Ghost Ship by Roger Weston

Author:Roger Weston [Weston, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weston Publishing Enterprises
Published: 2012-07-27T22:00:00+00:00

Heads Up: Thank you for reading this far! The next book in the series, RELIC, is now available on Amazon. Grab a copy today. Now back to GHOST SHIP.

CHAPTER 31

Club Sustantivo

January 7

Standing at the rail, Jake had a nice view of his newly-leased racing facilities. The track had been graded and looked as smooth as the sea on a windless day. He got out a disposable cell phone and dialed.

A woman answered the phone in Spanish.

“Hablo con Diego, por favor?” Jake said. As vice president of Richter’s sporting division, Diego Petri managed a stable of the most successful racing horses in the world. He was a dangerous man because he not only worked for Richter, but also ran his own sports racket on the side. A couple of his athletes had had fatal accidents outside of competition, and there were rumors that they’d been killed for crossing Petri.

“Mr. Petri is not available. May I take a message?”

“I need to talk to him now. Tell him the horse is the stuff of legends and his rider is one of the most famous jockeys in the history of horse racing. My client might be willing to play ball with Mr. Petri, but I need to talk to him now—right now.”

“Hold on, please, sir.”

Jake waited.

A deep voice came over the phone.

“Petri here.”

“Mr. Petri,” Jake said, “my name is Lee Butler. I have an opportunity for you, sir. I can assure you that this is no ordinary proposition.”

“Look, Butler, I’m a busy man, so get on with it.”

“As you probably know, a year ago, the horse racing world mourned the loss of Rodnell Faust, the legendary jockey who died in a plane crash over the Sahara after winning the Dubai race.”

“I recall,” Petri said. “Cargo plane. The horse died too.”

“Yes, very sad. I often think—”

Petri cut Jake off. “I didn’t mourn his death. As I recall, I drank a bottle of Champagne. That guy beat my best horses every time, and he did it with two different mounts. His accident was the best thing that ever happened to me. Just mentioning his death brightens my day, but you better get to the point fast.”

“Rodnell Faust is alive.”

“What? Are you some kind of a nutcase?”

“No, sir. Faust staged his death with the plan of starting a new life in another country with a new identity—and even got plastic surgery. His plan was to ditch the media attention and public acclaim, which had become overbearing and was making his life miserable. The poor guy couldn’t even go to the supermarket without getting mobbed.”

“Poor guy—right. Every one of my jockeys would cut an old lady’s throat to share in half of Faust’s glory. I hear that rat made millions.”

“Well, Faust learned very quickly that living off his winnings was a depressing way to exist. It was great for the first year, but after that, boredom set in, and he began to realize that he either had to get back into racing or he was going to die of apathy.

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