Chapter Two: Whose Fault Is It?

Ed, contrary to appearance, was far more uneasy with his boss's current position than he was letting himself show. Still, to doubt his boss right now was counterproductive, so, like his best friend, he shoved every last doubt into a box and buried the 'box' under a litany of positive 'you-can-do-this' thoughts directed in Greg's direction.

He was so focused on the roof that it took Wordy's quiet, "Eddie," to get his attention.

The basketball coach, one Coach Wellstead, was standing right next to them. Wellstead was Ed's height, though he still had hair, a thick brown thatch that might have receded some, but not much. He was a typical athlete type, with a light layer of scruff on chin and lip and generous, but not bushy eyebrows. Lines etched in his forehead spoke to long term stress, not unusual with his job coaching one of the best basketball teams in the city. As before, he was eager to be of assistance. "They kicked me out of my office. Anything I can do to help?"

Ed nodded, his head bobbing only a tiny bit as he replied, "Yeah, we'd like to interview a few more of your players, but classes were canceled. Do you think you can round them up?"

"Yeah, I can try to get some of the guys down here, but their numbers are in my office."

Easy decision. "All right, we need you to stay in your office once you're there," Ed ordered.

The coach accepted the terms at once. As Lou appeared out of nowhere to escort the man, Wellstead added, "Okay, you need anything else, let me know."

"Yeah," Ed agreed, already shifting back to the rooftop and his boss. Come on, Greg; you can do this.

Far above the two tallest members of the team, Parker was making another attempt to get young Carlton to talk, to focus on something other than the edge and the very sharp drop beyond it. "Hey Carlton, you know what these things are? They're anchors for, uh…" a brief cough, "…window washers. I mean, those guys got to be nuts."

"Don't come any closer!" was the immediate response to Parker's attempt to sneak closer. Ed winced; the young man was a broken record.

"Okay," Greg acquiesced at once. But, never one to give up, he started back up again with, "Your mom and your sister- they would really like you home. And we sort of promised them, so, will you talk to me so maybe we can work this out and we can both get down?"

Ed saw his boss glance towards the edge, saw him stiffen through the binoculars. "Come on, Greg," he whispered.

"You can do it, Sarge." Wordy, equally soft.

"Only one way down, man," Carlton retorted, but at least he'd finally responded, finally answered Greg.

"Whatever your teammates did- it can be undone, son. We can even help your friend Cory. Do you know why he would even do this to you?"

For some reason, Carlton reacted badly to the question, yelling, "It's not Cory's fault!"

"Subject is moving, risking a slip," Ed warned.

"Boss, you need me up there?" Sam asked, shifting in his own position.

"Negative," Greg countered, "Hold your position."

From the truck, Spike called, "Okay, surveillance tape- I can identify them all the way through. Cory reads clear reluctance. He's being pressured and pushed to beat on a friend. But Judson and Antony are definitely running the show."

"Eastern Tech has a strict no-hazing policy," Judson drawled, leaning back a bit in his chair as he looked at Jules. Brown eyes were cold, calm, steady. The senior's brown hair was in a typical crew-cut and he imitated his coach with a five o-clock shadow on chin and upper lip.

Though he and his teammate had been caught red-handed, they acted as though they would get off scot-free, an attitude that was thoroughly annoying Jules. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you both said, but I'm not buying it," Jules retorted. "So this is the first time you've singled somebody out?" She let that hang a moment. "Come on, guys. You wear the hoods so that no one knows who's doing the enforcement, right? This is how it's done. It's your tradition."

As she spoke, she studied Antony. He leaned forward in his seat and was clearly uncomfortable with her line of questioning. Crew-cut black hair matched his teammate's brown locks, but blue eyes flicked to and away from Jules as the young man squirmed. He wasn't as rock-solid as his older classmate was, not by a long shot. If Jules had to pick who was going to crack, she'd pick Antony, but, as yet, he hadn't cracked…not yet anyway. Jules hammered her point home as she continued, "Antony, you can't keep this code of silence. Silence is what put Carlton up on that roof."

To her surprise, though she didn't let it show, it was Judson who pleaded, "Can't you just get him down?"

"Not until you tell us what put him up there in the first place," Jules replied flatly. She wasn't as good as Sarge, but she knew an opening when she saw one. "Judson, Carlton is your teammate. You respect him."

Just like that, she did it. Judson licked his lips and finally talked. "If Coach benches you, you're done. Scouts won't see you, no scholarship, no college."

Their coach had put them up to this?

Antony, now that Judson had broken the ice, let his own words spill out. "Carlton started strong, but Coach doesn't like his style. He wants more aggression. You know, killer instinct."

Killer instinct in a basketball player?

"He lost his confidence," Judson picked up, "Man, the wheels came off."

"The last game, he couldn't do anything right," Antony explained. "And Coach leaves him in to make a point. Weak links break the chain."

Jules felt her fists clench at the tactic; if one of them ran into trouble, Sarge didn't hesitate to pull them out…if he could. And if he couldn't, he offered as much backup as humanly possible, reinforcing any 'weak' links.

"But Cory dug us out. Nineteen points in the fourth quarter."

Jules let a silent whistle out; Cory had backed up his teammate just as well as any Team One member would. But somehow, she had a feeling the coach hadn't responded like Sarge would have.

"It was so stupid," Antony declared. "We won. But we still had to book Carlton."

" 'Book' him?" Jules questioned.

They almost faltered, but Judson licked his lips again and replied, "Coach has this telephone book in his office. He brings it out when someone screws up in a game…like Carlton did."

Antony picked up the narrative. "Everyone has to take the book and hit Coach's target with it…everyone. But Cory wouldn't do it. He said Carlton had paid enough."

"Coach told everyone to hit the showers," Judson remembered. "Then he called us, me, Antony, and Cory, to hold back. That's when he told us what we had to do." The young man, no longer cocky, sighed and continued, "Cory had a choice. Basically, prove his loyalty by teaching Carlton a lesson, or ride the pine and kiss college ball good-bye."

"That's how it works around here," Antony quietly confirmed.

" 'Whatever it takes.' Coach's motto," Judson finished.

A seething Jules excused herself, leaving the uniforms to watch the pair. Abuse of power, abuse of authority. Wrecking lives and friendships. Over a game…not even over basketball, but over one single, rotten game Wellstead's team had won anyway. Wellstead had a lot to answer for. And when this was over, she was giving Sarge a hug for never, ever being like that.

"Okay, the attacks are definitely top-down," Jules announced on the comm, her anger simmering just below the surface. "It's systemic and not quietly sanctioned. Coach Wellstead ordered the attack."

Ed felt his best friend's eyes on him as Wordy growled, "Go get him."

"I got the coach," Ed agreed, "Wordy's on the ground."

Ed moved through the high school's hallways, covering the distance in record time. But still not fast enough. He arrived to an empty office, with signs of a struggle and blood on the desk.

"Boss, we got a situation."