Capítulo 26: Chapter 26: The Secret Deal
“Mr. Link Baker, may I have a word with you?†A voice called out from behind as Link and James returned from a meal outside the east entrance of American Airlines Arena.
The speaker was a middle-aged man with thinning hair, wearing a polo shirt. His opening line was the same as Greg Cohen's, leading Link to mistakenly believe he was another representative from a promotional company. However, this was not the case.
The man introduced himself as Joseph, the manager of Andrzej Methara, Link's next opponent.
Here's a quick recap of the situation: shortly after Link's match, the other three matches between the first and second place winners of each region concluded as follows:
* Southeast region's first place, Link, defeated the West region's second place.
* Eastern region's Andrzej Methara defeated the North region's second place.
* West region's Andre Berto defeated the East region's second place.
* North region's Mitchell Robinson lost to the Southeast region's second place, Jones Falls, in an upset.
The first round of the tournament was over. The second round's opponents were determined by drawing lots. As Link and Jones Falls were both from the Southeast region, they drew lots separately. Link drew Andrzej Methara, the champion of the East region.
Andrzej was a technical boxer. In amateur matches, due to the high-elasticity sponge protection, knocking out opponents is extremely difficult. Technical boxers often win by points more easily than power or agile boxers. This is why technical boxers are more popular in amateur boxing and why many power boxers switch to professional boxing early on.
Andrzej was skilled in boxing techniques, standing 189 cm tall with a 198 cm reach. He had fast punches and moved like a mantis, often surprising opponents with unexpected blows.
His weaknesses were his lack of physical strength, low resistance to blows, and stamina inferior to top boxers. In his previous match, he fought ten rounds against Calvin Peters, the runner-up of the North region, and was exhausted, needing help to leave the ring.
His next opponent was the famous "Ring Anesthetist," Link Baker, a well-rounded boxer with power, speed, technique, and good looks. One could imagine the scene of their match.
Therefore, the audience was looking forward to the afternoon's match, eager to see how Link would knock out his opponent.
Seeing Andrzej's manager approach him, Link was surprised and unsure of his intentions.
"Mr. Link Baker, I would like to ask you to hold back a little during the match and not knock out Andrzej within three rounds," Joseph said.
"What?" Link was taken aback and laughed. "You want me to go easy on him in the match? But this is a formal competition, Mr. Joseph!"
"I understand, I understand. If Mr. Baker is willing to end the match after eight rounds, I'm willing to give you $30,000 as a reward," the middle-aged man said politely.
Link raised an eyebrow. He understood. This was a request for him to throw the fight.
This kind of thing was too common. Whether in underground fights or professional boxing, match-fixing existed. He had done it many times before and was familiar with the process. However, he was surprised that such a request would be made in the finals of the Golden Gloves tournament and that the other party would be so direct.
After a moment of contemplation, he told Joseph to wait and pulled the still-dazed James aside.
"James, I'm going to take a nap. You talk to him. Tell him that for $30,000, Andrzej will fall in the third round; for $40,000, in the fourth round; for $100,000, in the tenth round. The bottom line is $50,000. I won't do it for less."
James looked around and whispered, "Isn't this match-fixing? I heard many people in boxing do that. It's terrible. How can you do that too?"
Link shook his head. "Throwing a fight is deliberately losing to change the outcome. We're not doing that. This is a fair transaction. Think about it. I have another match tomorrow. The longer the fight with Andrzej drags on, the more it drains me. So, if he wants me to take it easy on Andrzej, he needs to compensate me."
James glanced at the middle-aged man in the distance. "But why would he do this? Does it matter if it's a few rounds earlier or later?"
"Of course. My punches are powerful. The longer he lasts against me, the stronger he seems. After media reports, his stats will look better. If I KO him in the first round, how will the media evaluate him? So, this money is well spent."
"But this is a bad thing. If the media finds out, won't they expose you?" James asked cautiously.
"Don't worry, just do it. I'll handle everything," Link said with a smile.
After giving James some instructions, he yawned and went back to the locker room to sleep.
Ten minutes later, James rushed in, panting, his curly hair drenched in sweat and plastered to his forehead. He carefully closed the door, unsure if it was due to the heat or fear, and woke up Link.
"Link, $50,000, KO after eight rounds. Should we take it?" James asked softly, swallowing his saliva.
Link thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Then I'll go get the money," James said.
He took a couple of steps, then turned back to ask, "Or should we go together?"
Link turned over, facing the wall, and started snoring. A soft sound of the door closing followed.
Half an hour later, Link woke up from a nap. James ran in, his face flushed, his belly protruding, with a mix of excitement and worry on his face.
He locked the locker room door, pulled out a butter paper package from his belly, unfolded it on the bench, revealing five stacks of green bills.
Link was stunned. "Where did the money come from?"
"Huh?" James blinked. "This is, just now Joseph, our deal, the $50,000. I just got it back."
"What Joseph? Who's Joseph? What deal? Why would he give you so much money?" Link asked, surprised.
"..."
James was dumbfounded. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, stared at Link for a moment, and said, "Didn't you just tell me to go out? Have you forgotten?"
"I didn't. Don't talk nonsense. I was sleeping just now. I don't know anything," Link shook his head with a serious expression, eyes closed.
James slumped to the ground, pointing at him with trembling fingers. "You, how could you do this? You told me to do it, and now you're denying it? You can't do this."
"I really don't know."
"Impossible! You clearly knew. How can you say you don't know? I didn't want to do it, but you asked me to. Now that I've done it, you say you don't know? You can't be like this."
James collapsed on the floor, his eyes red.
Link rubbed his forehead, feeling a bit remorseful. "James, I'm the one involved. There are things I should know, and things I shouldn't. I only know what I should know, and I won't ask about what I shouldn't, do you understand?"
James blinked his small eyes. He wasn't stupid, but he had never done something like this before. His mind couldn't keep up. After a moment, he suddenly slapped his forehead in shock. "I understand. You mean, you get the money, and I take the blame?"
"No, no, no. We both earn money. And this is clean money, there won't be any problems."
Link picked up a stack of bills and threw it into James' lap. Miami didn't have personal income tax, inheritance tax, or gift tax. It was a hub for both the American product trade and money laundering. Fifty thousand dollars was nothing there.
"Is this money really okay?"
James felt the money burning in his hands. Link simply threw all the money into his lap, telling him to take it back.
"It's fine. If anything goes wrong, I'll take the responsibility. It has nothing to do with you, a little assistant. Go on, I'm going to sleep for a while."
Link waved his hand dismissively.
James wiped the sweat off his brow, stuffed the money into a bag, hid it in his big belly, and hesitantly left the room.
â€"
"This guy has been sneaking around, and he's hiding something in his belly. What are they up to?"
Next door, a menacing face peered through the door crack, watching James leave with a puzzled expression.
"Is Link... doing drugs?"
Mario's pupils dilated. He racked his brain, and the only possibility that came to mind was that Link was using drugs. The fat guy came and went like a thief, hiding something in his belly. The short time in between was enough for Link to take drugs.
But could drugs solve the problem?
There were urine tests before and after the match. Drug testing was conducted before and after the competition, and tampering with the results would lead to serious consequences. Did Link think that the tournament organizers' drug testing wouldn't detect anything unusual?
Mario's eyes darted around. He walked over to West's coaching room.
West was watching a video of Andre Berto's morning match. Mario paced behind him and whispered, "West, can you believe it? Link is using cocaine in the locker room!"
West paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Impossible. He doesn't need it."
"Really, I just saw the fat guy from his restaurant sneak into his locker room with something in his belly and then sneak out again. Link must be using drugs."
Mario spoke with absolute certainty.
"Don't talk nonsense. Link wouldn't do drugs."
West calmly waved his hand and continued watching the match video.
Mario clenched his fists, took a few deep breaths, and walked over to Reggie, who was taking a nap. He punched Reggie awake. "I swear, Link is definitely doing drugs."
Reggie rubbed his eyes, yawned under Mario's gaze, and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Why, why doesn't anyone believe me?" Mario yelled in frustration.
â€"(End of Chapter)â€"
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