Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,111

someone.’

‘It was designed to look like accident,’ I said.

‘Are you absolutely sure it wasn’t?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m not,’ I confessed. ‘For a while I thought I was just being paranoid. I couldn’t think why anyone would want to do me harm. But then someone burnt my house down with me in it. And I am certain that it was another attempt on my life.’

‘Have the fire brigade confirmed that it was arson?’ Bernard asked.

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ I said, ‘but I know it was.’

‘How?’ he asked again.

‘Because someone went into my house and removed the battery from my smoke alarm before they set the house on fire, and I know for sure that there had been a battery in there. And I’m also sure that the fire was started at the bottom of the old wooden stairs to prevent me getting out.’ In my mind, I could still see the flames roaring up the stairwell, cutting off my escape route. ‘It is only due to luck, and a few hefty blows on my bedroom window frame with a beside table, that I am here now. And I wasn’t sure how much longer my luck would last so I ran away to America.’

‘Unlike you to run away,’ said Toby. I was surprised, and pleased. It was indeed unlike me to run away, but I hadn’t expected him to know it, let alone to say it.

‘No,’ I said, ‘but I was frightened. I still am. And with good reason, if what happened in America is anything to go by.’

‘What did happen?’ asked Sally.

‘Someone broke my arm with a polo mallet,’ I said.

‘What? Surely not on purpose?’ said Sally.

‘I think you could say that,’ I said. I told them about the maniac with the mallet and about the damage he did to the rental car.

‘But why?’ said Bernard.

Instead of answering, I removed the shiny metal ball from my pocket and tossed it to Toby.

‘What is that?’ asked Sally.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I was hoping one of you might be able to tell me. I know it’s significant. Having one probably contributed to my broken arm, and it might have cost me a lot more if I hadn’t managed to escape.’

Bernard looked me in the face.

‘Life and death,’ he said slowly, half under his breath.

They passed the ball back and forth between them and I gave them a couple of minutes to examine it in silence.

‘OK,’ said Toby. ‘I give up. What is it?’

‘Hey,’ exclaimed Sally, ‘it unscrews. It comes apart.’ She triumphantly held up the two pieces. She leaned over and showed Toby what she had done. She then put the ball back together and tossed it to Bernard. He struggled with his podgy fingers but, finally, he too was able to open the ball.

‘But what is it for?’ asked Toby again.

‘I really don’t know,’ I said. ‘But I feel it must be part of the key to all this.’

‘Max and I think it must have been made to hold something,’ Caroline said. ‘It fits so tightly together that we wondered if the contents mustn’t leak out.’

‘And it might have something to do with polo ponies,’ I added, as if another clue might help solve the riddle.

‘Polo ponies?’ said Bernard.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It may be to do with the importation of polo ponies.’

‘From where?’ asked Toby.

‘South America mostly,’ I said, remembering what Dorothy Schumann had said. ‘Argentina, Uruguay and Colombia.’

‘Drugs?’ said Sally. ‘There’s an awful lot of cocaine in Colombia. Could this be used to hold drugs?’

They all examined the ball again as if it would give up the answer.

‘Like condoms,’ I said.

‘What?’ said Bernard.

‘Condoms,’ I said again. ‘You must have heard of people who are paid to carry drugs in condoms through customs. They tie the end up and swallow condoms with drugs inside them. Then they fly to England, or somewhere, wait for nature to take its course and, hey presto, you have condoms full of drugs.’

‘Mules,’ said Caroline. ‘They’re called mules. Lots of women do it from Jamaica or Nigeria. For the money.’

‘Sounds rather dangerous to me,’ said Toby. ‘Don’t the condoms burst?’

‘Apparently not,’ Caroline said. ‘I saw a television programme about it. Some of them get caught by Customs using X-rays, but most of them don’t. And they’re desperate for money.’

‘Are you suggesting,’ said Bernard, ‘that metal balls like this could be somehow filled with drugs and swallowed to smuggle the stuff here from South America?’ He held the ball up to his open mouth. It might