Felix Francis - Triple Crown

‘Is there any common denominator at all between the three?’

‘Not that I have found. As far as we can tell, they weren’t ever in the same place together. They had different training schedules so they didn’t even use the track at the same time.’

‘There has to be something,’ I said. ‘Assuming the incubation period was the same as for the latest case, they must have all been infected on the Sunday or Monday before the Derby.’

‘But how?’ Tony asked.

‘If there was no accidental coming together of the three,’ I said, ‘then there has to be another virus carrier that did come into contact with each of them on that Sunday or Monday.’

‘But other horses would surely also become sick.’

‘Not if it was deliberately targeted at those three,’ I said.

‘How?’ he asked again. ‘You can’t lead an EVA-infected horse over to three separate stalls in completely different parts of the backside and get it to snort some virus into the noses of only those three specific horses. You would have been seen and stopped for a start. And the virus doesn’t live long outside the body so, even if you could transfer the infection with nasal droplets, those would have had to come from an infected host, so where’s that horse?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said forlornly.

It was frustrating.

The only thing we knew for sure was that the three horses had somehow been infected — there was no doubt about that.

‘Anything else to report?’ Tony asked.

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Other than to say that the life of a groom is bloody hard work. I ache all over.’

He laughed.

‘It is not a laughing matter,’ I said.

‘Then let’s get a FACSA raid sorted so that you can get out of there. Have you found anything suspicious for us to search for?’

‘Not yet. I’ve been so damned busy doing the job.’

He laughed again.

‘Give me a while longer,’ I said. ‘I’ve already seen some evidence of the drug regime Raworth uses but I’m not sure if it breaks the rules. I’ll have a proper scout round and see if I can spot anything else. It would be much better if I could actually find something dodgy going on rather than you just making it up. If Raworth is tipped off about an upcoming raid, there would only be a major reaction if he was really doing something wrong.’

‘OK,’ Tony said. ‘I’ll do nothing yet. Will you call tomorrow?’

‘I’ll try. If not tomorrow, then Saturday.’

‘Harriet and I are out to dinner with friends that night, but you can call earlier if you want. I won’t be at work Saturday.’

I would , I thought.

This Saturday was an important day at Belmont Park. It marked the annual running of the Man o’War Stakes, one of the major races of the year for horses aged four or over. It was named after the great champion racehorse and sire of the 1920s, and George Raworth had two runners.

‘Enjoy your dinner,’ I said to Tony and we disconnected.

I had walked well away from the track kitchen to make the call and now I started to return.

I didn’t make it.

There were four of them and Diego was their leader.

The Puerto Rican mob.

‘ No toque Maria, gringo! ’ Diego shouted at me. ‘ Dejarla sola! ’

They didn’t wait for me to reply.

Instead, they rushed at me before I had a chance to react, two of them grabbing me by the arms and a third placing his arm round my neck from behind. I was trying to crouch down and make the target as small as possible but the man with the headlock hauled me up straight. The two holding my arms then spread my legs wide with their feet.

Diego ran up and kicked me hard in the groin, scoring a direct hit on the family jewels.

The pain was excruciating, running up into my abdomen and right down to my toes.

The three men behind let go and I collapsed to the dusty ground, tucking myself up to try to ease the fire that was now raging between my legs.

‘ La próxima vez, te mataremos, ’ Diego shouted, and he drew a finger across his throat in case I hadn’t understood his Spanish.

As a parting gesture he gave me a kick to the side of the head, then he and his friends laughed, turned away and walked off, leaving me curled up in the dirt.

I lay on the ground for quite a while, unable to do anything other than draw up my knees and wait for the tide of pain to ebb away.

Why people think it is funny when a cricketer or baseball player gets hit in the nuts baffles me. There’s nothing funny about it at all, especially when it has been inflicted on purpose, as in this case.

I heard someone approaching and was worried that Diego and his chums were coming back for another go.

‘ Estas bien? ’ said a voice from above me.

Still holding my knees, I rolled onto my back and looked up. It was Rafael and he stared down at me with deep concern in his eyes, shocked to discover that it was his roommate lying at his feet.

‘You OK, Paddy?’

I tried to smile at him. ‘Yes, OK,’ I croaked.

He held out a hand to help me up but, in spite of it still being quite early, Rafael was already the worse for wear with drink and I almost pulled him over on top of me.

Being on my feet didn’t seem to help the pain much, and I was hardly standing upright. Instead I was crouched down on my haunches.

Gradually the intense pain subsided, replaced only by a dull ache and a feeling of nausea that made my skin feel cold and sweaty.

Rafael was still concerned by my appearance.

‘You sick,’ he said, slightly slurring the words. ‘I fetch doctor. You go hospital.’

‘No,’ I replied quickly. ‘No doctor. No hospital.’ I forced myself to stand up straight, and then I smiled at him. ‘I’ll be OK now.’

Rafael didn’t look convinced by my bravado and I wasn’t entirely sure I was either. I did worry that Diego had done some real damage to my nethers, but doctors and hospital would have required such awkwardnesses as my real name and payment, neither of which I was prepared to give at the moment.

If things didn’t improve with time, then I’d seek medical help, but not yet.

Rafael and I made our slow way back to the bunkhouse, me walking delicately with my knees spread wide apart like a cowboy who’d spent too long in the saddle, and him holding on to me for support.

I went along to the shared bathroom and delicately examined my privates. Everything was very tender but at least it all appeared to be in the right place and there was no blood in my pee, which was encouraging.

‘Who do this to you?’ Rafael asked when I went back to our room.

‘I didn’t see,’ I lied.

‘You call policía .’

I shook my head. ‘No police. It would only make things complicated.’

He looked at me with a quizzical expression.

‘More bad,’ I said, and he nodded, steadying himself on the bedpost.

Rafael then lay down on his bed and went straight to sleep while I carefully climbed up onto the bunk above him.

Calling the police was not an option. For a start, it would blow my cover, but mostly it would be a waste of time. It would simply be my word against those of the Puerto Rican four who would all swear it wasn’t them and each one would give the other three an alibi.

Diego and his chums had actually been rather clever, either inadvertently or on purpose. They had used the right degree of violence to seriously hurt me, but not enough to cause any lasting harm. I didn’t think the police would be interested, and I was quite sure they wouldn’t have arrested anyone. Indeed, I was convinced that going to the police would have placed me in greater danger of receiving a repeat performance, and I had absolutely no desire for that.