Chapter 5 - THE BET WORTH MILLIONSBy noon, Marvin had estimates.
Nothing exact.
Betting syndicates hid money across books, proxies and offshore markets.
But movement on Mercer by stoppage in rounds five through seven was enormous.
Potential exposure exceeded twelve million dollars.
Frank stared.
“They’d pay Cole six figures to protect twelve million.”
“More,” Marvin said. “That’s only what I can see.”
Cole looked at him.
“How do we prove Roman’s connected?”
“You don’t. Not with public betting data.”
“Then what?”
“Money trail.”
Darius’s manager might provide one.
Cole could not confront Leo without warning him.
They needed someone with authority.
Marvin had a contact with the Nevada State Athletic Commission.
Deputy director Elena Cruz.
Cole called anonymously first.
Then identified himself.
Elena listened carefully.
“Do you have direct evidence someone offered you money to alter the bout?”
“Yes.”
“Recording?”
“No.”
“Witness?”
“Frank heard part afterward. The briefcase is still in my training room.”
“Do not touch it.”
Cole almost laughed.
“Little late.”
“Where is it?”
“At the club.”
“Who has access?”
“Security.”
Elena’s voice sharpened.
“Mr. Maddox, if this is real, you should have called last night.”
“I was busy learning my father’s career may have been destroyed by the same man.”
Silence.
Then:
“Come see me.”
Cole did.
He brought Marvin.
Frank.
Copies of Jack’s records.
Elena reviewed everything.
She did not react theatrically.
Good regulators rarely did.
“This old material is interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“It may show historical patterns. It does not automatically prove current misconduct.”
“What about Roman’s offer?”
“That matters.”
“The betting?”
“That matters.”
“Mercer’s manager telling him not to chase a knockout until six?”
Elena looked up.
“Mercer told you this?”
“Yes.”
“We need to speak to him separately.”
Cole nodded.
“What happens to the fight?”
“Possibly nothing.”
Cole stared.
“You’re kidding.”
“If we cancel without sufficient basis, we create legal exposure and potentially destroy innocent careers.”
“So I fight.”
“Maybe.”
Frank protested.
“He’s being threatened.”
Elena looked at Cole.
“Do you feel physically unsafe?”
“Yes.”
“Then security protocols change.”
Cole laughed bitterly.
“Roman’s people are casino security.”
“Not all of them.”
She made calls.
Gaming Control became involved because of betting implications.
Federal interest was possible if interstate wagering or extortion evidence emerged.
Cole disliked how quickly his fight turned into bureaucracy.
But bureaucracy had advantages.
Paper trails.
Subpoenas.
People Roman could not simply intimidate in a gym.
By late afternoon, commission investigators interviewed Darius separately.
He confirmed Leo’s instructions.
He also revealed something else.
Leo had pressured him to sign a management amendment weeks earlier.
It entitled Leo to a massive bonus if Darius won tomorrow by stoppage.
Darius had refused.
Leo later said:
“Doesn’t matter. Just do what your corner tells you.”
Cole heard about it indirectly.
Now both fighters had reasons to distrust their own environment.
Elena recommended each camp submit corner personnel for additional review.
Frank would remain with Cole.
Leo’s role became uncertain.
The promoter panicked.
“If this goes public, the event dies.”
Cole replied:
“Maybe it should.”
The promoter stared.
“You know how much money is tied to tomorrow?”
“That’s apparently the problem.”
Cole returned to the gym under added security.
The briefcase was gone.
His stomach dropped.
He called Elena.
Within minutes investigators arrived.
Security footage showed a maintenance worker entering the room.
He claimed someone told him to remove abandoned property.
Who?
A supervisor.
The supervisor denied it.
The briefcase had disappeared.
Frank swore.
Cole remained calm.
Roman had removed the cleanest current evidence.
But cameras showed Roman entering with the case.
Not its contents.
Still useful.
Cole asked:
“Can we recover prints?”
“If we find it.”
Another complication.
That evening Roman sent no messages.
Silence itself felt threatening.
Cole trained lightly.
No sparring.
No risks.
As he hit the heavy bag, Frank watched.
“You can still pull out.”
Cole stopped.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
Cole stared.
Frank continued.
“Not because you’re scared.”
“I know.”
“Because this is no longer sport.”
Cole looked at his wrapped hands.
“That’s exactly why I fight.”
Frank shook his head.
“Don’t make your father into a reason to die.”
Cole looked up.
“I’m not.”
“What then?”
“If I walk away, Roman wins without needing to touch me.”
Frank sighed.
Cole continued:
“I’m not going into the ring stupid. We have regulators. Security. Investigators.”
“Roman has people too.”
“I know.”
Frank stepped closer.
“Then promise me something.”
“What?”
“If something feels wrong tomorrow, you walk.”
Cole hesitated.
“Cole.”
“Fine.”
Frank knew it was not a strong promise.
He accepted it anyway.
At eight that night, Marvin called.
“Remember the payment code in Jack’s notebook?”
“Yes.”
“I found the company.”
“What company?”
“An old Nevada shell. Dissolved years ago.”
“And?”
“One director.”
Cole waited.
“Roman Drake.”
Finally something concrete.
Marvin continued:
“The shell paid Jack’s trainer three days after the Calder fight.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
Exactly what Frank said Jack had been offered.
The trainer who stopped the fight received it instead.
Cole felt twenty years of injustice become real.
His father had not thrown the fight.
His corner had.
And Roman had paid them.
Marvin continued:
“There are other payments.”
“To who?”
“One to Leo Valdez.”
Cole opened his eyes.
“How much?”
“Ten grand.”
The same man now managing Darius Mercer.
The current fight was no longer connected by rumor.
The financial chain linked Roman and Leo to the old fixed fight.
Cole whispered:
“Send everything to Elena.”
“Already did.”
Then Marvin said:
“Cole?”
“Yeah?”
“If Roman knows these records exist, tomorrow isn’t only about twelve million.”
“What else?”
“He has twenty years of history to protect.”
Cole looked at the ring beyond the glass wall.
May you like
Tomorrow, he was supposed to fight Darius Mercer.
But the real opponent had been waiting outside the ropes long before Cole ever put on gloves.
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