Bring on the Gophers

I retrieved the business card from underneath my drink.  The octopoid logo encircled by 'Hafgufa' stamped in the center of the card. No other name or number was on the obverse.  On a whim, I turned the card over. There in neat, evenly-spaced script were the words, 'Your office. 2 p.m.'

            I smelled set-up, the whole way, but sometimes, playing the patsy lets you find out more than you do with traditional, good, hard legwork and luck.

            I was willing to play the patsy, but I wasn't going to be an unarmed, unprepared patsy. I had some time, so I headed to the office. I figured if I got there before whoever I was supposed to meet, I could be a little more prepared than they expected me to be. I made it to the office and did a quick scan as I went in. No one was in the waiting room, which surprised me about as much as not getting what I ordered at a fast-food joint. I made my way into the office.

            Nothing looked disturbed. The desk still had the unending paper battle underway. I had a filing cabinet in the corner. On top of the cabinet was a cookie jar. It was just a plain, two-tone brown, ceramic container with the word 'Cookies' on it. That's how you knew it was a cookie jar. I usually kept cookies in it, but right now, it was empty, save for the crumbs that made up the populace of cookie ghost town. On the underside of the lid, almost tucked into the handle, I had taped a key.

            I pulled the key out of the lid, and opened the filing cabinet. Inside the top drawer of the cabinet was a small, metal strongbox. I unlocked the strong box with the key. I took out a bundle wrapped in oil-cloth from the box, closed it up and slid the cabinet drawer shut and made a mental note to get cookies, the next time I went to the store.

            I unwrapped the bundle. I had an old Smith and Wesson .32 that I had acquired somewhere along the way. It was small, lightweight, and wouldn't intimidate anyone by looks, alone, but I could hide it just about anywhere, and when someone gets a gun barrel stuck in their ribs, they usually don't question the size of hole it's going to make if they don't play along.

            I tucked it away in the small of my back and waited for two o'clock to roll around. I was flicking absently through an old issue of the economist, when I heard the outer door open. Shadows moved across the frosted glass. Whoever was out there wasn't hurried and they weren't moving like they were trying to maintain  noise security. One of the people out there knocked on the office door. "Mr. Hammett?" a man's voice called.

            I had a brief moment of indecision, I couldn't quite figure out if they were up to no good, or if I was just being paranoid. It's a tough call, since paranoia and caution dance cheek-to-cheek in this business. I made up my mind. If they were going to off me, it wouldn't be here, and they wouldn't make so much noise.

            "Yeah!" I called out. "I'm in the office. Come on in."

            The door swung open. The voice's owner was a big guy in a cheap suit and still had his sunglasses on, inside. He poked his head in, looked around, as if to confirm that I was alone and stepped aside.

            The stately Mrs. DuMont cruised into the room. Yes, cruised, it was like she was gliding. I saw her move from point A to point B, but nothing above her waist moved in the slightest. She held her handbag in front of her and had an expression of amusement on her mug.

            "It is time we let you in on our little secret," she said, her thin grin playing across her face.

            "This ought to be good," I said. "Was this some sort of test, a trial run? Did you have me bird-dogging the Mister, even though you knew exactly what he was doing?"

            Mrs. Dumont tilted her head and smiled wider. "Why, yes, and of course. I think you will appreciate everything we do, once you get an explanation."

            "So, explain away," I said. "I'm not going to stop you."

            "Not here," she sniffed, as if she found her current surroundings unpleasant. "We will go to the center of our operation. Along the way, you can amuse me with your assessment of this week's game."

            She, and I, and Biff and Jim went downstairs. A red Lincoln MKS rolled up and a young blonde woman hopped out to open the passenger door for Mrs. DuMont. I was trying to get a get look at her when Mrs. Dumont said to me, "Different girl".

            Mac crawled in first and slid over, I got in and scooched into the middle. Tosh crawled in after me, and slammed the door shut. "My, isn't this cozy", I said with a smile, trying to gauge reactions. I was starting to think that Mac and Tosh were droids, not the kind I was looking for.

            The driver pulled into traffic and I was on my way. Smooshed in the back seat of a luxury car between two guys that probably worked out too much with each other, and smelled faintly of Old Spice. My gat was digging in to the small of my back. They were either sloppy, or didn't care that I was packing.

            Mrs. Dumont turned in her seat. "You may not think it is germane to the situation, but I want to hear your thoughts on tomorrow's game. You and your friend Lloyd, seem quite astute, and I think you will find that I have quite an abiding interest in the success or failure of the Huskers."

            I cleared my throat and tried to get wiggle room. I'm not a small cat, and the back seat was getting a bit cramped. "I hate to use the term 'Must Win', because let's face it, every game is a must win at Nebraska. This one is a season hinge, though. Even though it is on the road, this is a very beatable team. They are hard to get a handle on though."

            "How so?" she asked with a slight head tilt. Good, she was interested.

            "They push TCU into the fourth quarter. TCU is Good with a capital 'G' good. Then they barely beat Colorado State, Kent and Ohio, not exactly murderers row, and in none of those games did they score more than 23 points. Then they get drilled by Northwestern, 27-0. Northwestern is no slouch, but to get shut out and dominated by them surprised me. Then they change things up and blast Purdue, 41-13, by running the ball and going plus-three on turnover margin, but it's Purdue."

            "Past performance is not an indicator of future outcomes," she said.

            "I know that, but it seeing a scores and who they were against can offer clues."

            "Do you employ the same method, for Nebraska games?"

            "No. This is still a team and a staff trying to install a new system. That's part of the reason for the inconsistency. They are still not a reliable indicator of success or failure."

            "How do you game plan for Minnesota, defensively?"

            "Classic, old school. Stop the run and force them to beat you with the pass. Mitch Leidner isn't even as good as Joel Stave. He's a big pocket passer, and he'll run a few zone reads to keep the defense honest, but he's not going to go all Braxton Miller on you. Control the ground game, that's what Minnesota learned at Northwestern, that they are not a passing team. Leidner averaged over 30 attempts a game prior to Purdue, against Purdue, he attempted 12. Stopping Shannon Brooks is the key to stopping Minnesota."

            "Very well. What doe Nebraska have to do on offense?"

            "Control the clock. Control the tempo. Neither team has been very efficient with their drives, and Nebraska hasn't established a run game that they can lean on. Rather than having Tommy try to chuck the ball downfield, they should look at incorporating passes to the backs, more. Screens to the running backs and swing passes that are essentially long hand offs. They won't so it will rely on Tommy getting into a rhythm. Balance the attack, keep the defense off balance and force Minnesota to play catch up, all day."

            "I'm very intrigued to hear your final score prediction," she said.

            "That's a tough one. If they are committed to the run, which our defense is actually good at, they won't score more than 20. I think our offense is at least as talented as Northwestern's. This game goes into the fourth, but Nebraska wins it, with the ball as time runs out, 28-20."