Spiral of Hooves

by Roland Clarke

  It didn’t feel right to Carly.

  “Weird. This document has been too well worked out,” said Carly. “Gilles ensured, whatever happens, all the bequests are inevitable. It’s like a seamless transfer of assets, not a will. Somebody helped devise this.”

  Armand studied the letter.

  “I think I see what you mean. I suspect Gilles made sure nobody could challenge this will. He guessed he was a target, so he needed to move his assets to safety – to people he trusted.”

  “But will that stop them? Did somebody know yesterday, when that van tried to kill me? Will they try again before Bramham? Time is against us.”

  “That’s why we’re leaving as planned, but with Wanda as well. I want to ensure you’re both ready if you have to do Bramham, but only if we can neutralise the threats.”

  *

  Armand had been desperate to get Carly somewhere that he could protect her. Hazelmead wasn’t Fenburgh with its wide, open approaches and ultra-high-tech security. Although he had persuaded Vecheech to invest in sophisticated protection for some of its property, it hadn’t included personnel. Making arrangements to move safely had taken a few hours, but his fellow Zoos and their connections had helped.

  Carly had made her own helpful suggestions, although she was finding it hard to forget Gilles. It would take time. Armand let her talk about her feelings, as it was better than silence. He had taken that route hoping the memories would vanish, but they only became distorted. At least they had each other, and the growing feelings for each other were their strength.

  As the plan evolved, there had been one crucial stage. “We have to get you checked up properly as soon as we can,” Armand had said, hoping Carly would concede.

  “To be honest, my whole right side aches and my head. Bit dizzy, but my levels are okay, so I should be fine.”

  “Merde, hopefully, the medicine will support you until tonight. You can’t ride feeling that way, and risk concussion.”

  Armand had known the hospital wouldn’t want her in after the paramedics had checked her over. They were too busy and their resources were too stretched to deal with someone injured during their recreation. Anyway, she needed to be somewhere safe.

  They both needed this time away. It was a chance to rebuild. The tragedy of Cygne would continue hurting, but he had buried the trauma and his fears of returning home. Perhaps time there with just themselves and the horses was healing enough.

  But not when there was a killer out there.

  He heard Carly dialling the phone, and listened as she mapped out just enough of their plan to a journalist with the right contacts. Carly said this friend could be trusted.

  “Yes, I hope our five days in Ireland are a chance to recover and avoid any stupid suspension while keeping the girls fit... just two horses left in work, so Wanda and Dido will come to Ireland. Sadly, the others are all going back to Canada as Vecheech have pulled out and they’re closing everything down.”

  He put his arm around her as she answered another question from the journalist.

  “Yes. We’re staying with a friend near Stroud tonight and taking the midday ferry tomorrow.” She smiled at him and winked. “...Torc was severely injured. I’m really concerned about her. She’s at the vet’s recovering, and it could be some months.”

  Armand gestured at the farm buildings where the part-time grooms were mucking out with their headphones on.

  “The liveries and grooms will keep Hazelmead ticking over, although it’s being closed down in three months. There are a few horses left here, just liveries.” He motioned at his watch. “Oh, I need to make sure we have everything. We’re leaving in four hours.”

  She nodded at Armand as she listened to a final question.

  “...Yes, we plan to be back on the seventh, for Bramham, if they let me ride in the CIC. I want to build on Saumur, prove our potential. I trust you to say what is necessary. Bye, and many thanks.”

  As Carly put the phone down, Armand prayed the journalist would use everything in the right way. The timing of the story’s release on equestrian internet sites was crucial for the deception to work. They didn’t need anyone tracking them down too quickly, not if the real intent of the hit and run van had been murder. Armand hoped the police could trace the van and connect Mick to it.

  He may be too crafty and evade us. I want to blame Lina, but she wouldn’t want a horse to die, even Torc.

  *

  To: Carly Tanner

  From: Roman Boissard

  Not intelligent enough. You won’t have the mare for long. I’m not letting you sell her and profit at my expense. The family will fight MY son’s will. He was unstable and not sane enough to sign a legal document.

  Major Roman Boissard, Rtd.,

  Director Boissard Équestre.

  However threatening the email was meant to be, Armand was sure the assignment would be difficult to challenge; even the minor bequests were watertight, like the token bestowal to Odette Fédon's family.

  “He can’t do this. Vecheech will oppose him, and they are too powerful, I think.”

  Armand glanced at the list of other emails that Carly had been sent. Bills, spam, and scattered among them what looked like offers for her mares, which he let her read.

  “Wow, someone here’s offering me ninety thousand pounds for Wanda, crazy money. So tempting, but she’s too important ever to sell. Although I could buy youngsters instead and then...”

  “Sure, but Wanda is your chance to prove you’re a top rider, hopefully as part of a team, whether British or French.”

  “Unlikely, but I suppose yes. Wanda is capable of winning another three-day.”

  “You’ve both more than enough talent.”

  He glanced at the email and noted the offer was from an American stud. When Carly opened the next one, it was German.

  “Strange, all these buyers, how did they all know?”

  “Odd,” she said. “This one even reminds me that the mare will be out of work if I breed from her. Even says they want to help riders like me, bloody cheek.”

  As he listened to the rain outside, he let her check the emails, but the speed of the offers concerned him. The report was not up on any sites, so someone else had leaked the news about Wanda.

  “If I keep saying no, will they raise the price to say, one hundred thousand?”

  “If they forget you have enough talent to keep winning.”

  “Am I being stupid, Loup? A valuable horse today could get a serious injury and be worthless. I've known it happen, and it’s tragic.”

  “Are you thinking of selling?”

  “No way, I’d never sell Wanda. Anyway, that’s not why. Gilles left her to me, and this email confirms the terms.”

  “Terms?” said Armand, sensing that was suspicious. “An assignment with terms?”

  “Well, Vecheech had to agree to waive their share and...”

  She shook her head and sat back, hand on her mouth.

  He read the offending words.

  ‘In the event that you decide to sell or retire Sorcière des Saules or choose to retire from competition yourself, then the mare must be offered to Vecheech Enterprises Inc.

  By making this assignment of their share in Sorcière des Saules, the company hereby retains the first option to re-acquire her at her full value...’

  Vecheech was ensuring they were in a win-win arrangement. They had Wanda’s foals and probably her DNA. Carly, as the mare’s best rider, could add value to the mare and her progeny. In the final analysis, Wanda would still be theirs. For Carly, this was little more than a loan until retirement, but Armand couldn’t help thinking, what does retirement mean?

  FIFTY

  Carly watched the raptor soaring on the thermals high above the limestone cliffs of the gorge. A griffon vulture, Loup had said when she noticed the first one earlier. Was it an ill omen, or a warning to any pursuers? The bird was majestic, surveying its domain of towering rocks and tumbling waters.

  She glan
ced to her left across the horsebox cab at Armand. “If it’s much further, we should rest the horses again.”

  “We should be there in an hour, so we’ll stop beyond the town. There’s a good place.”

  With every kilometre, the confidence in his face made her feel safer, even though their adversaries needed to discover their haven. Mick’s determination was etched on her memory, as was Lina’s persistence. How long had she worked with him? Lina had taken the DNA for Vidarranj when she was at Fenburgh, but where was she now? What more would she do?

  When Armand had explained about the cloning and Vidarranj’s super-horse project, it made total sense, although she had been oblivious to the clues at the time. If only she had bothered to apply what the university degree had taught her, she might have been more aware of their plans. At least she could now share her knowledge and observations with Armand. Tragically, Gilles had died without revealing what he knew.

  She had to ask the question again.

  “Loup, were Gilles’s death and the accident connected?”

  “I’m not sure. I think Mick is involved, even if the police trace on the van was—”

  “—a dead end, because a C M Tanner rented it—the witch used my card. Stole my details and now wants me to blame Mick, because, as my ex, he could have known the PIN.”

  Armand shook his head.

  “That online booking, on the day before the attack was made with a credit card that could have been one of his scams. Maybe we’re meant to suspect her.”

  “If he turns up over here. Sorry, my gut feeling is Lina. She has reasons to do everything. Shit, it’s like she’s saying my actions are responsible.”

  “But if you were injured, who would ride Wanda for her? Mick knows riders. And she has no obvious skills, although she’s fit. We can’t rule either of them out, or even Roman, but we’ll know soon.”

  Armand turned into a busy town with stone houses perched along a stream spanned by narrow bridges.

  For Carly, it was a refreshing new world. Could it be a real haven? Could they escape and build something new—a home? “If they make a larger offer, then we can end this. Or is that giving in?”

  He said nothing, just pretended to concentrate on his driving, but that must be his worry, she thought.

  “You think there won’t be another offer. Vidarranj doesn’t need the mare anymore. I’m an inconvenience now, like Gilles. That’s why they tried to kill me.” The fear of what lay ahead welled up. She was putting Loup’s life at risk as well as the Zoos.

  “No. First, I’ll never abandon you, Vix – I’ll always be here for you. Second, if Vidarranj doesn’t need the mare, it means they have live clones, which are healthy. And third, Wanda alive with you riding will always increase the value of any clones.”

  “...or any foal. Vecheech has those. Damn. Retire could mean kill. Then they get Wanda. Is that what Lina wants?”

  “If she’s working for Vecheech and not for Vidarranj. Whatever happens, you’re safe here. This area is my territory.”

  She clutched Armand’s knee with her left hand. Guinness leant his head on her lap.

  Armand’s smile staved off any darker thoughts.

  From the vantage of the horsebox, she glimpsed flowers everywhere, in flowerbeds, hanging baskets, window boxes and throughout the bustling market, with its stalls strung and spread with produce and goods. The colours promised a wealth of scents.

  “It would be great to explore this properly one day, Loup.”

  “One day, yes. But there are remote tracks we can safely explore. Nobody will notice two more riders along the drailles—the old sheep trails.”

  “Disappear into the landscape, sounds cool. Thanks, Loup.”

  They turned out of the town with the afternoon sun glinting off the roofs. A wooded hill led them up into rolling farmland with remote buildings and flocks of grazing sheep. Armand pulled onto a lay-by with a wide grass verge.

  “This must do as a short break for the horses. Half an hour, then we must leave.”

  They unloaded and tethered their precious cargo on the grass. Armand put his arm around Carly as she savoured the scenery.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  He pointed across the fields to the crags and forested mantle, their sanctuary.

  She had worried about making the long journey when they had arrived in Gloucestershire. Although Armand had explained his plans to spirit Wanda and Dido away, she was surprised to see Armand and herself on their arrival inside the farmhouse at the equestrian centre. At a glance, it should do, but she had second thoughts about her double’s wig, even though it matched her hair colour.

  “Chérie, meet Oreillard and Furet. If this doesn’t work out too well, they can defend themselves. We served together in the Chasseurs. They’re good friends, but we tend to use our call sign names—from Zoo creatures—mine being Loup.”

  As their stand-ins drove off in the Hazelmead horsebox to catch the night ferry to Ireland, the reality of the situation had hit her, and she hoped their deception would work. The false press information, a couple fitting their description driving the Hazelmead box to Ireland, a chestnut and a grey on board. Not Dido and Wanda, but horses brought from France and switched amidst the evening bustle of the yard.

  The recollection stirred her conscience.

  “It’s crazy, Loup. I still worry. We may not be risking your friends for more than a few days, but the horses are like...like tethered goats.”

  “Oreillard and Furet will see anyone following first; they’re our best, trust me. They still work in security, freelance. Mick, or whoever, will want to confirm the target and by then it’ll be too late.”

  He had already tried to convince her that the Zoos could deal with any malicious tail. He had unearthed Roman’s military record, and his only active use of a firearm had been in a shooting team. The Zoos classed him as skilled, but not a sniper, even if he could have learnt to use a crossbow for hunting in Canada and liked sneaking around his Du Noroît domain.

  However, that still left Mick as a possible culprit, and she had ransacked her memories of him for any ability he had betrayed that indicated he could have killed Gilles and Odette. Armand had suggested survival training, and she recollected Mick mentioning trips to Wales with some cadet or TA group before they met. Not surprisingly, Mick hadn’t stuck it out, but in combination with Roman the skills were there and posed a threat. Lina was an unknown quantity beyond her vindictive and athletic persona, but she was involved.

  At least a welcoming reception was being arranged for any pursuers that unravelled the deception and traced the genuine Armand and Carly, who had slipped over to France via the Plymouth-Roscoff ferry, disguised as Oreillard and Furet.

  Would their pursuers take the bait? Or were they already following Carly and Armand?

  Smelling the grass and feeling Armand’s secure and loving arms wrap firmly around her dismissed any uncertainties.

  “You can feel safe here,” he said. “My comrades and I have the advantage. Some of us even grew up here, living off the land.”

  She gazed out across the pastures up towards the forests of the Cevennes. Guinness bounded over bursting with reassurance. Her eyes swept back to the road, which curved around a craggy bend like a proud gateway. Beyond, she glimpsed a grove of tended chestnut trees leading onwards.

  “There is a tradition of resistance here. Our grandparents were in the Maquis de Vabres—it’s in our blood. Our adversaries are the interlopers. The Cevennes is your home as well now. I would do anything for you.”

  She turned and kissed him. She could move her life on here; Loup was offering her the chance. “You already have, rescuing me and bringing me to your home.”

  “A new beginning—for both of us.” He wrapped his arms around her again. “Later, I'll show you some of my favourite haunts, since the doctor at Stroud gave the go-ahead for you to ride.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  Carly slipped into bed and switched off the sidelight.
She curved her body around Loup, who was as soundly asleep as Guinness curled up by the door.

  Armand must have been exhausted. Having driven from England, he then insisted that a night hike into the valley was needed to test the defences. He had remained undetected until mid-morning when a black fur-ball had pounced and then licked his face, while Carly straddled and tickled him.

  Amazingly, after suggesting improvements to the security, he had insisted on riding with her. That might change over the next few days, but the precautions were crucial, and all these preparations were for her and the horses. Loup was devoting himself to her, and she felt his energy invigorating her. Her apprehension about the danger was buried deep below the warmth now, as were any residual feelings for Gilles. She had to move on to survive. Loup’s love was genuine, and her heart was his.

  She watched the moonlight flickering through the mulberry trees and listened to the contented breathing of her two men. There were memories to sustain her while confined to the protected area, like riding under the vast expanse of the trees along the nearby sheep trails, through scenery her mother would have loved. Chestnut, holm oak, beech, larch, she would have tested Carly on them all and been fascinated by the restoration of the Cevennes’s green mantle that was spreading once again. It was so different from Vidarranj’s approach to manipulating nature. Why interfere so drastically when the roots were already there? Torc had proved that with Dido—even if the youngster didn’t seem to be an eventer.

  Then there were the Przewalski horses on the Causse Méjean, being bred for reintroduction back into Mongolia. Riding with Loup on the remote plateau, seeing those wild horses galloping alongside them had inspired her. As had the scenery, so remote and vast, arid with dramatic limestone outcrops and the only signs of life, the occasional bird of prey, the Przewalski and hundreds of sheep—a contrast to the lush beauty beyond.

  She had vaguely thought it might be another chance to find out how Odette Fédon was related, but the opportunity never emerged.