Felix Francis - Dick Francis's Front Runner

‘I’m sure she’ll wait,’ I said. ‘Now, who is blackmailing you?’

He sighed. A big heavy sigh that had all the weight of the world on it. He slumped down onto one of the kitchen chairs.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking down at the table. ‘I really don’t know.’

‘What hold does he have over you?’ I asked.

He lifted his eyes to my face. There was fear in them. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

I thought about Bill McKenzie and the sex photos.

‘Have you been sleeping with another woman?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said emphatically, standing up and bunching his fists. ‘How dare you!’

‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘Calm down.’

So it wasn’t tax, and it wasn’t adultery.

‘Willy, we have to go.’ His wife came down the hall into the kitchen and she was quite cross.

‘Where does your mother live?’ I asked her.

‘Didcot,’ she said flatly.

‘Then, Mrs Mitchell, why don’t you go on alone, with the children. I’ll bring Willy there shortly in my taxi. I have to go to Didcot anyway, to catch the train back to London.’

She didn’t like it. She looked at her husband.

‘Good idea, love,’ Willy said, clearly not giving her the support she was hoping for. ‘You go on. You know how much your mum is looking forward to seeing the girls. I’ll be there soon enough. In plenty of time for lunch.’

She opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it again, turned on her heel and marched out. She slammed the front door behind her.

Willy went to go after her. I moved to block his way.

‘Tell me what you know,’ I said to him, ‘and I’ll do my best to get you out of this mess with your career intact.’

He stared through me as if I weren’t there.

‘How did the blackmailer contact you?’ I said. ‘Was it by phone?’

His eyes refocused on my face and he nodded. ‘A man called me here one night, straight out of the blue.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked me if I loved my twin girls,’ he said. ‘I ask you. What sort of question is that? Of course I love them. I absolutely adore them and I’ll do anything for them.’

He paused. What father wouldn’t?

‘And?’ I said, encouraging him to go on.

‘The man said I had to do what he asked or he would make sure that I’d lose them. He’d have them taken into care.’

His voice broke and there were tears in his eyes. He was really nothing more than a boy.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘No one can arrange to have other people’s children put into care just like that.’

There was a long silence.

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Tell me, then,’ I said.

There was another long silence. He audibly sighed.

‘Do you know what the sex offender register is?’ he asked.

‘I’ve heard of it,’ I said.

He sighed again.

‘I’m on it.’

Now it was my turn to be dumbstruck. There was no mention of that in his BHA file.

‘Four years ago, I was convicted of having sex with a child.’

I stood and stared at him, waiting silently for him to go on.

‘I was seventeen and the girl was fifteen. She became pregnant — that’s how they knew we’d done it. At first, they said they wouldn’t prosecute me, but I refused to promise not to see her again.’ He looked up to the heavens. ‘Bloody silly that was. Anyway, I was found guilty and sentenced to three months youth custody, suspended for two years. I was also put on the sex offender register for five years. I’m still on it.’

‘What happened to the girl?’ I asked.

‘I married her,’ he said. ‘You’ve just met her. Amy was pregnant with the twins. We are so much in love and everything was going brilliantly, until this happened.’

‘Why is someone able to blackmail you over it? The information must already be in the public domain.’

‘The man on the phone said that, unless I did as he wanted, he’d fix it for another girl of fourteen to make a complaint to the police that I’d been having sex with her.’ He swallowed. ‘I told him that was a lie. He said it didn’t matter. With my record, the social services would believe it and they’d take the twins away. The man told me I’d never get to hold my little girls again.’

He was in tears once again. Whether or not the threat was real, Willy Mitchell clearly believed it to be so.

‘Does Amy know about this?’ I asked.

‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘Well, of course she knows about the register and all that. She was in court when that happened. She told the judge we were madly in love and that we were getting married as soon as she turned sixteen, but he took no notice.’ The judge would have been bound by the law, I thought, and a suspended sentence had been quite lenient. ‘But she doesn’t know about the call from the man, or about the race at Newbury.’

‘Isn’t it time you told her?’ I said.

I dropped him at his mother-in-law’s house before going on to the railway station.

‘What will happen to me now?’ he’d asked me in the taxi.

‘Nothing for the moment,’ I’d said. ‘But call me straight away if the man contacts you again.’ I’d given him my business card.

He’d nodded. ‘OK.’

‘Tell me,’ I’d said, ‘how did you pass the criminal records check?’

The BHA would have done such a check as part of their ‘fit and proper person’ test before issuing him with his first licence to ride.

‘I got my jockey’s licence when I was sixteen. Before all this happened. One of the advantages of being only seventeen was that my name was never revealed in the press. Ever since, whenever I’ve applied for a renewal, I’ve answered no to the question on criminal proceedings.’

Which was also a breach of BHA regulations, but that was the least of his problems.

‘Luton?’

‘Yes,’ Henri said on the phone when she called on Sunday evening. ‘We have to check in at Luton Airport on Wednesday morning at eight thirty.’

‘I’ll take the train from London.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m coming with Uncle Richard. We’ll pick you up from the airport station at eight o’clock.’

‘I didn’t think flights across the Atlantic left from Luton.’

‘Ours does.’

I hadn’t seen her for six whole days. It felt like six months.

‘You do still want me to come, don’t you?’ I asked.

‘Of course I do,’ she said earnestly. ‘Why on earth did you say that?’

‘It’s just that we have hardly spoken this last week, even on the phone.’

‘That all ends at lunchtime on Tuesday,’ she said. ‘That will be my last event for the year, thank goodness. After that, I’m all yours. I promise.’

It sounded delicious.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘What do I need to bring with me? Suit, dinner jacket?’

‘Good God, no,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Shorts and T-shirts mostly. It’s very casual. But bring some long trousers and a couple of decent shirts to go out to dinner.’

‘Do I need a jacket and tie?’ I asked.

‘You shouldn’t.’

‘I’ll pack them anyway,’ I said.

Smart clothes were a bit like nuclear weapons — better to have them and not need them, than to need them and not have them.

‘Don’t bring too much,’ she said. ‘There’s a weight limit on luggage. We can only take one suitcase each.’

Flying from Luton Airport and a luggage limit of only one suitcase.

I had visions of us being cramped together on a knees-to-the-chest charter flight for ten hours. But, as long as I was with Henri, I wouldn’t mind a bit.

As I put down my mobile, it rang again. This time it was Detective Inspector Galvin.

‘I thought you would like to know that Gary Banks was remanded in custody by the magistrates,’ he said.