by Brian Cain
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Mid week amongst the vines on a showery spring evening, the colours of the rainbow occasionally captured in dripping raindrops as the sun peeked out from behind the dark clouds. Anna and Dylan walked between the vines followed by three unbridled horses toward the open paddock beneath the broken back range. They had just been told Flaxmead was to run in the Melbourne Cup and discussed seating arrangements for the trip to Flemington. The stark contrast of reality was reflected in the black clouds in the sky, broken up by periods of stunning sunlight, the sun shone upon them and the rain from the dark clouds had not touched their skin.
"Maybe the front seat in the truck," said Anna.
"Dad says we can't go in the truck it takes all night," replied Dylan.
They walked in a straight line between vines choosing a different row each time they ventured out to avoid eroding the ground between the vines, a new generation of conservationists practised what had been preached. Dylan led the line followed by Anna, Flaxmead, Celtic Strom and Meadow. Flaxmead following Anna nudged her in the back with his nose a couple of times to hasten the pace far to subdued for the champ. "Stop it flaxy, we only got two legs and the ground's slippery." Flaxmead grunted his disapproval and tossed his head in the air. "What about the horse car Dylan, that would be fun."
"Oh yeah, lets get Jessica to ask Mr Stanton. That lady with the really long hair that goes with him is really bossy."
"That's Jodi his wife Dylan, der, she's allowed to be."
"If I marry Glenda Bronson in my class will she turn like that, yuk."
"I hope so then you'll suffer like I have as your sister."
There was silence for a while, squawking parrots squabbled in nearby gum trees carried on the wind. "I don't like Glenda Bronson anymore," replied Dylan.
"Chicken."
They reached the open gate to the run paddock below the broken back range and the untouchables thundered off Flaxmead leading the pack doing both things he loved best, being a child's pet and running fast with other horses. Anna and Dylan both swept water left by the rain from the top of the gate strainer post, made of iron bark gum the posts had been there for over a century. They sat and watched the antics of the thundering trio. "Having babies really hurts doesn't it?" asked Dylan.
"Mum told me a bit about it, I read a book in the school library sounded really scary."
"That Mr Stanton should give that Jodi lady a baby that'll shut her up."
"Don't be mean she's a lovely lady."
"How do you give girls babies, I think it's when you get married in the church something happens and you get a baby. If Mr Stanton just takes her in the church she might get really scared and shut up?"
"Deeeer, aunty Jennifer has two babies, she's not married. She abuses everybody."
"Oh Yeah."
"I'd like to go in the horse car FLAXY1, and stay with Flaxy in the car park at the race track. We can see a lot of the other horses there. Mr Stanton says it's really boring. Then Flaxy goes out and runs around with Celtic Storm and Meadow, everyone screams at the top of their voice, and then he comes back. Everyone takes pictures of them and we come home."
"They run around together everyday here."
"Der, they don't get the Melbourne cup here."
"Oh Yeah."
"How long will it take for Flaxy to win the race?"
"I think three minutes."
"What! He runs around here flat out all day."
"Mr Stanton told me it was different, he said it was the monkey in people that had fun, and the gorilla in people that fought wars."
"What does he mean?"
Anna shook her head. "I don't know, he went to a different school than us."
"What school did he go to, Cessnock?"
"No, he said the school of the fallen."
"Where's that."
Anna giggled. "You ask the same questions I did. He said in a far away land in the corner of a field, there is a school that is forever the sun rise."
"Did he tell you which field?"
"No he gave me a hug and tickled me. I could tell he didn't want me to know where it was."
"Yeah, the horse car with Mr Stanton, that'll be rad." Dylan jumped from the post pretending he had a steering wheel in his hand and ran around as if to steer the horse car. "Brrrrmmmmm!"
"Hey Dylan, I think I know what Mr Stanton means about gorillas!"
He roared past Anna. "Stick it in your eye Anna!"
Clifford Barking could see the back running paddock of Shangri La from the top of the hill in the back vine paddock at Loudbark. He was inspecting the vines with Bob Fields. He stopped and watched them folding his arms and smiling. Bob was on his knees inspecting plants giving a running commentary but Clifford stopped listening. "He's going to win it you know, bloody amazing," said Cliff.
Bob stopped talking and stood up looking to see what had caught Cliff's eye. Flaxmead reared up and the call of the Banshee resonated way down the valley on the wind. "Oh, yes. It's getting close. To tell you the truth Cliff my stomachs churning and I sometimes feel sick with fear."
Cliff nodded slowly. "Mm. The whole damn valley, I'm glad it's on Flaxmead's shoulders and not mine."
"I try not to think about it, I've been lying awake at night remembering every bad thing that happened to me, I can't shake it. The only time I feel any better is when we get on with it and win. Its becoming like a drug I need to go on."
"I know what you mean, I lost my horse in a fire, never got to run. Put me off for the rest of my life but this is bringing it back."
"I didn't know you lost a race horse in a fire."
"No. Never been able to speak of it but I look down there and find myself smiling. I think I'm getting over it."
"Good, everything's set for the cup, you're going with Winston and the eccentrics, should be quite an experience."
"Yes. We no longer struggle to stay afloat. God knows where we're heading next, Wilson and Bartholomew are determined to maintain quality. They have an idea on a dry season crop in the tropics, not only grapes but tropical fruit wines."
"They seem to put their head where you wouldn't risk a finger."
"That red Mustang that's been hanging around Shangri La, would that be John Stanton?"
"Yes."
"They call him the vigilante."
"My wife calls me all kinds of things, meeting Stanton, I have reservations about that opinion, as much as I do my wife's."
Clifford laughed. "How did he get involved?"
"Winston knew him, something to do with finding Winston's daughter."
"So what's he like, your the first person I've come across who has spoken to him."
"He's a friend of mine, the children love him. He has a terribly demanding wife but he seems to love it and she basks in his attention, she's a journalist. A lot of the leading press we got in the early stages was due to her."
"I have a political friend in Canberra, he let it slip one night not long ago at party that anyone who harmed Stanton would have the weight of the whole world come down on their shoulders."
"He's the only man that ever walked up to Flaxmead and Flaxy never batted an eyelid. Walked around the back of him patting him all the way, Flaxy didn't object until he walked away. Stanton turned around said he was sorry he had to go and Flaxy shut up."
"No fear, they say Stanton's scared of nothing."
"Maybe that's why he's so good at spotting it. He can smell a rat half a k away. That won't get this crop prediction finished Cliff."
"No, now you were saying the light prune is showing signs of being a good move, the weather is with us so far as well. With the ongoing damp warm seasons the increased botrytis affected crop could be big next year. That'll please Wilson and Bartholomew."
Little Lindy Cumberland had become completely reclusive, torn between her family and her passion she continued to wear her wrist plaster unnecessarily to cover her plight. She hid in her room, she watched re runs of Flaxmead's victories on youtube, she touche
d pictures of the horse on her screen gently with her fingertips. She often cried balancing the battle inside herself by watching a video of the fall that killed her brother. In front of her parents she masked the symptoms well, she began the downward spiral of depression.
Graham Harper was in his office at his home stable. Flaxmead and Celtic Storm had both been draw for the Cox Plate and Flushing Meadow a support group one run. Again Harper was puzzled, he had nominated for other events on the program but again the numbers fell outside of his hopes of three individual runs. He was tempted to pick up the phone but resisted the urge to inquire. He thought about it and it came to him that three wins on Melbourne Cup day would be a dream but it was actually in sight. If Flaxmead won the Cox Plate it made no difference to Celtic Storm if she made the Melbourne Cup or not, discussions with Ross favoured the three race path for the trio as well. Ross had shelved the goal of a Melbourne Cup for Celtic Storm as he felt Flaxmead was part of his family anyway, if Flaxmead failed for some reason there was always next year. Harper stuck with the draw and Flaxmead and Celtic Storm would both run the Cox Plate.
Renoir was basking in glory, ten kilos of pure cocaine touched down in Sydney, the new horse quarantine facility at the airport was an easy target for the lawless. The staff was so focused on disease courtesy of the recent equine influenza disaster and a brown paper bag containing a hundred thousand dollars. Ten kilo of cocaine left the airport without detection. The assassin was impressed but other news boiled his blood. He found himself again throwing newspapers around his Toorak mansion in the presence of Creighton, one of the only people in life whose shoulder he could cry on. "I have two runners in the Melbourne Cup Sanda Warrior and Carronade, I need another two runners and the flaming nuisances from the hunter valley draw one a five in the Plate. I've tried everything, diplomacy, bribery, even begged." He paced around ripped the paper in two and threw it at the wall, kicked a chair over. "I tell you right now that float you built will never make the cup meeting nor will a couple of other favoured runners Sanda Warrior has it in the bag."
Creighton pulled a chair out from the table he was sitting at in the games room, the patio glass doors were open leading out to the pool they had been swimming and playing pool. "Finished Theo, sit down." Delores sat next to his friend and calmed. "I was asked to tell you this, no one else wanted to do it, you should be told."
"What!"
"Last time the float came out of the valley we had a journo spy tagging along."
The assassin became interested. "Oh, somebody's thinking straight, who is it ill give him a job."
"They didn't get far. The float had a blocker."
"Blocker, what ya on about."
"Ghost, someone riding shotgun, an escort vehicle."
"So."
"A bloke called John Stanton, name ring a bell."
"Bloke Taggart's scared off."
"Yes."
"Renoir can take care of him, he's scared of no one. This Stanton will probably crap himself when he meets Renoir."
Creighton leant forward getting closer to make a point. "I'm on first names with the federal sports and recreation minister, he's not scared of him he's petrified and so am I."
"Probably knows something that'll cost him his job."
"This journo and his mates were pounced on by a part aboriginal police officer they call the Cadiche man ten minutes after Stanton gave them the heave ho. Two of em got found with drugs and one with a firearm. We lost the contact and they lost their jobs. You take this on and you're on your own."
"Relax Nev, your paranoid. I've got it all worked out, couple more loose ends before cup day and everything's apples mate. This Stanton or whatever his name is."
Creighton interjected. "They call him the vigilante."
"Sounds bizarre, why doesn't someone call the cops?"
"Someone does, yeah him. Let me elaborate on what the word vigilante means I looked it up to make sure I understood. A vigilante is someone who illegally punishes someone for actual or perceived offenses, or participates in a group which metes out extralegal punishment to such a person. Often the victims are criminals in the legal sense; however a vigilante may follow a different definition of criminal than the local law. That sounds awfully like he'd be looking for us!"
"You're getting all stirred up. Just a coincidence, your journo mates. If they had drugs and guns cops might have been tagging them and found a good time to pounce. Kick this paranoia man, have a line. Check this stuff out just in from South America, it'll blow your socks off."
"Get into this and Stanton may blow my arse off."
Delores stood up and walked to the glass doors looking over the pool. "You disappoint me Nev. This Stanton may be what you say he is, but he doesn't control the horse racing industry in this country or any other. You're all right, you have five runners in the cup, stop carrying on like a little girl or leave. I want that cup and can see it my trophy cabinet now."
Joel Renoir alias Rick O'Brien meet with Idris Nasih busy with the distribution of their share of the import. Hasih said nothing to Renoir about his blunder with Stanton, he knew it would affect his standing with Renoir and life was improving and he wanted to keep it that way. They worked on distribution deals during the Moonee Valley Cox Plate race meeting, the organised bedlam surrounding the thunderbolt at race meetings gave opportune times to deal with people while the populous was focused elsewhere. They planned to maximise advantage of this.
The Cox Plate did have a goal for Flaxmead, he had not run at Moonee Valley and a time record was up for grabs. The group one weight for age race run over a distance of two thousand and forty metres is one of the major races on the Australian race calendar and often referred to as 'the race where legends are made.'
The fastest the distance had been covered at the course was two minutes one point five seconds, Harper calculated Flaxmead could break the two minute barrier and so did the bookmakers, Flaxmead was paying a dollar and four cents for the win. The record breaking margin however was harder to predict, and Kerry Snow with allocated time from Greedy Piggy Creek Coal organised a punt through the Thunderbolt network. Kerry with the weight of Thunderbolt behind him convinced the TAB to run a wager for correct winning margin, it took off, bringing attention to the fact the thunderbolt could run under two minutes in the race. On the day this increased crowd levels to the race to record levels, generally a purists affair the plate was about to be overrun by the people. First run in nineteen twenty two from humble begging's worth a mere thousand pounds, the race was now worth three million dollars.
All attempts made to sway stewards and officials through Hans Reichmann failed, the assassin abandoned his plans of bending official's opinions. Jarrod Carpenter from Flemington had stuck by his guns and questions were being asked but Reichmann could not be found. The assassin was left with using official lines of opposition based on facts to stop the untouchables; this he felt was ready to go on cup day. To make sure Flaxmead had no jockey on cup day, the assassin chased up having every female jockey in the country on stitched up with a ride. The assassin showed no respect for dignity, conning a women's lobby group promoting female health into letting him use their name. Through his network he encouraged stables and trainers throughout Australia to use all female jockeys available on the day and wear the women's lobby groups coloured arm band riding to bring attention to the cause. It worked, but it was time consuming, coupled with organising his indirect cocaine income the untouchables were on their way to Moonee Valley unchecked.
He turned Renoir loose to organise the demise of Lorraine Wills the night before the day of the Melbourne Cup. Renoir busy with the distribution of commercial quantities of white powder delegated an attractive male escort from within his contacts in Kings Cross to befriend Lorraine at the Cox Plate meeting. He would offer to wine and dine the jockey the night before the Melbourne Cup planning a harmless but effective incapacity to ride the following day.
Stanton concerned about incidents experienced l
ast week, tagged the float from Shangri La with Jodi. Winston had made a host of appointments to see people at the plate meeting along with Wilson and Bartholomew. They jetted to Melbourne the same time the float departed staying at the Quest on McPherson Street, directly opposite the Moonee Valley grandstand complex. The push by the US and UK to have Flaxmead run overseas was on the agenda along with promoting valley wine enterprises, time had always been short. Gail Flametower opted to travel in the float, shocked at finding an old friend on her doorstep to help with horses, she was picked up on he way through Freemans Waterhole, she kept her old friend out of sight. The trip to Moonee Valley was without incident apart from overzealous fans and punters leaning on car horns and shouting from the roadside, except for one thing. Jodi decided she would drive FLAXY1 along the open stretch of the Hume highway from Hidden Valley. What Jodi wants Jodi gets and she wrestled the thousand horsepower monster down the motorway behind the float with Stanton's guidance. Every few kilometres Stanton would power past the float heading up the roadway ahead then drop back behind, like husband like wife Jodi decided this was a good idea learning the ropes of surveillance and protection. Jodi's own car was the latest Honda accord a lovely ladies car, she had never experienced anything like the Boss Mustang before. The roadway was clear and she indicated changed lanes to pass the float, Stanton suggested she change down a gear to stop the engine lugging. She didn't really know what he meant but complied by changing down a gear using the simple heavily modified sequential gearbox. Just as she got passed the float on the outside lane she put her foot on the accelerator to the floor and pushed the gear lever forwards, the clutch was not necessary only used to stop or set the vehicle in motion. During the course of teaching Jodi the ropes of the missile he was sure he had covered everything and was impressed on how his wife boldly wrestled with the crimson toy. He had overlooked pending disaster, Jodi had long strong fingernails. As she pushed the gear lever forwards her nail caught the lip of the red supercharger clutch engaging button just below the hand knob on the front of the lever, and the supercharger whistled into action. With her foot planted to the floor intoxicated with the throbbing V8, the engine found another four hundred horsepower sending them rocketing up the freeway reaching two hundred kilometres an hour. Stanton pushed the switch back down shutting the blower off instantly dropping four hundred horsepower as Jodi slowed the vehicle down pulling back into the left lane, it was early and the road was clear.
Jodi asked a question. "Did the red button do that?"
"Yes, leave it alone love."
"I gotta get me one of them on my car."
"Jodi, love. This vehicle and yours has sufficient power to propel them down the roadway without the red button."
Jodi looked around the dash. "Wow, there's a lot of buttons in this car that mine doesn't have, you want for I should push any more buttons."
"No!"
Stanton had convinced the team to tighten float arrival times, the float had been sitting around for some hours before the race just to make sure they were ready vulnerable to unwanted attention. It was agreed that it be cut to two hours before the first of the trio's race. Winston had made forward arrangements for the float at Moonee Valley with the usual flurry of letters as they had not attended the circuit before. Gate passes did not include a pass for Stanton's Mustang although the paper work clearly identified the vehicle as support for the float, it was assumed by the team that the float pass would cover it. Stanton pulled up at the gate in front of the float.
"Your pass please," asked the gate guard.
"This is the pass for the float behind me, I think it includes this vehicle."
The guard inspected the pass. "I'm sorry sir, the float can enter but you'll have to find alternate parking arrangements."
"Stay in the car Jodi," said Stanton as he stepped out of the car and beckoned Graham, he climbed from the float and Ross from the passenger's side. "Ross take the wheel of the float and close the door!" Ross followed Stanton's advice and Graham joined Stanton.
"What's going on?" asked Graham.
"Could be a clerical oversight or an attempt to split us up."
"What."
They won't let FLAXY1 in, no pass."
Graham spoke to the gate guard who double checked the paperwork. "There must be some kind of mistake, we need this vehicle with the float belongs its part of the team."
"I'm, sorry sir. This car has no pass," reiterated the guard.
"Well that's incredible," commented Harper.
Stanton leant close to Graham's ear lowering his voice. "If it was intent the perpetrators know exactly where we are and know were pre occupied. Roll it out of here just in case. Slowly circle the backstreets I'll see what's going on. I'll use the satellite phone." Without hesitation Graham walked briskly back to the float and mounted the passenger's seat, within seconds the float reversed and pulled back out on to McPherson street taking the first street to the left Darn street then first right McNae street. A steward attending to course duties in the float park familiar with the vehicles had noted their arrival with relief and became concerned when the float pulled away, he made a short brisk walk to the gate and beckoning Stanton to stop as he began to reverse into the street.
The Steward spoke with the gate guard. "Why are they leaving?"
"The red Mustang has no gate pass," replied the guard.
"Don't be ridiculous, that's the horse Flaxmead and its team."
"I asked them to wait but they seemed concerned about something and opted to leave."
The steward tapped on Stanton's tinted driver's window, "I'm sorry about this, I apologise!"
Stanton opened his window fully with a buzz from the electric drive motor. The steward bent towards the open window to talk above the barking engine, Stanton grabbed the tag hanging around the man's neck and read his ID. "David Whelan, course steward. Okay, the float doesn't go in there without this support vehicle."
"Look just drive in I'll fix it up. We were hoping on a race meeting not a riot." replied Whelan.
An alarm could be heard in Stanton's vehicle, Renoirs number plate had been picked up by the surveillance system passing the float, he and Idris Nasih were surprised to see the untouchables slowly cruising the back streets they were taking to avoid detection by adversaries and the police. They pulled up, climbed out of Renoir's car and studied the truck as it ambled past, people walking along the street clapped and waved to the truck. The attention put Renoir off so, concerned about his million dollar cargo, they climbed back in and went on their way. Idris Nasih nearly spoke of his previous observations but Renoir seemed agitated and focused on what lay ahead so he remained silent.
Stanton reversed closing his window shouting to the steward. "Too late!" He engaged his supercharger and left in a cloud of smoke following the floats path, he caught them at the end of McNae Street the float having to negotiate speed humps with great care. Stanton pulled in front of the float, Graham got out and walked to the driver's side window, and Stanton dropped the computer screen from the roof and put the satellite dish from the glove compartment on the roof.
Jodi was surprised. "What an earth is that John?"
"It's a satellite communication system love."
"Where did you get it from and how long has it been in this car.?"
Stanton studied the screen punching keys as he watched, Graham looked on from the window with a inquisitive look on his face. Jodi moved over next to her husband so she could see the screen. "You've been told enough for one day love, now two alarms in this street four minutes ago." A picture of a number plate and another of a face were delivered by the surveillance system. "That's the vehicle that was seen in the Blues Mountains and that's a bloke who was in nosing around last week, bingo," said Stanton.
Jodi looked daggers at Stanton. "John you have a lot of explaining to do, you promised me you'd stopped all this."
Stanton mumbled as he punched keys. "Yes love, now we have another bloke standing next to this Idris N
asih thanks for reminding me computer, better memory than me this thing. Now lets blow up the blokes face next to him, put it into the data base and we have," Information flashed to the screen, Stanton face froze like stone.
Jodi put her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, John turn it off." She opened the passenger side door and stood up outside the car her hands over her face and starting sobbing. Stanton climbed out of his seat raced around and held her. Graham was puzzled, he climbed into the driver's seat to look at the computer screen but Stanton beat him to it and shut it down. He went back to Jodi Graham walked round to them on the footpath.
"There's something seriously wrong here that's obvious, can I help."
Stanton grasped for direction as he held Jodi sobbing her heart out. Stanton gently put her back in the driver's seat and closed the door. "Follow me into the float park, they should be more obliging this time. Get the three horses out and start parading them, draw all the attention you can. Call Winston. Tell him you need him doing all the media interviews he can in the parade area soon as possible. Keep the horses in the public eye all the time. Get Gail to take Jodi to the members stand and stay with her all the time, don't let her out of sight. If any men talk to them I want to know straight away."
"What's going on John?" asked Graham.
"Nothing is any different, just Jodi is bit upset. Come-on lets go."
They were drawing a crowd, Stanton pulled away with the float in tow. The gate staff saw the float returning and cleared the area. Stanton held Jodi's hand as they rumbled to a stop. "We can't be sure love, I'm shocked as well, we need to keep our heads and sort this out. Go with Gail if anyone approaches you call immediately. As soon as I know I'll come and see you."
Jodi pulled herself together and got out of the car, Gail meet her as she stood up and Stanton spoke to Gail leaning across the seats. "Can you keep her company Gail, she felt a bit sick but now she's okay." The pair walked off towards the grandstand complex. The team went to work and Stanton paced up and down along side his car parked directly to the right of the float, visible to the road but not to the racecourse.
Steward David Whelan found Stanton. "Thanks goodness we got over that, we feared you had left, there are twenty plus thousand people here from the hunter valley. There would have been a riot. We have disciplined the guard."
Stanton stoped pacing looking at Whelan. "For what?"
"He knew who you were and still questioned a minor paperwork error."
Stanton looked furious, he leaned in his car and picked up paperwork from the centre consol, he handed it to Whelan. "Six letters all with replies, stating clearly this car being included for a pass. Where is it?"
Whelan looked at the paperwork. "That is a bit odd, you think someone would have picked that up."
"Where's the guard?" asked Stanton.
"He's been stood down and replaced."
"For what, being a victim of circumstances. Find out who processed that paperwork and you may find the problem. Send me the guard here, anyone who knows what was in that float and did what he did is a brave man. I could do with one here."
"I'm not sure if."
"Now!" demanded Stanton. Whelan nodded and walked briskly away.
Stanton went to ask Bob to take his place as secure point course side of the float towards the access gate, but he was already doing it and the horses were drawing the crowd as they were led to the parade ring. Stanton returned to his car placed the satellite dish on the roof and closed the doors. He opened the computer compartment and linked up. He passed the picture of what he thought to be Renoir to Louise Legrande a friend in the French Secret Service and British MI6 operative Bruce Hurst. He included current Australian identification information of Rick O'Brien, in less than twenty minutes Rick O'Brien had been identified as Joel Renoir x French Secret Service operative, wanted by French authorities for leaking information leading to the death of several government operatives in Libya many years ago. One of them was John and Jodi Stanton's son Bradley. Stanton did something he had never done before, he called Chinese underworld figure Wu Farr, asked direct questions and got answers. Stanton went and asked Jodi to hold face, the Melbourne Cup was going to be a little more interesting than they anticipated. There was a knock on the drives window, the gate guard had been found and asked to report to Stanton. Stanton shut down his computer and locked his car.
"Thanks for coming back er, I don't know your name," said Stanton as he shook the burly young mans hand.
"Tom," he replied.
"You know who I am don't you?"
"Yes I do Mr Stanton. I read your books during training with the army a few years back."
"Singleton?"
"Puckapunyal sir."
"Anyone with an eye for detail I can currently use." He took Tom around the float in view of Bob Fields standing point. "Can you stand point near this bloke stay conspicuous, the fellas called Bob back him up if he has problems?"
"No worries?"
"There's a couple of dodgy blokes around so stay on your toes."
"Done."
Stanton took a walk through the gate, past the parade paddock and amid the roar of the crowd.
Nathan night had just won another group one race on Flushing Meadow, his wide unmistakable smile bore the contrast of the opposite side of the fence amid the record crowd of over eighty thousand. Graham and the team were so busy the gate access problems were for now forgotten. Jodi and Gail gradually rose from the doldrums Gail none the wiser, joining Winston, Wilson and Bartholomew dealing with the never ending barrage of questions in the paddock. The media were informed that the owners of Flaxmead Anna and Dylan would be attending the cup to see their horse run. At last amongst the lawyers, doctors, entrepreneurs, scientists, philanthropists, artists and this year coal miners, winery workers and labourers came the main event, The Cox Plate.
Flaxmead and Celtic Storm both carried fifty nine kilo in the weight for age confrontation, Celtic Storm drew gate one and Flaxmead gate five. As Lorraine prepared to mount Flaxmead she had been talking to an impeccably groomed handsome man, she seldom met short men of such glamour and etiquette. He charmed her to the point of agreeing to dine with him the night before the Melbourne Cup; he claimed to be a regular race goer infatuated with her talent of driving the thunderbolt to victory. Lorraine was taken and gave the well dressed handsome figure her contact number, she explained she was busy but would take his calls. She melted as he kissed her hand across the rail as they parted.
Brent Rosewood mounted Celtic Storm and the show began, Flaxmead followed the mare onto the turf, the two thousand four hundred metre start was a dream for come true for Flaxmead at Moonee Valley. From where the horses accessed the track in the south eastern corner they had to turn left and warm up along the front of the grandstand to the northern end of the grandstand straight. Flaxmead ran along side in front of, and behind Celtic depending on where other horses were in relation to her. Lorraine knew exactly what he was up to and wondered if Celtic Strom felt like she just had in the parade and mounting paddock, courted by an admirer.
Sanda Warrior was not running in the plate but the Creighton horse Wolf Sheppard resurfaced along with Blunderbuss from the Prendergast stable with a final effort to qualify more runners in the cup. An unknown quantity from New Zealand made the draw for its first run in Australia, undefeated white mare Won-Tolla undefeated in seven group one starts in New Zealand over to try for the Melbourne Cup. This horse had drawn nine and attracted a flurry of betting paying one dollar sixty, an opportunity compared to one dollar four cents for Flaxmead and one dollar and fifteen for Celtic Storm. Kerry Snow and the punters of Thunderbolt were not swayed and the money was on the under two minute winning margin, the correct time would net punters a small fortune. The further under the two minute barrier, the higher the payout, if Flaxmead failed the bookies would make a fortune. Flaxmead was relatively well behaved returning to his old tricks of loading last swayed by Celtic Storms refusal to gate early.
&
nbsp; They came under the starter and Celtic Storm broke well with Flaxmead , he closed to the rail from gate five easily jumping ahead of gates two, three and four to run along side Celtic Storm holding the lead between them pulling away from the pack. Won-Tolla started poorly and was held in the pocket mid pack crossing to the rail to early and held by the steady pace of horses from Delores stable. The first straight was passed the grandstand and the crowd could be heard at Flemington, with the vocal support Flaxmead could just feel Celtic on his left and after the first turn past the grandstand he took off like a rocket. Lorraine shook her head, "What are you doing were a mile from home," she mumbled. She tried a tug on the reins and was rewarded with a grunt of disapproval and a head toss. She bunkered down behind his ears and the champ thundered on, with a thousand to go along the back straight he crossed the line was well under the track record for the mark. He held pace around turn three to turn four and as he entered the final straight the crowd sensed he'd done it and went mad. He straightened up and Lorraine shook her head ad laughed. "I don't know flaxy, I'll never work you out, who cares your the bloody best," she mumbled. He picked it up for the last five hundred and had a further go in the last hundred, bookies could be heard cursing all over the country as he crossed the line under two minutes.
Then the race caller pre occupied by the record breaking run made an interesting call. "And in second place only just, with a scorching last five hundred is Won-Tolla fifteen lengths back from the champ and a nose in front of Celtic Storm. Blocked in the mid field pocket for fifteen hundred metres the jockey pulled the horse back to last crossed the field wide and made a run catching Celtic Storm at a cracking pace. What if this horse had got lose earlier, what a run by the milky mare. I don't think Celtic Storm jockey Brent Rosewood noticed Won-Tolla making the run wide and shut Celtic Storm down just before the line but what a run she lost hardly any ground to the thunderbolt as he crossed the line. But we can't take it away from the thunderbolt what an incredible lead up to the Melbourne Cup this horse has had. A string of wins, unbelievable records, officially recognised as the best horse in the world and as they run down and return to the winners circle, strutting along next to his stable mate, they have become an inseparable pair."
Stanton had walked through the complex scanning the crowd, he stood in view of the members lounge and watched a steady flow of outrageously dressed females and impeccably groomed men go in and out. During the Cox Plate the pedestrian traffic dwindled to a trickle. The crowd could be heard roaring as the race began and Stanton was rewarded for his diligence, Idris Nasih appeared from the member's area with two dark suited heavyweights. He followed the trio out of the grandstand complex to the northern car parks. They stopped at the Nissan Skyline GT owned by Renoir. The car park was deserted as Flaxmead drew all the attention the crowd continuing to roar as the race began. From the shadow of the north-western most end of the grandstand complex motionless against the wall, Stanton watched Nasih open the boot of the Nissan and transfer a spare wheel with assistance of one of the heavyweights to the vehicle next door, a silver Mercedes salon. The heavyweight men in suits, obviously keen gym enthusiasts judging by there build, kept a diligent eye out scanning the entire car park area while the wheel was transferred. The boot of both vehicles was closed and Nasih was given a brief case from taken from the back seat of the Mercedes by one of the heavyweights. He opened it on the boot of Renoir's car, he fumbled through the contents closed the lid. He shook the heavyweight's hands and put the brief case in the boot of Renoir's car. The trio headed back to the grandstand complex laughing and joking.
Once the trio disappeared inside Stanton walked to Renoirs car, he made note of the silver Mercedes registration plate, and pulled what looked like a mobile phone from his inside jacket pocket. He pointed the device at Renoirs car and pushed the activation button, the device searched thousands of remote key codes a second and in a few seconds Renoirs car's lights flashed and the security system beeped. Stanton opened the boot, the case had not been locked and he quickly inspected the contents. Wads of hundred dollar bills, lots of them. He returned the case and closed the boot, then accessed the boot of the Mercedes using the same device. He identified the spare wheel, it was from a late BMW. He tried to pick the wheel up, it was notably heavier than it should be by several kilo. He closed the boot and returned to the complex, he again waited in view of the members lounge doors. Then he got his first view of Renoir in the flesh. In a group that included Nasih, he had never seen the other two men with them. They laughed and joked for a while outside the doors then Renoir and Nasih went their separate ways. Stanton tailed the two casually dressed men to the winners circle, they pulled a top hated overdressed man to one side and spoke quietly in his ear, the man smiled, nodded and returned to his group. Stanton managed to catch Jodi's attention in the winners circle, she appeared to have brightened up.
"John what are you doing out here, who's looking after Graham and Meadow?" asked Jodi.
"It's okay there in good hands one of them Bob's. That man over there with the grey suit and long top hat, who is he."
"The one in the group directly opposite?"
"Yes."
"Theo Delores, one of Australia's leading owner trainers."
"Really."
Jodi giggled, "They call him the smiling assassin, the advice is not to buy a car from him."
"Okay, come back to the car with the team I'd like you with me on the way home love."
Jodi strained a smile. "Do you know yet?"
"Ill tell you on the way home love." Stanton squeezed her hand and headed to his car. He cranked up his computer system, linked up to satellites and in twenty minutes knew who owned the silver Mercedes and that Theo Delores owned a BMW. Coupled with the information from Wu Farr, he had more lottery numbers up than he could handle. The problem was in this situation how did you go about cashing them.