habit she had. She still found occasion to smoke a cigarette here and there and liked nothing better than a Scotch with a little bit of ice after a long day. She sometimes felt guilty for that but managed to live with it.

It was just coming up on 9 am, though the regulars had been out for a couple of hours already, even the cyclists. Some people had chosen a spot on the grassy slope at the east side of the lake to rest or to settle in for the day at a picnic table, having brought with them their lunch baskets. It was a beautiful area.

Continuing on, she arrived at the lakeside facility building and stopped to use the washroom and to get a drink of water. As she exited the building she almost ran straight into another jogger with a dog. She steadied herself against a nearby water fountain and was delightfully surprised to see that it was her good friend Katy and her big Golden Lab, Scout. The dog, Scout, recognized her at once, licking the air and whining as he jumped up and placed his paws on Sophie’s chest.

Oh my God, Scout…Get down! Don’t do that to Aunt Sophie.

Katy tugged at Scout’s leash ineffectually but everyone who knew them knew who the boss was here. Truth be told, Scout was a perfectly well-trained animal and could do absolutely no wrong in the eyes of his master. Sophie took that moment to give Scout a great big hug and a good scratch behind his ears. He was a big dog.

Hi honey, how are you? Sophie leaned over and double-kissed her friend Katy after the dog had dropped back down to all fours, satisfied with his hug.

Katy looked great as always. Her long dark hair flowed well past her shoulders. She didn’t look anywhere near her 45 years of age. Still vibrant and in great shape, Sophie doubted that aging would ever really mean the same for Katy as it did for the rest of them. It could be the healthy lifestyle, or maybe it was the weekly spa treatments but whatever it was, it worked. Sophie was only 38, and she was often told that she looked a few years younger, but it never hurt to get a leg up on the aging process.

I’m good. Katy responded. I’ve been running around trying to get things together for my trip this week to see Linda in Paris. I’m sure I mentioned that to you a few weeks ago, no? I haven’t seen her in months and I think I should go over and check up on her and maybe hang around for a couple of days. I know that maybe I’m being the over-protective older sister, but with no other family around all we have is each other.

Sophie knew all about Katy’s younger sister Linda. Over the years she had been privy to many of her questionable activities. Katy’s younger sister had a tendency to get in trouble. She made what Katy thought were poor decisions and associated with the wrong type of people.

Katy and Linda’s parents had been killed in an airline disaster in 1983. They died along with 28 other passengers when an onboard fire on an Air Canada flight caused the plane to crash. Katy had been 23 at the time and a full time student at McGill University. Linda had only been 9 and had been staying with her grandmother while Katy’s parents went on a second honeymoon. They had booked passage on a flight to Paris and in order to cut down on some of the expense they had taken a connecting flight through New York, one that had proved fatal.

The period following the disaster had been trying for both of them. Their grandmother, who had lost her husband only two years earlier, suffered cruelly from the additional loss of her daughter and failed quickly, passing away only a few months later. At first Katy had had to leave McGill to provide for her little sister but fortunately she was able to return the following year thanks to a settlement payment from the Airline. It had allowed her to hire a live-in nanny to help take care of Linda and so Katy was then able to take a part-time job to help with her university expenses. Those were hard years for both Katy and Linda. It had probably been harder for Linda psychologically. For someone so young to lose both parents and her grandmother so suddenly had to have been devastating. Katy had tried to help her little sister as best she could but she had to deal with her own grief too.

As soon as Linda was old enough to take care of herself, Katy had let the nanny go. She had put money aside to help with Linda’s tuition fees for both college and university. However, by the time Linda had graduated from college she had decided that she didn’t want to go to university and instead wanted to follow a dream of becoming a model in Europe. Katy had strongly disagreed with this and it had resulted in a serious falling out. Linda left for Paris the night after her graduation and never looked back.

It took more than five years for Katy to patch things up and get her sister to agree to allow her to visit her in Paris. Once early on, Katy had flown to the city unannounced and sat in the courtyard leading into her sister’s apartment building, waiting for her to agree to open the door and speak with her. Linda had refused.

During those years, Katy, with her university degree in marketing, had managed to build her own successful business in Montreal. Straight after graduation she and a couple of her classmates had opened up Lightning Sports Media Marketing. For the first few years the company was nothing but a tax write-off but she had stuck with it and now it was a profitable minor player in the professional sports market globally. Last year she had managed to buy out the other partners, making her the president and CEO. The main office was in Montreal though she had been able to support a small three person satellite office in New York and a one person operation in Paris. Namely, her sister Linda.

When it became clear that Linda would never make it as a model in Europe, Katy had offered her a job as manager of the European branch of Lightning Sports and after much discussion and deliberation, Linda had accepted. Now their company sign boasted offices in Montreal, New York and Paris. And this was how Sophie had initially met Katy.

At around the same time that Katy and her university pals had started throwing around the agency idea, Sophie had taken her first job after college working for a freight forwarding company. After eight boring years she left that job and went looking for something more challenging. She had ended up working for a sports production company and that had led to getting a dream job with a player’s recruitment agency.

At the time it was a very small company run essentially by one man. The man’s name was Simon Porter and the agency’s name was The Porter Agency. Simon hadn’t been able to pay her very well at first but her intuition proved itself true as time went on; Simon turned out to be a great boss and a smart businessman who was easy and fun to work with. He gave her all sorts of opportunities for growth within the company and grow it did.

Early on, Simon had signed up a young footballer from a local university who went on to be the number one draft choice for France’s national soccer team in 1995. He was still with The Porter Agency in 1998 when France won the World Cup. That had put Simon’s agency on the map and while the player had moved on eventually to a bigger agency, he continued to have a good relationship with Simon and often referred promising young players to The Porter Agency.

The business was now thriving and there had been no looking back. Their list of sports talent included players from football, soccer, hockey, tennis and rugby from all around North America, Europe and Oceania. Since Katy’s marketing company was young and inexpensive during those early years, The Porter Agency had used them often and both companies had grown simultaneously. Sophie had to deal with Katy often through the business and they became good friends.

During her last couple of visits with Katy, Sophie had sensed that she had become anxious about her younger sister. From what little Katy was willing to tell her, Linda had met a man who had claimed to have coached a stable of some of the best new soccer players coming up out of South America. Linda had communicated to her sister that she was working with this individual in the hope of signing on some of his players with Lightning Sports for product endorsements and other marketing opportunities. Apparently she had already begun negotiations with Paris St. Germaine already aligned with the agency for the next season.

That had been a year ago. The most recent issue that was causing Katy’s current anxiety was that over the last 12 months Linda’s travel expenses had flown right off the chart. She had been going often to South America as well as all over Europe and even to the United States. Many were trips Katy had not known about and was not even consulted on. She expected at the very least that her sister would have scheduled a side-trip to see her in Montreal if Linda was on this side of the Atlantic but such had not been the case. Katy felt it was odd behaviour and to make matters worse there was a lack of income and new contracts resulting from all these trips and it was hurting her business. Something was going on and it had left Katy feeling unsettled. She had decided to make a trip to Paris to determine what the hell was happening and to have a long-delayed heart-to-heart talk with her sister.

I’m just waiting to hear back from the vet about boarding Scout while I’m out of the country. Katy said. I’ve asked them to send someone early Thursday morning to pick him up. My flight leaves at 1:30 in the afternoon.

Katy, what are you talking about? I told you that I’m here to watch Scout whenever you need me. You know I love this dog and it would probably be more of a treat for me than it would be for him. Please let me take him. It would be such a pleasure.

Sophie used her puppy dog eyes on Katy.

The look on Katy’s face was of total relief and Sophie thought she saw the beginnings of tears welling up in her eyes. Giving Sophie a huge hug she said, Oh, Sophie! That’s so sweet of you! I promise he’ll be a good boy and I’d much rather have him stay with you than at the kennel. They made plans to meet on Thursday to hand-off the dog and then Katy left to resume her run.

Sophie watched them slowly make their way along the north side of the lake. When they were no longer in sight she turned and headed south. Good, she thought, something to look forward to this week.

About an hour later, as Sophie was making her way back to her car [a late model Saab] in the parking lot, she began again to dwell on the subject that seemed to always be on her mind lately; her job at The Porter Agency.

She had recently begun to think it was time to move on. While there wasn’t anything crucially wrong with her position at Porter, she had begun to feel bored. It seemed that as the company grew, she was losing interest in having to work with the large group of employees and deal with all the personal politics. Currently she had an impressive resume and perhaps she should start sending out feelers. She would have to speak to Simon first, of course. He had always been good to her and she felt that she owed him that.

Eerily, her cell phone rang at that very moment and Simon’s voice could be heard bellowing out of the tiny speaker even before it even reached her ear. Sophie! Sophie, are you there?

"Yes, Simon, I’m here! For Christ’s sake, give me a chance to answer the phone!

What is it?!"

I need you to get over to the office right away!

Sophie couldn’t help but notice that Simon’s voice seemed strained and tired. Perhaps more so than usual but at first it didn’t ring any bells; Sophie was well-used to Simon. It was as if she’d been his wife for the last twelve years, minus the sex but double the drama. Sophie had spent plenty of off-hour time with him and while he had certainly campaigned for it often, they had never slept together. She didn’t know why. Simon was handsome. Twenty three years older than her but very well-preserved. In addition to him being married, she suspected that it also had something to do with the fact that his hair plugs reminded her of her old doll, Ms. Scribble.

Simon, it is Sunday morning! What is so urgent that it can’t possibly wait until tomorrow?

Simon’s voice rose quickly and then he was screaming. Passersby actually turned to look at Sophie as her boss made such a ruckus that he could be heard over the tiny speaker of her cell phone from over ten feet away. They seemed to linger momentarily, fishing for a juicy bit perhaps. Simon raved on.

I can’t get into it over the phone, just get here now! I need to show something to you and it can’t wait until tomorrow.

Since she was not in the mood to be bullied, Sophie coolly told him that she had ‘things to do’ and that she could only be there around 2:00 pm.

He growled and then the line went dead.

CHAPTER 4

Sunday Afternoon - Linda gazed out of the airplane window during the approach to Charles De Gaulle airport and admired the view for the hundredth time. She would never tire of it and each time she saw it she thought about how the following week would be filled with more excitement and more glamour for her than the week before.

More money, more parties, more shoes! She wasn’t embarrassed by her simple rule: only the best! She felt she had struggled all her life and now it was her turn to take what she wanted. She was feeling lucky, and that had prompted her to pick up another statue of the Virgin Mary as she passed through the duty free shop at the airport before boarding her flight. It was a twin to the one she had taken so much trouble to place into the hand of the man at the stadium in Caracas. While she was not particularly religious, she had come to consider it a sort of good luck charm.

She preferred not to know the outcome of these little romps of hers or how her actions might affect others. Who cares! Her grandmother used to say that if you want to run with the big dogs then you have to get off the porch, and she had been trying to do that since she was fourteen years old. Now she was finally running with the big dogs and her job was done until next time.

She only had a carry-on bag and cleared customs quickly. She grabbed a taxi outside terminal two and fifteen minutes later she was home. Although she had only been gone for four days, she was happy to be back.

After exiting the taxi, she took a moment to admire her neighbourhood and the building she was living in. She was certainly happy with her decision to move into the 16th arrondissement. It was much more upscale than the 8th and quieter as well. While it was not as convenient to night-life as the 8th, in many ways it was better. The building association for her condo offered a personal limousine service to each of the 6 tenants that was included in the condo service fees. She had her groceries delivered. She had appointments at the masseuse three times a week and if she felt like driving herself she had a cute little yellow convertible Alfa Romeo sitting in the parking garage. The small sports car was fun on weekends when she felt like driving out of the city on her own. Without instructions, what bliss!

The only thing missing from her life right now was that she had no one waiting for her when she returned home from these trips. At 31 years old, she was beginning to worry that her days as an eligible, attractive woman might turn out to be limited and that she should think about settling down. + Shoes!

She had never wanted to have any children and was now, suddenly, wealthy enough to be totally self-sufficient. She craved pampering and felt that she deserved to have it. She would call upon her best friend as soon as she had settled into the condo and would see if she was still free for dinner, drinks and clubbing. Debra, thank God, was usually free for some fun.

As she approached the main entrance, the concierge, Daan, opened the door for her.

Good afternoon Ms. Boden. It is nice to have you home.

As he spoke, his eyes obviously traced her form from head to toe. This was normal behaviour from Daan. Linda didn’t mind it so much. Daan was a nice-enough looking man, even if he was from Belgium. If she hadn’t been aiming much, much higher at the moment she might have considered initiating sex with him right then, and finish up in his little office. He wouldn’t know what hit him. Her stomach growled. She tried to remember what she had in her fridge upstairs.

Always nice to be home. Thank you, Daan.

What exciting location were you visiting this week? Daan asked. They strolled towards the elevator at the end of the marble-tiled corridor as he helped her with her luggage. Linda considered lying to him about her real destination but then decided there was no harm in letting him know. Who would he tell? Who would care?

I was in Venezuela this week! Fast trip but the weather was nice so I can’t complain.

At that moment the elevator doors opened. Linda got on and said good-bye to Daan as the elevator doors closed on his puppy-dog eyes. Mmmm. She thought that if nothing interesting happened in the next couple of days she might actually let him carry her bag all the way up to the condo the next time.

While the building contained only 6 condo units, there were 12 floors. Each unit had two stories and the elevator stopped at only odd numbered floors. Linda had one of the penthouse units and so she took the elevator up to the 11th level.

In the lobby concierge Daan was submerged deep in thought, imagining a variety of scenarios with Linda in the starring role. He would like the chance to give her a shot and he could tell she was interested too. Tall, at about 59, and with that sexy, long red hair and those green eyes; she was a knockout! The problem was that she knew it. He thought she was too snobby for her own good and he could tell just by the way she looked at him that she thought he wasn’t good enough for her. He knew the type. She had probably been spoiled all her life