Chapter 13: CHAPTER TEN

The Saturday crowd numbered ten thousand more than the usual throng spending their time here, winning, losing, debating the merits of this horse or that horse. Today they’ve come to see a real flesh-and-blood thoroughbred, a filly named Dawny Lee run against one of Duncan Reynolds’s horses, a lab-created facsimile of a thoroughbred named The Tigress. The three-year-old artificial horse had won the Eclipse Award last year, mainly based on her performance during the first half of the year. During the latter part of last year and most of this year she had not done as well. Her last three starts ended in ignominious defeats.

Dawny Lee, on the other hand, had yet to run in any kind of competition. Excluding the brief moment she spent running a workout, this would be her first venture on the track, her first, and possibly last race.

The bettors made the Tigress an overwhelming 1-10 favorite. Confident that the artificial horse would have no problem demolishing Dawny Lee. One reporter remarked that the Tigress should be able to run twice around the mile track and still pass Dawny Lee both times.

The TV station broadcasting the race sent out a reporter to interview the owner-trainer of Dawny Lee, but Gilbert was reluctant to talk to anyone. He’d talk to his horse, encourage her to try her best. He had already talked with her jockey, and he knew exactly what had to be done. When the insistent reporter stuck a microphone in his face, he pushed it away, telling the man to come talk to him after the race.

With ten minutes to go until post time both horses walked on to the track to warm up. Dawny Lee was warming up in earnest while The Tigress just put in an appearance, staring at the adoring crowd. Panamanian jockey Luis Cortez sat aboard his horse, as confident as the horse he was riding. Cortez, a temperamental jockey, hated losing more than anything, and this attitude had cost him a number of fines and suspensions.

The track caller announced the horses: Dawny Lee was Number 1, the Tigress, Number 2. Dawny Lee’s owner and trainer: David Gilbert. The Tigress’s owner and trainer: Duncan Reynolds. One million dollars to the winning horse.

Gilbert watched Dawny Lee’s warm up, wondering if he wasn’t a complete fool for going through with this. A foolish old man. That’s what Lorenzo had called him, and maybe he was right.

Too late now. He had committed himself, and he would see this through. Win or lose. Only problem was, if he lost, Reynolds would rub it in, reiterating that real horses had no business on the track.

And if she won? He erased that thought out of his mind.

Reynolds sat beside him in one of the clubhouse seats, holding a fat hot dog in a sesame seed bun, smeared with mustard and relish. “Good seat, Gilbert. You can watch my filly cross that finish line thirty lengths ahead of your horse.”

He kept his eyes on Dawny Lee.

“I hope you told your jockey what’s expected of him. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to Miss McNally.”

“If you’ve harmed her...”

“Tut tut tut.” Reynolds waved a free finger at him. “The girl has been well treated. No one has laid a hand on her. After all this time she’s almost a welcome guest.”

“I guess she’s in one of your buildings.”

Reynolds took a large bite out of his hot dog, gobbled it down. “It stands empty now. Not much use for it anymore, I’m afraid.”

“Why’re you doing this? Thirty lengths. Where did that come from?”

“I want to humiliate you,” Reynolds said, “and by extension, your horse. She doesn’t really know anything about humiliation, but when she loses today by that margin, it will... knock the winds out of her sails, as they say. I want to prove that a horse like yours is no match for someone like The Tigress... or any other artificial horse.”

“Dawny Lee is a maiden.”

“You don’t think that’s fair.”

“No, I don’t.”

“A little too late to bring out one of my first timers.” Reynolds moved further down to another section, three rows from where Gilbert was sitting.

With a couple of minutes to go to post time Gilbert stood up and looked at the people around him. Tony waved while trying to negotiate his way around three large men. “I’m nervous,” he said when he reached Gilbert. “Aren’t you nervous?” He sat in the seat Reynolds had recently occupied.

“Janine McNally is as good as dead,” Gilbert said, wished he hadn’t.

“You mean...”

“I don’t think he’s going to let her go even if The Tigress gets her thirty lengths. She knows too much, she’s seen too much.”

“One minute to post,” the race caller announced.

“Listen, Tony, I want you to do me a big favor. Call the police... not here, somewhere out of the way. See if you can get a hold of a Lieutenant Ken Collins. He knows me. Tell him to send a team to Reynolds’s farm. If he asks questions tell him you saw Janine McNally there, tell him anything to get him over there. The building with the red... the light red roof. He’ll know what I mean.”

“I want to watch the race.”

“You don’t want to see Dawny Lee get beaten by thirty lengths, do you?”

Tony rose. “Good luck, sir.”

“Tell Collins... tell him... I don’t know.” He sighed. “Tell him you have reason to believe that Janine McNally is being held against her will on Duncan Reynolds’s farm. If they keep asking questions...”

“Anonymously?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to say my name. Then they will ask me a lot of questions.”

“Just make sure they get to Reynolds’s farm.”

“All right.”

“Take the truck, head over to Reynolds’s farm... at a discreet distance, of course. When they’ve found her, and she’s ok, phone the track. Tell whoever answers to relay a message over the PA system. David Gilbert, please come to administration. That way I know she’s safe, and security here can deal with Reynolds. I think there’ll be a number of charges waiting for him.”

“Yes, sir.”

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“You have your cell phone... charged?”

“Yes, sir.”

Two fillies, one alive, breathing, the other synthetics, wires, computer chips, were guided by two jockeys, one confident, the other unsure, into the starting gate.

This shouldn’t be happening, he thought. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbed his hands down to his cheeks. He looked at Reynolds’s balding head. Humiliation, that’s what he wanted. He pictured piles of hundred dollar bills, with tiny wings on each side, flapping away into the sky.

The crowd was hushed as they waited for the gates to open. When it finally did to the race caller’s ‘And they’re off’ both horses surged out on to the track, neck and neck. He wasn’t surprised to see Dawny Lee in the lead. The performance charts of The Tigress showed she had never been headed in a race, so this must have come as a surprise to her. Even in her last three races she led most of the way until the rest of the competition caught up with her.

By the time they headed into the clubhouse turn Dawny Lee had opened up a ten length lead on The Tigress. He hoped she wouldn’t tire after six or seven, but that hope would fade in less than a minute.

Reynolds jogged up the steps. “You’re asking for it, Gilbert. What the fuck did you tell Tavela?”

“I told him to do his damnedest.”

“Miss McNally can kiss her future good bye.”

“Get out of the way, Reynolds. I’m trying to watch the race.”

Reynolds turned. “Shit,” he yelled. “Shit shit shit.” Patrons nearby stared at him. “Come on, Tigress. Come on, you damn bitch, you can do it.” He turned to the fat man in the seat in front of Gilbert. “What the hell you looking at?”

Dawny Lee was tiring, that much was obvious. The ten length margin had been reduced to five, and The Tigress was slowly gaining on her opponent. By the time they reached the final turn Dawny Lee’s lead had been sliced to three lengths.

“We’ll still win,” Reynolds declared. “Maybe not thirty lengths...”

The Tigress ran within two lengths of Dawny Lee. Breathing on her rump... if she had the ability to breathe. Gaining... gaining... almost neck and neck.

Moments later, when The Tigress had finally pushed her nose in front of Dawny Lee she suddenly slowed to a turtle crawl, as if Cortez had slammed on the brakes.

“Damn,” Reynolds swore. “First I’ll kill that damn jockey, then I’ll kill that little bitch.”

Gilbert glanced at his cell phone. How long would it take for the cops to get out of Reynolds’s farm? A life depended on it. He had the urge to get in touch with Tony, but didn’t want to disturb him if he was on his way to the farm.

He was waiting for the announcement.

“Didn’t think it’d be this close,” he said. Dawny Lee was still trying her best, even though she was tiring. After a mile, a damn mile, something she had never done before.

“You did this,” Reynolds yelled, ignoring others nearby. “You and that McNally bitch. Won’t feel so smug when she’s dead.”

The homestretch might as well have been a mile long. Two fillies, one tiring, one almost crawling, both trying to find renewed energy. The Tigress was now four lengths behind Dawny Lee. Through his binoculars it looked as if Luis Cortez was almost crying as he begged his horse for just a little more.

Reynolds’s farm wasn’t that far away? Where were they?

The fillies struggled to reach the finish line. Dawny Lee was still leading by a length, but the Tigress, responding to Cortez’s urging, came up beside her. Gilbert’s binoculars showed Cortez smiling.

“David Gilbert, please come to Administration,” a female voice called over the PA system. “David Gilbert to Administration.”

“You lost, Reynolds.” The smile felt like sunshine.

Shortly past the sixteenth pole The Tigress, now refreshed, rushed ahead of Dawny Lee, crossed the finish line a head in front of the filly.

Reynolds glared at him, stalked up the steps where two burly officers stopped him. “Duncan Reynolds, you are under arrest for kidnapping, and program tampering.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gilbert walked up to Reynolds. “Didn’t take me long to figure out when you talked about a building not used anymore. The breeding shed. Not much use for it now. Except to hide a kidnap victim.”

“At least I had the satisfaction of watching your horse lose. And the five hundred grand you put up will go into my pocket.”

“You’ll need a good lawyer.” He turned, stopped. Without turning back he said. “Did she really lose?” He faced Reynolds. “Well, yes, she did. But I’m not disappointed because I’ve just seen that she can run. At least a mile.”

“You’re supposed to go to Administration,” Reynolds said.

“Oh, that. I told Tony to contact the track, and have them page me, once Janine McNally was ok. I think your goons are facing a number of charges as well.”

Peter Chapman trotted down the steps from clubhouse. “That was a good race, Gilbert, a really good race. As for you, Reynolds, whenever you get out of prison, don’t ever show your face here again. You’ve been banned from the Jockey Club, and you are permanently banned from running your horses anywhere in North America.”

“Maybe she just needed a horse to run with her,” Gilbert said. “And a good jockey. She was ahead of The Tigress for most of race, wasn’t she?” He nodded. “Yes, a mile. I’m pleased.”

‘She did that with McNally’s help,” Reynolds grumbled. “If that little bitch hadn’t messed with The Tigress’s program your horse would have been passed at the quarter pole.”

Too bad it was only short term. “The Tigress may have won,” he said, “but you... you’ve made a big mistake, and you’re on your way out of the business. Seeing you like this satisfies me just as much as Dawny Lee’s great race.” He turned and headed down the steps where his horse was waiting for her jubilant owner.

The End

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