Dick Francis - The Danger

'Nothing,' I said. 'Please tell me.'

'Do you want a drink?' he said. 'Scotch? Champagne?'

'No, thank you.'

'We have a public relations firm that handles a lot of things here for us. This is a social week, you follow me? We have a lot of overseas visitors. There are receptions, press conferences, sponsors' parties. We have guests of honour -Morgan was one of those - for whom we arrange transport from the hotel to the racecourse, and to the various receptions, you follow?'

I nodded.

'The public relations firm hires the cars from a limousine service. The cars come with drivers, of course. The public relations firm tells the limousine service who to pick up from where, and where to take them, and the limousine service instructs its drivers, you follow me?'

'Yes,' I said.

'Morgan was staying at the Ritz Carlton, you follow? We put him in there, it's a nice place. The racecourse is picking up the tab. Morgan was supposed to join us at a reception in Baltimore the evening before last. The reception was for the press… many overseas sportswriters come over for our big race, and I guess we do everything we can to make them feel welcome.'

'Mm,' I said, understanding. 'World coverage of a sports event is good for the gate.'

He paused a fraction before nodding. Maybe I shouldn't have put it so baldly; but the public-relations-promotions bandwagon generated business and business generated jobs, and the artificial roundabout bought real groceries down the line.

'Morgan didn't arrive at the reception,' Rickenbacker said. 'He was expected… he had assured me he would be there. I know he intended to say he was glad to be representing British racing, and to tell the press of some of the plans the English Jockey Club is making for the coming year.'

'He was going to speak?' I said. 'I mean, make a speech?'

'Yes, didn't I make that clear? We always have three or four speakers at the press party, but very short and informal, you follow, just a few words of appreciation, that sort of thing. We were surprised when Morgan didn't show, but not disturbed. I was myself surprised he hadn't sent a message, but I don't know him well. We met just three days ago. I wouldn't know if he would be careful about courtesies, you follow?'

'Yes,' I said. 'I follow.'

He smoothed a muscular hand over the white hair. 'Our public relations firm told the limousine service to pick Morgan up from the Ritz Carlton and take him to the Harbor Room in Baltimore.' He paused. ' Baltimore is nearer to this racetrack than Washington is, you follow me, so a majority of the press stay in Baltimore.' He paused again, giving me time for understanding. 'The Ritz Carlton report a chauffeur coming to the front desk, saying he had been assigned to collect Morgan. The front desk called Morgan, who came down, left his key, and went out with the chauffeur. And that's all. That's all anyone knows.'

'Could the front desk describe the chauffeur?' I asked.

'All they could positively remember was that he wore a chauffeur's uniform and cap. He didn't say much. They think he may have spoken with some sort of non-American accent? but this is a polyglot city and no one took much notice.'

'Mm,' I said. 'What happened to the real chauffeur?'

'The real…? Oh, no, nothing. The Ritz Carlton report a second chauffeur appeared. They told him Morgan had already been collected. The chauffeur was surprised, but not too much. With an operation of this size going on there are always mix-ups. He reported back to his service, who directed him to another assignment. The limousine service thought Morgan must have taken a ride with a friend and not told them. They were philosophical. They would charge the racetrack for their trouble. They wouldn't lose.'

'So no one was alarmed,' I said.

'Of course not. The public relations firm called the Ritz Carlton in the morning - that was yesterday - and the front desk said Morgan's key was there, he must already have gone out. No one was alarmed until we had the call from your Colonel Tansing asking about a hoax.' He paused. 'I was at home eating breakfast.'

'Rather a shock,' I said. 'Have all these pressmen woken up yet to the story under their noses?'

With the first faint glimmer of humour he said that things were at the unconfirmed rumour stage, the whole hive buzzing.

'It'll put your race on the world map like nothing else will,' I said.

'I'm afraid so,' He looked undecided about the worth of that sort of publicity, or more probably about the impropriety of dancing up and down with commercial glee.

'You told the police,' I said.

'Sure. Both here in Laurel and in Washington. The people in Washington are handling it.'

I nodded and asked which police, specifically: there were about five separate forces in the capital.

The Metropolitan Police,' he said. 'Sure, the FBI and the Missing Persons Bureau have taken an interest, but they've sorted it out that it's the Metropolitan Police's baby. The man in charge is a Captain Kent Wagner. I told him you were coming. He said I could send you along, if you wanted.'

'Yes, please.'

He took a wallet from an inner pocket and removed a small white card. 'Here you are,' he said, handing it over. 'And also…' he sorted out another card, 'this is my home number. If I've left the racetrack, you can call me there.'

'Right.'

'Tomorrow morning we have the Press Breakfast,' he said. 'That's when all the overseas owners and trainers and jockeys meet downstairs here in the club.' He paused. 'We have a Press Breakfast before most big races in America… have you been to one before?'

'No,' I said.

'Come tomorrow. You'll be interested. I'll arrange passes for you.'

I thanked him, not sure whether I could manage it. He nodded genially. A small thing like the abduction of Britain 's top racing executive was not, it seemed, going to dent the onward steamrollering of the week's serious pleasures.

I asked him if I could make a call to Liberty Market before I went to the police in Washington, and he waved me generously to the telephone.

'Sure. Go right ahead. It's a private line. I'll do everything possible to help, you know that, don't you? I didn't know Morgan himself real well, and I guess it couldn't be thought this racetrack's fault he was kidnapped, but anything we can do… we'll give it our best shot.'

I thanked him and got through to London, and Gerry Clayton answered.

'Don't you ever go home?' I said.

'Someone has to mind the store,' he said plaintively: but we all knew he lived alone and was lonely away from the office.

'Any news from the Jockey Club?' I asked.

'Yeah, and how. Want me to play you the taps they got by Express Mail?"

'Fire away.'

'Hang on.' There was a pause and a few clicks, and then an American voice, punchy and hard.

'If you Brits at the jockey Club want Freemantle back, listen good. It's going to cost you ten million English pounds sterling. Don't collect the money in notes. You're going to pay in certified bankers' checks. You won't get Freemantle back until the checks are clear. You've got one week to collect the bread. In one week you'll get more instructions. If you fool around, Freemantle will lose his fingers. You'll get one every day, Express Mail, starting two weeks from now.

'No tricks. You in the Jockey Club, you've got money. Either you buy Freemantle back, or we kill Mm. That's a promise. We take him out. And if you don't come up with the bread, you get nothing, you don't even get his corpse. If we kill him, we kill him real slow. Make him curse you. Make him scream. You hear us? He gets no tidy single shot. He dies hard. If we kill him, you'll get his screams on tape. If you don't want that, you're going to have to pay.

'Freemantle, he wants to talk to you. You listen.'