Hands Down by Felix Francis

Author:Felix Francis [Francis, Felix]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2022-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Two hours later, while Chico snoozed in an armchair, I watched the racing from Ayr on the television. I also called Simon Paulson.

‘Are you fucking crazy? I can’t tell you that!’

‘Why not?’

I had simply asked him if the horse he had declared to run in the fourth race at Market Rasen the following day, Oscar Mike, the one to be ridden by Jimmy Shilstone, would be running on its merits, or was it to be stopped from winning.

‘Because… because—’

‘There you are,’ I said, interrupting him. ‘There’s no reason not to tell me. So will Oscar Mike win?’

‘Let’s just say it’s unlikely.’

‘No, Simon, let’s not just say that. Have you been told by Anton Valance to ensure it doesn’t win, or not?’

He said nothing.

‘Silence won’t do, Simon. So tell me, is it being stopped?’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly.

‘When were you told?’

‘Yesterday afternoon, after the full declarations were announced.’

‘How?’

‘How what?’

‘How were you told?’

‘Valance called me.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He told me that Oscar Mike wasn’t to win.’

‘Did he say why?’ I asked.

‘No, of course not.’

‘So what did he say? What were his exact words?’

‘He just said two words – Oscar Mike – and then he hung up.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘No. That’s all he ever says. Just the name of the horse.’

He would, wouldn’t he? Nothing obviously incriminating to record there.

‘But I know what he means, all right.’

‘And what’s the phone number?’ I asked.

‘No idea. All it shows on my phone is “No caller ID”. No one else calls me like that. That’s how I know it’s going to be him. Oh, God. What a mess.’

It certainly was.

‘But Valance must surely call you all the time to book Jimmy to ride your horses.’

‘He does, but he uses a different phone for that.’

‘So what’s that number?’

There was a pause while he found it on his phone, then he read it out to me and I wrote it down. It started 07, so was a mobile, hence no clue to where he lived, but it was a start in finding him – a good start.

‘So does he also call Jimmy Shilstone with this mysterious “No caller ID” phone?’ I asked.

‘I assume so. Jimmy knows, all right. I certainly don’t have to tell him.’

‘Where does Jimmy live?’ I asked, slipping the question into the conversation in an innocent way.

‘Malton. Why?’

‘I thought I might go and see him.’

‘He won’t like that.’

‘I dare say,’ I said. ‘But do you have his address?’

‘I’m not so sure I should be giving you that.’

‘So would you rather I called my friends in the BHA Integrity Department to get it? Of course, I’ll probably have to tell them why I want it, and also why you won’t give it to me.’

Simon wasn’t to know that I’d already tried the same tactic once before, to try and get Anton Valance’s address, but without any success thanks to the damn data-protection regulations.

There was a long pause from the other end of the line. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. ‘I wouldn’t want to get Jimmy into any trouble.

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