CHAPTER FORTY NINE
Nine days and Flaxmead would run the Melbourne Cup, a race worth six million dollars, now the richest in the world, but to some not as valuable as the cup itself. Harper at last had a horse in three of the ten events on the day, all that was left was the barrier draws.
Kerry Snow was in the middle of coordinating the movement of over thirty thousand people through Thunderbolt, from the hunter valley to Flemington racecourse for the first Tuesday in November, all to see a horse run for three minutes. He encountered the odd problem, for some car pooling worked but for others it didn't. Some wanted to fly and stay in motels others go on a coach arriving on the morning, and some stay for a few days. The only thing everyone agreed on is that they wanted to be there. His primary look into big business opened his eyes, the first day he spent hours attempting to appease individuals from all walks of life with near zero success. The next morning after Okaying it with Keith Richardson, he booked every charter coach he could find, every available plane seat along with every available train ticket using Janeiro Coffee channels. At least now all the transport available would be in control of Thunderbolt to service the valley attendance. Once the information filtered down the system the available transport was snapped up by the multitude of compatriot industry connections in the valley. He rang entities individually informing them of how to access the pool of transport and accommodation facilities, things slowly thinned out. When nearly on top of this he struck the next problem. Thunderbolt membership was free but the badges sold like hot cakes, tens of thousands had been sold, the local supplier wanted to know what to do with all the money. Kerry found a local accountant part of the Thunderbolt network and services were offered free to tackle the problem. His phones never stopped ringing, he had never been in so deep just to help people out, and reminisced on the relatively simple mayhem of the open cut mine. He battled on time was short.
Anna and Dylan at last planned their trip to Flemington, mid week they played with the equine trio and they asked Jessica to rally Mr Stanton for a seat in the horse car. She took them straight to their father over from Loudbark waiting to take the children home at nightfall knowing that it wouldn't happen through the secret squirrel club. He was chatting with Wilson and Bartholomew in the stable living quarter's kitchen. Jessica fronted the pair but they said nothing. "Well, come on I'm not the one you need talk to," said Jessica.
Bob looked puzzled. "What's this all about," he asked as Anna and Dylan stood in front on him looking at the floor.
Anna looked up. "Em, we wanted to go to the Melbourne Cup in the horse car with Mt Stanton."
"Oh I see, and have you asked Mr Stanton about this," enquired Bob.
Anna looked back at the floor. "No."
"Why not?"
"We don't know how?"
"Ever thought of phoning him, I think heed love to hear from you even if you can't go in the car."
"I don't know his number."
Wilson and Bartholomew smiled at each other. "This is an absolutely spiffing idea Anna and Dylan have Bob. We've been told to expect a bumpy ride, not everyone is as happy as us about Flaxmead running the cup. They could go down in the car and come back in the plane with us. That's and experience of a lifetime for them."
Bob Fields activated his phone and pressed a few buttons. He listened until he could hear the call tone and handed the phone to Anna. "Here, ask Mr Stanton yourself."
Stanton pulled his phone from his belt and saw Bob Fields name answering the phone immediate. "Hello Bob."
"Ah Mr Stanton," stuttered Anna.
"Anna, is everything all right."
"Yes, dad gave me the phone so I could ask you something."
"Go ahead love, I'm listening."
"Dylan and I would like to go to the Melbourne Cup in the horse car with you and Jodi?"
Stanton nearly fell over, he had been racking his brain on how to cover this very thing. He didn't put the children out of Renoir's sites. "Jodi and I would love to have you come love, tell your dad I will be there on Monday morning when the float leaves and you can come with us following your dad."
"Thank you Mr Stanton."
"Bye love."
"Good bye Mr Stanton." Anna turned of the phone and gave it back to her father. "He'll pick us up Monday morning when the float leaves."
"That was hard wasn't it?" smiled their father.
Stanton yelled out to Jodi from the garage he was polishing FLAXY1. "Jodi!"
She popped her head around the garage access door at the top of the steps. "No need to shout love I'm right here."
"Oh, I didn't know that, brush up your childminding skills."
"What on earth for?"
"Anna and Dylan will be coming to Flemington with us."
She came to the bottom of the steps looking concerned. "John, is that wise. You've told me nothing about Renoir."
"You know I can't tell you anything love."
"The man help kill our son John I think I should be told what you are doing about it."
Stanton pulled hear close hugging her for a while then looked her in the face. "I've been looking for that man for god knows how many years. Information he has can save countless lives. You know I can't tell you any more than that love."
"Can I expect to see Hurst and Legrande at Flemington?" Stanton stood his ground and said nothing. "It's a horse race John not a god damn battlefield."
Stanton continued to hold his wife and look in her face. "Only the dead have seen the end of war. We must preserve in peace what was won in war. It's obvious I can't do this alone love, I had to ask for help. I can't focus on the team and go after Renoir."
Jodi fought back tears and shook her head. "At least you have your priorities right, did you ask the children to come with us."
"No Anna called me and asked to go with us just now on her father's phone."
"Things have changed John, I'm not scared just sad it comes to haunt us. Well never be free of it."
"If its not me it'd be Cadiche, Anthony, Robert."
"Thank god they're not keen on horse racing John."
"They will have to be told."
"Well make it after it happens."
"I haven't planned anything different but eventually they must be told."
Jodi put her head against Stanton's chest looking to one side holding him tighter. "Thank god we have those children with us, if anything happened to them Id never forgive myself."
"Won't get any better than this love, first time we're doing something like this together."
Anna and Dylan were very excited the time had come for the real thing and they were far from alone. The Greedy Piggy Creek management met to decide who would go not who would stay the day of the cup. The meeting was in the mine board room, casual but pointed, being there had become a must. The room was spotlessly clean but smelt of coal dust and inkjet printers. "I think I should attend because I've driven this thing as positive from the very beginning and need to present our future vision to the gathered, no one will be in the valley to talk to next Tuesday except the ground staff," stated Keith.
Rutland raised his eyebrows, "You've driven it, I was the one who walked out on Crookborn."
"Yeah but I was just getting up when you beat me to it," replied Keith.
"Get real," Rutland leant back in his seat and gestured with his hands. "It's obvious I should go I started the whole thing." John Gifford and Wesley Cleland started chuckling at the pair.
"Perhaps we should go to Markus Makemore for an independent decision," replied Keith.
Wesley broke from his chuckling. "Won't make any difference,"
"Why," replied Keith and Rutland in unison directing there gaze his way.
"Because there's not a plane, coach or train seat available, everything is booked. If anyone's going to go you'll have to drive and that's three days."
They looked blank with wide eyes. "You're joking," said Rutland.
"No, if I was joking you'd be laughing and you're not but I am," replie
d Wesley.
"I thought it was arranged through Thunderbolt," stated Keith.
"No one said anything to Kerry, his ears are working fine but his mental telepathy is poor," he folded his arms. "So if you're driving the traffic jam should start Monday morning.'
"We can't spend three days away, surely Kerry can fix something," said Keith.
"No chance, he's still looking for more seats and accommodation but its all gone. Set to be the biggest crowd in the history of the race," said Wesley.
"I'm going to see if I can fix something but just in case get some big screens in here at the crib huts and one in the muster area for the race when it's on."
"Forget it, every big screen available in the country has been snapped up and most people can listen on the radio or watch on their mobile phone. I got a plane ticket ok and accommodation," said Wesley.
Keith and Rutland looked at each other with long faces then back at Wesley. "What makes you so different in the eyes of Kerry snow," asked Keith.
"Probably the fact that I asked him," replied Wesley.
"But he usually puts seats aside for us in case we want to go, or he has in the past," said Keith.
"Yeah but he's been busy with all this Thunderbolt stuff since you gave him the task and he needed every available seat," replied Wesley.
Keith rubbed his chin pouted and had a think. "I got an idea." He activated his mobile phone and put it to his ear, they waited watching with interest. "Wilson, its Keith Richardson."
"Ahh Keith, getting close now my good man," replied Wilson.
"Yes, look without beating around the bush I have a bit of a problem with transport to Flemington on cup day. Any chance you could help out at all?"
"Mmm, you're the second one today with similar problem, just hang on a touch." Wilson put his finger over the mouthpiece of his phone. "I have Keith from GPC on the phone here Bartholomew, can't get transport to Flemington. Can we help him out, would be a good man to have on hand bearing in mind what could be discussed on the day. Every man and his dog will be there, good lord I'm speaking the local lingo."
"We're going down on Sunday," replied Bartholomew. "We could send the plane back for Tuesday morning as discussed, was going to pick up Clifford and his family but still room for a few more."
"Why not I'll offer it to him, ten in the morning at Williamtown'" asked Wilson.
"Yes, stick with that. Five hours before the race should be ample time," replied Bartholomew.
Wilson took his finger from the mouthpiece of his mobile. "Yes Keith, ten o'clock from Williamtown on the day aboard our plane if that's any good to you."
"Lock it in for me please Wilson that is perfect," replied Keith.
"Its not returning until Wednesday morning, if we win we thought we'd hang around and really rub it in," said Wilson.
"That's fine, what a great idea. I'll be looking forward to this."
"No problem," replied Wilson. "Must go, see you then."
"Thank you," Keith hung up. He looked at the rest of the team smiling. "Being taken down in the eccentric's plane, on the day."
"What! Does that include me," asked Rutland.
"No, someone has to hold the fort."
"How'd you swing that?" pouted Rutland.
Keith nodded with a wider smile. "You have to have influence when you're in my position you know." His face transformed to a concerned frown as he changed the subject. "Now," he quickly looked around and dropped his voice. "What's this I hear about a sighting of the Barking and Romford Toad?"
Anna and Dylan had renewed interest from school friends but had been tainted by rejection. They were conveniently polite but distant. They were whisked away for the weekend by their mother and taken to Shangri La. Was not every weekend you walked the path to a dream. Bob Fields and Graham Harper changed nothing in the lead up to the cup, they remained as busy as they could be Bob spending time at Loudbark working and Graham attending to medial chores around the stables. The float was moved to Shangri La on the Saturday; the media swamped Graham and Bob's residence but were reluctant to push the point at Shangri La. People ambled in and out all day tasting wine oblivious to the fact Flaxmead and the thundering trio were but a few hundred metres away. The float became a tourist attraction when parked at Shangri La, explained to the masses by staff as being on a publicity drive for the cup. However there may have been another reason the media were distant at Shangri La, parked in light scrub on the hillside directly below the sheer faces of the Broken Back Range was a black Hummer. From its position it overlooked the rear entrance and dirt access road. Behind the wheel, a part aboriginal police officer on leave for the duration of the Melbourne Cup. Just inside the main gate of the front access drive, a portentous red Ford Mustang between rows of rose gardens.
From observations, the uneducated would believe that nothing was happening. Three horses wandered along behind two children among vines toward the open paddock below the range. The two children argued about all kinds of things, which side of the horse car would they sit, all important in the mind of a child, the horses occasionally grunted and tossed their heads around deeply involved in the conversation, but mostly they just ran around flat out. Far from the feelings of Jessica, Ross and Graham, they did everything three times and then again keeping busy saying nothing, the stables looked like a new pin along with the float. Bob Fields gave himself so much to do at Loudbark he struggled to remember his own instructions, when really their nerves stood on a knife edge.
It was Sunday morning, Winston Blake, Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington took one last look at things from the Shangri La car park before venturing off to take the initial thrust to Flemington for the Melbourne Cup. They to had fallen quiet, speaking only when really necessary. "Well the time had come gentlemen," said Winston.
"Yes," said Wilson. "Let's get on with it." They all climbed into the Bentley and Elderslie drove sedately down the driveway toward the main road. They stopped at Stanton's car nestled in the rose bushes. Stanton got out, stretched and walked to the waiting Bentley.
Winston lowered his rear window. "You're a dedicated man John."
"I can be here and make sure things are okay or get my arse kicked all round the pool at home, what would you do."
The Bentley was full or raucous laughter. "Understood John, what do you think our chances are?"
"Winning the race, better than eighty percent."
"Good odds coming from a realist," replied Winston.
"Don't get me wrong gentlemen, we have to get there first," added Stanton.
Wilson sitting next to Winston leant over to the window. "We have a few unexpected visitors rolling up from far and wide John, should be interesting. Few rumours from the grapevine what."
"Keep it to yourselves, the walls have ears," added Stanton.
"Don't worry about a thing, you get him there and those kids have won," said Wilson.
"I would rather attempt something great and fail, than do nothing at all and succeed," replied Stanton.
"Where did you get that from John," asked Winston.
"From years of being without my family, I said it to myself every day. Was eventually my wife that made the mistake that brought us back together," said Stanton.
"You spent years trying to jump back into the fire John," asked Wilson.
Stanton had a chuckle. "Jodi would like to be the person she puts over but she fails because she isn't the person she puts over. Things are sometimes not as they seem,"
"Your damn right there John," said Wilson. "We're right on schedule, let's get on with it." Stanton watched the sedate limousine amble onto the road and power off towards the airport.
This Sunday Bob and Graham were saddled with a decision they found harder than most they had encountered. Anna and Dylan's pet dog Pipa, with Anna since she was a baby had become gravely ill. The blue heeler unable to walk and occasionally whimpering in pain would have to be helped into the solace of the eternal sleep. Bobs wife Marie and Graham'
s wife Liz were staying home during the cup and demanded a decision on Pipa be made before their families headed to the cup. They couldn't watch the poor canine member of the family suffer anymore and were concerned it would get worse while Graham was away and unable to do anything. They had all put it off many times because they loved him but now their love was causing Pipa immense pain. Anna and Dylan were spoken to by their father and after an involved consultation a decision was made and they left Shangri La for their home with Graham. They passed Stanton by the gate stretching his legs amongst the vines and stopped to inform him of their journeys purpose. "A nation can be judged by the way it treats its animals," said Stanton.
"You think of that John," asked Bob.
"No, Mohandas Ghandi."
"The Indian civil rights leader from the forties," said Bob.
"You are well informed," replied Stanton.
"You run into his sayings every now and then, I found out about him on the net," replied Bob.
"Information, it can be the death of dynasty," said Stanton.
"Pipa has to go to sleep Mr Stanton, I'm going to hold her, as she sleeps," said Anna looking saddened to the lowest.
"You're courage will be rewarded ten fold Anna, Your dog has never failed you, now you will be there when she needs you most," replied Stanton.
"I feel sick Mr Stanton," added Anna.
"A brave man gave me a poem a long time ago, I don't know if he wrote it or found it. At times like this it helps. Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there I do but sleep, I am a thousand winds that blow, I am a diamond glint on snow, I am the sunlight of ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain, I an the soft star-shine at night, then you awake in the morning light. Although I am at rest, I am the sunset in the west. I am not there I do not die. So heed these words that here I say, I am the love that will guide your way."
"You always have a way of putting things John, thanks for that," said Bob.
Anna cracked half a smile. "Can you write that down for me please Mr Stanton that's lovely, I still feel sick though."
"Today you may fall, tomorrow you will rise. To rise you must first feel the hallow of defeat and loss. Today you lose a much loved friend, tomorrow another may lift you beyond the stars," quoted Stanton.
Bob looked puzzled. "You were once the leader of scared people."
"What makes you say that Bob," asked Stanton.
"Because I'm not scared when you're around," Bob replied.
"We all use different things for comfort, I had a teddy bear when I was a kid," replied Stanton.
"Have you ever felt fear John," asked Bob.
"Fear has its use but cowardice has none, go help your little friend Anna. Although you are scared you are no coward, from the depth of despair you will rise. The rewards of courage have forged the world. You have the freedom to feel the sad loss a reward of courage from the past," added Stanton.
The clan ambled down the road with a wave and a smile in no rush to confront the pending task. Pipa passed peacefully into the night and sleeps beneath the giant gums of Greedy Piggy Creek.
Monday morning the untouchables were loaded for transport to the Melbourne Cup. The only member of the team missing was Lorraine Wells already at Flemington for spring carnival rides and to meet an admirer. Anna and Dylan waited by Stanton's car in the breaking light next to the float, their faces still carved with the despair of loss. They had overnight bags with them but they had to be stowed in the float as FLAXY1 had no room in the boot. Jodi had been informed of the children's misfortune the previous day and was saddened herself. Anna and Dylan surfaced a little more as they discussed seating arrangements in the horse car. Dylan wanted to ride in the front first but Stanton insisted Anna ride in the front, he pushed the respect aspect that should be shown to what he referred to as ladies to Dylan. Dylan insisted that his sister was not a lady, but Stanton mentioned that being a caterpillar did not stop it from turning into a beautiful butterfly.
As the float made its way through Cessnock to the freeway well wishers lined the kerbs and roadside. Gail Flametower was picked up at Freemans Waterhole, Graham was shocked to find a second passenger wishing to attend with the team, the person was permitted to join them. The crowds grew through Sydney and along the Hume highway. Comfort stops concerned Stanton and he stayed in satellite phone contact whilst they were held up. Coach loads of punters were everywhere sounding horns and waving, Stanton expected problems but not until tonight, what kind of problems he didn't know but he remained open minded.
The float drifted off the highway on schedule and pulled up in the Hidden Valley cul-de-sac, Jessica, Ross and Gail ran the horses and night feel without incident. Anna and Dylan were tucked up in bed of a motel directly next to Jodi and Stanton's room. The children had a bad night, Pipa made their hearts ache. In the early light Anna quietly whispered Pipas fate in Flaxmead's ear. The horse recognised Pipas name if nothing else and muzzled Anna under the arm. The horses ran along the golf course boundary as always returning to the floats and all hell was let loose, a police car siren whaling rolled up in the cul-de-sac, a four wheel drive ute raced to the fence on the golf course side of the northern boundary, a man leapt from the drivers seat leaving his door open, and climbed the fence yelling abuse at the team as he approached. "What the hell do you think you're doing, look at the damage to the grounds! Horses are not permitted in the golf course grounds!"
A police sergeant leaving the lights of his police car flashing and his door open confronted the team at the rear of the float. "I'm sergeant Sparrow from the local constabulary, who is in charge here?" Jessica tried to control Flaxmead the police sergeant had got to close. He reared up and let fly with the cry of the banshee. The sergeant drew back. "That thing is dangerous."
Graham and Bob fronted the officer down the driver's side of the float. "Sorry, he gets a bit edgy with people he doesn't know. We've been here several times never had any problems.
The man from the ute in the golf course grounds strutted into the conversation. "What the hell do you think you are doing, you seen the damage to the edge of my grounds," he turned to the police officer. "I want these people charged for damaging the course grounds." His conversation began to be drowned out by the growing roar of a v eight engine, a red mustang drifted sideways into the cul-de-sac. It went round and round in circles the front wheel brakes locked on in a deafening roar up wind of the float no more than twenty metres away adjacent to the police car. The float was engulfed in smoke, the roar just suddenly stopped. The four argues coughed in the airborne pollutant, their eyes watered from the haze.
As it cleared Stanton was standing no more than three metres away, he had a distinct look of displeasure and held a pistol in his hand just behind his leg. "Who the hell are you and what do you want!"
"I should be the one asking the questions," said the police sergeant. "Are these your horses?"
"No, one of them belongs to the two children in my car, they're taking it to Flemington to race in the Melbourne cup," barked Stanton.
The police sergeant slowly looked up at the side of the float as did the ute driver. The sergeant read out loud. "Flaxmead the hunter valley thunderbolt, good god."
The ute driver held his jaw open looking flabbergasted. "These horses are the untouchables?"
"Yes, never mind about that, who told you they were here?" barked Stanton.
"I got a call about half an hour ago from someone," replied the ute driver.
"Who?"
"I don't know, he never gave his name, just told me then hung up."
"Was it on your mobile?"
"Yes."
"Can you see if the caller's number is in your phone please?"
The ute driver fumbled with his phone then read out a mobile number to Stanton. Stanton replaced his pistol out of sight then put the number in his phone but didn't call it, he turned and walked towards his car. The police sergeant spoke to Stanton. "I need to ask you some questions, there's the issue of the dama
ged golf course."
"You've got systems with you use them, I don't have time to muck around," replied Stanton as he walked to his car.
The police sergeant turned to the ute driver. "You'll have to make a statement of complaint for me to proceed."
"Are you kidding, Flaxmead's hoof marks on our golf course the morning before he ran the Melbourne Cup. I'm going to cordon the area off. It'll be worth a fortune. People will come from all over the world to play the course and see where he ran." The police sergeant folded his arms with his eyebrows raised as he listened.
Stanton joined Jodi given strict instructions to hold the children in the car. He let them out to go to the flying trio being walked around on the grassy verge. As soon as they were out of sight he dropped his computer from the roof and cranked it up. In a couple of minutes he had the name of the caller, Idris Nasih. To some degree he was comforted that the marauding villain had felt comfortable enough to use his phone with such gay abandon, had he been suspicious of being traced he would have used a pay phone. He then rang the number thought his satellite system to trace its location, the phone rang, a mobile tower in Flemington Melbourne picked it up, he shut down before the phone could be answered. He quickly climbed from his car to return to the team, the police sergeant alighted from his vehicle at the same time a few metres away. "Your John Stanton why didn't you tell me. I got that information from the radio there is absolutely nothing in the system about you or your car."
"Government filling systems you can't trust them, probably a paperwork era," Stanton spoke as he walked past toward the float.
"All this for nothing," said the sergeant.
Stanton stopped and turned to speak, "Hardly, the phone number was valuable; I'll thank your friend."
"He's gone, busy turning the clean up team he's mustered into a fencing team," chuckled the sergeant.
"Fair enough, if it had been some poor kid running their horse he would have done em, what a hero. Remember there's no signs here, bit like me expecting you to know all about what's going on with no evidence to go by. There are not even any street names up around here," said Stanton as he walked away.
"That's a good point," mumbled the sergeant as he eyeballed the landscape. The police car left the scene.
The team had a meeting then headed for Flemington, Anna and Dylan were drawn by all the excitement. Stanton had just been putting the children in the car at the motel when he received a call from Jessica. They suddenly became super alert as they headed for the hallowed turf of Flemington, it was the first Tuesday in November. The roads were busy to say the least, coaches ambled along the main route to Flemington most were from the hunter valley region of New South Wales. The fully laden means of public transport displayed an easily recognisable sign in the front windows to distinguish the creed, Thunderbolt.
Jodi had freaked out. "Can we dispense with using the red button with the children in the car John," she enquired as they pulled onto the Hume highway behind the float.
"They probably didn't even know any difference, did you guys," replied Stanton.
"What red button?" asked Anna.
Stanton dropped back behind the float a hundred metres, flicked the supercharger on and roared up behind the float switching it back off before anyone could drop in between them. Anna and Dylan shot back in their seats with wide eyes. "That red button," said Stanton.
"Wow, bring on the horse car red button," said Anna.
"Right on," added Dylan.
"John act your age," snapped Jodi.
"I am," replied Stanton. "Ageing is inevitable, growing up is optional."
Anna and Dylan rolled their lips in smiling and shrugging their shoulders. "Where do you get these horse cars Mr Stanton," asked Dylan.
"From a horse car shop," replied Stanton smiling at Jodi who had been squinting daggers his way for some time.
"John," barked Jodi.
"How about a raspberry blowing competition," suggested Stanton.
"Demonstrating red buttons, doing smoky wheelies, conducting raspberry competitions, I'm sure Bob and Marie do not want their children returned as juvenile delinquents John," added Jodi.
"Just broaden their horizons a bit love," suggested Stanton.
"Mum and dad won't let us do raspberries, but we do them in secret," said Dylan.
"Well let's hear how good you are," asked Stanton.
Dylan looked at Anna, she giggled under her breath and nodded. Dylan let fly with a conservative raspberry. "How's that Mr Stanton."
"Pretty good but I'm sure you can do better than that, Jodi will be referee and decide who does the best raspberry," stated Stanton.
"Don't you include me in this disgusting display of bohemian depravity," replied Jodi looking out the window as the scenery flashed by, she had turned her head as she was trying not to giggle.
"I'll start then," said Stanton. He let fly with a sheet flapping raspberry fit for the Olympics.
"Wow," said Anna and Dylan in unison.
"Wow, that's awesome," said Anna. "Ill never beat that."
"Have a go," said Stanton. Anna blew as hard as she could. By the time they reached the outskirts of Melbourne, Jodi had been declared the winner of the raspberry blowing competition. Pipa was no longer just buried by the creek in their garden but had been forever etched into their hearts as raucous laughter every time the sun rose in the morning.