by Brian Cain
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
The early October Saturday Guineas Day at Caulfield features the Toorak Handicap and Yalumba Stakes. It is the first day of a three day Caulfield Racing Carnival, the second day on Wednesday and the final day the following Saturday. The final Saturday featuring Caulfield's biggest race, the group one Caulfield Cup. The team had devised more detailed plans for running the three horses at the same race meetings. There was now no plan to run the three horses in the Melbourne Cup, They planned to run the best bet Flaxmead in the cup, Celtic Storm and Meadow in other group one events of the day. The Turnbull Stakes meeting was now seen as a lost opportunity on three wins, instead of first second and third in the same race. The crowd at the Turnbull Stakes had probably seen the only time the hunter trio would race together. Flaxmead and Celtic Storm had been accepted as runners in the Yalumba Stakes and Meadow made the draw for the Toorak Handicap. The final run up to the cup, the Caulfield and Cox Plate, run at Moonee Valley were still undecided on strategy. Harper had nominated for several races each weekend and if Flaxmead won the Caulfield Cup he would not run the Cox Plate in an attempt to have Celtic Storm legible for the Melbourne Cup. They hoped to have the three legible for the Melbourne Cup should one or two of them run into unseen problems. Should all three make the Melbourne Cup meet, selection of the best chances for Celtic Storm and Flushing Meadow would be made as close as possible to the meeting.
Winston spoke to Stanton having him visit Shangri La with Jodi Thursday. After looking round the estate and meeting members of the team he realised how much he didn't know about horse racing, and what to watch for to protect the team's interests. He was concerned when told of the suspected nobbling attempt on Celtic Storm following the Queensland tyre piercing fiasco. He chastised Winston for not telling him earlier, after his own experience with some of the shadier dealers in the racing industry rang alarm bells. Stanton arranged to travel in the float with the team this weekend for a familiarisation of operations. Ross Hildebrand understood Stanton's language, it sounding awful familiar in places. Stanton praised the team for the hard work they had put into hit and run tactics, he supported the theory of isolation understanding the problems associated with placing the venerable horses in harms way among those who claimed otherwise. He assured them their home life disruption, sacrifice and commitment to effective hit and run had no doubt kept the wolves at bay. After one trip in the float to better understand the logistics, Stanton explained he planned to run 'blocker' or 'shadow', using his own vehicles on subsequent trips, equipped for what he described as security work. He summed up in stating he really just wanted to take his wife to the races but liked to think that if they ran into trouble he was equipped and clued up on how to handle it.
Jodi had been on a tour of the winery with guides Winston and Bartholomew, they found she was a journalist and the timing was just right. When they brought her back, Stanton had to pour his wife into the passenger seat of his black Hummer Jodi having sampled much of the Shangri La stock. His Mustang was having a couple of modifications, a suitable make up mirror behind the passenger side sun visor, some new registration plates and a two hundred litre fuel tank. It was unusual for him to use the military equipped Hummer on a social visit. Arrangements were made on picking up Stanton in Freeman's Water Hole as they passed through in the morning, leaving his vehicle hidden at Gail Flametower's property for security and easy access on return. This would most importantly avoid the hills and corners round Newcastle and make it more comfortable for the valuable cargo in the float. On the way home in a never ending stream of laughter, erratic arm and hand gestures, in a slurred rate of inebriation, Jodi briefed Stanton on the plight of the Barking and Romford Toad.
Social network Thunderbolt continued to bring factions of the valley together previously bitter rivals. Victorian race meeting attendance and its intricate network of organisation required for successful logistics was only achievable with blanket cooperation in Thunderbolt. Oppositionists of open cut and underground coal mining through liaison of ticketing and transport required to keep Thunderbolt cost free, gave an insight of the day to day focus and discipline of the mining industry. The push to the Melbourne Cup and an interstate meeting every weekend a majority of the mining workforce was operative in Thunderbolt. But only on opposing fortnights, and productivity continued to spike when Flaxmead ran. Management structures chatting within Thunderbolt during preparation and attendance at race meetings discussed this and found the spikes were not just relegated to the coal industry.
The pact of the valley was further demonstrated at this time by a push by the local coal mining industry to privatise the valleys national rugby team. The team had been supported by the coal mining industry for some time and a local entrepreneur also active in the thoroughbred horse racing industry within the valley forwarded a proposal. Previous attempts had failed but at this time a massive ninety seven percent vote of approval at a meeting of members saw the team privatised firmly in the hands of local control.
The World Federation of Horse Racing Authorities released The World's Leading Horses list. The top thoroughbred racehorses to have run anywhere in the world, assessed on the form they have shown in the previous six months. With a string of race wins and records from every meeting run, Flaxmead a horse never mentioned on the document before ranked number one. He had also been given the highest score ever awarded of, one hundred and thirty five, Flaxmead had been officially recognised worldwide. The front page news of this further bolstered the ranks of Thunderbolt in the valley to epic proportions. However some people weren't so happy.
As the team made its way toward Melbourne with Stanton Friday morning the assassin was at his Toorak mansion with Creighton. He kicked kitchen chairs around and threw the newspaper at the wall; Creighton had stayed overnight trying to work out ways to improve his horses form. Meetings with their trainers and stable staff put some horses to the front for intense preparation for the cup and sidelined others. Delores had seen the news of Flaxmead's world ranking and lost it.
"That's bullshit!" he paced around wearing only his trousers, his partly eaten breakfast spread over the floor and walls. He threw his arms around to emphasise his rant. "That horse, those kids and that trainer have done nothing to build the industry in this country! We're the ones who put the entire network on the map! We've put our arse on the line heaps of times to support this industry and what do we get!" He retrieved the paper and smashed it down in front of Creighton on the table. "Look at this, this is Lee Hayford's handy work and quote. The expected rise of Delores owned and trained Sanda Warrior is dead in the water beneath the thundering hooves of the hunter valley trio." He again took the paper and threw it at the wall. "I want those three horses dead, I want the trainer dead, I want those kids dead!"
Creighton stood up holding his in front of him palms out. "Hey Theo, come on mate, settle down. There on their way down here as we speak." He sat back down. "We need to stay calm and work out what we can do like we did last night, I want to win the cup too mate. I don't want to be known as a murderer or standover man. I've lost my family, my wife. Things are getting a bit hot mate, I don't want to loose my dignity. Get your face out of that white shit mate its scrambling your brain. We do the odd dodgy move every now and then but if you're a baker you get your bread cheap. I don't mind stretching the rules but talking about murder we need to have a think. I don't want to jump off the top of a twenty story building, get to the sixteenth floor and say so far so good."
The assassin calmed and sat down next to Creighton. "What do you expect, I use everything I can to prop up the establishment and what do we get. Reichmann drew a blank with Carpenter, how did a holier than thou get into Flemington. I'm asking for no more than claiming a debt owed to us by the industry."
"Mate, having a go at the governing body, who thought of that. I had a couple of doors closed on me this week, keep going like that and our own establishment may kick our arse. Of course some of our allies are thinking twice, I hear Winston Blake had
offers from the states for a one on one race with their top flyer. The British horse racing authority has offered them several group one starts. What if it did go to the states an knock their top flyer off, it could probably do it with its eyes shut running backwards. Then on the way back home broke a swag of records in the UK, it would then come home and be planted back in the hunter valley. Now that could happen, think about it. Where would it leave us? I'll tell ya where it leaves us, working on our horses or trying to find one that can run Flaxmead down. Now let's get back on track. You looked like Al Capone there earlier and the untouchables are coming down the street."
Delores run his hand though his hair and scratched his head. "The tyres before Doomben worked, stopped Celtic Strom no harm done."
"Yeah."
'If we set up a series of hazards for cup day the untouchables just may not make it, no harm done."
"Keep talking."
"I'm gonna find out what happens in hidden valley tonight, running horses around golf courses is against the law there I checked."
"And."
"There's a hole in Flaxmead's bloodline, the horse was sired in the valley during bushfires. The stables were wiped out and the mare was moved to Irish associated operations and he was born in Ireland. I hear three horses got to the mare and the father could be any one of them. If the wrong horse is on his paperwork it could be deemed a forgery and he'd loose everything."
"That's a long one Theo, someone must have checked it out."
"Doesn't matter still may buy time if we need it. The main one is the jockey. Tied up in that bloody float you built the horses are pretty well safe and shooting one at a distance may as you've pointed could be disastrous. I'm sure that horse won't have a bar of a bloke on its back. I hear Lindy Cumberland will never return. They have no second jockey so if we get to Lorraine Wills with a powerful laxative she won't be able to get her butt off the toilet and onto Flaxmead. We know that works we've done it before. On the day of the cup I want every other Female jockey within striking distance of Flemington stitched up with a ride. That we can fix."
"I don't mind getting into that, all's fair in love and war."
"Lets get down to Caulfield and start organising things, we only have a month. Bit easier to concentrate on it now I've paid off some debts. I've got a couple of big deals going down. Quite a money spinner, to easy. Only problem is to find places in the network to launder the money. by the time the cup comes around I should be out of debt."
"That stuffs dangerous, get out of it soon as you can. We just don't know how to handle people like Renoir."
"Think about it Nev, if we can't handle this bloke who can. I'm getting on quite well with him; he's handling all the coke and doing a few jobs that are most helpful. He's even got Habib on the back foot, if his own kind is scared of him who's gonna worry us."
Stanton was enjoying his trip in the float. He learned about bridles, saddles and equine care from Jessica. He could watch the horses on closed circuit monitors. He watched news and current affairs on the satellite TV system. He learned why every seat had headphones with radio or music when he heard Ross Hildebrand snoring. He could rise from his seat and access the toilet. He was impressed, it was far from being as he imagined. He watched them go to work like a well oiled machine in the dying light of Hidden Valley, and so did someone else.
From the cover of trees in the south eastern corner of the golf course Joel Renoir alias Rick O'Brien confirmed the presence of the float and the use of the northern course boundary to run the horses. He had a beer and made further enquires at the golf and country club nearby regarding access to the course by horses. He was told if horses were intentionally brought onto the course and caused damage the police would be called. He left and stayed in a motel returning at first light before sun up noting further activity in the course grounds, the float left and Renoir drove to the cul-de-sac checking the northern golf course boundary for damage. The marks of fresh horse hooves could be clearly seen. He left catching up with the float on the Hume freeway and tailing it to Caulfield from a distance, but not far enough. He was spotted in the rear view mirror by Stanton, he could see both rear view mirrors from the centre seat in the rear of the float. Going down Station Street, Caulfield, Renoir passed the float to head for the stable complex to see Delores. Stanton added the registration number to other mental notes of the vehicle; he mentioned nothing to the team. Renoir delivered the information and some bags of white powder. He then under instruction from the assassin accessed the members lounge to familiarise himself with Winston Blake and anyone that associated with him.
As the team went about their craft one thing struck Stanton, the glamour of race day didn't extend to the float park. It seemed to finish at the fence separating the float park from the parade ring. He was endlessly engaged in keeping people at bay especially the media, he was shocked at how much attention the worlds top ranked race horse generated. Anyone with a backstage pass for the show wanted a glimpse of the champion; some had walked all the way from the stable complex just to see the thunderbolt. Lee Hayford was one of the only people that recognised John Stanton, she attempted to gain access to Jessica and the team but Stanton stoped her. She had meet Jodi Simpson several times and once been introduced to her husband. She had heard of the rumours about Stanton but struggled to believe any of them, he seemed to be a pussy cat, especially in the presence of his wife.
Graham Harper took meadow to the parade ring to meet jockey Nathan Knight for the Toorak Handicap and Stanton was pleased, the stream of people stopped and the area cleared. It left Ross with Celtic Storm and Jessica with Flaxmead in relative peace. The float was set up in the far north eastern corner of the park next to a single row of trees on the fence line, on the other side of the trees and fence was Station and Kambrook Road intersection. The roaring crowd could be heard as Flushing Meadow ran down Carronade in the Toorak Handicap during the last two hundred metres of the race by three lengths.
Winston, Wilson and Bartholomew were busy with an endless stream of media and business meetings and directly the Toorak Handicap finished Wilson mad a rare appearance with someone other than Bartholomew at the float. An American sports journalist wanted pictures of Flaxmead for spreads in American magazines. The owner of America's fastest horse was laying down the gauntlet for a one on one showdown with Flaxmead. The story was selling newspapers in the US. Wilson and Bartholomew had already spoken with the American horse owner while in the US recently stating they could arrange the race, conditions being one race was in the US and the other at Flemington in Australia. Since the offer had been made they had heard nothing. The American journalist embarrassed by the silence, was unaware an offer had already been made, and sensed a front page story in the US that would force the American horse owner to accept the conditions. The American snapped away disappointed that Anna and Dylan were not present to add to the aura, he was impressed by the float and Wilson took him around the blind side parked against the trees pointing out the features of the truck and explaining the plan for the appearance of Anna and Dylan at the Melbourne Cup the only meeting that was permitted to affect their schooling. As they walked around the front of the truck and to the blind side beneath the trees they caught a glimpse of someone scuffle under the float in an attempt to avoid detection.
Wilson shouted to Stanton. "John, around here!" Stanton chatting with Ross and Bob in the lull of interest by onlookers flew around to the blind side of the truck, Bob filled Stanton's place. Wilson pointed. "Under the truck."
Stanton could see the fresh scuff marks where someone had crawled under the trucks underside. "Out or I'll drag you out!" There was no sign of activity, Stanton waited a few seconds. He put his right hand under his jacket in the middle of his belt at the base of his back. "I'm drawing my weapon in five, four, three."
A child's leg appeared from beneath the truck directly next to where Stanton stood. A young boy no older than ten climbed to his feet brushing himself clean, looking at Stanton. "What ar
e you doing here," asked Stanton.
The boy looked terrified and stuttered. "I I I I'm looking for some of that horses poo."
Stanton sensed the boy's terror and knelt beside him so his face was level with his. "Which horse poo boy?"
"The best horse in the world." The journalist took pictures and Wilson got closer to listen in.
"Flaxmead."
"Yeah, that's his name. I seen a picture of him on the net, he's black with white front socks and a diamond in the middle of his head."
Stanton smiled at him. "What are you gonna do with this poo."
"Sell it on ebay."
Stanton, Wilson and the journalist laughed. "I see, how much you reckon you'll get for it."
"I was gonna start the bidding at two hundred bucks a chunk."
"Where's you're mum and dad?"
"My mum's home in Parramatta, my dads dead," the boy looked at the ground.
"What's your name?"
"David."
"How'd you get in here boy?"
"My friend helped me up the fence and I grabbed a branch, got in the tree and then climbed down. I was gonna poke the poo in large chunks through the fence to him."
"You saw the horses name on the truck?"
"No, I saw Anna and Dylan's picture on the truck, they're all over the net. I tried to ring them about a deal on poo but I can't get their number."
"Okay."
"You gonna call the cops?"
"For what, there's no law against being a budding entrepreneur."
"Exactly what I thought," said Wilson. "One mans poo is another mans gold, and one mans floor can be another mans ceiling."
"If security finds me they'll call the cops."
"I am security here, successful people rarely follow rules but they are generally straight up with people they deal with. You've been straight up with me, you've earned yourself a look at Flaxmead."
"Wow, where is he?"
Stanton stood up, a member of the security staff arrived summoned by a concerned onlooker. "Something wrong here?" he asked. "Someone's climbed the fence and attacked a horse I hear."
Stanton looked sternly at him. "Yeah there is something you can help with, where's your mate David." the boy pointed to a lad on the other side of the road outside the fence. "Go and get that lad and bring him to me."
"I can't do that, the boy would need a ticket and I can't leave the grounds unless instructed. If this lad has jumped the fence I should take him to security control and they'll hand him over to the police."
"You could do that or take him to security while we summon a steward to find out why my little mate David here has been detained," said Stanton.
"You know him?" asked the security guard.
"I do now, if he hadn't jumped the fence we'd never have found someone who could sell horse shit. Bending rules can sometimes be the only way. Before he jumped the fence he had an idea, and knew no one. Now he knows everyone and we're listening."
"I want to talk to anyone who can sell horse shit," added Wilson.
"As for small print and instructions, I know you're just doing you're job but you contravened several procedures when you approached us. We can discuss them with the management or you can go and get that lad for us," stated Stanton.
"Who are you?" asked the guard.
"John Stanton."
"From Newcastle in New South Wales?"
"Yes."
"Sorry Mr Stanton I'm not sure what you look like."
"Best news I've had for years."
"I read your books as part to my training."
"Well you better go read em again, after you fetch the lad."
"No worries, done." the guard beckoned towards the gate to the lad on the other side of the road and David put his thumbs up to him at the same time.
"Now come round the corner here David, there's someone wants to meet you," said Stanton. He led David around the front of the float.
"Wow." The lad stood like a statue in admiration when he saw Flaxmead only a few metres away from him. "How much is he worth?"
Wilson put his hand on the boys shoulder standing next to him. "In money a fortune, in matters of the heart he is worth more than you could ever imagine."
David looked up at Wilson. "I don't know what you mean. I'd sell him and get loads of money, my mums car needs fixing."
"And a lot of money and fixed car you would have my boy. In time you're heart would suffer like mine. Money is a tool boy, I hope meeting Flaxmead will make you happy, for money will not." Wilson looked down at the boy patting him on the shoulder. "A massive bank account will not lift your heart for long, but Flaxmead will grip your heart forever. Go and touch him, you will never forget it."
Flaxmead became unsettled. "He's upset he might hurt me," commented David.
"Hey little fella, he wants' you to come to him," said Jessica as she struggled to settle him.
Stanton knelt beside him again, "Things aren't always as they seem, go on," as Stanton eased the lad forward with his hand on his shoulder.
David went up to Flaxmead and he settled lowering his head, David touched his neck and patted him. He ran his hand down his flank and put his head against his chest, he could hear the giants beating heart. His fear left him. He went back to his head and looked in his eye. The monster grunted and nudged him with the side of his head.
"Congratulations, you're now officially a lifetime friend of this horse," said Jessica. Stanton whispered a few words in Jessica's ear. She handed David a grooming comb full of Flaxmead's hair. "Here, see how much this is worth on ebay."
The boy patted Flaxmead one more time and walked back to Wilson with Stanton. He clutched the comb tightly in his hands. His friend arrived with the guard. Jessica and Ross started to prepare Flaxmead and Celtic Storm for the main event, the group one weight for age Yalumba Stakes.
"I'll take them to the gates," said the guard.
"No," replied Stanton looking at Wilson. "Let the boys see the horses run."
"Absolutely," replied Wilson. He looked at the two boys. "You're about to see something I witnessed far too late in life. Come with me."
The guard threw his hands in the air and left. The entire crowd manned the railings and stands in anticipation. Lorraine mounted Flaxmead and Rosewood mounted Celtic Storm. They headed for the starting gates with Flaxmead putting on a show, but Lorraine noticed something different. He pranced around Celtic Storm and confronted any horse and rider that came anywhere near her, including mounted stewards. To the punter it was applauded as the usual pre race show, the storm before the storm everyone came to see. But Lorraine felt the intense passion Flaxmead was throwing at Celtic Storm, he wasn't intimidating her, he was protecting her. Celtic Storm was one of the first horses in the gate for the two thousand metre event loading quickly, the gates in earshot of the stand on the western side of the course. Way out of character Flaxmead went into his gate directly after Celtic Storm, they had drawn four and five with Flaxmead on the outside. He stood there motionless and Lorraine tried to work out what he was up to, she held the reins tight hunched forwards ready for him to break out fast. They came under the starter and she was right, he flew out and in the first two hundred forced the pack wide away from the rail as Celtic Storm starting well beat the two runners inside of her to take the lead. At the first turn with the main pack dropping back to chase the rail unable to hold Flaxmead the thunderbolt headed for the rail and took off past Celtic Storm on the outside and the crowd went mad. By turn two Flaxmead had seven lengths on Celtic Storm both of them pulling away from the field, he rounded the final turn and got on with it Lorraine glided along on his back he hardly knew she was there. She gave the reins a little tug to steady him down but he tossed his head and ran on. He beat his previous record for two thousand at Caulfield by a smidgen with better track conditions, with Celtic Storm twelve lengths back holding twelve lengths on the rest of the field. The American sports journalist in tow with Wilson was flabbergasted by the pairs run, he van
ished with a story of the fastest horse on the planet, no risk.
Stanton was busier than a cat trying to bury excrement in a marble staircase. After weigh in and parade time, the float was awash with media and onlookers. Wilson took the awe struck boys to the taxi rank pre paying the driver to take them home. He handed David his card, on the back he wrote a short message to his mother. The card listed every Shangri La contact including Winston.
Wilson left them with a parting word. "Anyone who has the gumption to salvage horse shit and sell it I have time for. When you finish school ring one of the contacts on this card and we'll give you a job," Wilson slammed the door and waved to the boys as they left. Touched by the thundering hooves of a champion, with smiling faces they shared inspection of the horse comb all the way home. The decision was to never part with it, the boys lives were changed forever.
Renoir was mustered to study the team loading Flaxmead into the float, the assassin wanted him familiar with Lorraine Wills. Among onlookers lining the float park fence he raised binoculars to his eyes and studied the petit female's features. Flaxmead reared up screaming at the top of his lungs with the call nicknamed the cry of the banshee. Onlookers wooed at his display but Renoir detested it, happy with a look at Lorraine he ditched his plans to swot up on other members of the team and mingled with the crowd. When Renoir was clear Flaxmead settled down.
The team headed home, Stanton wasted no time in suggesting modifications to the float and some habits. A state of the art surveillance system on each corner of the truck, Alternate positioning of the float in the parking areas with clear ground all around the truck and work area, a lesson courtesy of a ten year old boy. He was pleased he had made the trip, it had taught him just how much danger the horses and the team were in. He made these perceptions not from ten year old boys or poor parking tactics, but by studying the faces of onlookers within the industry. Clearly identifiable by all area passes hanging around their necks, he read the loathing and deceit in their eyes. They had the money and position to try anything to stop the cup going to the valley. His tactics next trip would be far from hiding among the team, next time everyone would know he was there. Graham commented he had no idea who to have put a surveillance system in the float at such short notice. Stanton made one phone call at two in the morning and told Graham someone would be at his place at midday no questions asked. With Ross able to drive the float as well, sharing the load with Graham and Bob, enough rest was had by all to keep fatigue at bay, except Stanton he just kept going, he didn't want to miss anything.
