“Speaking of darlings, Mr. King, our field reporter Kristen Wilkes is barking in my ear to get the scoop on a media darling of a different sort, Natalie Rockwell. We’ve been told that the movie star came with you today and everyone is wondering if you are a couple?” Jonathan pressed.
“Natalie is a darling, that is for sure, but she is just here to support King’s Ransom’s run for the roses. She’s become a wonderful friend.”
“A friend, I see. Well, there you have it, Kristen. One last question, Mr. King, what does today mean to you knowing that your father was such a big racing fan?”
A flood of emotions raced all through Xander. He wanted to punch Jonathan in the throat for asking such an emotional question. He didn’t let it get the best of him, however. Xander took a deep breath and pulled himself together.
“Pops would have loved to throw about ten bucks on Ransom.” Xander forced a chuckle. “Today is a proud day for all of us involved. It means a lot that all of my team’s hard work got us here where they can enjoy such a momentous occasion. I’m just ready to get in there and give Ransom a little pep talk before he eats these other ponies alive.”
“And we will let you go do that. Thanks for your time, Mr. King. Good luck today, and hopefully we will see you in the winner’s circle! Back to you in the studio, Bob.”
Tommy shut the camera off and Jonathan thanked Xander again for the interview. Xander nodded and turned his attention toward the paddock where Gary had just walked in with Ransom and was readying the saddle for Jose. Jose was like a child standing next to Ransom. It really was astonishing how small jockeys were. Before he had settled on the name King’s Ransom, Xander had toyed with the idea of a more satirical name, maybe something like Midget Taxi? Mud In Your Eye? Or of course there was his personal favorite, Quit Hittin’ Me With That Stick.
It was funny to him at least. He imagined the name would not make it past the Jockey Club. Xander was certain they were far too stuffy to enjoy his sense of humor to approve any of those names. Although, the name Hoof Hearted did make it past them several years ago. His mom knew how much he loved fart jokes so she let him put five dollars on it. It ended up being a shit horse, finished dead last.
Gary was putting the finishing touches on tightening the left stirrup of the black leather saddle. King’s Ransom stood like a giant, even among the other three-year-old colts in the race. The scene was so beautiful around him that Xander felt as if he were in one of the many scenic horse paintings that used to hang in his father’s office. They were lodged as much in his memory now as the paintings had been surrounded back then, by rich dark woods and hunter green wall paint.
The area of the paddock he was standing in was a circle walkway of weathered gray cobblestone surrounded by bluegrass. Inside of the larger circular area that was the entire paddock were all the other colts getting fitted for the race. All along the brown wooden fence that separated the participants of the race from the patrons were rows of pink and white dogwoods, dotted at their base with a rainbow of colored roses. One could search the world over and not find a more breathtaking scene. He stepped forward and took hold of the silver ring on the black leather halter that snugged under the bottom of Ransom’s chin and rubbed his slick black-haired jaw, which felt like velour-covered concrete. The spatter of white that painted the middle of his nose from eye level down to his nostrils was the only color on his face. As Xander gave his nose a rub, Jose, a small Mexican man walked up to say hello.
“I think he’s ready for something big today, señor,” Jose said with confidence.
Jose was adorned in the silks that Xander had labored over for days in an attempt to find a color and pattern that best represented his stable.
“And just what makes you so sure he’s ready for something big today? Xander asked.
“He told me so.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’m going to have a word with him myself before you lead him to glory. You and Gary have your strategy for the race all lined out?”
“Yes, señor, take him to the lead and never look back.”
“Works for me, Jose. Have a perfect run.” Xander gave Jose a hug and turned to Gary. “How long?”
“Five minutes. Take a minute with him now if you want it,” Gary urged.
Xander nodded and took back the silver ring on Ransom’s halter. Gary took Jose over to the fence line and introduced him to Natalie and the group. A large oak tree stood hovering over Xander and Ransom’s spot in the paddock. Xander gave the silver ring a gentle tug and Ransom followed him as he walked over to the trunk of the massive tree for a private moment with his horse. He squared up in front of Ransom and took his head into his hands. He leaned in, letting the horse’s head rest over his shoulder as he hugged his neck.
Xander spoke into his ear. “Hey there, bud. Can you believe we made it here? Two years of training and an undefeated race record. I know that you know, none of these ponies can touch you, so this speech is more for me than it is you. It doesn’t really matter to me what happens. Just go out there and ride the wind. You’re ready. Just run and let everything else fall into place.” He gave the horse a nice hard pat. Xander had imagined this moment since he was a kid watching the races on television. He always loved a line from the movie, Dreamer, and he borrowed it in that moment as he took King’s Ransom’s face in his hands and looked deep into his midnight eyes. “You are a great champion. When you ran, the ground shook, the sky opened and mere mortals parted. Parted the way to victory, where you'll meet me in the winner's circle, where I'll put a blanket of flowers on your back.” A jolt of adrenaline shot through him as Ransom gave a deep, growling, and confident whinny.
They were going to win the Kentucky Derby.
“Xander,” Gary called to him. “It’s time.”
Xander walked Ransom back over to his spot and handed him off to Gary. As Gary helped Jose onto Ransom’s back Xander looked over and saw Kaley on her tiptoes trying to get a look at Ransom over the wooden rail.
“Just one second, Gary,” Xander said walking away and over to Kaley. “You wanna go say hello to the King?” Kaley’s face lit up and she feverishly nodded her head, and Xander reached over the fence and pulled her into the paddock. He cradled her in his arms, and as he was walking back to the horse he could see that it drew the attention of the television cameras and he was sure they were sharing this moment with the thousands watching at the track, and the millions watching at home. He carried Kaley over to Ransom, and as you might expect she was reluctant at first to reach her hand toward a mouth that was twice the size of her head. Xander showed her it was okay by rubbing Ransom’s nose himself, and she began to warm to the idea. With great deliberation she reached her hand toward his nose and as soon as her finger grazed him she jerked back and let out a belly-busting giggle.
“He cee-ute.” She laughed. “He cee-ute!”
“Yes, he is cute, and so are you, you little monkey.” Xander gave her little belly a tickle. He turned his attention to the guys. “Go get ’em, Jose. Gary, thanks for all your hard work. I’ll see you and Beth in the box in just a bit.”
Gary nodded and Jose gave Xander a thumbs-up from high on Ransom’s back. It was customary for the owner to walk in with his horse, but Xander left that to Gary. He felt since he was the one who had spent the countless hours putting in the training that it was just the way it should be if Gary had the moment. Xander turned back to the smiles of his family and friends. They seemed just as excited as he did. Hell, Kyle was visibly giddy. Xander loved it.
“You all ready to go place a bet?” Xander asked with a smile, the moments in the men’s restroom earlier now far from his mind.
“Looks like he’ll probably go off at four to one, X. The fucking Derby favorite!” Kyle shouted.
“Mommy, what does focking mean?” Kaley asked.
“Gee thanks, Kyle,” Helen muttered. “Thought I would be able to wait a little longer before I had to answer that question.” Everyone laughed at how cute Kaley
sounded as she said it. Helen attempted to answer Kaley. “It just means Kyle is thirsty, but we don’t use that word, okay?”
“Otay, Mommy.” Kaley smiled.
“Sorry.” Kyle grimaced.
They made their way back to the owner’s box. The crowd continued to grow to standing room only all around them. The grandstand busted at its seams. Only about fifty yards separated Xander’s box and the rail of the track. The racehorses were being paraded in. As if King’s Ransom’s midnight black coat and monstrous frame weren’t intimidating enough, he had drawn the sixth position in the gate, which meant his number cloth was black and only the white six would be seen on his side as if it magically floated there somehow. Six was a good draw for a race of twenty horses. It was far enough away from the rail to keep from being pushed there, yet not so far outside that you had to run a longer route to stay in contention. A strong sense of pride washed over Xander as Ransom loped his way toward the starting gate. When his name was announced, the massive crowd exploded in applause and adulation. Xander figured this must be what it is like to watch your child step up to the plate in a Little League baseball game or catch a touchdown pass on the football field.
Xander broke his own train of thought by letting out a prideful whistle and a few hand-pounding claps. He gave Natalie a nudge with his hip. “I can’t believe you matched my bet of ten-thousand-dollars on Ransom. I appreciate the faith, but that’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, and it’s gonna turn into a lot more when he runs right by all these other little ponies!” she shouted, raising the Derby’s customary mint julep into the air.
Kyle handed Xander one as well. It was tough to beat a cold drink of sweet bourbon whiskey at the races. Especially your own whiskey, as you cheered on your own horse while rubbing elbows with the most beautiful woman on the entire planet. The splendor that was Xander’s life wasn’t lost on him. He realized how good he had it. At least, how good it was, here and now, in this moment.
A man standing among an entrapment of roses began to blow on an immaculately polished brass horn. Another Kentucky Derby tradition—“My Old Kentucky Home”—and the thousands in attendance that actually were Kentucky natives sang the words along with his horn.
Weep no more my lady
Oh weep no more today
We will sing one song for my old Kentucky home
For my old Kentucky home far away
Upon the song’s end, the trumpet sounded the charge and they began to load the horses into the starting gate. Xander looked at Natalie, she swelled with excitement. Kyle wrapped his arm around Xander as Annie, Melanie, Helen, and Kaley rose to their feet right along with the tens of thousands of others who were on hand. The greatest two minutes in sports it had been called a thousand times over the years. The biggest race in the world’s richest sport, the sport of kings, in fact.
Fitting.
The starting gate was on the other side of the track so Xander and company watched the mega video screen as they loaded King’s Ransom into his gate. They could see Jose on the screen, perched high above the ground on Ransom. He gave Ransom an encouraging pat on the back and the rest of the horses took their spot in the starting gate. A hush fell over the raucous crowd.
Agent Sean Thompson Receives Disturbing News
There was a knock at the door. “Agent Thompson, you have a call on line three.”
Agent Sean Thompson was a big son of a bitch who still had “navy” written all over him. Big broad shoulders, classic crew-cut hair, and all the scars to prove it. The part of him that was clearly ex-navy—his midsection—wasn’t visible from behind the desk. He looked up from his paperwork and gave his secretary, Allison, a nod. He picked up the phone and pressed the blinking red button next to line three. “This is Agent Thompson.”
“Hey, Sean, it’s Marvin, how the hell have you been, my friend?” a familiar voice came through the phone.
“Buddy, if I was any better I’d be twins! Where in the hell does the Central Idiots Agency got you screwin’ things up these days?”
“Sean, you know how it is, here today gone tomorrow. Today it’s Syria. Apparently I shagged the director’s daughter without knowing it or something to draw this assignment. Somebody’s not happy with me somewhere I guess.” Marvin laughed.
“Christ, Marv, Syria? I’d rather shit swords for a year than spend a day in that hellhole.”
“Tell me about it. How’s life back in Langley?”
“Well, Virginia ain’t the Bahamas, but at least I get to sleep in my own bed at night. What can I do for ya, brother?”
It was good to hear Marv’s voice. It had probably been six years or more since they had trained together at Camp Peary. They were unlikely friends. Sean was from the deep South and grew up hunting and fishing. Marv was from New York and had spent his youth playing baseball and racking up a 4.0 GPA all through school. None of that matters much after you go through SEAL training together, though; it had a way of closing those gaps. The Farm at Camp Peary wasn’t easy, but CIA training was a walk in the park compared to the navy SEALs.
“Well, whether you believe it or not, I do get your requests you send to me in those e-mails every month, I just don’t respond so there isn’t a paper trail. Plus, I never had any information to offer you so it was pointless. You know what I mean?” Marv asked.
“Of course, no worries. That’s an automated thing I set up anyway just to keep a bug in your ear. Does this mean you have something?” Sean’s gruff and husky voice seemed eager now.
“Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up because it’s early. You’ve been sending those e-mails since we started with the agency about six years ago, and honestly I had forgotten about the specifics really. Until yesterday that is.”
“Spit it out, Marv.”
“Right. Yesterday a file came across my desk, another lead on who is controlling the ISIS movement here in Syria. You know, another real bad dude, been around a while, too. Anyway, nothing jumped out at me until I saw at the very end of the file that he had been investigated for some trouble in the States. That normally wouldn’t have meant anything to me either except it said it was in 1998. Even that alone wouldn’t have triggered anything except this guy, Sanharib Khatib, made his money in oil,” Marv explained.
“No shit?”
“Like I said, Sean, it could all be a total coincidence, I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case you wanted to do some research. You can’t tell Xander any of this yet, okay Sean? This guy is a major terrorist target and we need to know more about his operations before King comes in here cowboy-style and mucks up years of investigation.”
“No, no, of course—”
“I’m serious, Sean. Khatib isn’t like these other targets we tip Samantha to for Xander. This guy has a damn army surrounding him. One man could never make his way to this guy. He’d die trying,” Marv pleaded.
“You must not remember Xander as well as I do.”
“I do, Sean. I know he’s the baddest motherfucker who probably ever came through the SEALs, but it would take a team of ten Xanders to pull this assassination off. Plus, I could be totally off about this being the right guy.”
“No, I hear ya. We definitely have to take the time to vet this thing out before he knows. If we should ever tell him. I mean, according to you it’d be a death wish. I ain’t tryin’ to send the X-man off to his death.”
“Okay, good. Glad you see it the same way. I was scared to even tell you really because I know how close the two of you are. That’s also why I know you would never send him into an un-winnable situation.”
“I’ll check it out, Marv. As long as it takes.”
“I can’t believe we still do this anyway. Director Manning would hang us both for tipping Xander to any of these targets. You know that, right Sean?”
“Course I know that. But X is my brother, and he’s doing good that this damn government would never get around to doin’. If you don’t want to keep—”
“Calm
down, calm down. That’s not what I’m saying. You know I agree with you. Once in a while, though, I can’t help but think of the consequences.”
“The consequences would be much worse if all these monsters continued to kill and ruin all these lives,” Sean went on, starting to get riled up.
“I’m with you Sean. I’m with you. I’m just saying, if Manning knew, we’d be out of a job and probably thrown in prison. Shit is getting real. I heard through the grapevine that he is putting together a team to watch Xander. Putting Sarah Gilbright in charge of it I believe.”
Sean rubbed his chin as he thought about that name.
“Sarah Gilbright, huh? Why does that name sound familiar, Marv?”
“To me? I have heard amazing things about her work. To you? Probably because she’s just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s right! Gilbright. She’s that blonde with legs longer than a decade and big…well you know. Hell yeah I know her, she’s hot as a ghost pepper.”
“Why am I not surprised.” Marv laughed. “Good to hear you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Not in that department, my friend. Well that makes me nervous for X-man, but if they are watching him, they must know what he’s been up to and be at least somewhat okay with it. Let’s just make sure we watch what we say extra good from here on in.”
“My thoughts exactly. Listen, I have a meeting I’m running late for. I hope everything is going well for you back there. I haven’t seen a pair of legs around here in about two months. Hell, I haven’t so much as seen a forearm with all these Muslim women running around wearing tarps for clothes.”
“Shit, I’d go plum crazy. No wonder all them terrorists are going bat-shit trying to blow everything up.” Sean laughed.
“You’re as crazy as ever, my friend. I love it. I’ll let you know if I find anything else. Say hey to the guys for me.”
Whiskey & Roses (The Xander King Series Book 1) Page 9
