Outside Chance (40 page)

Ben regarded him thoughtfully and a suspicion began to crystallise into certainty.

‘My God! It wasn't Stefan at all, was it? It was you. You came to England in his place! Truman said there were some discrepancies with the papers, and no wonder! All that stuff you told me about Stefan was lies!'

On the periphery of his vision, Ben saw András and Miklós tense, like dogs straining at the leash, but Nico held a hand up.

‘No. I told you the truth. Stefan – my cousin – died in a car crash.'

‘But before he was supposed to come to England, not after. Am I right?'

Nico nodded. ‘He was on his way here and I was with him.'

‘You were in the car when it crashed?'

‘Yes. I was only seventeen and very . . . what is the word? Naïve? I was naïve and I thought if I came to England with Stefan I could be a jockey too; after all, I could ride just as well as he could. So I hid in the back of his car under some blankets. I would have been discovered sooner or later, I suppose, and I expect he would have refused to take me any further, but at the time I didn't think of that. I could only think of coming to England. But he never found out.' Nico's expression was sombre. ‘I was sleeping when the car crashed. It was very old – I forget who it belonged to. It went off the road and rolled over and over down a hill. I hit my head and when I woke up I could see that Stefan was dead. I think maybe the blankets saved my life.'

‘You told me there was a fire.'

‘Yes. I was cold, shivering. I had to walk, so I put Stefan's jacket on, and in the pocket I found his papers. His passport and work permit, travel tickets and a letter from Truman. Stefan had been working in South Africa and the photograph on his passport was five years old. We were cousins but we could have passed for brothers. One Hungarian Romani looks much like another to the Gadje. It seemed the obvious thing to do.'

‘You set fire to the car?'

Nico shrugged.

‘He was dead. And it is, after all, the Romani way.'

‘And Jakob knows about this?'

‘Of course.'

András touched Nico's arm and spoke rapidly in either Hungarian or Romani, gesturing towards Ben. It wasn't necessary to understand the spoken words to know that he was becoming impatient.

Ben ignored him.

‘And Truman didn't suspect?'

‘I think, not at first. And then I started to win for him and people were patting his back. I think, then, he didn't care. He had what he wanted and so did I.'

‘Well, you took one hell of a risk, and it paid off handsomely. And if you'd kept your hands off his daughter, you could have ridden the Derby winner.' Ben shook his head wonderingly. ‘What on earth possessed you? Surely you knew how jealously he guards his daughters?'

‘I thought I was in love,' Nico said ruefully. ‘First love; I was thinking with my trousers.'

‘You can say that again. Did you never try to contact Helen?'

‘I sent letters, she never wrote back to me. But then, what could I offer her? She didn't even know who I really was.'

So Nico had known nothing of the baby. Ben had thought as much, but he had no intention of telling him; it wasn't his place to do so. The decision must be Stephen's, and the waters were muddy enough on both sides at the moment, without stirring them up even more.

‘You didn't tell her your real name?'

‘No. I kept that much sense, at least.'

‘Well, considering the nature of the crime I think you got off amazingly lightly, by Truman's standards,' he observed.

Nico's face hardened in an instant.

‘You think I got off lightly? What did Truman tell you?'

‘That he threatened to turn you over to the authorities. He said he hounded you out of the country.'

‘And did he tell you that he sent two men to put me on to the plane? Did he tell you what they did to me first?'

Ben shook his head and waited.

‘My brothers aren't the only ones who have skill with the bullwhip. When I was a child we would all train together. I took my whip everywhere. I brought it to England with me. It was hanging on the back of my door when they came to my room.'

‘Oh, God!' Ben murmured, with dawning horror. ‘And you think Truman ordered it?'

‘He was there. He watched,' Nico said tonelessly.

‘But I don't understand. You went home afterwards? You let him get away with it?'

‘Because he said I would go to prison if they ever found out I had stolen Stefan's papers, and I was young enough to believe him. And . . . I was ashamed.'

Ben sighed, finally understanding the depth of Nico's hatred.

‘So now you steal his horse and hold it to ransom. But you didn't pick up the money. Why? Did you know the police were watching?'

‘We never intended to take it; that was to mislead – to give us space to breathe. This isn't about money,' Nico stated. ‘The plan was only ever to stop the horse running. I knew that would hurt Truman more than anything. He only cares about winning and that's the one thing his filthy money can't buy. He took the Derby away from me; now I will take the Cheltenham Gold Cup away from him. It is justice.'

‘And then what? What did you plan to do with King after that?'

‘Set him free – that was always the plan – and, one day, tell Truman who did this to him.'

Ben took a deep breath.

‘And now?'

‘And now?' Nico spread his hands. ‘Now I don't know. Why did you have to come, Ben? You have spoiled everything. And what am I to do with you?'

His tone was soft – almost whimsical – but Ben wasn't fooled. The semicircle around him hadn't wavered. He glanced at them each in turn. Tamás
appeared troubled but András and Miklós looked purposeful; it was hard to equate them with the bumbling clowns that were their alter egos.

He looked back at Nico.

‘You have to let me go, you know.'

‘To run to Truman with your tale?' he muttered bitterly. ‘After all these years, to come so close. Nine days is all we need. If you go to Truman . . .' His eyes pleaded.

Ben's gaze was steady, though beneath the surface he felt far from it.

‘You have to let me go,' he repeated, trying an experimental step forward.

Before he knew what was happening, András had stepped forward and shoved him backwards with enough force to send him crashing into the metal gate. It screeched and rattled, and the two or three horses that still waited in curiosity threw up their heads and shied away.

He spread his arms to regain his balance, temper rising, and found András waiting for him, his hand on the stock of his whip.

Ben took a deep, calming breath and nodded at the weapon with its lethal, twelve-foot lash.

‘If you use that, tell me how that makes you any better than Eddie Truman?'

‘András!' Nico's tone held a warning.

‘Or perhaps you have a gun?' he said, remembering Rice's account of the hold-up.

‘Those guns were for children – toys, bought at the market,' Nico said scornfully. ‘We are not killers!'

‘Then I can go?' Ben didn't take his eyes off András.

‘Of course.' Suddenly Nico sounded weary and defeated. ‘Let him pass.'

After a moment's hesitation his brother moved reluctantly back.

‘He'll ruin us.'

‘So, what do you want to do? We cannot keep him here.'

András made a muffled sound of sheer frustration and turned away, stubbing the toe of his boot into the peat and sending up a spray. Miklós and the vet looked on in gloomy silence.

Ben walked slowly between them, breathing a shaky sigh of relief as his way to the door was finally clear. Then, two or three paces on, he turned.

‘I can help you, you know. If you'll let me,' he suggested tentatively.

Nico had been staring at the ground; now he raised his head but with little visible optimism.

‘How? Will you keep our secret?'

Ben shook his head.

‘No, and even if I did, it would do no good. One of the policemen is suspicious. It's only a matter of time before he guesses the truth. You must give the horse back.'

Miklós laughed harshly.

‘And this will help? They will of course just stop looking? I think not.' He broke off and muttered disgustedly in his own language.

Nico nodded.

‘My brother is right. It won't work. Truman will never give up.'

‘I know this policeman, he's a friend. I'll talk to him. He's a maverick, a loner, and he knows what kind of man Truman is. It's worth a try.'

‘And Truman wins.'

‘He'll win anyway. This way, maybe you won't lose.' Ben scanned their faces but his words didn't seem to be making any impression.

‘Nico, can't you see? You can't win. And if they catch you with the horse, you'll go down and in all probability, so will I. If you hand him over to me, I might just be able to carry it for you.'

‘I say it's because of you this policeman suspects us – you have led him to us,' Miklós declared, jabbing an aggressive finger in Ben's direction.

‘You may be right,' he admitted. ‘But not intentionally. I wasn't sure myself, until tonight.'

Miklós muttered something in his own tongue and turned away.

‘How would we do it without being caught?' Nico asked reluctantly.

Ben was careful to hide his relief.

‘We'd have to work that out, but I thought maybe an anonymous tip-off to one of the papers, that sort of thing. If you said you'd only hand over to me, and specified no police.'

‘And they'd do that?'

‘You bet they would! What a scoop!'

‘Oh, and of course you get the glory,' Miklós put in.

Ben looked at him.

‘Someone will. It might as well be me.'

‘You will trust him?' It was András this time, urgently pulling Nico to face him. ‘Tell me why? Why should we trust him?'

Nico stared up at his brother and shook his head, the strain showing in his eyes.

‘Because . . .'

Behind Ben, another voice spoke.

‘Because he's here,' Jakob stated calmly. ‘Because he could have sent the police but he came himself.'

Nico whipped round to look at his uncle, then became very still.

‘You heard.'

Jakob nodded. ‘Most of it. And I cannot be glad for what you have done, even though I understand why you did it. Your trouble is now trouble for all of us.'

‘It is right that he should pay,' Nico said defiantly. ‘What he did to me, he did to all of us.'

‘And is it right that Ben should also pay?' Jakob asked gravely. ‘What is his crime?' His frown wandered over each of them, coming to rest accusingly on Nico's brothers, who began to look very uncomfortable. ‘This is not our way. Ben is our friend.'

‘So why come in the dark to look at the horse?' Miklós wanted to know. ‘Why does he not speak to us?'

‘Because I came here hoping I'd got it all wrong,' Ben replied. ‘I told myself even you wouldn't be so crazy as to steal a valuable racehorse and then parade it before the public, three or four nights a week.'

‘And if we hadn't caught you, what then?' Miklós was still wary. ‘The police?'

‘I think I would have told Jakob. But now I know the whole story I want to help you, if I can; but you have to do it my way.'

Jakob nodded. ‘We will listen.'

‘OK. Well, if Truman gets the horse back in time for the race then maybe, just maybe, he'll concentrate on that for the next few days and not so much on the hunt for you; especially if there aren't any more leads. Er . . . no further clues – information,' he translated, seeing blank faces. ‘As far as he's concerned, Stefan Varga – or the man who took his identity – died in a car crash in Hungary. You have what, two more shows here, and then you move on to Bath. There'll be no reason for him to make the connection and, with any luck, the police won't either. With Cajun King back where he belongs, I should imagine it would be difficult to prove he was ever here.'

He looked at Nico.

‘You don't agree?'

‘No. No, my friend, it's not that. I'm sorry. It's just . . .' Nico put both hands to his head and groaned. ‘I hate that he should win.'

‘Give me the horse, and I'll give you another way to hurt Truman,' he promised. ‘We Gadje have a saying;
There's more than one way to skin a cat
. You have to trust me.'

Nico looked round at the others. Tamás and Miklós nodded their agreement and András shrugged but continued to look mulish.

His dark eyes found Ben again.

‘We will trust you,' he said at last.

When Ben finally got back to his car it was almost two o'clock in the morning and the pace of the past couple of days had well and truly caught up with him. He hauled himself into the driver's seat
by way of the steering wheel and collapsed back against the upholstery with his eyes closed.

After a moment, with an encouraging word over his shoulder to Mouse, he started the engine, put it in gear and let the handbrake off; every action pulling on one sore muscle or another. Swinging the Mitsubishi round in a U-turn he headed for the field gate, the vehicle bouncing and rocking over the frosty grass.

The hand that landed none too gently on his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin. He slammed the brakes on and simultaneously reached round, grabbed the wrist of his attacker and pulled hard.

Logan grunted as his upper body jammed between the headrests and the roof of the vehicle.

‘Good move!' he observed approvingly, through gritted teeth. ‘What now?'

Relief flooded over Ben.

‘I've absolutely no idea,' he admitted, releasing his grasp. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?'

‘Waiting for you,' the policeman said calmly, rubbing his upper arm. ‘You don't take prisoners, do you?'