CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mid morning next day Stanton nosed his Mustang up to the automatic gate entrance to Taggart's Riverside stud Wyong. The gate opened but the security building was locked and deserted. He continued on and parked in the middle of the car park that was also noticeably lonely, an ageing poorly maintained small Japanese car with the windows left open was all that could be seen. The door to the office complex was locked and Stanton could see no one through any of the windows. He then made his way to brick paved stable complex nearby built with ample width stable doors at regular intervals the top half of the door open on most. He checked each stable including the ones that were not open. The odd horse stuck its head out but no sign of a black stallion. He could hear a tractor in the distance and it turned into the complex alley way a young man in the driver's seat towing a single axle trailer loaded with hay. He stopped next to Stanton and shut down the noisy diesel engine so he could be heard. "Good day, looking for someone?"
"Jimmy Cotton."
"No one here at all, Mr Taggart and his staff have gone on holiday. Mr Cotton left in the float yesterday evening and haven't seen him since. I clean and feed the horses every day only live around the corner can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a horse, big black stallion called Flaxmead."
"I saw them loading a black horse into the float yesterday arvo, kicked up a hell of a stink. One of the girls eventually got it into the float and went off with Jimmy Cotton."
"Do you know where they went?"
"No, nobody tells me anything I just clean and feed the horses. That your car the red Mustang."
"Yes."
"I saw it here yesterday, when you left everyone except Jimmy and one of the girls cleared out."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"Not a good idea to ask too many questions around here mate, I just get on with my job and mind my own business."
"I could understand that. If you see Mr Cotton Taggart or any of his staff tell them the guy in the red Mustang is still looking for Flaxmead but hunting for them. I'm going to leave a calling card to make sure they ask questions. Make sure you make the word hunting clear."
The thin short young lad wore a look of concern lifted his Akubra hat and scratched at this forehead. "Hope you know what you're doing mate."
Stanton gave him a wide smile checked the rest of the stables including other parts of the complex then went to his car. He started the engine pulled the supercharger switch on the gear shift lever to engage it floored the accelerator and dropped the clutch. The car spun round in circles with smoke pouting from the rear tyres, he covered the car park in tyre marks then idled down the access road leaving thick black burn marks on the entrance way and main road as he left. "Calling card delivered," he mumbled as he switched off the supercharger and headed sedately to Flametower's property.
Meanwhile Taggart had found out who Stanton really was and knew he was out of his depth by a long way. He had instructed Cotton to take Flaxmead to a trainer in Sydney interested in the horse but and sell it to him for a tidy sum. When Cotton arrived with the horse told the trainer nicknamed the smiling assassin within the industry of the horse's background and involvement with Flametower and Stanton he demanded they leave immediately and was not interested. Cotton went to Taggart's residence in Sydney and an argument erupted between the men. Taggart had rung around but the word was out and no one wanted the flying stallion. He had begun to prepare forged paperwork for the steed but did not file registration now concerned of the consequences. He ordered Cotton to take the horse to a place in the Hunter Valley just below the Barrington Mountains that had been used before to dispose of horses without trace. Cotton a horse man from childhood defended the horse's welfare wanting to return the horse. Taggart threatened Cotton with the release of delicate information that would see Cotton in jail for the rest of his elderly years Taggart wanted the horse destroyed so there was no evidence of the escapade. He would emphatically deny any knowledge of the horse knowing Jessica Flametower was in the firing line should silence any investigation.
Cotton was upset but was forced to go along with the plan, he delivered the horse to Stewarts Brook in the Hunter Valley out in the middle of nowhere. He knew a man called Crow would pick the horse up a meat agent for the local abattoir. Taggart gave the remnants of paperwork for Flaxmead to Cotton before he left knowing if it was found in Cottons position he could implicate Cotton as the perpetrator of the whole thing. Jimmy Cotton went to ground at close friends amongst the vines and coal mines of the Hunter Valley, an elderly breeder and trainer one of the only little guys left similar to a last remaining delicatessen before it was swallowed up by Coles or Woolworths. Taggart stayed away from his Wyong operation going to ground in Sydney. Their lines of communication fell silent, Stanton monitored for communication on Cotton and Taggart's known mobile phones with state of the art equipment with no luck. Cotton had a mobile he used for emergency purposes and gave the number to only people he wished to be contacted by. He had been forced to give the number to Crow to liaison the demise of Flaxmead, Crow could not make the pick up for nearly four days tied up with a long weekend and locked in pick up of the horse the morning of the Tuesday after the weekend. Cotton received a call on his secret number but it was not from Crow, he answered although he did not recognise the number, it would turn out to be one of the most important calls of his life.
Cotton answered with caution. "Hello."
"I'm looking for Jimmy Cotton a Mr Crow just gave me this number in regards to a horse we just observed being abused by Mr Crow and his accomplice."
"Where are you?"
"I have driven towards Scone from Stewarts Brook until I was in phone range."
"Who are you?"
"Bob Fields I'm a winemaker I've been camped with my family at the Stewarts Brook camping ground."
"What did you want with me?"
"We have been looking after a horse, big black stallion with perfect white markings in a yard near the camping ground all weekend and were packing to leave. Mr Crow arrived early this morning attempting to take the horse away. I stopped him beating the horse telling him we were going to call the RSPCA and police. He gave me this number and your name and left without further incident."
"The horse is dangerous don't go near it, it has to be destroyed."
"Dangerous my children have been looking after the horse all weekend and playing with it in the compound. We acquired the key from Mr Crow for the lock on the gate. My children Dylan and Anna are now grazing him in the camping ground and riding around on his back with a halter left here by Mr Crow. I find your comments ridiculous I'm calling the police."
"Wait, you say your children are riding around on his back."
"Yes. Destroy this horse my children would love to have a horse like this. The thought of such an animal being destroyed is ridiculous. Dangerous please." Cotton thought in silence for a few moments.
"I can be there in an hour can you wait."
"Yes, if you're not here in an hour and a half I'll go into Scone and report it to the police.'
"I'm on my way." Cotton gathered the little paperwork he had with Taggart's name on it and took his bill of sale book just in case, he had an idea and upon meeting with the Fields family sold Flaxmead to them for the price Taggart would have got from the Abattoir one hundred dollars. The Fields found a local farm not far from the camping ground and the residence gladly loaned them their horse float on hearing the story. Jimmy Cotton returned to his friends place and could not be traced.
Stanton refused to give up, he tried all manner of things even calling his underworld contacts in Sydney. He found Cotton had gone to ground and not even Taggart could locate him. Taggart heard Stanton was after him and sent a message to Stanton through underworld channels insisting the horse was somewhere hidden by Cotton as Crow had told Taggart what had happened at Stewarts Brook.
Gail Flametower explained the equine registration system to Stanton he began to monitor the RISA site fo
r Flaxmead as Blake told him the horse had an identification chip registered in England under the name Flaxmead. Stanton called some friends in the UK, in a week they came back to him with interesting information. An extended communication between the British horse registration governing body and Australian authority was in progress as an attempt to register a horse called Flaxmead had been made but an Australian bill of sale did not bear the signature of the British registered owner.
Blake flew to Victoria and attended the Racing Information Services Australia in Flemington with his paperwork on Flaxmead. RISA authorities wanted to call the police but Blake remained calm stating he had lost track of the horse and wished to re establish where his horse had been taken so he could better manage the registration process, he did not want an investigation finding Jessica had moved the horse. He was given the names and post office box number of the registration applicants so he could contact them but they would not give a residential address the police would have to become involved for this information. Robert Fields PO Cessnock. Blake was amazed if the horse was with these people it was right on his doorstep.
Blake didn't go to the police but to Stanton who eagerly used his privileged channels to acquire the address attached to the PO Box. Further confusion, there were four PO Box's in Cessnock for R. Fields all with different joint prefixes such as R and M and R and J. They decided to use a process of elimination maybe Cotton or Taggart were still involved in the plot. They would observe the properties from a distance and asses if the places were capable of housing Flaxmead. The address in question were far and wide and enthusiasm turned to despondency as only one more property remained located in Pokolbin not far from the winery now owned by Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington. Stanton stopped on the roadway just short of the access driveway interconnected to the address in question. Despondency turned to elation Blake could see Flaxmead frolicking in the adjacent paddock with two children; he was overcome and fought back tears.
Stanton idled down the driveway trying not to kick up dust and Blake commented how the adjoining property was similar to his back in England where Flaxmead was trained. They idled to a stop in front of the homestead and Marie Fields came out, it was not often they had strangers visit and she had never seen or heard such a car as Stanton's Mustang. They walked to the doorstep on the veranda and greeted Marie.
"Good day," said Stanton.
"Hi are you lost?" enquired Marie.
"I'm not sure were looking for Bob Fields. We need to talk to him about a horse."
Marie looked puzzled and guessed they were selling horses. "That's Anna and Dylan in the paddock with their horse we just got it for them not two weeks ago. Are you selling horses?"
"Yes I'm John and this is Winston, nice horse looks like we've been beaten to it. Who sold you that one?"
"A man called Jimmy Cotton."
"A pet for the kids."
"I think so really they want him to race and win the Melbourne Cup but children tend to have outlandish dreams."
"Could we see the horse it's magnificent," asked Stanton. They walked to the fence and Marie called Dylan and Anna. They came bouncing to the fence followed by Flaxmead who saw Blake and as soon as he caught Blake's scent in the air he reared up and ran to Blake muzzling his shirt with Blake stroking his head.
"My goodness, said Marie. "You are the only man I have ever seen that horse go to."
"I've worked with horses for a long time," said Blake. "He has no need to fear me." Dylan and Anna looked on with frozen faces.
"Could we see Mr Fields," asked Stanton.
"He's at work he's a winemaker," replied Marie.
Blake had the look of disbelief. "Really. Where does he work?"
"Not far away but he wont be back till late, harvest time long hours," replied Marie.
Blake caught Stanton's attention and shook his head just enough for Stanton to notice. He turned away from the fence to head back to the car. "Sorry to have bothered you Mrs Fields well be on our way." They walked back to the car with Marie and Dylan and Anna tagged along.
"Wow is that your car mister," asked Dylan.
"No its Mrs Stanton's here."
"It's got a picture of Flaxmead on the side and front. He looks just like that when he's running along," said Dylan.
Stanton and Blake laughed out loud. "Yes I can see the resemblance myself," replied Stanton. "Your mum tells me your horse is going to win the Melbourne Cup."
"Yes," said Anna. "He will win lots of races local here then the Cox Plate and Caulfield Cup then he gets in the Melbourne Cup."
Stanton was taken aback. "Now there's a plan, I don't know what you're talking about but sounds like a plan."
Blake quickly jumped in. "She's correct, that's a perfect plan. How long have you wanted to do that?"
"She wrote an assignment at school when she was eight detailing how to win the Melbourne Cup," said Marie. "Mr Harper the vet trainer next door actually thinks the horse can do it."
"What's this car called Mr," asked Dylan.
"It's a Mustang, what's your horse called." replied Stanton.
"Flaxmead," replied Anna.
"If Flaxmead was a car I think he'd be a Cosworth powered formula one," added Blake.
"What's that?" asked Dylan.
"Ask your dad when he comes home we have to go." The pair climbed in the lumbering red icon and left as quietly as possible.
Blake was troubled as Stanton dropped Blake off at the winery a hive of activity with harvest. He pulled up on top of a hill at the extremity of the car park on some grass overlooking the picturesque dams that supplied water to the complex and the pair got out. Blake leant on the front of Stanton's car with his behind looking at the gratifying view and Stanton joined him.
"Thanks for all your help john, I refuse to take that horse away from those children."
"You don't have to tell me that, it's written all over your face."
"I feel I've wasted your time."
Stanton chuckled and run the palms of his hands down his face. "Winston, you sound like you don't know me."
"Well I don't really, but I found someone in England that does, how an earth did you stay alive. I was told you know a bit about horses and can ride yourself."
"Oh, I'm not surprised you're a well connected wise man. Doesn't pay to harp on about anything when you need to know everything. The less I profess to know the more I find out."
"Can you tell me what you think of all this I would value your opinion highly."
"Well we can use disasters as tools to achieve goals even if we think we have no control. We can turn adversity into opportunity."
Blake looked quickly toward Stanton then back to the view. "Go on."
"A pom coming over here with a pommy horse and racing off with a swag of cups would encounter a lot of flack from the industry and the public."
"I've thought of that myself but I'm determined to find my daughter."
"There are blokes like Taggart and Cotton around all over the place. Those blokes are at the bottom of the heap. Wait till you start dealing with the aristocracy of the industry. Who knows what they may get up to? They have the media in their pockets as well would be a nightmare just covering your rear end."
I know of the problems and could come up with more but I'm not stopping."
"I've noticed. My wife's a journalist and she gets into more strife than speed Gordon. I know what they can get up to I've been attacked by them plenty of times. Officially when it comes to the point I don't exist, it sells a few papers then they pick on someone else to sell more."
"Agreed. I was a merchant banker, whenever we had bad news about Australian figures we could release the information on the morning of The Melbourne Cup and few people would notice even the media was pre occupied with the event. By mid afternoon half the nation was drunk and those who could stand up were listening to the race. The next day the impact of negative news was minimal. The practice brought my attention to the power of the even
t and I hatched the plan to win the race and find Rose."
"They'll throw everything they can at you. You would suffer all those things and more but if we can convince the media two kids running a horse with a goal of The Melbourne Cup no one would dare go near them. They'd sell so many papers be chased around that much and what about the public. They'd love it, the industry would have to wear it. My wife would medially crucify anyone who put a child under attack even if she was ordered not to by the highest authority."
Blake had a look of stern concentration. "Children can't be registered owners the horse is in their fathers name but keep going."
"Sign the horse over to their father, no one will be any the wiser. If the horse gets to the cup we can make sure you get a story just prior to the race win or loose. When Jodi gets a whiff of the story the point the kids aren't owners on paper wont matter. She can dream up rubbish quicker than I can tip it in the bin. If the one person comes forward you're looking for I'll help you find Rose. Jessica's misconduct and Taggart's blunder may have handed you the key to the cabinet holding the Melbourne Cup."
"Incredible."
Stanton waited for the rest but Blake was silent. "What?"
"I thought of exactly the same thing. I've worked within a hairs breadth of the law to relive people of their money for years sometimes it caused mayhem and I was one of the good guys, the bad ones you dealt with so I hear. John I know you've put you hide on the line for years usually for people who wouldn't let you in the front door any more than they would me. Why?"
"So kids can chase their dreams like winning the Melbourne Cup in relative freedom and I can drive whatever car I please."
"That car is one of your most important tools isn't it?"
"I use it for all kinds of things, least of all a mode of transport."
"Do you think Rose is out there somewhere?"
"Everything tells me Rose Blake is still alive, especially my guts."
"Well let's do it."
Blake attended the Racing Information Services Australia once more produced all the paperwork for Flaxmead, verified his identity and countersigned the bill of sale from Jimmy Cotton. Flaxmead became the property of Robert Fields of Pokolbin. Dylan and Anna's battle for the Melbourne Cup had begun.