Knock Down - By Dick Francis Page 0,50
it had been on me. Aggression created counter-aggression. The way full-scale wars started. He expressed no sorrow. Made no apologies. No offer of amends. Instead he said again and with increased intention, Til kill you.’
Nicol said, ‘What are you going to do next?’
‘Pork pie and a bottle of coke.’
‘No, you ass. I mean… about Vic’
‘Stoke up his kitchen fire.’ Nicoi looked mystified. I said, ‘He told me once if I didn’t like the heat…’
‘To stay out of the kitchen.’
‘Right.’
The cold dank winter afternoon seeped under my anorak and my feet were freezing. Nicol’s face looked pale blue. A little kitchen heat would have come as no harm.
‘How?’
‘Net sure yet.’
It had been comparatively easy to break up the entente between Wilton Young and Fynedale, for the two hotheaded Yorkshire tempers had needed only a small detonation to set them off. Detaching Constantine from Vic might take longer. Constantine was not as bluntly honest as Wilton Young, and in his case face-saving might have priority.
‘There’s also someone else,’ I said.
‘Who?’
‘Don’t know. Someone helping Vic. Someone who engaged Fred Smith to do the dirty work. I don’t know who… but I won’t stop until I find out.’
Nicol looked at me speculatively. ‘If he could see the look on your face he’d be busy covering his tracks.’
The trouble was, his tracks were far too well covered already. To find him, I’d have to persuade him to make fresh ones. We went into the snack bar for the warmth as much as the food and watched the fifth race on closed-circuit television.
Nicol said, ‘Do you know of any other fiddles Vic and Fynedale have got up to?’
I smiled. ‘One or two.’
‘What?’
‘Well… there’s the insurance premium fiddle.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you.’
‘Things have changed. You don’t owe them a scrap of loyalty any more.’
I wryly agreed. ‘Well… Say you sell a horse to an overseas customer. You tell him you can arrange insurance for the journey if he sends the premiums. So he sends the premiums, and you pocket them.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
‘But what happens if the horse dies on the way? Surely you have to pay up out of your own money?’
I shook my head. ‘You say you were very sorry you couldn’t arrange the insurance in time, and you send the premiums back.’
‘By God.’
‘By the time you’ve finished you should be more clued up than your father,’ I said with amusement.
‘I should damn well hope so. Vic’s been taking him for one almighty ride.’
‘Caveat emptor,’ I said.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Buyer beware.’
‘I know one buyer who’ll beware for the rest of his life, and that’s me.’
The next week at the Newmarket Mixed Sales I bought a two-year-old colt for Wilton Young.
He was there himself.
‘Why that one?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve looked him up. He’s run in three races and never been nearer than sixth.’
‘He’ll win next year as a three-year-old.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Scorchmark’s progeny need time to grow. It’s no good being impatient if they don’t win at two. He’s being sold by an impatient owner and he’s been trained by a two-year-old specialist. They both wanted quick results, and Singel-ing wasn’t bred for that. Next summer he’ll win.’
‘He didn’t cost very much,’ he said disparagingly.
‘All the better. One good prize and he’ll be making you that profit.’
He grunted. ‘All right. I said buy me a horse, and you’ve bought it. I won’t go back on my word. But I don’t think that Singeling is any bloody good.’
Owing to the natural loudness of his voice this opinion was easily overheard, and a little while later he sold Singeling himself to someone who disagreed with him.
With typical bluntness he told me about it. ‘He offered me a good bit more than you paid. So I took it. I didn’t reckon he’d be much good, that Singeling. Now, what do you have to say to that?’
‘Nothing,’ I said mildly. ‘You asked me to buy you a horse which would give you a good return in cash terms. Well… it has.’
He stared. He slapped his thigh. He laughed. Then a new thought struck him and he looked suddenly suspicious. ‘Did you find another buyer and send him to offer me a profit?’
‘No,’ I said, and reflected that at least he seemed to be learning.
‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said grudgingly. ‘This chap I sold it to… when we’d shaken hands on it and it was too late for me to back out, he said… I tell thee straight… he said any horse Jonah Dereham picked as a good