Chapter 6: CHAPTER FOUR (Part 2)

“So why are you telling me all this?”

“It’s not fair to the other owners,” she said. “The ones who can’t pay to have the programs changed are at a disadvantage. Actually, it’s not fair to those who play by the rules.”

“Why don’t you go to the Jockey Club?”

“I’ve tried. They won’t believe me. They told me Equine Electronics is a highly reputable company, and they can’t see any reason why it should be investigated. Everything there is totally random. Totally random.” She snorted, a sound he found rather unladylike.

“What we need is proof,” Tony said.

He leaned back, tried to remember if he had seen the girl in the computer room at Equine Electronics. Maybe, maybe not. About half a dozen African-American girls worked in the computer room. Right now, he was more concerned with why she would take a chance coming here, that Equine Electronics wasn’t as pure as a new-born baby. What he wanted to do was tell her good bye so Tony could take Dawny Lee to the training track for some much-needed exercise. He wanted the filly to run six, maybe seven furlongs before dark. He also wanted to hear what this young woman had to say.

“I could check the programs for the horses that have won the big stakes races,” she said. “Maybe I can find some sort of pattern.”

“So where are you in this... chain of command, if I may call it that?”

“I’m... a bit further down from the top, but higher up than the ordinary worker. Let’s start with Worker A who puts in part of the program, the number of races for the lifetime of the horse.” She chuckled. “Lifetime? That’s a bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it? Anyway, Worker B does some calculating and puts in the number of wins. Worker C—”

“I think I get it.” Why hadn’t Forster given him more details, especially number of races, wins, losses... “So one worker doesn’t put in all the programming?”

“Where would that lead to? A programmer could give the horse, let’s say, twenty wins, with twelve wins and eight seconds, and then bet on him... You get the picture?”

“Yeah. So where do you come in?”

“I’m one of the inspectors. I’ve recently been promoted to senior inspector so that gives me a little leeway. The workers hand the programs to me, and I make sure everything’s on the up and up, as it were.”

“But you don’t...”

“Like I said, I’m one of the inspectors there, and I assure you, I have never tampered with any programming...”

“But do you have the authority to... revise the programming if you feel several workers have conspired to give the horse unreasonable numbers?”

“I have that authority.”

He tapped his fingers on the desk. “But if the program is locked, how can you change it?”

“It’s lock, unlock, lock, unlock, until the inspector, the last person to see the program puts in the final lock, and whatever is in that program that’s basically the... horse’s racing life... if I can call it that.”

“I think I get it.”

Tony reached into his pocket, brought out a stick of foil-wrapped gum. “Janine knows all about Dawny Lee, and she is willing to help us.” he unwrapped the gum, popped it into his mouth.

“If I find a horse that has too much of an advantage,” she said, “I have to show the inspectors above me. A horse can’t have ten wins in ten starts, there have to be seconds, thirds, losses...”

“So we won’t see another Secretariat, or American Pharoah, or Zenyatta,” Gilbert said.

“There might be, but it’ll be rare.”

“If I’m considering Dawny Lee for a race, I want it to be an honest race.”

“Most of the races are honest.”

“How few?”

“If even one horse in a race has its programming tampered with that makes it a dishonest race.”

“The rich win, the poor lose,” Tony said, munching on his gum.

“Most of the time,” she said. “Once in a while the little guy wins, the one with one or two horses...”

He walked out from behind his desk. “If I agree to whatever you’re thinking of doing, I want to know exactly what you’re going to do.”

She ran a hand across her short black hair. “I’ll check the programs. That’s all I can do for now.”

“So let me get this straight. Basically, what you’re saying is that while the program is being passed from hand to hand, it is... flexible, I guess.”

“You seem a little confused, Mr. Gilbert. Each worker in charge of his program cannot change it once he ... or she has locked it, and passed it on to the next worker. The only ones who have the authority to change anything are inspectors like me.”

“And once this programming has been... finalized, that’s it? He has his racing life mapped out.”

“That’s right, up to a point.”

He was afraid to ask what this was leading to.

She waited a moment, shifted in her chair. “Anything that can be changed will be changed up until there is no more time left to change anything. I think that’s one of Murphy’s laws, but I’m not sure.”

“How many inspectors are there, including you?”

“Twelve.”

“And they’re all trustworthy?”

“They’re supposed to be, but you never know.” A brief smile flashed across her face, revealing white teeth.

“Do you work independently?”

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“Yes. That way we’re not influenced by each other.”

Tony took the gum out of his mouth, plopped it into the waste basket beside Gilbert’s desk.

“I don’t think I should be here,” the girl said. She glanced left, right, as if someone were watching. “Inspectors are sworn to secrecy, and I think I already revealed too much.”

“Don’t get into trouble,” he said.

“If they’re not going to play fair,” Tony said, “why should we?”

“I won’t lower myself to their level.”

“I’ll tell you what I can do,” she said. “I’ll check the horses coming up on my next shift, and see which ones look a little... too good.”

“I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“No trouble, Mr. Gilbert. It’s my job.”

He didn’t want to hear any more, but he couldn’t help it. Despite his limited knowledge of computers and programming he found all this talk fascinating.

“What makes my job so... authoritative is that if I find a program that shows too many wins for a particular horse I can modify it so the win-loss ratio is more reasonable. If the owner expects his horse to win the next nine or ten races in a row he’ll get a big surprise.”

A sign of recognition lit up his eyes. “I think I get it. So the owner suddenly finds his star equine is losing more than he wins, but he can’t complain or he’ll incriminate himself.”

“That’s right. He’s not supposed to know what’s in the horse’s head. If he does, he’s out, suspended for life.”

“If you’re thinking of doing something... you know, what happens if they catch you?”

“They won’t,” she said. “I have A-1 clearance which gives me access to all the computers, all the programs. Anyway, I’ll give you a report about the horses your horse might have a chance against, and which might beat her.”

“Dawny Lee is still training.”

“That’s all right. It’ll take some time.”

“She’s two years old,” Tony said.

“In that case, I’ll just consider two-year-old fillies.”

It was still light enough after she had gone to give Dawny Lee a bit of exercise. He told Tony to take it easy with her, but at the same time not to let her get away from him.

“Why don’t you restrict her to six furlongs?” Tony asked. “I think she’d make a great sprinter.”

“Her sire and dam ran the distance,” he said.

Tony guided the filly to the starting gate. As usual, she was eager to run, dancing, pirouetting under Tony before he managed to calm her down. She pricked her ears as her attention focused on the track.

He readied the stopwatch, shook his head, wondering if he should go through with this. Maybe he was wrong, trying to stretch Dawny Lee beyond six, seven furlongs. She could be a great sprinter, beat some of the best artificial horses, at least those with honest programming. As a distance runner she’d have a major problem. She simply refused to be rated. She'd run like a mouse chased by a cat for four, five furlongs, then simply fold to a virtual standstill after six. Equibase comment: Dawny Lee charged to the led, led by a wide margin until the eighth pole when passed by the eventual winner, ending... what? Last? Second last? Grasping for a major share of the purse would be out of the question.

He was ready to blame Tony, pushed the thought aside. His exercise rider had a solid reputation. He’d been riding horses since he was five, knew how to handle even the most stubborn thoroughbreds.

Dawny Lee might be a different story.

She stood in the starting gate, waiting. As soon as the gate snapped open she was already in high gear as she dashed past him. If this were a real race she’d be leading by about five, maybe six lengths, trying to reach the finish line before the others caught up with her. At this moment her backers would have something to cheer about. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be cheering long.

“Ease her,” he yelled at Tony, but only the wind paid attention. “The fractions are too fast.” He grabbed a handful of graying hair, growled like a hungry tiger.

Dawny Lee was still running as if a wildcat was in pursuit.

He followed her progress with his binoculars, forgetting about the stopwatch. Sure enough, after running like the wind for about five furlongs she tired. Slowed to a crawl. Hello, horses passing. Nice to see you. I thought it would be over but I guess we’re still running.

He glanced at his stopwatch. Hadn’t pressed it after five furlongs. He didn’t need to see her time. Too fast, much too fast.

“I've made up my mind,” he told Tony later in the office. “She’s going to be a sprinter. I’m wasting my time trying to get her to run longer than seven furlongs.”

“She needs more training,” Tony said.

“She’s had training. I’m going to New York tomorrow. Think you can handle things by yourself?”

“Sure.”

“You can take Dawny Lee out tomorrow,” he said. “She could use a change of scenery.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. When he reached the door he turned around. “Mr. Gilbert?”

“Yes?”

“If you manage to get Dawny Lee to the track who’s going to ride her?”

“I haven’t given it much thought. Now that Luis Cortez is riding the artificial horses for Reynolds...” He regretted bringing up Cortez’s name. The young Panamanian had told him he’d go ‘where the action is,’ and the action was Reynolds’s farm.

“I’ll take her down to the river,” Tony said.

“That’s nice.” His mind was somewhere else, in some happier time.

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