Dead Fix: You Bet. They Win by Douglas Stewart

Author:Douglas Stewart [Stewart, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chewton Publications
Published: 2018-01-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 47

London

Outside, the rain was belting down, dancing off the line of black cabs and red buses, their lights trying to break through the gloom. Inside the café at King’s Cross Station though, Alex Anderson’s quiet smile radiated satisfaction. On the train back from Newcastle, his evening meal had included a surprisingly decent red and a couple of malts. Back in Newcastle, Walt Harvey was on-standby for the call to come south All he needed now was good news from Toufiq. Then he would speed west to Trevose Golf Club in Cornwall, a favourite occasional haunt. In the evenings there would be golfing banter over dinner with American friends. By day, they would play the demanding course, wagering hefty sums as they had done at Carnoustie, Royal Birkdale and Troon.

He blew his large Americano to cool it, alert for Youssef Toufiq’s arrival and idly flicking through the evening newspaper. After their meeting at the Trumpeters, a couple of days previously, the Moroccan’s knowledge and self-confidence had been impressive. Now, though, the whizz who had studied computer science in Portsmouth was twenty minutes late.

Should I have trusted him?

For the first time, he wondered if Toufiq would be a no-show and his deposit lost. Edgy, he put down his paper and drummed his fingers on the table-top, idly passing the time by watching others dunking cookies or shovelling away chicken wraps.

Full of apologies, it was another ten minutes before the sallow-skinned figure with his sinister pointed beard, appeared in a black hoodie and skin-tight jeans, a laptop bag in his hand. “My bus was caught up in the downpour, sir,” he explained. His English was good but with a guttural Arabic overlay.

Anderson showed his irritation by a gruff okay and a forceful glance that made the Moroccan look away.

“Sir. You will see. You will be happy. Very happy.”

Anderson grunted again as he watched Toufiq produce his Apple laptop and with swift keystrokes, open the private page for HOSS. He saw the familiar screen and logo he had used hundreds of times to obtain the racing selections. “You see, sir. It looks identical.”

“You mean?” Anderson faltered. “You mean, this is not really HOSS at all?”

For answer, Toufiq just laughed, showing rather too many zebra-like teeth. “I tell you. Not the same. Not HOSS as you knew it. But your colleagues, they will see nothing different.”

“So?”

“Behind here, I have changed the software. The HOSS programme is now fucked.”

Anderson gave an encouraging smile and nodded for him to continue. Toufiq twisted the computer around and tapped in York - 2-30pm for the previous day. The runners’ names appeared, everything normal. “So HOSS predicted Misty Forester would win at 4 to 1.”

“Go on.”

Toufiq laughed. “It came last.” His large, dark brown eyes peered at the screen as his slender fingers flew across the keys. Again the tombstone teeth appeared. “Here, sir.” He pointed a narrow finger at the screen. “This page is now accessible only by you with your password. Any other passwords take the users to the dummy.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.