Phoenix Resurrected

by Oliver T Spedding

  I nodded.

  “In that case,” Vic said, looking at his watch. “The five grand that you withdrew from your card was withdrawn yesterday. So you used up yesterday’s limit. It’s now just after twelve so there must now be a new five grand limit on your card. Go to the cashier and see if I’m right.”

  I was reluctant to use any more of my money but the possibility of winning back my losses was too strong. I walked over to the booth.

  “I want to withdraw a thousand dollars from this card.” I said to the girl. “But I’m not sure if my daily limit has been renewed. Can you please check for me?”

  The girl took the card and swiped it through her device. She typed something into the little machines and nodded.

  “The card’s good for five thousand dollars.” she said. “Do you want the thousand dollars?”

  “Yes.” I said.

  I took the cup of coins back to where Ian, Bruce and Vic were standing.

  “You were quite right, Vic.” I said “The limit has been reset for today.”

  “Great!” Ian said. “So now you can lend us each a grand and I’ll pay you back on Sunday. I know our luck’s going to change so we’ll probably be able to give you your money back tonight. Besides, you don’t want to spoil our night. Do you?”

  I hesitated, but when I saw my three companions glaring at me, I went to the cashier’s booth and withdrew three thousand dollars. I handed the money to Ian.

  “Thanks mate.” he said. “We’ll see you later.”

  As Ian, Bruce and Vic hurried away to the roulette tables I turned and headed back to the slot machines.

  By two o’clock I’d reached the daily limit on my credit card again and had lost it all. I left the slot machines and went to the roulette tables. My friends were nowhere to be seen. I wandered around the huge gaming room and noticed a large posh open restaurant. I scrutinized the patrons and saw my friends sitting at one of the tables. I walked over to them. They were just finishing their meal. I noticed a large green bottle of champagne on the table and several empty glasses that had obviously contained Irish coffee. I pointed at the bottle.

  “You guys must have done well.” I said. “Is that why you’re celebrating?”

  “Actually we’ve lost all the money that we borrowed from you.” Ian said. “We only had enough left to get a decent meal. We looked for you but couldn’t find you.”

  As I’d been in the slot machine area the whole evening I knew that Ian was lying. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, I’m going home.” I said. “There’s no point in staying here any longer.”

  “Okay, Garth.” Ian said. “I’ll pay you back on Monday. Just come to the snooker saloon.”

  I walked out of the casino. I had lost ten thousand dollars and I knew that I would never get the three thousand dollars back from Ian. What a fool I’d been.

  As I expected, when I went to the snooker saloon on the Monday to collect the three thousand dollars that I’d lent Ian, he wasn’t there. Nor were Bruce and Vic. I waited there for a few hours, whiling away the time playing pinball, but eventually I left empty-handed. What also worried me was that my guardian, Misses Phillips, would want to see my credit card bank statement at the end of the month and when she saw that I’d spent ten thousand dollars in one night gambling at the casino, I had no doubt that she would have the daily limit drastically reduced or even take away the card. I had to think of a way to change the statements.

  Changing the monthly bank statements actually turned out to be quite easy. I placed a blank sheet of white paper over the lower part of the statement that contained all the transactions for that month and copied the original in colour. This gave me a perfect statement header. I then typed out all the transactions that had been on the original statement except for the transactions at the casino, changed the total balance, and printed them onto the blank bottom half of my fake statement.

  The two statements were identical except for the missing casino transactions on the fake statement. Unless Misses Phillips actually asked the bank to send her copies of my statements, she would be quite unaware of the true balance in my account. It seemed very unlikely that she would do this. The outstanding monthly balances were paid by an automatic debit transfer from my investment account and my guardian never asked about it because she assumed that I never used it myself; and as long as I was very careful about the continuity of the credit card statements, I felt sure that I could keep up the deception until I turned twenty one in August the following year and no longer required a guardian.

  I also kept the truth about my visit to the casino from Cindy, telling her that I had only made a small loss of thirty dollars.

  “That’s not too bad.” she said. “I worry about you hanging out with Ian, Bruce and Vic. I don’t trust them. Garth, please promise me that you won’t lend them money. If you do, I’m sure that you’ll never see it again.”

  “Don’t worry.” I said. “I won’t lend any of them a cent.”

  The financial loss that I’d suffered at the casino worried me greatly and I realized that my impulsiveness had to be curbed. The ten thousand dollars that I’d lost was almost a sixth of the money I’d inherited. I also needed to try to recover the money that I’d lost but I doubted that I would achieve this at the casino where I had absolutely no influence over the system. The odds were stacked in the casino’s favour. That was why they were so wealthy.

  I had told Cindy and Misses Phillips that I would like to start my own business but nothing that I thought of seemed likely to make me rich quickly. All the enterprises that I came up with would require years to establish and bring in an income that would satisfy me. On top of this, the effort, capital outlay and the risks involved turned me off.

  Although I didn’t realize it at the time, the thing that was really holding me back was my lack of self-confidence, something that had grown within me as a result of my father’s constant criticism of me and the disdain that he showed towards me. Not once in all the time before he took his and my mother’s lives did he ever praise anything that I did, encourage me to attempt to achieve something or give me any advice about my future. My mother had been much the same, perhaps even worse, as she seldom said anything to me or defended me, especially in my father’s presence. Then one day, I discovered what I believed was an easy way to wealth.

  South Africans are very keen followers of horse racing and regular race meetings are held all over the country. People flock to these meetings and the results of the races are published in the newspapers, television and the internet. One of the premier races that is avidly followed is the annual “Durban July”, a race for thoroughbred horses over a distance of 2200 meters and which is run in the South African port city of Durban. The race is part of the meeting held on the first Saturday of July and, as it was the middle of June, I decided to place a bet with one of the bookmakers here in Windhoek.

  I had never before taken even the slightest interest in horse racing but I had heard stories about the many punters who had made fortunes betting on the horses. I decided to try my luck but when I looked at the list of runners for that year’s race I didn’t have the faintest idea about which one was likely to win. I decided to pick my horse by writing all their numbers on small pieces of paper, fold them in half and place them in a large bowl. I shuffled the bits of paper and, without looking into the bowl, picked out one of them. The number on the scrap of paper when I unfolded it was twelve, a horse named Hunting Tower. I looked up the betting on the internet and saw that Hunting Tower was given a twelve to one chance of winning. I decided to put a thousand dollars on Hunting Tower.

  I went to the local betting hall and approached one of the book makers.

  “I want to take a bet on the Durban July.” I told the man. “And the horse that I want to back is number twelve Hunting Tower.”

  “Okay.” the man said. “The odds on Hunting Tower at the moment are twelve to one. How much do you want to bet?”

  “A thousand
dollars.” I replied.

  The bookmaker raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s a sizable bet for a young man who’s obviously never taken a bet on the horses before. Are you sure that you want to bet so much?”

  I nodded.

  The man picked up a betting book of yellow betting slips and wrote out the ticket. He handed it to me.

  “This is your betting ticket.” he explained. “You can see that I’ve written the bet on it. The bet is one thousand to twelve thousand. That means that if Hunting Tower wins you’ll win twelve thousand dollars and you’ll get your initial stake back. Just bring the ticket to me if the horse wins, I’ll authenticate it, and give you a bank guaranteed check. Be careful not to lose the ticket. I can’t pay you without the ticket. As a precaution, write your name and your I.D. on the back. Then nobody else can cash it."

  I handed the thousand dollars to the man, thanked him, and left.

  I didn’t give much thought to my Durban July bet or hold out much hope that it would come off considering the unscientific method that I’d used to select Hunting Tower. Instead, I tried, with no success, to get Ian to pay me back the three thousand dollars that I had lent him at the casino. His excuse for not repaying the money was that the money that he was owed had not been forthcoming and, until he finally received it, he couldn’t pay me.

  “Besides,” Ian said, “the money that you lent us was for the three of us, not just me. As far as I’m concerned, I actually only owe you a thousand dollars and Bruce and Vic owe you the rest.”

  “I gave the money to you.” I said. “And you promised to pay me back. Don’t try and get out of your obligations by involving Bruce and Vic.”

  I could see that Ian was becoming angry but this didn’t scare me in the least. I had come to realize that, although Ian was older than me and more experienced, he wasn’t the tough guy that he tried to make out that he was. I had no doubt that if it ever came to a fist-fight between the two of us, I could easily beat him.

  “And what will you do if I decide not to pay back your money?” Ian asked.

  I stepped closer to Ian so that our faces were only a few inches apart. I stared straight into his eyes.

  “Are you saying that you’re not going to pay me?” I asked, my voice soft but steady.

  I saw fear fill Ian’s eyes. He stepped back quickly.

  “No.” he said. “I’m not saying that. It’s just that I don’t have the money right now.”

  “Well, you’d better get it soon.” I said quietly as I moved towards him. “And, if you believe that Bruce and Vic should pay their share then you’d better see that they do. I’m holding you responsible for seeing that I get all the money that is owed to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Ian said, avoiding my stare.

  Ian turned and walked away. I was quite surprised at how easily I had been able to stand up to him and I resolved then and there that I wouldn’t let anybody intimidate me again. I knew that I was exceptionally strong physically and wouldn’t get flustered or panic if I ever got into a fist-fight. In fact, I relished the thought of getting into a fight.

  When Saturday the seventh of July arrived I decided to watch the Durban July race on television at home. I hadn’t told Cindy about my bet and decided that I wouldn’t say anything to her about it unless Hunting Tower won. I invited her to watch the race with me. We met at the local McDonald’s where we had breakfast and then wandered around the Windhoek West business area looking at the merchandise in the shop windows.

  For lunch we bought fish and chips and ate the meal sitting on a bench in a park. Even though it was mid-winter the day was sunny and warm. Then we walked slowly through the crowded streets to my house. As the race was only due to be run at about three-thirty in the afternoon we made love and then showered together. We dressed and settled on the couch in front of the television in the lounge with a six-pack of beer and a large bowl of roasted peanuts.

  “Why are you suddenly so interested in horse racing?” Cindy asked.

  “it’s not that I’m really interested in horse racing,” I said, “but the whole country seems to be so excited about the Durban July and so I thought I’d watch it to see why it’s so popular. But as far as I’m concerned a horse race is just a horse race.”

  I suspected that Cindy didn’t quite believe me and I could see that she suspected that there was some other reason, but she nodded and snuggled up next to me.

  Eventually the race began and for the first half of the race I only heard Hunting Tower mentioned once by the commentator. However, as the second half progressed, his name cropped up more and more until, almost at the end, he was amongst the first three leading horses. Then, to my astonishment, Hunting Tower surged forward to win by a neck.

  I sat next to Cindy and stared at the television; stunned.

  “Wow!” Cindy said. “That was exciting!”

  Cindy turned and looked at me.

  “What’s wrong with you, Garth?” she asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or something. Didn’t you think the race was exciting?”

  I blinked my eyes and tried to think of what to say.

  “Wait here.” I said as I stood up from the couch. “I’ve got something to show you."

  I saw the puzzled expression on Cindy’s face as I walked out of the lounge. I went to the bedroom and picked up my betting slip that lay on one of the shelves in my closet. I quickly checked to see that there hadn't been a mistake. I walked back to the lounge and sat down on the couch.

  “Two weeks ago I decided to take a bet on the Durban July.” I said. “”You’re quite right when you say that I’ve never shown any interest in horse racing but that was probably because I was still at school and couldn’t afford to follow the sport. I didn’t have the faintest idea about how to select a horse so I wrote their numbers on pieces of paper, put them all into a bowl and guess what number I pulled out?”

  Cindy stared at me, blinking her eyes as she tried to understand what I had just asked her. She looked at the television set briefly and I saw her face brighten as understanding of what I’d just told her came to her. She turned and stared at me, her mouth open in disbelief.

  “Number twelve.” she said.

  “Quite right.” I said. “Hunting Tower.”

  “How much did you bet?” Cindy asked.

  “A thousand dollars.” I replied as I showed her my betting ticket.

  Cindy’s eyes opened wide.

  “You bet a thousand dollars on a horse?”

  I nodded and Cindy looked down at the betting ticket in my hand for confirmation.

  “Explain it to me.” she said.

  “Well, the odds on Hunting Tower at the time that I placed my bet were twelve to one.” I said. “That means that if Hunting Tower won I would get twelve times the amount that I’d bet as well as my stake of a thousand dollars back. And twelve times a thousand dollars is twelve thousand dollars.”

  “Twelve thousand dollars!” Cindy exclaimed. “That’s unbelievable.”

  I pointed to the figures that the bookmaker had written on the betting slip.

  “There it is.” I said. “Twelve thousand to one thousand.”

  Cindy stared at the ticket in my hand and then looked up at me.

  “Aren’t you pleased for me?” I asked.

  “Of course I am. I’m thrilled, Garth.” Cindy said. “But at the same time I’m a little worried. Should you really be taking such risks with your money?”

  “It was just an impulse.” I said. “It’s not something that I plan to do regularly.”

  “Garth.” Cindy said, looking at me intently. “Please promise me that you won’t let gambling become a habit. Nobody can beat the casinos or the bookmakers. Sooner or later all gamblers end up broke.”

  “Don’t worry.” I said. “I’m going to save this money and use it to open my own business.”

  Despite the fact that I had assured Cindy that I wouldn’t start gambling, the lure of easy money was too s
trong. I began looking up the race meetings on the internet and taking imaginary bets that I wrote down and compared to the race results the following day. At first I lost all the imaginary bets that I’d made but over time, as I began to understand form, the history of the trainers and jockeys, the draw and the behaviour of the betting odds I actually began to have some success. Convinced that, as my experience grew, I would become more and more successful, I began to visit the bookmaker, Mister Edward Eksteen, and place small bets of twenty to thirty dollars on all the races.

  “I’m glad to see that your win hasn’t gone to your head.” the bookmaker said. “That was a big win for just about anyone. Many punters let that kind of win go to their heads and before they know it, they’re in financial trouble.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Each time a bet of mine was successful though, I berated myself for not having bet a larger amount, never once considering that I might have lost that money and never thinking about the bets that I’d placed that had not been successful.

  The main race meetings were on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. As Cindy was at work during the week I was able to spend Wednesday afternoons at the betting hall without her knowledge, but as I spent every Saturday with her, I was forced to place my bets on the Friday before the meeting. This made predicting the winners even more difficult as I couldn’t use the late betting trends to influence my decisions. My success rate for the Saturday meetings was therefore a lot worse than the Wednesday meetings.

  Despite my pledge to myself that I would only place bets of less that fifty Rand, the amounts that I laid out gradually grew bigger and bigger as I became more obsessed with winning and each time a did win, I ignored the fact that they seldom, if ever, covered the amounts that I had spent on the other races.

  Ian Visagie had still not paid back the three thousand dollars that I had lent him at the casino and, as my losses mounted and ate up the money that I’d won on Hunting Tower at the Durban July, I became more and more determined to confront Ian and force him to pay me. The opportunity to confront him presented itself one Wednesday afternoon while I was in the betting hall.