The Big Fix
Page 6
outcome of this racing contest will be just as you want it tobe. I shall ask that no credit be given me, although I shall be greatlyadmired by our mutual friend Miss Nora Taylor who will think that I amtruly wonderful for making you happy. And it is more than likely thatshe may marry me once I have shown you, and she, _and_ LieutenantDelancey, that I am a law-abiding citizen as well as a man who valuesfriendship enough to do as his old pal Joe Barcelona desires."
"It's going to be one of the neatest tricks of the week," he said.
"It will be done by the proper application of laws," I said modestly.
Behind us, Gimpy Gordon light-fingered a half dollar out of Delancey'spocket and was attracting the attention of a hot dog peddler by wavinghis program. Some folks nearby were eying Barcelona's noisemakersangrily but making very little visible protest once they identified him.Nora was reading her program and underlining some horses. The wholeplace began to grow into a strange excited silence as the track boardbegan to go up. It was to be a nine-horse race, and at the top of thelist were three--count them--three odds-on favorites:
1. Murdoch's Hoard 1:2 2. Mewhu's Jet 3:5 3. Johnny Brack 5:7 4. Piper's Son 8:5 5. Daymare 3:1 6. Helen O'Loy 8:1
And then, of course, there were our three mud turtles which must havebeen entered by someone who thought that the Kentucky Derby was aclaiming race and who hoped that the LePage's Glue people would make abid for the three mounds of thoroughbred horseflesh that dropped dead inthe backstretch:
7. Flying Heels 100:1 8. Moonbeam 250:1 9. Lady Grace 500:1
The rack hadn't hit the top of the slide before there was a sort ofmass-movement towards the mutuel windows. The ones who didn't go inperson tried to hurl betting-thoughts in the hope of getting there earlyand failing this they arose and followed the crowd. Slowly the oddsbegan to change; the figures on our three platers began to rise. Therewas very little activity on the other six horses. Slow-thinking GimpyGordon started to get up but I put out a hand to stop him.
"But the odds are dropping," he complained.
"Gimpy," I said, "they pay on the final listing anyway. But would youlike a tip?"
"Sure," he said nervously.
"My tip is to keep your cash in your pocket. Put it on the nose of somehorse and it's likely to get blown away by a high wind."
The odds were changing rapidly. What with psionic information receivers,trend predictors and estimated anticipators, the mutuel computers keptup with the physical transfer of funds, figured out the latest odds, andflipped the figures as fast as the machinery could work the dials. In nomore than a few minutes the odds on the three platers looked more likethe odds on horses that stood a chance of winning.
* * * * *
Barcelona looked at me. "What did you do, wise guy?"
"Who ... me? Why, I didn't do anything that you did not start--exceptthat maybe I was a little more generous."
"_Spiel!_" he snarled.
"Why, shucks, Joseph. All I did was to slip good old Gimpy Gordon atip."
"How much?"
"Just a lousy little thousand dollar bill."
"A grand! For what, wise guy?"
"Why, just for telling me what horses you picked for the Derby."
Barcelona looked at the odds on his horses. Flying Heels had passed evenmoney and was heading for a one-to-two odds-on. The other platers werefollowing accordingly.
"And what did you tell Gimpy, Wilson?"
"You tell him, Gimp," I said.
"Why, Wilson just said that we should ride along with you, Mr.Barcelona, because you are such a nice guy that everybody works awfullyhard to see that you get what you want."
"There's more!" roared Barcelona.
"Only that I shouldn't mention it to anybody, and that I shouldn't placemy bet until the mutuel windows open because if I did it would louse upthe odds and make you unhappy." Gimpy looked at Barcelona's stormy faceand he grew frightened. "Honest, Mr. Barcelona, I didn't say a word tonobody. Not a word." He turned to me and whined plaintively, "You tellhim, Mr. Wilson. I didn't say a word."
I soothed him. "We know you didn't, Gimpy."
Barcelona exploded. "Ye Gods!" he howled. "They used that gimmick on mewhen I lost my first baby tooth. 'Don't put your tongue in the vacantplace,' they said, 'and don't think of the words _Gold Tooth_ and it'llgrow in natural gold!'"
As he spoke the odds on Flying Heels changed from a staggeringOne-to-Eight to an even more staggering One-to-Ten. That meant thatanybody holding less than a ten-dollar bet on such a winner would onlyget his own money back because the track does not insult its clients byweighing them down with coins in the form of small change. They keep thechange and call it "Breakage" for any amount over an even-dollar money.
Delancey said to Barcelona, "You have had it, Joseph."
Barcelona snarled, "Put the big arm on Wilson here. He's the fast manwith the big fix."
"Wilson didn't fix any race, Joseph. He just parlayed some of the lawsof human nature into a win for himself and a lose for you."
"Now see here--what's this guff about human nature?"
"Well, there's the human desire to ride with a winner, and the humanfrailty that hopes to get something for nothing. To say nothing of thegreat human desire to be 'On the Inside' track or 'In the Know' so thatthey can bet on the 'Sure Thing'. And so," said Delancey, "we've abouttwenty thousand human beings full of human nature holding tickets onyour three dogs, Joseph. They bet their money because the 'Inside Dope'said that the big fix was in. And I can tell you that what twentythousand people are going to do to this 'Inside Dope' when their nagsrun last is going to make Torquemada ask permission to return to lifefor a Second Inquisition, this time with extrasensory tortures." Heturned to me as Barcelona went pale. "Wally," he asked, "want to betthat someone doesn't remember that old question of whether it ispossible to break every bone in a man's body without killing him?"
"I'd be a fool to cover that one," I said. "But I'll play even money andon either side of whether Joseph dies or lives through the process."
"Stop it!" screamed Barcelona. He grabbed me by the arm. "Wilson," hepleaded, "Can you? Stop it, I mean? Can you fix it?"
"Sure," I said.
"Legally?"
"Yep. But it'll cost you."
"Just money?"
"Just money--and admitting that you lost, Joseph!"
"I lose," he said. "Go ahead!"
"O.K., Joseph. Now, let's be real honest. Those three longshore turtlesbelong to you, don't they?"
"Yes."
"And right now you wouldn't even want to see them run, would you? Infact, you really want that they shouldn't run."
"Yes."
"All right, Joseph. Call off your noisemakers and toss the Head Stewarda thought. Tell him you're scratching your entries."
"But that won't stop the people from losing their money."
"Natch. So next you broadcast a thought that because of this terrible,grievous error you are refunding their money out of your own pocketsince the Track Association will not or is not obliged to."
He turned to his pair of rattleheads and snarled, "All right. Shut up!"
A mental silence fell that was like the peace of rest after a busy day.As Barcelona was tossing his cancellation at the Steward and preparingto make a full and plausible explanation to the gambling instinct of theKentucky Derby crowd, I considered the matter carefully:
"Let's see," I thought. "He wants 'em not to run and so he can'tcomplain to me if they do not. I didn't fix the race, so LieutenantDelancey can't accuse me of that. That makes everybody happy, and Iwin!"
A small hand stole into mine. "How about me, Wally?" Nora asked sweetly.
I looked down at a thionite dream come true by the glow in her eyes thatadmired no one else but me. "You're mine," I reminded her, "until FlyingHeels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace win One, Two, and Three at the KentuckyDerby."
"Or," she said mischievously, "'Til death do us pa
rt!"
* * * * *
I was instructing her how to respond to a kiss as a lady should respondwhen about two hundred thousand noisy, exuberant human natures yelledand radiated and thought: "They're Off!"
But they didn't mean us. They were watching a bunch of long-facedhayburners chasing one another around a dusty track.
Human