The Mandarin Stakes : House of Cards meets horse racing, with a dash of The Crown by Sam O'Brien

The Mandarin Stakes : House of Cards meets horse racing, with a dash of The Crown by Sam O'Brien

Author:Sam O'Brien [O'Brien, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Felix Francis, Irish Crime, mafia, Dick Francis, Horse Racing Thriller
ISBN: 9781781993972
Publisher: Poolbeg Press
Published: 2020-12-15T22:00:00+00:00


* * *

Back in the hotel that evening, Charles was changing for dinner. Rupert appeared from the adjoining room with a gin and tonic.

“Not much taste out of this,” he said, sinking into a chair.

There was a knock at the door. The two men exchanged gloating smiles.

Charles opened the door on a stony-faced Ling.

“Been watching home movies?” said Charles, shutting the door behind Ling. His guards remained outside, blocking the corridor.

Ling cleared his throat. He remained calm. “Firstly, you have got it all wrong. Despite what you have caught on camera, I am not gay.”

Charles couldn’t tell if he uttered the word in a tone of embarrassment or disgust. “Hmm. Now look here, Ling,” he began, wearing a pleasant, thoughtful expression. “It might be difficult for your Committee, and indeed your population, to understand your point of view when they see, all over the internet and the world’s media, my brother giving you a fucking blow job!” His cheerful tone gave way to a thunderous roar.

Ling jumped, startled. “I–I, was a drunken young man, taken advantage of by your brother.”

Rupert let out a chortle. Charles wagged a finger. “You’ve got me there. Jamie always loved to try it on with anyone new. However, once I publish the footage and it’s verified as you – which it will be, you’ve hardly changed at all – nobody’ll give a shit about the details. You’ll be disgraced and your career will be over.” He clicked his fingers. “Just like that.” He cocked his head to one side, feigning a puzzled look. “Do they still shoot gays here?”

Ling opened his mouth as if to speak. Charles cut him off. “Or do they just expect you to commit suicide?”

Ling stared at the wall for a moment. “Charles Buckham, I’ll see what I can do. I will consult with the more liberal factions in the National People’s Congress at the forthcoming annual meeting, starting March fifth. It will also be a suitable opportunity to test the waters in the Standing Committee. I will suggest gambling centres on the facilities in Tianjin and Wuhan along with other centres in certain rich suburbs of Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou. Will that be satisfactory?”

“I suppose it’ll do for a start.” Charles had to concentrate to suppress an ecstatic smile.

“However, you must assure me one thing. When Guo Qingling makes his visit to London in June, nobody will mention a word of this to him. It would be catastrophic for me – for all of us. I will find a way forward, but it must be found and structured before he learns of it, because he is the principle obstacle that we must manoeuvre around.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Guo’s coming to England again?”

“Yes, for a trade agreement in mid-June.”

Charles shot a glance at Rupert, who narrowed his steely eyes. “I will expect to hear from you before then,” said Charles.

Ling nodded rapidly three times, his smile wider and toothier than usual. Rupert thought he noticed a glint in the man’s eye.

Charles grabbed the door handle.



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