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how cheap he is.”
    The three of them laughed. My legs were getting tired from staying motionless for so long. I took advantage of the noise they were making to shift my weight from one foot to the other.
    The smoke from their cigars was starting to get to me. My eyes were watering. I wiped my nose on my sleeve again. I looked around. I had to find a way to get out of there without them noticing me.
    â€œWhat if Jackson don’t take the ten grand?” Billy asked A.R.
    â€œOffer him twenty grand. If that don’t work…well, you know how to persuade people, don’tcha, Abe?”
    The skinny guy named Abe smiled and pumped his right fist into the palm of his left hand twice.
    â€œJackson’s got a pretty young wife, don’t he?” Billy asked.
    â€œI’m sure he wouldn’t want anything to happen to her,” A.R. said, which made Abe and Billy laugh some more.
    â€œOf course, we don’t work that way,” A.R. told them, “unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
    â€œAnd they said nobody could fix da World Series.” Billy chuckled.
    â€œI coulda fixed the war if there was any money in it,” A.R. replied.
    Billy and Abe laughed again and got up from the table as if they were going to leave.
    â€œSo do we have a deal, Mr. Rothstein?” Abe asked. Now I knew that the R in A.R. stood for “Rothstein.”
    â€œOne more thing, boys,” Rothstein said. “I want a signal in the first inning of the first game. I need to see a sign that the fix is on.”
    â€œWhat kinda sign?”
    â€œTell Cicotte to hit the first Cincinnati batter with a pitch. When I see that, I’ll know the players are…cooperating.”
    â€œNo problem, Mr. Rothstein. I’ll tell Cicotte.”
    â€œSo can we have the eighty grand?” Abe asked, eyeing the money on the table. “The players want to get paid before they lose the first game.”
    â€œI don’t care what the players want,” Rothstein replied, picking up one small stack of bills from allthe piles on the table. “I need this cash to get down on bets. Here’s ten grand for Cicotte to lose the first game and ten to pay Jackson to make sure he’s in. Tell the rest they’ll get paid twenty grand after each game the Sox lose.”
    â€œThey’re gonna be mad, A.R. I promised ’em they’d get paid eighty grand in advance .”
    â€œSo what are they gonna do?” Rothstein asked with a smile. “Call the cops?”
    The three of them scooped the money off the table and into a big cardboard box. In another minute or so, they would be gone and I could sneak out of there without them knowing I’d heard every word they’d said.
    The haze of smoke just about filled the room now, and I could feel it in my nose and throat. I turned my head and swallowed, taking a deep breath. If I could just hold my breath until they were gone, I’d be okay.
    And then I coughed.
    â€œWhat was that?” Rothstein asked quickly, turning toward the shelves I was standing behind.

9
The Bad Old Days
    THERE WAS NO PLACE TO HIDE . ABE AND BILLY WERE ON me in seconds, grabbing my arms and twisting them behind my back. Rothstein stood in front and looked me over.
    â€œWhat’s your name, kid?”
    â€œJ-Joe Stoshack.”
    â€œWho sent you?” he asked calmly.
    â€œNobody sent me,” I replied honestly. “I…sent myself.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?”
    â€œI…was just using the bathroom…”
    â€œWhat did you hear?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œHe’s just a stupid little kid, A.R.,” Billy said.
    â€œBut what if he’s a smart little kid?” Rothstein wondered out loud. “Maybe he heard everything we were saying. We can’t have him blabbing.”
    â€œI won’t blab!” I said, but they ignored me.
    â€œYou want me to search him?” Billy asked, tightening his