‘I can’t see why you don’t just go straight to the racing authorities and tell them what you’ve found out. Both these men you spoke to have clearly broken racing’s rules and surely they deserve to suffer the consequences.’

The Royal Navy, throughout history, had always erred on the side of harsh punishments rather than forgiveness. Perhaps Charles would also want me to advocate flogging them both with a cat-o’-nine-tails.

I was baffled by his position, and not a little annoyed.

‘Come on, Charles, be reasonable. Can’t you appreciate that these two men are victims here, rather than true rogues? If I go to the authorities now, the real villain will inevitably walk away unscathed and he would simply coerce more trainers and different jockeys in the future to do his dirty work.’

I don’t think Charles was convinced.

‘So who is this despicable arch villain?’ he asked sardonically.

‘It’s a man called Anton Valance but, other than what Marcus and Simon told me yesterday, I have no real evidence against him. And I don’t believe either of them would tell the authorities what they’ve told me anyway. They would simply deny all of it to save their own skin. And what Gary Bremner said to me would quite likely be inadmissible because he’s now dead. Any accusations he made might be thrown out as just hearsay. That’s why I didn’t mention Valance’s name to the police. I need far more proof first.’

‘And how do you intend to get it?’ Charles asked cuttingly.

‘I’m not sure yet, but I’m working on it.’

‘Why are you telling me this now?’

‘So that you can tell the police if anything happens to me.’

‘As a result of those two men who came here last night?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Exactly that.’ I swallowed, realising what I was saying. ‘Tell me, Charles, how is it that evil men are able to recruit heavies to illegally beat people up? I couldn’t do that. Could you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just watch any of the James Bond movies. The bad guys, Ernst Stavro Blofeld or whoever, seem to have a whole army of willing helpers who are prepared to get shot, stabbed, strangled, or blown up by 007, and for what? A bit part in destroying the world?’

‘But that’s only fiction,’ Charles said with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s just made up.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But it seems to be true in real life as well, especially if these two goons are anything to go by.’

He waved a hand. ‘It seems that some people will do anything for money.’

He was so right, but how much money had the balaclava pair been paid in order to kill Gary Bremner?

And how much more would they need, I wondered, for them to also kill me?

CHAPTER

19