Decider - By Dick Francis Page 0,45

would rent them out to me from time to time to enclose any thoroughly gutted ruin I wanted to shield from the weather.

I explained to him what was needed and why, and I explained to Roger who he was going to be talking to, and I leaned peacefully on the walking frame while they discussed floor space, budget and transport. When they seemed to be reaching agreement I said to Roger, ‘Tell him to bring all the flags.’

Roger, mystified, relayed the message and got a reply that made him laugh. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘I’ll phone back to confirm.’

We took the telephone and the numbers book with us in the jeep and returned to the office. Conrad was still shouting down the phone there but, judging from the impatience now manifest in the Stratton herd, was achieving nil results.

‘You’re on,’ I murmured to Roger. ‘Say you found the tent.’

It didn’t come naturally to him to take another man’s credit, but he could see the point in it. The Strattons could perversely turn down any suggestion of mine, even if it were to their own advantage to adopt it.

Roger walked over to his desk as Conrad slammed down the receiver in fury.

‘I… er… I’ve located a tent,’ he said firmly.

‘About time!’ Conrad said.

‘Where?’ Keith demanded, annoyed.

‘A man in Hertfordshire has one. He can ship it here by tomorrow morning, and he’ll send a crew to erect it.’

Conrad was grudgingly pleased but wouldn’t admit it.

‘The only thing is,’ Roger continued, ‘that he doesn’t supply this tent on short leases. We would need to keep it for a minimum of three months. However,’ he hurried on, sensing interruptions, ‘that condition could be to our advantage, as the grandstands will be out of operation for much longer than that. We could keep the tent for as long as we need. And this tent has a firm floor and versatile dividing partitions and sounds stronger than a normal marquee.’

‘Too expensive,’ Keith objected.

‘Less expensive, actually,’ Roger said, ‘than erecting tents separately for each meeting.’

Marjorie Binsham’s gaze by-passed both Roger and her family and fastened on me.

‘Any ideas?’ she asked.

‘Ignore him,’ Keith insisted.

I said neutrally, ‘All four directors are here. Hold a board meeting and decide.’

A smile, quickly hidden, tugged at Marjorie’s lips. Dart, though, grinned openly.

‘Give us the details,’ Marjorie commanded Roger, and he, consulting his notes, told them the space and price involved, and said the insurance from non-availability of the stands would easily cover it.

‘Who arranged that insurance?’ Marjorie asked.

‘Lord Stratton and I and the insurance brokers.’

‘Very well,’ Marjorie said crisply, ‘I put forward a motion that the Colonel arranges a contract for the tent on the terms proposed. And Ivan will second it.’

Ivan, galvanised, said vaguely, ‘Oh? Yes, rather.’

‘Conrad?’ Marjorie challenged him.

‘Well… I suppose so.’

‘Carried,’ Marjorie said.

‘I object,’ Keith seethed.

‘Your objection is noted,’ Marjorie said. ‘Colonel, summon the tent.’

Roger turned the leaves of my phone book and spoke to Henry.

‘Very well done, Colonel!’ Marjorie congratulated him warmly when all was arranged. ‘This place could not function without you.’

Conrad looked defeated; Ivan, bewildered; and Keith, murderous.

Jack, Hannah and Dart, minor players, put no thoughts into words.

The brief ensuing pause in the proceedings came to an end with the arrival of two more cars, one containing, it transpired, two senior policemen with an explosives expert, and the other, Conrad’s demolition man and a heavily moustached manifestation of local authority.

The Strattons, as a flock, migrated into the open air.

Roger wiped a hand over his face and said service in Northern Ireland had been less of a strain.

‘Do you think we had an Irish bomb here?’ I said.

He looked startled but shook his head. ‘The Irish boast of it. No one so far has done any crowing. And this one wasn’t aimed at people, don’t forget. The Irish bombers aim to maim.’

‘So who?’

‘Crucial question. I don’t know. And you don’t need to say it… this may not be the end.’

‘What about guards?’

‘I’ve press ganged my groundsmen. There are relays of them in pairs patrolling the place.’ He patted the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. ‘They’re reporting all the time to my foreman. If anything looks wrong, he’ll report it to me.’

The newly-arrived policemen came into the office and introduced themselves as a detective chief inspector and a detective sergeant. An accompanying intense looking young man was vaguely and anonymously introduced as an explosives expert, a defuser of bombs. It was he who asked most of the questions.

I answered him simply, describing where the det cord had been and