Flaxmead

by Brian Cain

CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Winston Blake mid next morning in his office at Shangri La wines was a busy man. The wine empire acquired by Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington spanned the globe and was full of surprises. The gesture to help two old friends had become as bigger part of life as the search for his daughter. His phone constantly rang a knock on the door was ever present and he loved it. The place the people the environment was appealing, it was if he had not aged but got younger since volunteering when asked and he had not been paid a cent. His secretary brought in morning tea brewed in the traditional British way in a pot it had become a formal procedure and morning tea began to replace the word smoko amongst the staff. Winston found this rather disappointing as he had become fond of the word smoko and the people who used it although he had never smoked a cigarette in his life.

  He poured a cup added sugar and milk stirred the contents and lifted his cup and saucer from the tray sitting on the local newspaper atop the tray. He never had time to read the paper but as he lifted the brew from its resting place smelling the teas sweet aroma on the way to his mouth he caught sight of the front page and froze. He placed the tea gently beside him and in slow motion picked up the paper his gaze fixed on a half page picture of Flaxmead passing a winning post with what looked like a small girl on his back. He read the headline.

  FLAXMEAD RECORD BREAKING ROCKET

  "He mumbled to himself as he read on. "My god I knew you could do it."

  Hunter bred and owned thoroughbred Flaxmead a massive four year old black stallion yesterday broke the sixteen hundred metre track record and what is believed to be the world record for the distance. Ridden by sixteen year old apprentice jockey Lindy Cumberland from Scone she was taken for the ride of her life holding the small crowd at the Scone event spellbound. Carrying top weight and drawing barrier eight in the eight runner maiden the horse was given odds of twenty five to one even though it had broken records at trial brushed off as luck. The magnificent black stallion, a pet owned by Dylan Fields nine and Anna Fields twelve of Pokolbin shot from the gate lead from start to finish winning by a massive estimated twenty five lengths. Little Lindy Cumberland carried no whip to encourage the thundering thoroughbred to decimate its opposition some of the most promising horses in the district ridden by top jockeys. Second placed jockey Simon Adams riding Brazen Heart a fresh two year old with royal credentials commented he was intimidated by the horse whilst riding to and entering the starting stalls.

  "I heard rumours about it from early in the morning," added Adams. "But thought nothing of them until I saw Lindy on the monster. That's the biggest best trained children's pet I've ever seen there's got to be more to this than we've seen here today. If that horse can stay we have a pending record breaking champion."

  Lindy Cumberland wore the triple blue colours of Pokolbin trainer and vet Graham Harper. The horse's ownership is registered to local winemaker Bob Fields as his children are too young to be official owners. Harper and Fields kept the horse under wraps until just before the race and after the event. Bob Fields winemaker for Loudbark was accompanied by managing director Clifford Barking a welcome sight at the event after a long absence. Fields stated he had acquired the horse from veteran jockey trainer Jimmy Cotton as a pet for his children for one hundred dollars believed to be destined for an abattoir. Fields also mentioned his children carry a dream of their pet wining the Melbourne Cup. Harper was asked if he thought Flaxmead could win the Melbourne Cup and commented he could only be stopped by another horse. We will keep you informed of this uncanny occurrence causing a stir not only in racing circles but throughout the Hunter region and beyond. Sourced from Humbug sports editor Gerard Moyse.

  Blake stood and walked onto the balcony of the office complex at Shangri La sitting amongst the parrots squabbling for food on the bird feeders hanging from the veranda eves serviced by the office staff. He peered across to the other side of the hill with warm look of disbelief studying a colossal sign over looking the adjacent winery, it said Loudbark.

  The events of the previous day had not gone unheralded in the Greedy Piggy Creek coal mine and the front page of the newspaper was on notice boards at crib huts and office blocks. Kerry Snow was heralded as the man who would make them all rich with sound advice. A rivalry between mines erupted with Greedy Piggy Creek claiming the horse as theirs as it lived next door.

  Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington heard of the sudden appearance of Flaxmead on a trip to the other side of the planet. They had an immediate argument about the horse wining the Melbourne Cup and placed a five pound wager regarding the event. They both then realised in surprise they were inadvertently arguing in support of the same thing for the first time in their lives. They agreed that the combined ten pounds would be better placed as a bet on Flaxmead on the day of the race, a surer venture they had not planned.

  John Stanton studied the picture and article in the paper next to his pool in the rear yard of his mansion whilst having a dip with his wife. He placed the paper face up in front of Jodi's chair opposite him and studied a car magazine as she walked from the pool drying her hair. She sat before him and began brushing her long locks as Stanton appeared engrossed in his magazine. "Anything interesting in the paper love?"

  "I haven't looked." She peered down at the table picking the paper up slowly as she read it. Stanton continued to pay no mind in a performance that deserved an Oscar. "John look at this, I think it's that horse that nice man Mr Blake was looking for."

  Stanton half looked over his magazine. "Really love."

  "What an incredible story says two young children have it as a pet hoping to win the Melbourne Cup. Won a race in Scone had a young girl jockey on it her name sounds familiar Cumberland."

  "Her brother was killed in a fall in a horse race somewhere far as I can remember."

  "Oh yes, poor dears lost their son a couple of years back very sad."

  "Sounds like a fairy tale love."

  "Kind of fairy tale that sells millions of papers, I think I'll check the right people are onto this."

  "Good idea love, you're the journalist you'd know." Jodi started giggling at Stanton and he peeked over the magazine again with a frown. "Something wrong love?"

  "You could never be an actor John even the worst actor would have a magazine the correct way up when using it as a prop."

  Although a positive rumble resounded in the Hunter Valley other people and places were not so impressed with the stallion's performance. Taggart residing in Sydney his Wyong operation in confusion with the absence of Cotton was summoned to the property of the smiling assassin. One of the biggest players in thoroughbred racing in the country, he had multi millions invested in horses for the upcoming season from far and wide. The smiling assassin liked gambling and Taggart with his involvement in the horse industry and underworld was a handy information line especially when he had situations on his hands as present. Drunk in casinos the smiling assassin owed millions to underworld from long nights and bad decisions, If he owed them a thousand dollars he'd have a problem, but he owed them millions so they had a problem. The coming season he had promised Middle Eastern investors hell bent on a Melbourne Cup a win before their adversaries from the same region acquired the trophy. Although Cotton had offered him Flaxmead he was still angry it had not been destroyed as explained by Taggart. He expected to have six runners in the cup and a close ally four and together they planned to hem the trophy in bringing healthy benefits for both stables and eradicate his outstanding debt. Taggart waited to see the smiling assassin he knew why but had no answers and was running scared himself.

  The smiling assassin had been named well, always smiling well dressed, handsome and composed. It was said he had once sold shares in ten Holden racing team cars at Bathurst to Ford fans on the hill prior to the race. Nine failed to finish and the only one left came last. The smiling assassin just kept smiling when confronted by the disappointed enthusiasts stripped of their life savings, he calmly assured them things wo
uld improve next year as he was going to Ford. Although managed by him with full responsibility the entire ten disasters were apparently due to someone else's misappropriations.

  The smiling assassin made sure his office was clear and no one was in remote earshot prior to Taggart's meeting.

  The assassin had a wide smile and offered Taggart his manicured hand, Taggart thought he was shaking a bunch of limp cold sausages. "Taggart nice to see you again, sit down, drink, scotch."

  Taggart sat down. His t shirt, jeans and RM boots looked out of place in the refined trophy racks and majestic pictures of trophy winning horses and in stark contrast to the smiling assassins tailored shirt and tie. His black hair was combed perfectly across the front of his forehead in disparity the short cropped hair of Taggart. Taggart smelt of bourbon whisky and a fine tinge of expensive after shave overpowered the office from the assassin who handed him a newspaper. "I've seen it," snapped Taggart.

  "And it shouldn't be there should it. Cotton was taking this horse to be destroyed last thing I heard of it. What happened?"

  "You can say what you like about Cotton but he won't hurt a horse. I thought it was with him somewhere he's disappeared. He told me he'd seen it run, now we know it can."

  "How an earth did two children get hold of it. I detest children, that's why I have none." He smiled continuously while he spoke. "Do you know how much we have invested in this years fixtures?"

  "No, I don't want to know."

  "You caused this problem you fix it."

  "I'm out finished don't care how much you offer me."

  "You are dressed rather strangely and seem flustered I'm puzzled."

  "I look like everyone else attracting no attention I need to talk to Cotton before I show my face anywhere."

  The assassin stood up walked to the bar and started pouring himself a drink. "This horse could be a problem, I don't need anymore problems I have enough as it is."

  "Me too."

  "Cotton told me this Flaxmead it the fastest most powerful horse he'd ever seen in his life."

  "He's not the only one now."

  The assassins smile changed to a half grimace. "Fifty thousand you're the only one I trust Taggart."

  "Fifty thousand for what?"

  "For the horse to meet with an unfortunate accident."

  Taggart stood up and walked to the door. "Under the nose of half the planet, by the time that thing gets to Caulfield it'll be all over. Why don't you try something positive like find a horse that runs fast to beat it."

  "It's still a risk that I could do without."

  "Risk, you want risk. Ever heard of a bloke called John Stanton."

  The assassin paused whilst preparing his drink. "The name rings a bell but can't remember why."

  "How about Graham Billet."

  The assassin stopped preparing his drink altogether and looked at Taggart with smiling appeal. "The federal member for the Hunter. Now I'm interested."

  "Keep thinking."

  The assassin walked back to his desk and sat down in deep thought. "John Stanton he's Jodi Simpson husband. Was supposed to have broken Billets arm, there was a preliminary court hearing in Newcastle few years back. I've meet Jodi Simpson several times she's a journalist very attractive one. The case was laughed out of court was dubbed a scam to sell newspapers and boost Jodi Simpson's career."

  "I happen to know a few blokes who know Stanton, he came up my drive recently looking for Cotton and that horse. You're on your own don't call me again. Try to contact me and I'll pass it on to Stanton you chase that horse and hell find you anyway."

  "You disappoint me Taggart surely this Stanton can be reasoned with."

  "He deals with governments and people of his own creed don't waste your time."

  "Creed what do you mean creed."

  "I've said enough, you want to know more you'll have to find out yourself." Taggart slammed the door and left.