Aim High (The Eddie Malloy series Book 7)

by Joe McNally

Alex Brophy was on the leader and as he charged toward the second-last he saw a group of men in high-vis jackets ducking under the rail. Three carried checkered wooden boards with big directional arrows to guide riders round a fence. The men tried to lodge these in the turf, while the other three stood blocking the approach waving checkered flags and shouting ‘Pull up! Pull up!’

  Brophy looked round to see how the other jockeys were reacting, but his closest opponent was fifteen lengths behind. If he pulled up and this turned out to be some kind of stunt, he’d look a fool, and he’d be throwing away a winner and plenty prize money.

  But if he carried on and it turned out that this was all official, he could face a lengthy ban from the saddle. He was also aware that there might be some danger beyond the fence, especially given yesterday’s problems.

  He leaned back, bracing against Stalbridge Colonist, and managed to pull him up to a trot as he reached the race Marshalls. He recognized three of them and immediately felt better. Looking round, he saw the others pulling up too.

  A Marshall told them there had been an emergency radio message through their headsets warning of severe danger if horses went near the final fence. The jockeys walked the runners back to the paddock past baffled crowds and curses, Stalbridge Colonist had been well fancied. But better safe than sorry.

  It took twenty minutes of talking and arguing and questioning among officials before it was discovered that someone had hijacked the radio network and issued a false instruction. The race was declared void.

  After a delay of more than an hour, it was announced that racing would continue. Eddie didn’t have a ride in the second race. He stood with Mave on the steps of the weighing room. ‘Sonny been on the phone yet?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Oddly. No. But I’m back to square one. I’m going to have to give him another horse to make up for that one. What do you think?

  ‘It’s your call, Mave. I don’t suppose one more will matter.’

  She pinched her chin, looking at the ground. ‘I’m going to tell Sonny I’ve set a self-destruct code line into the programme, one that will execute at midnight on December thirty first.’

  ‘And have you?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea. It gives him a chance to plan for the New Year once Nina dumps him.’

  She nodded, still pondering. ‘Maybe he could live in the Shack?’

  ‘Maybe he could. It would suit him well.’

  ‘Save me having to sell it, too.’

  ‘I’d be sorry to see it go. I’d probably buy it off you if you decide to sell.’

  She smiled and looked up at him. ‘What would you do with it?’

  ‘Use it for holidays.’

  She laughed. ‘You wouldn’t know how to holiday. You’d need to go to holiday college for about ten years to learn. Even then, you’d fail your exams.’

  ‘True.’

  The jockeys for the second race filed past them and cut through the gaps among circling horses. Mave watched them fan out, moving toward the groups of connections. She said, ‘What’s the betting on what will happen in this race?’

  ‘For the first time in my life, I’m kind of glad not to be riding.’

  The bell sounded and the jockeys moved to mount. Some would make a circuit of the paddock, adjusting stirrups, getting the horse settled. Others would want to exit onto the walkway toward the course as soon as possible and get their horses cantering to the start.

  As the last horse left the paddock, a big iron-grey gelding halfway up the line reared and squealed. Charlie Crilly was riding him and the right arm of his purple silks reached forward to pat the horse’s neck to help calm him. Then the same arm came up to shield Charlie’s eyes and he lurched to his right and the horse reared again and unseated Charlie.

  The groom kept hold of the grey and Charlie rolled under the rail and quickly got to his feet. He ducked back under and onto the walkway and raised his hand to stop the jockey behind, John Davidson.

  Charlie was gesticulating, pointing to his eyes. The groom, still trying to calm Charlie’s horse, spoke to Charlie then turned the horse around toward the paddock. The five horses who’d been behind the grey were also turned by their jockeys and walked back toward the paddock. Charlie jogged past them to meet Ken Bletchley, the clerk of the course, who was hurrying across the lawn.

  The other runners were recalled to the paddock. Eddie told Mave he’d be back soon.

  Charlie was in the changing room, already telling everyone that someone had shone a laser in his eyes and probably in the horse’s eyes first. After a fifteen minute Inquiry, the Kempton Stewards abandoned the remainder of the meeting.

  51

  As Eddie drove down the track toward his house, he turned to Mave, ‘Looks like I’d better get used to arriving home while there’s still some daylight.’

  ‘Or just avoid taking rides at JCR tracks. There were no incidents at the other three meetings today. That’s two days in a row where only Jockey Club Racecourses have been targeted.’

  Eddie pulled up in the drive and they took the conversation inside. ‘What’s your take on this, Mave? This JCR stuff?’

  ‘I don’t have a "take". It looks like the rest of the world is only just beginning to realize that racing per se isn’t the target here. The one thing that doesn’t sit right with me is why JCR themselves decided so early that the campaign was against them and hired McCarthy to help.’

  ‘You think somebody at the Jockey Club had been warned in advance?’

  ‘Maybe. Or they could just have picked up on something internal. Who’s bearing grudges within the organization? What’s the politics at board level? How much does Mac know about all that?’

  ‘I’ll ask. Want some coffee?’

  ‘Yes please.’ She took off her jacket and wandered toward her room.

  Eddie called after her as he filled the kettle, ‘What did you make of the Black Widows?’

  ‘They made me sad,’ she closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Over dinner, they agreed that Eddie would go and see Mac, while Mave sat through a Skype session with Sonny and Nina. ‘Was that Sonny’s suggestion?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘After half a dozen pretty desperate phone calls.’

  ‘You told him about the self-destruct?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Well, at least they’re taking you seriously now. I don’t mind hanging around for moral support. She’s going to throw everything at you. Is it a video call?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Be prepared for lashings of wet mascara and her holding up pictures of her so-called son like some poor refugee on an Iraqi mountainside.’

  ‘I have the considerable advantage of knowing she’s a lying bitch.’

  ‘That was a good decision last week not to tell Sonny about the picture.’

  ‘One of the few things I’ve got right.’

  Eddie put his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. She watched him. He said, ‘I’m sorry to see you so unhappy.’

  ‘And I’m sorry for being a miserable cow.’

  ‘Things will get better, Mave. Everything passes in time.’

  ‘You’ve been raiding the cliché cupboard again, haven’t you?’

  Eddie smiled.

  Mac was still wearing his coat when Eddie arrived. He sipped tea. Eddie got the makings of a fire together and squatted at the wood burner. Eddie said, ‘I could have been a fire maker in one of those big country houses in the nineteenth century.’

  ‘I’m not sure they employed boys just for fire making. You’d probably have to have climbed up the chimney too and hauled the coal and logs. Doubtless you were one of those firebugs as a child?’

  ‘I was. Managed not to burn anything down other than an old dead Beech tree, which I’ve regretted ever since.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because when I walked that field the next day, the one the tree had been in, it was the first time in my life I didn’t see it against th
e skyline and it set me thinking that maybe thousands of people had seen that tree over hundreds of years, and I’d been the one to put an end to it.’

  ‘How old were you then?

  ‘About ten.’

  ‘So you’ve always thought too much?’

  Eddie smiled as he struck a match. ‘I suppose so.’

  The fire got stronger. Mac loosened his tie. Eddie switched on the ancient lamp with the ribboned shade, then settled with a mug of coffee across from McCarthy. ‘Well, how high is the panic meter now at Jockey Club Towers?’

  Mac managed a tired smile. ‘Even though most of the stiff upper lips have gone, they still don’t do panic. Not yet, at least. But frustration is rising.’

  ‘Was it Tim Arango who first got suspicious about JCR tracks being targeted?’

  ‘I think there’d been a general discussion at board level after Blackaby’s death. I don’t know who suggested that the campaign might be against JCR alone.’

  ‘Can you find out?’

  ‘I can ask. Why?’

  ‘Because nobody else seems to have picked it up. Well, they have now, but usually a reporter or somebody on social media would have latched on at least as quickly as JCR did. Could there have been some sort of warning you’ve not been told about?’

  Mac sat back, resting his head, and looked at the fire. ‘I don’t know. I can’t see why that sort of thing would have been kept from me.’

  ‘So, what now?’ Eddie asked. ‘The next JCR meeting is Monday, isn’t it? Haydock?’

  He nodded. ‘Due to be.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  He looked at Eddie. ‘We spoke earlier of relinquishing our fixtures until we’ve caught who’s behind this. Another death on one of our tracks would be…well, unthinkable.’

  ‘When you say relinquishing fixtures, transferring them?’

  ‘It would take a bit of planning, but Tim’s due to meet Marcus Shear in the morning to discuss how quickly we could structure it.’

  ‘Meaning no more racing at JCR tracks until this guy is caught?’

  Mac opened his hands. ‘What else can we do?’

  ‘But if you’re not racing, whoever’s behind this is not on your racecourses. That’s going to make it a hell of a lot tougher to find him.’

  ‘If a dozen cohorts of policemen, multiple ranks of security officers, TV video tapes etcetera couldn’t nail him at Sandown or Haydock, what chance have we when he’s one of twenty thousand people on a couple of hundred acres, with a laser pen?’

  ‘But think about it, Mac. What did we say last night? A man who kills two jockeys in cold blood and arranges the electrocution of a third is hardly going to be phoning warnings in or lasering jockeys on the way out of the paddock. If he wants real carnage, he aims the laser at the horse’s eyes approaching a fence at full gallop.’

  ‘That was mentioned in our meeting.’

  ‘So that’s twice he’s tried to prevent loss of life. It’s two different people, Mac. It has to be.’

  He clasped his hands. ‘That makes it worse then, doesn’t it?’

  We looked at each other. ‘Yes. I suppose it does,’ Eddie said, ‘have you spoken to the families of Kellagher, Sampson and Blackaby?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Maybe we’re just making too many assumptions. Let me make another one…there’s only one guy behind this. He had something personal going on with the three jockeys and he’s got something not quite so personal with JCR. Maybe the first issue led to the second one. You’ll get nothing from Ivory, we already know that. But maybe you’d have more luck with the people who were close to the dead men.’

  ‘Perhaps. But, going back a step, how could somebody not have something pretty personal against JCR to be trying to get them to stop racing?’

  ‘Okay, maybe I should have said less personal. He ain’t killing people anymore.’

  ‘But what could he have against JCR? It’s not some monstrous commercial conglomerate trampling all over people. We’re a non-profit. Every penny goes back into racing. We’re eco-friendly. Our PR profile, especially measured against the BHA is saintly. Who’d want to damage us?’

  ‘So, what’s the motive? If JCR is damaged, who suffers? Who’d be hit hardest?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Who is there to hit? We’ve no shareholders, we haven’t-’

  ‘But you do have shareholders, in a way, don’t you, through that bond issue a couple of years ago?’

  ‘Bondholders, yes. But that’s a one-off transaction. The bonds don’t rise or fall in value. They can’t be traded.’

  ‘So how do the people who bought the bonds benefit?’

  ‘They get an annual guaranteed return on their investment.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘I’m not sure…around five percent, I think.’

  ‘How much did JCR raise through the bonds?’

  ‘Twenty five million.’

  ‘So they need to find over a million every year just to pay the interest?’

  ‘One point two five.’

  Eddie watched him as Mac seemed to take in the implications. ‘So if you stop racing, and stop earning money, how long will it take you to go bust?’

  ‘I wouldn’t even want to think about that, Eddie. Why would anyone want to ruin JCR?’

  ‘Maybe it’s the bondholders they want to ruin. If these can’t be traded and things go tits up, the bonds are worthless, are they not?’

  ‘Well, the short answer is yes.’

  ‘So who are the big players? Who invested most?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’

  ‘Mac, hasn’t this angle been raised at your meetings in the past few days?’

  ‘Not in my presence.’

  ‘Does the scenario make sense?’

  ‘On the face of it, yes. But I’ve a feeling that there was a limit on the amount you could invest, to give as many people as possible a chance. So nobody would take a huge hit. If that’s the case, it kind of weakens your theory.’

  ‘Find out who the big guys are and how much is at stake for them.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘And if they haven’t already prepared a statement, you’d best get your PR guys ready for questions from the press about these bonds. If you announce that you’re transferring all your fixtures, that’ll be one of the first you’ll be hit with.’

  ‘I’ll call Tim.’

  Eddie got up. ‘I’ll let you get on with it. Give me a ring if you get some info on those bondholders.’

  52

  Mave looked dazed. She sat on the four-wheeled office chair at the PC. Her legs were folded beneath her in a yoga pose, though she wasn’t meditating. Eddie touched the edge of the chair back, setting it off in a gentle spin on the wooden floor. She smiled wearily. Eddie spun her again, then squatted to her eye level and watched as she turned. ‘You’re in orbit,’ Eddie said.

  ‘I’d rather be in an obit, I think.’

  ‘Your Skype session didn’t go so well?’

  ‘No worse than I’d expected.’

  ‘Come sit by the fire and tell me about it. But do not exit the ride until it comes to a complete halt, or whatever they say at fairgrounds these days.’

  They drank tea and shared a banana. Mave broke small pieces from her half of the fruit and stared at the burning logs.’ You and your fires,’ she said.’ What would you do without them?’

  ‘Life would be duller. Mine would, anyway. When dad made me live in that old barn, I used to lie at night thinking of being by a fireside where everybody was happy. I promised myself that when I grew up, I’d get married and have kids and we’d always have a log fire and we’d sit around it every night, all feeling safe and secure.’

  ‘You’ve over-achieved on the fire part. You’re leaving it late for the kids.’

  ‘And the wife,’ he said.

  ‘And the wife.’

  Eddie smiled. ‘Tell me about Sonny and his beloved.’

  ‘You kind of had to be th
ere so I’ll save you the histrionics and tell you the deal. They want the last three horses all on the same day. They’re going to stake whatever they have left on a win treble.’

  Eddie shook his head slowly. ‘Say it ain’t so, Jo.’

  She smiled at hearing him use her real name. ‘That can’t be said, Ed.’

  ‘Well the outlook seems grave, Mave.’

  ‘You have me beat, by virtue of selfishly having just one name.’

  ‘I was counting on that.’

  Maven had gone through the percentages with Sonny and Nina, shown how their chances of success diminished greatly by staking all on a treble. ‘Sonny, got it,’ she said. ‘I think he even agreed with me. But he wouldn’t speak against her.’

  ‘But they agreed to quit the pressure after you’ve given them the last tips?’

  ‘She did. Sonny doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t want to matter. He just wants Nina to have what she asks for.’

  ‘You told them the software dies with this old year?’

  ‘Not that poetically, but they know.’

  ‘So you have four days to find them three horses?’

  She nodded and tipped the final piece of banana over her thin lips. ‘Four days. Eleven race meetings.’

  ‘You can take out one of those, and probably three.’ Eddie told her about the JCR cancellations.

  ‘Brilliant. They own the best tracks. Eighty percent of my selections have been at the best tracks. The odds for this treble are dropping by the minute.’

  ‘That’s their problem, Mave. Their choice. Their problem.’

  She got up. ‘I’d better get to work.’

  Halfway across the room, she stopped and turned. ‘Sonny’s going to realize there’s something wrong when I don’t give him anything for Haydock or Wincanton. Can I tell them what you’ve told me about what’s going on at JCR?’

  ‘You might as well. It’s going to be in the press tomorrow, unless the Jockey Club has a change of mind.’

  She didn’t move. She just stared past him through the big window.

  ‘You okay?’ Eddie said.

  ‘She nodded slowly. ‘I’ll be so glad when this is done.’