Triple Crown Page 2

  ‘Apparently millions of people take diuretics every day for heart problems and high blood pressure.’

  ‘I’m one of those,’ Tony said meekly, tapping his jacket pocket.

  I suppose I couldn’t realistically blame the drug companies for making our life difficult, not if they were doing good for millions.

  I sighed again. ‘So why did the supplier run? And why pull a knife?’

  ‘He claims he didn’t know what was in the packet,’ Nigel said.

  ‘So they caught him then?’

  ‘My police contact said the man walked out of the woods with his arms in the air when he heard the dogs coming. He’d got rid of the knife by then, of course, and the cops weren’t about to launch a massive search for a weapon that hadn’t been used. The man claimed he was only an intermediary, delivering a sealed package for a friend.’

  ‘So why did he run?’

  ‘He says that he was told the package contained drugs and he’d assumed they were illegal.’

  He hadn’t been the only one.

  I was now even more relieved that Tony hadn’t had a ‘piece’ in the lay-by. I could imagine the furore that would have followed the shooting of a man who was supplying perfectly legal medication.

  ‘It seems odd to me that he just happened to have a knife in his pocket. Surely that’s not normal.’

  Tony waved a dismissive hand as if to say that it was quite normal where he came from.

  The man’s car had been removed to a forensic laboratory to be searched and, according to Nigel’s police chum, no illegal substances had been found. The man was free to pick it up whenever he wanted to.

  The phone on my desk rang. I answered it.

  ‘Jeff, it’s Paul Maldini,’ said a voice down the line. ‘I need you in my office, right away.’

  Oh God, I thought. The chief superintendent must have called.

  ‘On my way,’ I said.

  ‘And Jeff, bring Tony with you.’

  ‘And Nigel?’ I asked.

  ‘No. Only you and Tony.’

  How odd, I thought. It had been Nigel and me who had been responsible for setting up this sorry affair, not Tony. He had simply been an innocent observer to the disaster. It didn’t seem fair that he should be facing the firing squad alongside me.

  Tony and I made our way along the corridor to Paul’s office. It felt to me like we were two miscreant schoolboys who had been summoned to the headmaster’s study after having been caught smoking behind the bike sheds – hugely apprehensive and not a little frightened.

  ‘Ah, come in, come in, both of you,’ Paul said as I knocked and opened his door. ‘Sit down.’ He waved at the two chairs in front of his desk.

  I thought the condemned always had to stand to receive their punishment.

  Tony and I sat down.

  ‘Now, Jeff,’ Paul said, smiling and nodding at Tony, ‘Tony here has something to ask you.’

  ‘Eh?’ I was unsure what was going on.

  ‘I’d like you to come to the States,’ Tony said, half turning towards me.

  ‘Eh?’ I said again. ‘Isn’t this about the Jimmy Robinson affair?’

  ‘No,’ Paul said. ‘It is not.’

  ‘Didn’t the police chief superintendent call you?’ I asked.

  ‘As a matter of fact, he did,’ Paul replied. ‘And quite cross he was too. So I reminded him of all the things we had done right in the past and that we had acted in good faith in asking for their help in this case. I told him we had nothing to apologise for.’

  ‘What did he say to that?’ I asked.

  ‘Not much.’ Paul laughed as if amused by the memory. ‘I suspect they might not be so helpful in future, but we can live with that. Now, let’s move on. Tony spoke to me last evening and I’ve just had a meeting with the chief executive and the chairman and they have given their approval for his proposal.’

  ‘What proposal?’ I asked, confused.

  I felt like I was living in a parallel universe. I had been expecting to get a severe telling-off and yet here was Paul Maldini, a man with an infamous temper, smiling and joking as if I was flavour of the month.

  ‘I would like you to come and work for me,’ Tony said.

  I turned in my chair and stared at him.

  ‘Permanently?’

  ‘For as long as it takes,’ he replied.

  ‘For as long as what takes?’

  ‘Let me start from the beginning,’ Tony said. ‘But what I’m about to tell you is highly confidential and cannot be discussed outside the three of us. Not even the BHA chairman and chief executive have the full picture. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said, even though I thought he was being rather melodramatic. As an ex-army intelligence officer, one thing I did know was how to keep a secret.

  ‘You are aware that I am Deputy Director at FACSA, an agency dedicated to preventing corruption in sport.’ He pronounced it ‘Facsa’, as a word rather than speaking out each of the letters in turn.

  I nodded.

  ‘We have the particular task of keeping US horseracing free of organised crime. As you may know, unlike here in the UK with the BHA, there is no national racing authority in the US. Each of our states has its own rules and is responsible for enforcing them. My federal agency was set up to provide a nationwide focus on anti-corruption, and the Thoroughbred horse industry, both racing and breeding, represents a significant part of our efforts. We even have a special section dedicated to it.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I knew most of this from discussions Tony and I had had during the last fourteen days. ‘But where do I fit in?’

  Tony looked around him as if making sure no one was lurking and listening. He also lowered his voice.

  ‘For some time I have had my suspicions that we have an informant in our ranks.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I mused. ‘Corruption within the anti-corruption agency. Not good.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ Tony said.

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tony said. ‘I only have suspicions. My racing team have initiated several operations only to discover that the target has got rid of the evidence just before we turn up. At first I thought it was bad luck, but it has happened too often.’

  ‘What sort of operations?’ I asked.

  ‘We recently raided the barns of a trainer who we believed was employing illegal immigrants as grooms, mostly Mexicans, paying them well under the minimum wage and in cash to avoid federal payroll taxes and Social Security dues. We had done our homework and were pretty sure we had the trainer dead to rights. All we needed was to catch the illegals in the act.’

  ‘But you found none?’ I said.

  ‘Not one. Vanished like mist in the morning sunshine.’ Tony held his hands out, palms uppermost. ‘On another occasion we received a tip from a disgruntled ex-employee that a Maryland horse farm was using an unlicensed antibiotic together with equine growth hormone on a newly born foal in order to determine if they made the foal grow faster and larger. This practice would be unlawful under the US Animal Welfare Act, but we were involved because it would also constitute a fraud on the future buyer of the foal. So the team arrived one day at dawn to search the premises and take blood samples for analysis.’

  ‘What did they find?’ I asked.

  ‘That the foal had been euthanised and the carcass cremated.’

  ‘Did the farm give a reason?’

  ‘They tried. Some hooey about the animal kicking out and breaking its leg. But the pit was still red-hot from the fire. They must have incinerated the poor thing through the night.’

  ‘It could have been a coincidence,’ I said. ‘They do sometimes happen.’

  ‘If it were only those two I might agree but there have been more, like a fire that conveniently destroyed all the computers in the office of an illegal bookmaker hours before they were to be seized.’

  ‘Arson?’

  Tony rolled his eyes. ‘Not that anyone could prove.’
‘Have you had a leak inquiry?’ I asked.

  ‘Not officially. But the Director and I initiated a review of our internal and external communications. In the process, we covertly examined the email and phone records of all of our staff who knew about the operations ahead of time, but it turned up nothing of any use.’

  ‘How many people knew about these operations beforehand?’

  ‘About twenty.’

  ‘Why so many?’

  ‘There are eight field agents in the horseracing team with a half a dozen backup support staff. Then there are three or four senior personnel, myself included, who would be fully briefed. Plus the Director. All would know about an operation ahead of time. Most would be involved either in the planning or in the decision to give it the green light.’

  ‘That’s far too many,’ I said. ‘A true secret stops being secret when two people know it, let alone twenty. Planning should be done by only two or three key decision makers, with those taking part in the raid briefed about the operation and told the target only immediately before the off, when it’s too late for the information to be leaked.’

  Tony looked down at his hands as if somewhat embarrassed.

  ‘We are a relatively new agency,’ he said. ‘We clearly still have much to learn.’

  ‘So you want me to come and teach your people how to do it,’ I said rather flippantly.

  ‘I suppose that would be nice eventually,’ Tony said seriously, ‘but what I really want you to do now is to come and find our mole.’

  ‘Why me?’ I asked.

  Tony and I were safely back in my office with the door firmly shut. Even so we kept our voices to a murmur.

  ‘A number of reasons,’ Tony said. ‘Mostly because you know what you’re doing and, because you are an outsider, you are above suspicion. I came to London specifically to recruit you but I needed to be sure. Hence I’ve watched you closely over the past two weeks and I am sure you are the right man. You are determined and single-minded and, most important, you are unflappable. Yesterday you demonstrated admirably that you can keep your head when all around are losing theirs, and that includes me.’

  ‘I try,’ I said.

  As an army intelligence officer in Afghanistan, it had been my task to acquire information from local tribal leaders, most of whom hated the Taliban only fractionally more than they hated the British. Meetings were always fraught with danger, and a wrong word or action could result in an all-out shooting response. Keeping one’s head at all times was essential, metaphorically and literally.

  ‘But surely there is someone else in another part of your organisation who is better placed to investigate the leak?’

  ‘I need someone who understands the racing industry.’

  ‘I know British racing,’ I said. ‘not American.’

  ‘No matter,’ Tony said. ‘I’ve realised during my stay that horseracing here is much the same as in the US and the potential for trying to beat the system is identical.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ I said. I’d been to the United States before, on holiday, and everything had seemed very different – bigger, brasher and more ballsy.

  But Tony wasn’t giving up that easily.

  ‘Jeff, I need your help. Having a corrupt component in an anti-corruption organisation is like having a cancer. It has to be excised and destroyed, otherwise it will grow and spread, killing the whole body.’

  I knew what he meant more than most – my sister had cancer.

  ‘But I know nothing about how your organisation operates.’

  ‘I consider that a plus. You won’t be blinded by procedure and protocol. You will be able to look at things afresh while being someone who knows what to look for. I can hardly ask one of my own racing team – I might be approaching the very person we’re looking for.’

  ‘Don’t you trust any of them?’

  ‘I thought I did. I picked them all myself. Nearly half are ex-military and the rest are ex-cops. I’d have trusted each of them with my life six months ago. Now I wouldn’t walk down a dark alley with any of them.’

  It never ceased to amaze me how wafer-thin and fragile trust can be. All relationships, both work and play, rely on trust as their foundation, yet that trust can be dispelled so quickly by a single word or a casual action, anything that plants a seed of doubt in the mind. And once trust has gone, it is difficult, if not impossible, to re-establish. Ask any divorce lawyer. It’s not a lack of love that drives most marriages apart, but a lack of trust.

  ‘But there must be other people you could ask, someone from another agency like the FBI or CIA?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But would they know what to look for? Also, we at FACSA value our independence. It took much persuasion in Congress for our agency to be set up outside of the FBI rather than as a subsection of it, against the wishes of their then Director. Neither my Director nor I have any wish to go to the FBI now and admit we were wrong.’

  ‘And were you wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Not at all. FACSA reports directly to the Attorney General and the Department of Justice, the same as the DEA and ATF do, and I want to keep it that way.’

  ‘DEA and ATF?’

  ‘Drug Enforcement Administration and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.’

  ‘You Yanks do love your acronyms,’ I said with a laugh.

  ‘Be grateful you don’t work for the Navy’s Bureau of Medicine. Its official acronym is BUMED.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘I’m not. Its headquarters building is on Arlington Boulevard. I pass it every day on my way into work.’

  ‘In Washington?’ I asked.

  ‘Across the Potomac in Virginia. We’re in Arlington, near National Airport. Real estate in DC has now gotten too expensive for the government. Even the FBI is currently looking to move out.’

  Did I fancy some time in Virginia during the spring? I’d heard of the Washington Cherry Blossom Festival. I wondered if it would still be out.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

  LEG 1:

  THE KENTUCKY DERBY

  ‘The Run for the Roses’

  A mile and a quarter

  Churchill Downs, Louisville, Kentucky

  First Saturday in May

  Run every year since 1875

  3

  ‘America?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I was on the telephone to Faye, my sister. Her with the cancer.

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ I said. ‘But not for too long, I hope.’

  For as long as it takes, Tony had said.

  ‘On holiday?’

  ‘No. I’m going to be on attachment to the American anti-corruption agency. It’s like an exchange. Their Deputy Director has been here with us at the BHA for three weeks and I’ll be doing the same over there.’

  ‘When do you go?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m already at Heathrow. My flight leaves in an hour.’

  ‘That was rather sudden.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I only knew about it myself two days ago. I should have called but, you know how it is, I’ve been busy getting everything done ready to leave.’

  ‘Is Henrietta with you?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  There was a silence from the other end of the line as Faye waited for me to expand my answer. I didn’t.

  ‘It is over then?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Pretty much,’ I said. ‘We live in different worlds.’

  Henrietta had been my girlfriend for the past few months. An initial whirlwind romance that had cooled almost as quickly as it had started. Such was life.

  ‘Does she know you’re going away?’ Faye asked.

  ‘I told her last night,’ I said. ‘I think she was relieved.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Yes, so was I. But it was no good trying to go on if it didn’t work.

  ‘You’ll also miss Quentin’s birthday.’

 
Quentin was Faye’s husband, my brother-in-law, and missing his birthday was not something I would be losing any sleep over, unlike Henrietta.

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘Next weekend,’ Faye said. ‘I was going to ask you over.’

  ‘I’ll send him a card.’

  ‘Right.’

  She seemed distant, as if thinking of something else.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  There was something about the way she said it that convinced me that things were absolutely not OK.

  ‘Are you well?’ I asked.

  A simple question with so many unspoken nuances.

  There was another silence from her end.

  ‘Faye, what’s wrong?’ I asked earnestly.

  ‘I’m told it’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘What is nothing to worry about?’ I asked, with dread in my heart.

  ‘I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather recently.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Not that that’s been unusual these past few years. So I went to see my oncologist and he did some tests and a scan. I received the results yesterday.’

  She paused.

  ‘And?’

  ‘There’s another spot on my liver.’

  Oh dear God, I thought, will this bloody disease never leave her alone?

  ‘What precisely did the doctor say?’ I asked.

  ‘He told me it was nothing to worry about but, naturally, I do. I’ve got to have another round of chemo and maybe some radiotherapy. I can’t say I’m particularly looking forward to it.’

  ‘My dear Faye, I’m so sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t be going.’

  ‘Nonsense. Of course you must go. The chemo won’t start for at least another week anyway as I have a touch of flu and they want me to recover from that first. It seems the damn chemo drugs also reduce my white-cell count and I need those to fight the infection. You’ll be back before things get really bad. I’ll be fine. I promise.’

  Was she trying to convince me or herself?

  ‘I can always fly home if you need me. You only have to call.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m sure I won’t need you. I’m a big girl and I can look after myself. You go and enjoy yourself.’