He stared up at me. ‘Tapes it, doesn’t he? Our conversation. With his phone. Even takes a secret video of me counting the notes after he tells me to check that he’s given me the right amount. Slimy bastard. Sees me coming a mile off.’

‘And now he’s blackmailing you?’

He nodded, dropping his head down into his hands.

‘How did you get involved with him in the first place?’

‘Flattered, wasn’t I,’ he said miserably. ‘Who’d have thought a top agent like him would be interested in me? He calls me last summer after I won a couple of races on the same card for Mr Kline at Hexham. Tells me he thinks I am going places and he wants to act for me. He isn’t the only one, mind. Two or three other agents also pitch for me to join them, but he’s offering the best terms.’

‘Eight per cent instead of 10?’

‘That’s right. Seems like a good deal. And it was, too, at least for a while.’

‘So when did it change?’

‘Last October. He rings me and tells me that I’m not to ride a specific horse in a conditional riders’ race at Sedgefield that I’ve already been booked for. I ask him why, but all he says is I am not to ask why or to contact the trainer, nor to answer my phone. I just have to not turn up at the races.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I don’t go. I sit in here and watch it on the telly. There’s a right hoo-ha, I can tell you. My phone is ringing on and on all afternoon but I don’t answer it. Mr Valance tells me that if I don’t do exactly as he says, he’ll not book me any rides and he’ll make sure I don’t have any future in racing.’

He was on the verge of tears, but he held it together.

‘Then he comes and sees me, all apologetic, like. Says there was a bit of a mix-up with the trainer but now it’s all sorted.’

‘So it wasn’t one of Noel Kline’s horses?’

‘No. It was one of Simon Paulson’s.’

And what was it that Simon had said to me about the trainers’ premium?

It’s easier just to pay.

He clearly knew from experience what to expect if he didn’t.

CHAPTER

16

APART FROM CHECKING once briefly on Rosie, I spent nearly three hours with Marcus Capes, mostly listening to his pitiful tale of woe, but also watching the afternoon’s racing from Wetherby on his television.