by Joe McNally
‘Not anymore.’ I drank and blinked as he stared me out.
‘Liar.’
I glanced down, ready to check the time. Ashamed of my cheap plastic watch, I left my hand at rest below the table, ‘Mac, I’m up early tomorrow. Tell me why you’re here.’
McCarthy pulled out the dirty handkerchief dabbed at his nose then said, ‘Toward the end of November we learned from a good source a new drug was being developed. Stimulant. Undetectable. The plan is to have it ready for the Flat season, which is now, what, about three weeks away? We got on to it fairly sharp and we were making reasonable progress till just before Christmas when things came to a dead-end with a man called Danny Gordon.’
It took a few seconds for the name to register, ‘The guy I found with his throat cut?’
‘The same. I think the man who had him killed is the man behind the drug. Gordon worked in the lab at the Horseracing Forensic Laboratory.’
‘I know.’
‘He was last seen leaving a Newmarket pub with two men about three days before you found him. Now, it turns out the same two men, or at least we’re pretty sure it’s the same two, were responsible for a couple of serious assaults about a week before Gordon’s death.
‘A crook called Walter Bergmark got a visit from two blokes. We can't find out what they wanted because Bergmark won’t talk, but before they left, they pounded his ankles, feet and toes with a builder’s hammer. He had to have his feet amputated.’
Involuntarily my toes wiggled.
‘A week later the same two men, we think, called on Kristar Rask who’s a bigger fish than Bergmark. He’s been involved in syndicate fraud in England and bribing jockeys in Sweden.
‘Again, Rask won’t say what they wanted but they slit his eyelids with a scalpel, taped cotton-wool pads over his eyes and soaked them in weed killer…blind for life.’
I drank, ‘Is that it?’
‘Then they killed Danny Gordon.’
‘You think I’m involved because I found Danny Gordon?’
‘Nope.’
‘So where do I come in?’
‘We want you to find the killers.’
I looked at my watch. ‘Your fifteen minutes are up, McCarthy, goodnight.’
‘Hear me out, Eddie.’
‘No thanks, I’ve heard enough.’ I got up, finished my drink at the walk and rinsed the glass.
‘Eddie, listen-'
‘Look, Mac, you’ve won the bet or the contest or whatever it was you came here for. The let’s take the piss out of Eddie Malloy trophy is yours. That makes you a dual winner. Now finish your drink and go away and amuse yourself somewhere else.’
‘Take it easy for God’s sake. I’m trying to help you!’
‘Sure you are, like you helped me five years ago?’
‘Oh, come on, Eddie, be fair!’
‘Me be fair! What do you know about fairness? How much did I get from you and your people?’
‘Listen, I never agreed with your conviction or your punishment. But I had to do the job. What would you have done in my place?’
‘I’d have spoken up, that’s what I would have done, said my piece before your bosses decided to take away my fucking livelihood!’
We spent the next five minutes arguing, going over all the old shit I’d buried years ago. McCarthy wasn’t stupid. When I’d burned myself out he said, ‘Remember Kruger?’
I nodded slowly. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘It was more what he had to do with your case. You were convinced it was Kruger who set you up, weren’t you?’
‘Kruger ran the doping ring, I know that. I wouldn’t have said he set me up. It was nothing personal, he just didn’t care who went down, as long as it wasn’t him.’
‘But you got him for it?’
‘Oh, I got him all right. It cost me eighteen months in jail but it was worth it. If you guys had caught Kruger before you took my licence away, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘We tried,’ he said.
‘Not too hard, though, did you? I managed to find him.’
He raised his open palms, apologetic. ‘We didn’t have enough grounds, Eddie, you know that, and we didn’t have the time.’
‘Well, you should have found the time, Mister McCarthy. You should have found the fucking time! If it had been someone important instead of just an upstart jockey you’d have found it, wouldn’t you?’
He seemed ready to argue but stopped himself. ‘Look, we’re getting into another ranting match. It’s pointless. We’ll be here all night if we keep raking through it all.’
I glared at him.
He held his hands up, ‘Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to wind you up. Sit down for a minute, let me finish then I’ll leave.’
I sat. He said, ‘This case we’re working on, the new drug. We got hold of some of it, not long before Danny Gordon died. It seems that a lot of the techniques used in the processing of these drugs can be very individual, peculiar to one man or one team, and sometimes this shows up in analysis. If you were right five years ago, and Kruger was running the doping ring then, it looks like he’s at it again.’
My mind began to race, ‘So if Kruger is behind this and he gets caught there’s a chance you can pin the old one on him?’
‘Probably.’
‘Would that clear me?’
‘The only chance of your name being cleared would be if Kruger admitted you had nothing to do with it.’
‘And if he did?’
He shrugged, ‘Who knows?’
I sat forward on the bed. ‘Would I get my licence back?’
‘We have to find him first.’
‘Mac! Would they give me back my licence?’
He cradled the coffee mug and smiled, ‘There’d be a hell of a stink if they didn’t.’
4
If emotions travel through your body like blood, then none had flowed through me for five years; the well had dried up. If they had trickled back, I’d have been able to handle it, but they gushed. I shook, felt panicky, got up and began pacing, almost marching. Glancing wildly in all directions I couldn’t keep my eyes still. I covered them with my hands, rubbing hard, massaging my face.
McCarthy said, ‘Eddie, go easy, you can’t start tonight. You’ll need to be fully briefed.’
I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept pacing. ‘Tell me more about Kruger.’ My voice sounded high-pitched, almost strangled.
‘Later.’
‘Now!’
‘You’re building your hopes too high. Be realistic. If you do catch him he’s going to hate you enough to want to kill you. The last thing he’ll want to do is clear your name.’
‘I’ll take my chances. I want everything you’ve got on him.’
‘Slow down, man! Kruger is the main suspect but the evidence on the whole case is too scant to pin anything on anybody yet.’
‘Just tell me, Mac!’
He got to his feet, ‘Look, if you’re taking this on let’s do it right. We’ll arrange a meeting and you can have the full file on the case.’
‘Tomorrow, then.’
‘For God’s sake, Eddie, slow down!’
I stopped pacing and faced him, ‘Tomorrow, Mac. I’ve taken it easy and slowed down for five years. I want this bastard Kruger and I want my licence back. Meet me tomorrow.’ I felt as if my eyes were bulging.
McCarthy stared at me, ‘Where?’
‘Anywhere. Name it. I’ll be there.’
His fingers went to his chin and he drummed on it, ‘We need to be careful. Mustn’t be seen together.’
‘Mac, I’ll meet you in a forest, or up a bloody mountain!’
‘I’ve got to be in London in the afternoon, but we definitely do not want to meet there…what about the Red Ox, that little pub on the Wantage road?’
‘Fine. Twelve thirty?’
‘Have you got transport?’
‘I can probably talk Melling into lending me his car for t
he day but I’m going to need one long-term.’
McCarthy hauled his coat on and pulled the brim of his hat low, ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Fine.’
He looked down at me and smiled, ‘You’d agree to anything right now, wouldn’t you?’
I sighed long and low and realized I’d been holding my breath, ‘I suppose I would.’
He put a hand on my shoulder, ’Softly, softly.’
I managed to stop myself launching another attack. Softly, bloody softly. Easy for him with his cushy job and his fat pay cheque and his cottage on the hill. Like the majority of Jockey Club employees, McCarthy would have had an easy life, a public school education and his father’s gang of city contacts to slide him quietly into a nice job.
I reached and slowly moved his hand from my shoulder. His smile faded. I said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Glad you gave me your time now, eh?’
‘Good night.’
He tipped his hat sarcastically and left.
I sat on the bunk and put my head in my hands, and I covered my eyes as a brutal kaleidoscope of the past five years spun out the story that was branded in my soul.
Sorrow mixed with bitter resentment, and rage and hatred, and for five years it had just swirled around in there. Now a tap had been fixed to it with a little sign that said “relief”. And I sat in that dirty old caravan, in that cold, muddy field, a castaway in a thousand acres of rural darkness, where nobody could hear me, and I wept like a child, the pain howling its way out of me and up and away into the night.
5
My boss, Karl Melling had only four horses in and it didn’t take long to feed them and muck out. I’d known him have up to ten. Some were out of training, ex-point-to-pointers, young unbroken ones, old rogues – they all had one thing in common, problems. Melling tried to sort out the physical ones and he expected me to deal with the mental ones.
I didn’t tell him I'd be leaving for good. I asked to borrow his car for the day and it was grudgingly lent. The ten-year-old Saab started first time.
In Lambourn the pace of the rain beat the speed of the wipers, forcing me to slow as I drove through the valley. On the downland gallops, trainers would be working their second or third lots of the morning.
This, as the road sign said, was The Valley of the Racehorse. It had been my valley of fantasy as a teenager. Two thousand thoroughbreds were stabled here. The village and the rolling downland surrounding it held racing yards run by trainers, staffed with ambitious lightweight youngsters and more than a few old men whose dreams were long dead.
It was a valley of hope and optimism and envy so green it would have shamed the grassy gallops.
Up the slope to my right, a string of fifteen or more horses walked steadily along the ridge, their riders in all colours of plastic capes hunched against the downpour like Apaches coming from an all-night party.
On the roads, riders touched their caps as I drove past at walking pace. None looked at me, though I knew many of the faces. Mine would have been forgotten five weeks after I was banished, never mind five years.
I could have bypassed this place. A week ago I’d have crawled over broken glass to avoid it, with all its memories, its unfulfilled promises. And McCarthy wouldn’t be pleased if he knew I’d travelled through here.
But what else would a man do on the morning his life began again?
THE RED OX was a white-walled pub by the river, its pebbled car park no bigger than a large front garden. I parked beside the only other car, a brown Volvo. The bar was small, warm and thickly carpeted. On the walls hung racing prints and a dartboard.
McCarthy was the only customer. He nodded as I approached.
‘Am I late or are you early?’ I asked.
‘I’m early. I’ve got to be in London for two o’clock,’ he looked at the barmaid, ‘I’ve ordered sandwiches, will that do?’
I nodded, ‘Sure.’
A briefcase lay on the floor beside his seat. He flicked it open and came up with a cardboard file thinner than a folded newspaper. Setting it on the table, he looked at me.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘What we’ve got on the case so far.’
I pulled the folder toward me, ‘Bulging with reports, eh?’
‘I told you, our information dried up months ago. That’s the result of only a few weeks’ investigations.’
The barmaid brought the sandwiches and two glasses of beer.
I took a sandwich, bit into the pink ham and swallowed some beer. McCarthy’s disappeared in a couple of bites, ‘There’s not really much else I can tell you. It’s all in the file,’ he said.
I nodded.
He said, ‘Since I’m stuck for time would you mind if we didn’t discuss it now? Could you take it away and read it, then phone me with any questions?’
‘Sure,’ I said and he smiled and relaxed. He picked up another sandwich.
‘Can I ask you one question now?’ I said.
He raised his eyebrows, chewed and nodded.
‘How much are you paying?’
‘For what?’
‘For me.’
‘As in?’
‘As in wages, salary.’
‘How does a grand a month plus expenses sound?’
‘Mean.’
‘It’s a hard item to place on the budget, Eddie.’
‘That’s your problem. I’ve got to live.’
‘How much is Melling paying you?’
‘Melling asks me to break horses, you’re asking me to catch murderers. And Melling throws in board and lodgings.’
He picked at his teeth with a fingernail, ‘I’m arranging that for you, and a car.’
‘Where will I be staying?’
‘A friend of mine has a holiday cottage in the Cotswolds. I should have confirmation this afternoon that you can use it.’
‘And the car?’
‘A hire car will be delivered to you, just tell me where you want it and when.’
‘Melling’s place, tomorrow morning.’
‘Okay.’
McCarthy continued working on his teeth and looking at me, ‘We’re agreed on a grand a month?’ he said.
‘And a ten grand bonus on Kruger’s conviction.’
He shook his head quickly, ‘You’re kidding, Eddie, there’s no way I can authorize that.’
‘Ten grand is peanuts compared to what it’ll cost if Kruger starts using this drug on the racecourse.’
‘You’ve got Kruger hung out to dry and you haven’t even opened the file,’ he reached for another sandwich.
‘It was you who said Kruger was the chief suspect.’
‘Only on the evidence we’ve got. Anyway, he’s supposed to be your big motivation, not the cash.’
‘You said last night you had the budget for it.’
‘Not that sort of money.’
‘Listen, Mac, at the end of this, if I’m not dead or crippled I’m going to have to live on something till either my licence is returned or I find another job. Trainers will hardly be queuing up to sign me. Even with my licence it’s going to be a long road back.’
‘Can’t do it, Eddie, not ten grand.’
I pushed the file toward him, ‘Let’s forget it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean forget it, I’m not doing it. I don’t want the job. It doesn’t pay enough.’
‘We can’t forget it! Where does that leave me?’
‘Get your own guys to do it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
He looked away. I rose and walked round the table and leaned over him, ‘Why not, Mister McCarthy?’
‘They’re too busy.’
‘Bull shit.’
He forced himself to look up at me.
‘Tell me why, Mac, tell me why your boys won’t do it?’
He looked away again.
‘Then I’ll tell you why – because they’re scared. Isn�
�t that right? Bergmark’s crippled, Rask’s blind, Danny Gordon’s dead and your guys are shit-scared!’
He kept avoiding my gaze. I went on, ‘Thinking this over as I drove here, the one thing bothering me was the reason your own team weren’t dealing with it.’ I straightened and walked slowly to the window. ‘I can’t believe I took in all the crap you gave me last night. Made a fool of myself in my hurry to take this on. You must have been pissing yourself laughing all the way home.’
‘Don’t be daft, man! I was there to try to do you a favour.’
‘Bollocks. You were there to try and get me to take the chances your boys wouldn’t because I’m a worthless has-been and it doesn’t matter if I go the same way as the other three.’
I returned to the table and stood in front of him. ‘Am I right, Mac?’
‘I am having a bit of trouble with, er, morale on this one,’ he mumbled.
We were silent for ten seconds then he spoke quietly, ‘I’ll pay the ten grand if you still want the job.’
I sat down. He pushed the file slowly toward me. I let him stew for a minute before picking it up.
‘Good,’ he said, smiling as he rose. He slung a business card across the table, ‘Call me at that number around ten tonight and I’ll give you details of the cottage.’ I slid the card into my top pocket and drank some more beer.
‘Must rush,’ McCarthy said, ‘I’ll pay the bill on the way out.’
He walked toward the bar then stopped, turned and came slowly back, ‘Eddie,’ he said quietly. I looked up, smiling smugly, expecting an apology, ‘You won’t be wanting that last sandwich, will you?’
6
It was mid-afternoon when I got home. Melling stood in the yard bawling at someone. His teenage son cowered in front of him, a broken halter trailing from his hand.
Melling was pushing him, thumping his chest with his open hand, shouting each word that synchronized with the blows. I decided to rescue the boy before he got bumped into the next county.
‘Mister Melling, sorry to interrupt the family get together but can I have a word?’