“For almost two years.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody looks at the janitor's locker.”
Dylan laughed softly.
“That's actually brilliant.”
Walter smiled.
“The best hiding place is the one everyone thinks is boring.”
They examined the notebook.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Companies.
Locations.
Everything Cross had been trying to recover.
Marcus looked at Walter.
“This could expose all of them.”
Walter nodded.
“And that's why they came back.”
Dylan asked:
“What are you going to do?”
Walter looked at the notebook.
“For thirty years, I thought my job was to forget.”
He closed it.
“I was wrong.”
Marcus asked:
“What now?”
Walter looked at Dylan.
“You wanted to know what fighting was about.”
Dylan nodded.
Walter said:
“Sometimes fighting isn't about winning.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Sometimes it's about making sure the truth survives you.”
The three men sat in silence.
Then Dylan spoke.
“I want to help.”
Walter smiled.
“You already did.”
Dylan shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed toward the notebook.
“I mean with this.”
Walter studied him.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
For the first time, the three men stood together.
Not fighter.
Not janitor.
Not coach.
Just three people facing something much larger than themselves.
The Rematch
The charity event organizers wanted the rematch canceled.
Dylan refused.
Not because he wanted revenge.
Because he wanted to prove something.
He stood before a crowd of several hundred people.
Walter entered the mat wearing plain black training clothes.
No uniform.
No medals.
No announcement about his past.
Just Walter.
The referee raised his hand.
“Controlled demonstration.”
Dylan nodded.
Walter nodded.
The timer started.
Dylan moved first.
But this time he didn't attack wildly.
He watched.
He waited.
He listened.
Walter smiled.
“Better.”
Dylan stepped forward.
Walter moved.
Dylan followed.
For nearly twenty seconds, neither man committed.
Then Dylan attempted a takedown.