“Did you ever meet the Duchesne daughter?”
“Didn’t know they had one, Vix—so no, never.”
“She’s called Odette.”
Gilles stared at her, mouth wide open. “What? Like...?”
“Yes, like your groom in Canada.”
“Maudit—that explains why Armand has been acting so weird.”
“And how he knew the parents. You never noticed the ring with the pendant around his neck? So, he never said he was married? Or why he didn’t want to go back to France?”
She stared hard at Gilles, searching for any signs of evasion, but there was just confusion.
“Never, he’s always been mysterious.”
She breathed slowly, containing her anger.
“When were you going to tell me Odette Fédon was pregnant when she disappeared?”
He closed his eyes and tears formed, softening her mood.
“It’s okay, honey, I would have understood,” she said. “Even knowing you were the father.”
“Babe, I’m sorry... I never wanted to... hurt you, but there was too much... too sudden.”
He grasped her hands tightly and looked down.
Carly held his face and kissed him. Odette wasn’t a rival; if he could stop living in the past.
“Please. Did Odette mean a lot to you?”
“At the time, everything, but Papa would never have accepted her. He didn’t even accept her opinion on the horses, so we kept it quiet.”
She could sympathise.
“And Loup and Lina, they’re your friends?”
He shook his head, eyes closed.
“Yes, but I didn’t want to... burden them with it.”
“So, nobody suspected anything?”
“Never, although Papa always suspects something. Look at the way he is with us—he behaves as if we’re all plotting—which is crazy.”
“Poor Gilles, you must have been devastated when Odette went missing.”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind, hooting owls and Guinness’s snores.
“I was... utterly devastated. I didn’t know anything. Had she been killed? Or had she disappeared? I thought the baby would make everything possible.”
Carly could see Odette’s dilemma and the way that she would have tackled the problem, with support.
“She sounds like someone who would have stood up to your father—your family.”
“She did when she could, but it was difficult not to let our relationship slip out.”
“Was her death really an accident?” Carly braved the question, “Could your father…?”
Gilles closed his eyes and held his head, then said, “Câlice, that’s my nightmare still. If only I had gone with her, but I had a stupid meeting with him—with Papa.”
“With Roman, so it was just an accident.”
She tried to sound reassuring, but Roman could have ordered Odette killed.
Gilles had tears in his eyes again.
“It wasn’t meant to happen in that way. We had plans, and the baby was a bonus.”
Carly put her arms around him.
“I will try to be as... true as her.”
“You are as special as her. She would have liked you. Happy and free is the way she would have wanted me to be—although it hurts.”
He clasped her firmly and began kissing her. His hands were like butterflies again, exploring her body. The silk pyjamas that he had bought her were eased off, and his right hand inched downwards.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“You want a surprise, or shall I tell you? It’s my favourite place.”
“Hmm, I’m all anticipation... and all yours.”
He eased the quilt down exposing her to the moonlight sneaking through the window.
“Well, you have to head across the prairies...” His fingers began walking across her stomach. “...towards the beautiful peaks...tracing a winding route upwards...seeking out the pass between them.” He kept tracing patterns on her body as the words flowed. “The trail winds up and around them, then plunges down and across a high plateau... to a hidden sanctuary in a beautiful grove of red maples...”
Her body arched to meet him, and she pulled him closer in her desperation. She so wanted this dream he offered.
THIRTY-SIX
It should have been Carly, but she had refused to go, even with Gilles. Fortunately, Lina had talked to Mick, and Armand was glad the salesman had been taken in by her feigned enthusiasm.
Now they were getting a tour of Vidarranj’s headquarters near Gatwick. If Mick thought there was a chance of getting them back in the fold, he acted his most amenable and slick—salesman Mick at full throttle.
“We don’t manufacture any of the supplements here in the UK, just overseas where our farmers harvest the ingredients —it’s best fresh.”
“Where do you grow the produce?” asked Lina, “America?”
“No, our growers in Brazil are the very best.”
“And it’s just supplements to enhance our horses’ performance and fertility?”
Mick smiled back at her, rising to her interest.
“For now. Our researchers are always looking for new ways to help our clients...”
“Exactamente, we are all trying to breed for the best performers.”
It was hard to square this Mick with Roman’s sly and vicious sidekick. It was as if that had never happened, and even Lina appeared relaxed and friendly. If Mick didn’t suspect her of playing a game, then he was a gullible salesman, despite his hired muscle demeanour at Fenburgh.
Armand made good use of the distracting conversation to note the layout and the security. He might have to come back, and it would be easier hacking into their system from inside Vidarranj. Except, Mick was watching him intently, studying him as if he suspected at least one unwelcome visitor of having a hidden agenda.
Does he suspect me? Would it be better if I found an alternative access point? But where? This would be the best server to access.
“I see you’ve been looking at the photos of our grateful clients. We have them in everything—from the Olympic disciplines to polo and racing.”
He was relieved Mick misunderstood his curiosity, although Armand had noted the photos.
He was also grateful when Lina continued her probing, asking, “What about recreational riders?”
“We service a handful, but this is cutting-edge science. We’re talking about the elite, like you. Another top eventing yard like Hazelmead would be in good company.”
At least Mick had now made it clear why he had invited them into the den.
“If you come this way to my office, I can get you some samples. The new range of course, just released to great acclaim. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”
*
“So, after all that, what do you feel? Are those vets we saw at Saumur involved?”
Lina was sitting next to Armand at the kitchen table, and she furrowed her brow.
She closed her eyes before saying, “Probably...” She ran her fingers through her hair then picked up the samples that Mick had given her, at Vidarranj and Badminton. “Vidarranj's supplements have all changed in the last month. Maybe they were checking for traces of something...illegal.”
Armand sensed her tension. She was holding back, or maybe she wasn't sure. Natalie and Jean-Pierre had their theory. It was a gamble, but he had to trust Lina, time was running out.
“It's crazy, but could they have been taking DNA samples as well?”
She sat up, staring straight ahead.
“Not for drug testing but... to make personalised antiserums... like I tried at Fenburgh as part of my research.”
“What for?”
“General use, mainly to counteract common toxins, but poisons can be confusing. I tried making some for allergies too, like mine to plant sap. But the success rate is too low—without the proper lab.”
“Wrong sort of facilities or not sufficiently sophisticate
d?”
“High-tech enough for the horses. These trials were more...more a personal diversion...for fun. Human drugs like Carly's insulin, now that's front-line research. Best leave that to experts.”
Armand found Lina's explanation more mundane than the Duchesnes’s conclusion, which had been disturbing in its implications.
THIRTY-SEVEN
As the horse approached the fence, Carly counted the strides to the first element of the Oasis combination. Clear, one stride into the water and then out.
She pressed ‘send’ on the radio and told control, “Number two-sixty-nine, neat and clear over 16A, and safely through the water at B,” while Armand wrote down the details and checkpoint time on the fence scoring sheet.
It was less intense fence judging than competing, even though she found herself riding the jumps mentally each time. With the responsibility, as well, it would be a long tiring day, although it made her value the regular volunteers. Whether riding or helping, she enjoyed this undulating parkland with its mature trees and country house backdrop.
Guinness was stretched out on the grass beside the jeep. He growled as a familiar voice said, “Found you guys at last, though I didn’t recognise this old jeep—should have known from those foreign plates, though.”
Mick stood behind them, his approach masked by another group of spectators enjoying their day out at Borde Hill. Carly ignored his remark about Loup’s French acquisition, even if it did look like it had been through a war.
“I dropped by Hazelmead, and the place seemed deserted. I found a girl who told me you were here, so I came to congratulate you again, Vix, on your brilliance at Saumur. And to think, everyone thought Wanda was useless.”
“Not everyone, we believed in her. 314 clear at 16A, heading fast through water at B.”
“Slumming it now, I see.”
“Not really, I usually volunteer here...”
“To ensure you get late entries—an easy trick. You all do it... not that I blame you.”
“No way, we do it because our sport wouldn't survive without helpers. You should lend a hand, Mick.”
Volunteering had also eased her late entry for Pin in the Open Novice, although it was not the main reason for helping. Anyway, Pin needed two runs before his delayed three-day outing, and she didn’t want him to do an Intermediate at Eridge without an easier opener.
“Well, I might do something,” said Mick, “now I'm back on my patch. Glad to escape the aggro of East Anglia.”
Carly envisaged him dropping by too often, although getting him away from Suffolk and Fenburgh might help.
Guinness was on his feet. The next horse refused, and he barked, just before Carly told the rider, “First refusal.” He lay down again, and the horse went clear.
“Two-seven-one refused log at 16A. Clear at the second attempt and slowly through the water.”
“How the hell does he do that?” asked Mick. “Or is he the reason why they refuse?”
“Nope, he knows from way out they’ll refuse. At least half I can tell too, wrong speed, wrong angle, bad stride or no impulsion—no energy left, sometimes bad riding. And I've been there—”
“I call that outside assistance of a sort then—for the second attempt.”
“Well, it ensures the horse goes clear unless the rider blows it. Again, I've done that and gotten the t-shirt.”
She laughed, glad Guinness's party trick had lightened the mood, but Mick asked, “Gilles given up riding then? Leaving it to our favourite professional? Saumur must have been tough—especially as he found the mare.”
“He has plenty to compete—not just Drac and Pin.”
“But this is an excellent local event and the right sort of education,” Mick said, then asked, “So, why isn’t he here?”
“He and Lina went to check out new embryo transfer arrangements for the mares in Gloucestershire.”
“Aah, transfers are one way to keep them competing.”
She was making sense of his words when Guinness stood up. Armand pointed at a fast-approaching rider—out of control and on the wrong line for the water.
The rider and horse fought for supremacy and stumbled over the log, before plunging through the water. They missed the route out, and the horse tried jumping the bushes, but swerved at the last minute, dumping the rider into the undergrowth. The judges on the other bank ran to help, and the horse headed back through the water. Mick sidestepped and caught the horse.
“At least you haven’t lost your touch, Mick. Thanks.”
He led the horse across to the rider, who was now standing, then came back to pester them some more.
Carly concentrated on radioing control. “Three-one-six clear at 16A but fell in water at B. Rider walking off course with horse.”
When an official arrived to check what had happened, Carly gave her report.
Then her mobile beeped; text message. “frndly warning. thnk G & L r 2 close—seem lik lovrs.” Cryptic, and yet all she feared. Why did they need to be together so much? Was this weekend away just work? Was the anonymous sender a friend, or a fellow rider? After the next horse, she checked. No number she recognised. She rang it, but it was an anonymous message box.
“Who's that, Vix?” Loup asked. “Lina? Gilles?”
She wondered if she should tell him, in front of Mick, or would Loup guess? It was best to wait for a better moment.
“Not exactly... show you the text later.”
“Think you guys might have a problem,” said Mick. “If I was you, be careful who you trust. Sorry Armand, but one can't rely on some people—I know that from personal experience.”
“You mean like you,” said Carly.
“Only trying to help, Vix. You know me; I get to see a lot in my job but ignore me as always, just have to find out for yourself. Good luck tomorrow, ciao.” With those remarks, he wandered off, leaving her confused.
“Merde that guy is so double-faced, I never know whose side he is on.”
“Mick’s on his own side, for his personal gain—never anyone else’s. He’s just a slick salesman after his next deal.”
*
Vidarranj or Roman? Who is Mick actually working for? Whose support furthers his ambitions?
Mick could have been paid to kill Odette; if Armand could prove Mick had the skills.
Before he searched online for more on the salesman, Armand checked that the girls had put the chickens back in their secure shed. Something had disturbed them, but there was no sign or smell of a fox.
Angry barking—Guinness.
He ran back to the yard. The flatcoat stood, hackles raised, growling; defending Carly. Two masked figures in black sprinted across the fields.
“Guinness disturbed those guys attempting to break into the tack room, unsuccessfully, thank God.”
“You okay, Vix? That’s my concern.”
“Yes, shaken a bit. The burglars heard Guinness and ran, knowing I had the best defender.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get them. You ring the police, and I’ll try and see where those thieves are going.”
“Don’t be crazy, Loup. What happens if they turn on you?”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Armand opened the Peugeot P4’s boot and grabbed a knapsack, with equipment that Natalie had supplied when she gave him back his keys and welcomed him back to the Zoos.
She knew I was ready to fight again. Reclaim your power, my therapist said. Now I can, and will.
“I'll be careful, just tell the police.”
He pulled out a torch and swept the beam across the fields, picking out the cowering intruders. They stood up and turned, disappearing into a copse.
He turned to Carly. “Seems they were waiting to get back to the track, so they must have a car nearby. I’ll let you know.”
He jumped over the gate and followed them.
The torch gave away his position, so he switched it off. Reaching into the haversack, he took out some night vision goggles and slipped them on. Now he had the a
dvantage as he tracked the intruders, using an infrared photon flashlight to expose the path. These guys weren’t amateurs, but they left a trail and Armand could hear them. Thinking their pursuer had lost them, one guy switched on a small torch; a beacon for Armand.
Am I overstepping the law on the right to defend property? If I don't use a weapon, or attack them, then I should be okay.
As it was, one against two was risky if they were armed. For now, he had to know if these intruders were tack thieves or somehow connected to Mick. It was convenient that Armand and Carly had been fence judging, although not so convenient that the last class had finished early, nor that Armand and Carly passed on an end-of-day drink.
The figures headed away from Hazelmead, but they were bearing towards the main road.
If they have their vehicle there, I’ll lose them unless I cut them off.
There were a few parking places nearby, maybe one of those. Armand could risk heading back to the farm and checking in his jeep. If he found a suspicious vehicle, then he could wait for the intruders.
Or will I risk losing them entirely?
Near the farm outbuildings, he phoned Carly, but it didn’t sound as though the police were coming.
“... it seems Vix as if disturbing the thieves was enough for them. Merde.”
He reached the Peugeot and climbed in.
“I'm going to get a license plate,” he said to Carly. He was hoping to get more, but he wasn’t ready to feed Carly’s fears.
Why is she so worried about me? It’s nice to have her caring about me.
He drove up the lane watching for the intruders or their vehicle.
Lina. He could imagine her helping, peering into the shadows. This skulking around fitted her image.
Am I missing the camaraderie of the Zoos? Could I even trust Lina now? Or are those malicious rumours about her and Gilles? Rumours that fit with the evidence. Why spend so much time with Gilles?
Right out of the drive, he continued looking—nothing. He turned down the hill to Highbrook and noticed a grey Transit parked in a gateway. It could be them, so he wrote down the number plate and found an unobtrusive place to watch from. Lights off and using infrared, he waited.
Spiral of Hooves Page 14
