WHETHER OR NOT READERS believe Armstrong after reading L.A. Confidentiel, the book has problems that would seem to attract litigation. And it hasn't helped that the book has only been published in French. There's no English edition of L.A. Confidentiel; to date, according to Walsh, 14 English-language publishers have declined to publish it. The reasons seem to vary: poor marketability due to the hero status of Armstrong in America; outdated charges—some now more than ten years old; and the ever-present threat of lawsuits. (A bootleg English version has circulated for months among bike-racing fans, but it's a crude translation.)

Walsh says that he and Ballester wanted to give people a full portrait of Armstrong, so they included information that was unrelated to the question of doping. For instance, former teammate Cédric Vasseur of France, a veteran cyclist who raced with the Postal team in the 2000 Tour, complains about never having received his bonus money; Walsh and Ballester allege that Armstrong may have fixed a U.S. race series in 1993 to win a $1 million bonus; and there's a lengthy section detailing Armstrong's failed contract with the Cofidis team.

Aside from the book's broad and meandering focus, at least some of the central allegations have faults as well. In their depiction of the 1996 hospital scene, Walsh and Ballester provide no source for the charge that Armstrong admitted to his doctors that he had used EPO and human growth hormone. The conversation between LeMond and Armstrong was relayed secondhand to Walsh by LeMond's wife, Kathy, not by Greg himself. (However, when asked by Outside to corroborate the account of this interaction with Armstrong, Greg LeMond asserted, "What my wife said to David was absolutely true.")

As for O'Reilly, her allegations also seem at least once removed from being proof. Walsh says in the book that she told him she had never personally administered doping products at Postal, nor had she seen Armstrong take any known banned substances. And, the book goes on to say, she never inquired about the nature of the pills she drove across the Spanish-French border in 1999.

It's also a fact that Walsh has said in the past that he did not pay Emma O'Reilly, when he actually did. Walsh recently admitted in an interview with Outside that he had paid O'Reilly for her story, despite assuring VeloNews in June 2004 that he had not. His explanation for telling this falsehood is that "I felt at the time if I'd said yes, she would have been absolutely screwed."

Walsh claims that two months after O'Reilly completed the unpaid interview with him in early July 2003, she called to protest that the book would be a success based largely on her interview, while her only reward would be Armstrong's wrath. (Walsh says he's made around $55,000 from the book.) According to Walsh, he told Ballester about the situation and then paid O'Reilly approximately $8,850 on September 19, 2003.

"At the time I made what I saw as a moral judgment," Walsh says. "It was an acknowledgment of what she was going to go through. But the bottom line is: Was she telling the truth? There is zero doubt about that for me." Still, no matter what rationale Walsh uses to justify this exchange of money, it can be assumed that Armstrong's lawyers will characterize this as checkbook journalism and aggressively use this revelation to discredit the book.

Given their reliance on a largely circumstantial argument, Walsh and Ballester weaken their case by ignoring the circumstantial evidence in Armstrong's favor—evidence such as seven years of negative drug tests, both in and out of competition. They fail to cite other arguments that support his clean racing record, including a dominant roster of support riders on the Postal and Discovery teams with one singular goal: to help Armstrong win. Nor do they acknowledge the brilliant race tactics of Johan Bruyneel. During their run, no team came close to their effectiveness.

As for Ballester's point that people fear Armstrong, it's notable that Armstrong has never previously sued anyone who has made allegations or raised suspicions about doping.

The circumstantial nature of the book's allegations haven't gone unnoticed by others in the press. James Startt, Bicycling's Paris-based correspondent, says the book offers comments that don't appear to be supported by the available evidence. "A few times in the book, I felt like [Walsh] inferred things that could be taken differently," he says. "People were ready to say, 'That's it—proof positive,' but it wasn't readily clear."

Walsh himself has admitted that "the book falls short of a 'smoking gun.' " When asked why he and Ballester hadn't waited for decisive proof before going into print, he says, "To be honest, I didn't think we were going to get that kind of evidence." He points out that the 21-month investigation by French police, begun after the 2000 Tour, didn't turn up definitive evidence, either. "It was always less likely that we would succeed where they failed," he says.

In the end, the questions surrounding L.A. Confidentiel raise a qualm: If Walsh and Ballester had failed to find definitive evidence of cheating, why the rush to publish just before the 2004 Tour? Was the circumstantial evidence they presented strong enough to justify the damage to Armstrong's reputation?

Both the book's strengths and its serious flaws are about to be contested in cycling's biggest mud fight ever. The legal arena is very different from the journalistic one. For one thing, sources have to talk truthfully or risk perjury. Both sides are facing enormous new risks. If the law goes Walsh's way, Armstrong may be revealed as the central figure in a multinational, multi-million-dollar scheme to cheat and lie his way to becoming the Tour de France's grandest champion. But if everything goes Armstrong's way, his accusers, beyond whatever other penalty they pay, will become the accused in the court of public opinion.