by Joe McNally
He forced a smile and stared through the window at the bright morning. I said, ‘I would call him, but it might just make him suspicious.’
Ben nodded. I said, ‘You can’t let him think you’ve got anything on your mind other than a thank-you lunch. He’ll pick up on it. I’m picking up on it and you haven’t even opened your mouth yet.’
Ben said, ‘It’s not just the confrontation, Eddie, since I was a kid I’ve felt ashamed of some of the things I’ve done. I hate the shame, but I can’t get away from it. And every time I need to speak to Monty, what happened that day at Aintree makes me want to cry.’
‘What happened that day at Aintree was Monty’s fault, not yours. If anybody should feel ashamed about it, he should.’
Ben nodded slowly and looked away again with that thousand-yard stare and the sun through the window shone on his welling tears and his battered face. I remembered how shocked I’d been in the car park at Bangor hospital that morning when he had come toward me, almost unrecognizable. Then he’d smiled, and I had guessed at who he was. Now I had become used to his looks, his ruined teeth and the wrinkled and scarred paper skin of an ancient, made all the more curious by the man inside, the child, the born again…and watching him now, that same feeling of sadness that had overwhelmed me that morning came back and I understood finally why I had wept that day.
I said, ‘I’ll call him.’
‘Would you?’
‘Of course. Now, eat your breakfast. God knows, you need it!’
Ben smiled and dabbed his eyes pushing out the tears that had been waiting. I said, ‘In fact, there’s every chance Monty will be at Haydock today. Why don’t we just casually drop by after racing and wait until his guests have gone?’
‘You riding there?’
‘I’ve got one in the last. I can hold off and travel late so you don’t have to wander around the course on your own.’
‘That would be good, Eddie. It would get this over with, too. It would kill me to wait a week to see him.’
‘Literally, maybe,’ I smiled.
Ben laughed. He laughed, and the sun shone, and for all that awaited us, the world seemed back in balance again.
69
My ride in the final race was for a woman who’d been training so long that, when she had started out, the training licence had been in the name of her head lad because the Jockey Club did not issue licenses to women. In the half century since then, she had never trained a big winner, but she had kept going and kept smiling and I’d never heard her complain about anything. Riding a winner for Constance McKenzie was on my bucket list.
But halfway down Haydock’s back straight, I knew it wasn’t going to be today. Spring had brought the better ground, which helped the good horses gallop away from the plodders much more quickly than did the winter mud. Riccardjohnston, the bright chestnut I rode, was one of the plodders. He tried and he tried, eager to please his rider and unwilling to accept that the engine he’d been given at birth might not someday double in capacity.
We were last, a long way last…the others pulled so far clear I couldn’t hear the hoofbeats. Still he kept his head down. Still he carried me. I patted his neck, ‘I might borrow those speakers and stick them in those floppy lugs of yours and for one day you would show them how it was done, wouldn’t you?’ And his ears flicked back to listen for a moment, then his head went lower and on he trudged.
The clouds stayed away and as we entered Monty’s glass-fronted west-facing box, the sun was halfway set, holding Bruno Guta in silhouette. He was at his usual place by the door leading onto the high terrace. Half a dozen guests remained, all at Monty’s table, where the champagne bottles stood in Bruno’s long shadow.
Monty saw us come in and he smiled and raised a hand and I saw the mouthed “excuse-me” as he rose to come and greet us. ‘Eddie! Ben! How good to see you both!’ He put a hand on my shoulder and one on Ben’s and drew us toward him with what seemed genuine warmth. ‘Come and join us. I’ll order a fresh pot of coffee.’
They spread out, making room for two more chairs, and we sat and waited. We laughed with them, and joined in the banter and as I watched these men and women, each pleasantly drunk, I envied them their brief break from reality in this sheltered circle of sunlight, and I understood at last Monty’s seemingly endless need for company without complications. Monty had never married. These regular gatherings of business associates, acquaintances, and minor celebrities provided him with a big happy family he could send home after racing, before the squabbles started.
Most importantly, they were people he’d never have to explain to.
It was close to sunset when the last couple left, accompanied by Bruno. Monty turned to us, smiling, ‘Another day done, eh?’ He put a hand across Ben’s shoulder, walking him back to the table, ‘Come and tell me now about all the excitement.’
We settled in our chairs. Ben said, ‘Has Bruno gone? Is he done for the day?’
‘Ah, if only, poor man. He’ll see Colin and Angela into a taxi then take a break while I smoke my cigar on the terrace. He can’t stand the smell, but it’s the last true luxury in these days of health and safety and so-called political correctness. Either of you troubled by cigar smoke?’
We said no and he slid open the glass door, ‘Bring your chairs. I’ll stand. I’m sick of sitting down!’
We left the chairs and walked outside. All that was above us was the roof. Sixty-feet below, the enclosures were deserted: no punters, no bookies, no losing tickets. The cleaners had done a good job.
A third of the sun was below the horizon. Monty’s cigar smoke rose in the still air. Ben swallowed hard, and Monty saw him do that and his eyes changed and he glanced sideways at me and immediately looked away again when our eyes met. Ben said, ‘Monty, can I ask you a question?’
‘Sure. Of course.’
‘Remember that Sunday, the day after the National, when you came to the hotel and gave me fourteen grand?’
Monty nodded, trying to hold the smile together, but the panic in his eyes was desperately seeking a way out. Ben said, ‘Where did the money come from?’
‘The jackpot. We won the Tote Jackpot, don’t you remember?’
Ben said, ‘There was a carry-forward to Monday. I checked. The jackpot wasn’t won on National day.’
Monty looked away slowly, toward the sinking sun, then he turned and dropped the cigar on the tarmac terrace and ground it out with his heel. ‘I think we’d best go inside,’ he said.
Monty slid the door closed and flipped the lever lock up. He went to the main entry door and turned the lock on that. We sat at the table. Monty looked at us, ‘You both need to forget everything now, and get on with your lives.’ There was no threat in his tone, just a tinge of resignation that seemed to stir the reporter in Ben, who straightened in his chair and said, ‘What happened, Monty?’
Monty opened his mouth, but closed it again and his jaw muscles clenched. He composed himself, then said, ‘Ben, I know this will seem a very odd question, given what you just asked me, but, do you trust me?’
Ben hesitated only for a moment, then nodded. Monty put his big hands on the table and leant forward, ‘Go back to your family, to your daughter. Find yourself a home away from Deadwood, I can help you with that, and start the new life you always wanted. I’ll help with that, too.’
‘What happened?’ Ben said.
Monty sighed and said, ‘An awful lot happened an awful long time ago, and what I was left with became my life. It’s a life I don’t want you to have. It’s a life I don’t want anyone to have. The only good thing about it has been that I’ve been able to help and protect people I care about. I’m going to say-‘
Ben said, ‘You poured the alcoholic champagne deliberately.’
Monty held his gaze.
Ben said, ‘The fourteen grand was to keep me topped up with booze until the project was dead, the writing gig for The Times.’
Monty massaged his gargoyle face with both hands, the d
amaged skin moving like cooling candle wax. He took a deep breath, ‘Listen, Ben…’ he turned to me, ‘Eddie…both of you. I’m at the bottom of a pit that has taken thirty years to dig. What I’ve been doing, Ben, since we met again in Lime Street, is lying on my back in that pit and kicking furiously to try and keep you away from the edge of it. My kicking time is done. I can’t buy anymore for you. All I can do now is fund you. I’ll pay you to go away and be safe, you and Alice. If you want to go abroad, that’s no problem. It might be the best option.’
I said, ‘Who’s threatening you?’
‘Nobody’s threatening me, Eddie. A man owns me. A man who can do anything to anybody and never pay for it.’ He turned again to Ben, ‘Ben, I want you to imagine yourself heading down the road toward hell. You don’t know it’s around the corner, but you meet me before you make the last turn and I tell you that you must go back, that you must not continue on any account because hell is around that corner. Would you listen? Of course you would.’
‘I’d listen, but now I want you to imagine the same scenario…do you think I’d leave you there?’
‘You could not get me out. Nobody could.’
I said, ‘We can get you out.’
Monty said, ‘I know your record, Eddie, and I admire you immensely. But ten Eddie Malloys, a hundred Eddie Malloys couldn’t get me out of this. This man has never been beaten…will never be beaten.’
I smiled, ‘There ain’t a horse that can’t be rode and there ain’t a man that can’t be throwed.’
Ben smiled. Monty shook his head and stared at his hands on the table top. Ben reached to touch his forearm, ‘And you’ve got Bruno to add to the mix.’
Monty said, ‘Bruno is my gaoler. He works for the man, not for me. You see my face? That’s what I got when I cried enough. When, after more than twenty-five years I said I was done with it, finished, I was tied down below a drip, an acid drip, fixed to dispense once a minute. They set a clock for one hour. There was no car crash. No Bruno to pull me out. Sixty drops of acid melted my face and cost me half of my sight.’ He pointed to his face…put a hand over his glass eye. ‘I was left with this and a lifelong gaoler in Bruno Guta. And all I had said was that I’d had enough.’
I turned to check the door, then said, ‘When will he be back?’
‘Fifteen minutes.’
I said, ‘That’s time enough to tell us what we need to know to get you out.’
Monty shook his head slowly and said, ‘How much more-‘
I leant forward quickly and grasped his shoulder, ‘Who is he? Name him. I’ll get him.’
Monty stared at me. I said, ‘You know, Monty, the last time I had this conversation, the last time I had to convince somebody? It was Alice, little Alice. I’m telling you what I told Alice. I fix things. I do this. It doesn’t scare me. I’ve been offered jobs to do it professionally. I have people I can call on who can out-think Einstein. Sounds like this guy has brainwashed you into believing he’s superman. I’ve done supermen. My CV is littered with supermen. Give me the guy’s name.’
He looked at me, ‘No.’
I said, ‘Monty, your life is…you have no life. It’s done with according to you. What have you got to lose?’
He said, ‘Ben…Alice…You…Your family.’
Ben said, ‘You want us to sign a disclaimer?’
Monty smiled, ‘I want you to go home and look after your daughter.’
‘My daughter would never rest if she knew about this. I promise you that. What made her risk her own life time and again was rage at injustice. Alice would have died for it. She told me that…emphasized it. What she actually said was, “Yes, Dad, I’d have died for it! Proper died!” Proper died. Hear that?’
Monty nodded, smiling sadly. Ben said, ‘You’ve protected me. It’s time for me to protect you.’
Monty looked at Ben for what seemed a long time, then said, ‘I’ll tell you on one condition, both of you…’ he glanced at me. I nodded. Ben said, ‘Name it.’
‘You send Alice somewhere safe for the duration. You too, Eddie. You send your family away. I’ll pay.’
‘My family’s on the other side of the world. They’ll be fine.’
‘Your woman?’
‘It’s a package, Mave and me. Buy one get one free.’
He kept watching, waiting…I said, ‘She won’t walk away from this, Monty, I can tell you that now. She’ll want to help, and there’s nobody I’d rather have, whoever this guy is.’
He turned to Ben, ‘Tell me you’ll send Alice away somewhere safe.’
‘I’ll send her to America to visit her mother.’
Monty nodded, ‘She will fly first class.’
Ben smiled, ‘She’d flog the ticket and buy economy and give the rest away.’
I checked my watch. Monty drew a deep breath then said, ‘I’m entertaining again at Beverley tomorrow. Can you come there, about the same time, to coincide with Bruno’s break?’
I said, ‘We’ll come to work things out, Monty, but we’re not leaving here without a name.’
Monty sighed and clamped a hand either side of his jaw, elbows resting on the table. His hands framed the scarred face as though he was holding an exhibit up in court, a final reminder. He said, ‘No. Look, I’m sorry, but I finally, finally need to do the right thing. For my sake, as much as yours. Go home. I am not going to tell you.’
He stared at me. That eye had never seemed so dead. I said, ‘Then I’ll tell you…’
Monty’s good eye twitched.
I said, ‘Sydney Ember.’
Monty’s head went slowly down until his forehead rested on the table edge, as though awaiting the fall of the axe.
70
We drove into the last of the setting sun along Haydock’s tree-lined avenue to the big exit gates. The shock had kept us silent. I was first to speak, ‘You were right. Your instinct that Monty was solid was right.’
‘Yes, well, mixed feelings now, as they say.’
‘We’ll get it fixed. This Sydney Ember is the fella that Chief Constable Bradley mentioned at that meeting. I think he believed I was in tow with Ember. He wanted to bug my phone.’
‘Who is he, Ember?’
‘Bradley said he was a criminal they couldn’t catch because he always had a batch of receipts supposedly proving he had won all his money from betting.’
‘What kind of criminal? What was he into?’
‘Bradley said his day to day stuff was organized crime. I got the impression a few murders were thrown in.’
‘Nice fella. Organized crime would certainly cover what’s been happening in Deadwood, but going by what Monty says, Ember must be into a hell of a lot more than trafficking girls.’
‘The thing is, he’s probably doing it in every big city in Britain…maybe Europe. Sounds like Monty’s just been used as his front man. Ember must own all those businesses that are in Monty’s name. Which, by the way, makes me wonder if that was the first time Ember picked up on you. Mave showed me that article you wrote on shell companies. Where did that fall in the series you were writing for The Times?’
‘Can’t remember…second, maybe third…The one I was working on when it all went tits-up was the business of buying bookmaking pitches on course. Maybe we could…’ He turned to me, ‘Would Mave take another look at the pitch side of things?’
‘I’m sure she would. I’ll get her onto it now.’
I pulled over and called home, feeling somehow that a hands-free conversation might not be safe. I thanked Mave and told her we’d see her in an hour. Ben interrupted, ‘Ask her to check on Alice.’
I said, ‘What’s Alice up to?’
‘She’s on the spare laptop. Playing a game, I think.’
‘Okay. Good.’
Mave said, ‘That little half pitch that your tone moves up when your vocal cords tighten?’
‘Uhuh?’
‘Anxiety or anticipation?’
‘A bit of both.’
Ben said, ‘Te
ll Mave to lock the door.’
I said, ‘Mave, Ben’s asking if you’ll lock everything up until we get home.’ I knew she’d ask no questions.
‘Tell Ben I’ll do that now.’
‘Good. See you soon.’
‘Want me to call if I get a quick result on those pitches?’
‘No, thanks. It can wait.’
‘Drive safe, lover boy.’
‘I’m smiling…You’re picturing me smiling, right?’
‘A rare projection in my mind’s eye, but, yes, I am.’
I laughed, ‘See you in an hour.’
When I put the phone down, I realized Ben was watching me. He had a fixed half-smile. He said, ‘You’re a pretty cool fella, Mister Malloy. How do you get to making off the cuff jokes when a man’s just told us we’re probably going to die?’
I wagged a finger, ‘The trick is in not believing him.’
His smile filled out and he nodded and settled back as we took the slip road on the M6.
At seventy on the speedo I hit cruise control. I said, ‘How in hell are you going to get Alice to America?’
‘Good question. I haven’t spoken to her mother in years.’
‘Even if you were on speaking terms, if Alice gets a sniff of the trouble that’s brewing, she’s just going to dig in here, isn’t she?’
‘Probably.’
‘And?’
Ben said, ‘I can only try, Eddie. If she won’t go, she won’t go. Monty can hardly backtrack now.’
‘Don’t be so sure. He seemed pretty serious to me. I think he’s going to want proof she’s safe, or, at least, your word on it that she’s gone. I get the feeling that a lot of the protecting he’s been doing has been of Alice. When you think of what she got away with in Deadwood, with DJ…if Ember’s such a scary fucker, Monty must have had to pull some strings to keep Alice safe, and you, too. Now you know why you were getting so many cups of tea and biscuits when Monty’s guys grabbed you.’
‘They’d be Ember’s people would they not, with Monty keeping them in check?’