Dick Francis's Gamble (35 page)

“Of course you did,” Patrick said. “He had a heart problem, apparently.”

“So I've heard.”

“So, tell me, what did he speak to you about?”

“He was worried about an investment that the Roberts Family Trust had made in a lightbulb factory in Bulgaria.”

“In what way was he worried about it?” Patrick asked.

“Mr. Roberts's nephew had evidently been to the site where the factory should be, and there was nothing there. Nothing except a toxic waste dump.”

“Perhaps it hasn't been built yet. Or the nephew was in the wrong place.”

“That's what I thought,” I said. “But apparently Gregory had shown photos of the factory to Mr. Roberts, and the nephew is adamant that he was in the right place.”

“You have spoken to the nephew?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, I have,” I said. “I spoke to him on Friday.”

“And have you approached Gregory about it?”

“No,” I said. “Gregory was so angry with me last week for all that Billy Searle business that I didn't like to.”

“How about Jessica?” he asked.

“No, not her either. I know I should have done, but I haven't had the chance.”

The train pulled into Surbiton Station, and two of the passengers in the first-class section stood up and departed.

“So why are you telling me?” Patrick asked as the train resumed its journey. “The Roberts Family Trust is a client of Gregory's. You need to speak to him, or to Jessica.”

“I know,” I said. “I just hoped you could look into it for me.”

He laughed. “You're not frightened of Gregory, are you?”

“Yes,” I said.

And I was, very frightened indeed.

“Is this what all this being away from the office has been about?”

“Yes,” I said again.

He turned in his seat and looked at me. “You are a strange man at times, Nicholas. Do you realize that you have placed your whole career on the line here?”

I nodded.

“Gregory and I agreed at the disciplinary meeting this morning, the one you were supposed to attend, that we would demand your resignation from Lyall and Black forthwith.”

So I
was
being fired.

“However,” he went on, “Andrew Mellor advised us that we were obliged to hear your side of any story before we made such a precipitous decision. So no final conclusion was reached.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“So will you be in the office tomorrow so we can sort all this out?”

“I can't be sure of that,” I said. “I would much rather you started an internal inquiry into the Bulgarian investment before I returned.”

“You really are afraid of Gregory,” he said with a chuckle. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

Maybe, I thought, but his bark had been pretty ferocious. And I also wasn't too keen on his hired help.

“Patrick,” I said seriously, “I have reason to think that a multimillion-euro fraud is going on here and that Gregory may be mixed up in it. Yes, I am frightened, and I feel I have good reason to be.”

“Like what?” he said.

“I know it sounds unlikely, but I believe that the Bulgaria business may have something to do with why Herb was killed.”

“But that's ridiculous,” he said. “Next you'll be accusing Gregory of murder.”

I said nothing but just sat there looking at him.

“Oh come on, Nicholas,” he said. “That's madness.”

“Madness, it may be,” I said. “But I'm not coming into the office until I'm certain that I'd be safe.”

He thought for a moment.

“Come home with me now, and we'll sort this out tonight. We can call Gregory from there.”

The train pulled into Esher Station.

Esher was the station for Sandown Park racetrack. Had it really been only nine days since I had alighted here to go to speak to Jolyon Roberts?

And two days later Jolyon Roberts was dead.

“No,” I said, jumping up. “I'll call you tomorrow morning in the office.”

I rushed through the glass dividing door and then stepped out onto the platform just before the train's doors closed shut behind me.

I didn't want Patrick telling Gregory where I was—not tonight, nor any other night.

B
y the time I made it back to Lambourn, all three of the ladies were in bed, and the house was in darkness save for a single light left on for me in the kitchen. It was only fair, and I had called from a public phone box at Paddington to tell them not to wait up.

I realized I was hungry.

I looked at the clock hanging above the range. It was ten to eleven, and I'd had nothing to eat since a hurried slice of toast at six o'clock in the morning. All day my stomach had been so wound up with worry that I hadn't even thought about food. My mother would not have been pleased.

I raided Jan's fridge and made myself a thick cheese sandwich.

I then sat eating it at the kitchen table, washing it down with a glass of orange juice.

It had been a good day, I decided. I still just had a job and I had finally spoken to Patrick about my concerns. Whether or not he believed me was another matter. But surely he was duty-bound to start an investigation and bring Jessica Winter into the loop, whatever he might think of my cloak-and-dagger tactics.

But would I then be any safer?

If Gregory, or whoever, was trying to kill me in order to prevent an investigation into the fraud being started, then I should be out of danger once it had because killing me then would only reinforce the need for the investigation to continue. Unless, of course, he felt he had nothing more to lose and killed me out of revenge for uncovering his scheme.

Either way, I was going to lie low for a few more days yet.

 

 

T
uesday dawned bright and sunny, which matched my temperament. Talking to Patrick had set my mind more at ease, and I really felt I was getting somewhere at last.

In spite of being the final one to bed, I was the first up and downstairs, making myself instant coffee, by the time Jan appeared.

“Are you sure you don't want to come up on the Downs to watch the horses?” she said. “It's a beautiful day, for a change.”

I thought about it.

“I can lend you a hat and sunglasses,” she added with a laugh. “As a disguise.”

“OK,” I said. “I'd love to. I'll just take some tea up to Claudia.”

“There's plenty of time,” Jan said. “First lot doesn't pull out until seven-thirty, and even then I give them a good head start. Be ready by about seven forty-five. We have breakfast afterwards.”

I glanced up at the clock. It was only five to seven.

“Right,” I said. “I'll be ready.”

I took the tea and coffee up to our room and sat on the bed.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” I said to Claudia, gently shaking her shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

She rolled over onto her back and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Seven,” I said. “And it's a beautiful morning, so I'm going up on the Downs with Jan to watch the horses work.”

“Can I come too?” Claudia asked.

“I'd love you to,” I said. “But how are you feeling?”

“Better every day,” she replied. “I just wish . . .” She tailed off.

“I know, I know,” I said. “But everything will be just fine. You'll see.”

I leaned down and gave her a hug and a kiss.

“I do so hope you're right,” she said.

This cancerous Sword of Damocles seemed to cast a shadow over our every waking moment. We were living in limbo, and as far as I was concerned the sooner she started the chemotherapy, the better. These weeks of doing nothing just seemed to invite the cancer to grow within her.

 

 

T
o my mind, there was nothing more revitalizing to the soul than a bright, sunny spring morning on the gallops. My only sadness was that I was watching the horses work from inside Jan's Land Rover rather than from the saddle.

God, how I still ached to ride, to sit again astride half a ton of Thoroughbred racehorse, and to gallop once more at full pelt with the wind in my face.

I watched with envy as Jan's stable staff brought the horses up the hill towards us, side by side in pairs, some racing flat out and others at half or three-quarter pace. Just to hear the sound of their hooves thudding into the turf was enough to give me goose bumps, and to raise my pulse.

How cruel had been my neck injury to rob me of such delight.

But I supposed I shouldn't be too downhearted. At least my broken neck hadn't killed me, unlike someone else I could think of.

I didn't wear Jan's offered sunglasses, but I did don one of her ex-husband's old trilbies, with the brim pulled firmly down, and with my coat collar turned up. And I was careful not to get too close to the horses. I could easily recognize some of Jan's longserving stable staff and I was still wary of them seeing me, if only to prevent DCI Flight from turning up with his handcuffs.

Claudia had no such qualms and walked across the grass to be nearer the horses.

Standing there, I watched her in the sunshine as she shook her hair out of a woolly hat and let it blow free in the wind.

How strange things had been over the previous few weeks. I had thought I was losing her to another man and now I feared losing her to illness. There was no doubt that the cancer had brought us closer together. I loved her more now than ever. I would stay alive for her, I promised myself. And she must live for me.

She turned towards me and waved, her long hair blown in streaks across her face. In spite of it, I could tell she was laughing with joy, living for the moment.

I waved back.

In two or three weeks' time, all that gorgeous hair would start to fall out, and she would absolutely hate it, but I suppose it was a relatively small price to pay for more life, and more love.

 

 

A
fter lunch, I took the car out to call Chief Inspector Tomlinson. In the light of the episode at the Swindon pub, I decided that calling on the run was the best policy, hence I started to dial the chief inspector's number as I was traveling at seventy miles an hour eastwards along the M4 motorway between Newbury and Reading. But the phone rang in my hand before I had a chance to complete the number.

“Nicholas Foxton,” I said, answering.

“Hello, Mr. Foxton, it's Ben Roberts.”

“Yes, Ben,” I said. “How can I help?”

“My father has changed his mind. He'd now like to talk to you.”

“Great,” I said. “When and where?”

“He wonders if you would like come to Cheltenham Races tomorrow evening as his guest. It's the Hunter Chase evening meeting, and he's hired a private box. He says he would like to talk to you at the end of the evening's racing.”

“Will you be there?” I asked.

“I will to start with, but I'll have to leave early to get back to Oxford for a club dinner.”

“Can I get back to you?” I said. “I need to talk to my fiancée.”

“Bring her with you,” he said immediately. “It's a buffet supper, not a sit-down, so numbers are not a problem. And I'll be leaving before the pudding, so there'll be plenty of that left anyway.” He laughed.

I couldn't help but like Ben Roberts.

“OK,” I said. “I'd love to.”

“One or two?” he asked.

“One definitely, two maybe.”

“I'll tell my Dad. He'll be pleased,” he said. “We'll be there by five o'clock. See you then.”

We hung up.

I wondered if it was sensible to go back to Cheltenham. It was DCI Flight's home patch, and the racetrack would be full of Gloucestershire policemen. But why should I worry? After all, I hadn't done anything wrong.

Next I called Chief Inspector Tomlinson.

“Where are you?” the chief inspector asked. “There's lots of noise on the line.”

“I'm on the motorway,” I said. “And this car isn't very well sound-insulated.”

“Which motorway?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” I said evasively.

“Are you using a hands-free system?” he asked.

I didn't answer.

“OK,” he said. “I'll take that as a no.”

“So what are you going to do about it, arrest me for using a mobile phone whilst driving?”

“No,” he said. “I'll just try and keep the call short. What do you want?”

“I want a meeting with you and Superintendent Yering,” I said. “And DCI Flight, I suppose, if he wants to be there. As long as he doesn't arrest me.”

“Where do you want this meeting?”

“That's up to you,” I said. “But arrange it for Thursday, if you can.”

“What's the meeting for?” he asked.

“So I can tell you why I think Herb Kovak was killed and why our dead gunman was also trying to kill me.”

“What's wrong with today?” he said. “Or tomorrow?”

“There's someone else I want to talk to first.”

“Who?” he said.

“Just someone.”

“I told you to leave the investigating to us,” said the chief inspector sternly.

“I intend to,” I said. “That's why I want the meeting with you and the superintendent.”

But I also wanted to learn more about the Bulgarian investment before it.

“OK,” he said. “I'll fix it. How do I contact you?”