A short blast of sooty exhaust puffed from the tailpipe, followed by clean fumes as the engine revved, the tires gripped the dirt track, spewing the reddish dust behind the treads and sending the red Ford 4x4 pickup truck, forward. The winged racing gates folded to the sides of the pickup bed as the vehicle sped away from the trailing pack of horses and sulkies, signaling the beginning of the race.
The tall brilliant night lights that loomed above the track and the club house stands, cast a surreal glow over the raceway. Misty fog hovered like haloes around the lights as the heat from them turned the crisp fall night air into lingering translucent clouds. The crowd began to roar as the horses abruptly lurched forward; each one trying to get a head start on the others. Whips snapped, cart wheels whirred and leather tracings crackled. Hoofs pounded out a steady staccato of stabbing drum beats into the loose dirt of the track as the horses legs moved laterally, right front and right behind, then left front and left hind legs striking the ground simultaneously, for these were pacers. Trotting horses had raced early on in the evening, but this was the final race of the day; the main event for pacers and a mile long run for the eight entries. The jockeys leaned back on the bikes between the two large bicycle wheels; their legs spread far apart on the forward bars. Silk colors of red, blues, greens, orange, yellow and all their combinations flashed in the light from above as the participants rolled past the spectators in the stands, and jockeyed for position.
Shards of light reflected off their goggles that were snugged tightly to the driver’s faces protecting them from the wind and horses’ tails that streamed out behind them as they increased the speed.
The announcer’s voice was muted in the overhead speakers as he rattled off the changing lineup, exuding as much excitement as he could to keep the audience thrilled. Out of the gate, the drivers were all vying for the lead, then as they tried to avoid being boxed in, they seemed to separate into two lines, one on the rail and one on the outside.
Nightshade Rajah, a sleek black in the purple colors, raced to the front on the outside in a first over position, ahead of the others, taking an early lead with an initial burst of speed, followed by Sundown Courage, Ruling Prince, Whitewater George, Ebenezar, Quarter Moon, Vivatar and Kentucky Flower, At the turn and into the second quarter mile, Sundown Courage pulled in behind Nightshade Rajah, racing with cover on the outside, while Ruling Prince rolled in along the rail, claiming the pocket and securing a garden trip. Whitewater George and Ebenezar swung wide to the outside; the jockey pulling sharply to the right and sneaking him in front of Whitewater George. Quarter Moon, Vivatar and Kentucky Flower continued along the rail with Vivatar caught in the death hole as the third position on the rail; a spot difficult to break out of.
As they neared the far turn in the third quarter mile, Ruling Prince had moved ahead on the rail, edging ahead of Nightshade Rajah, Whitewater George had broken away from Ebenzar and pulling ahead of him to close in on the leader. Kentucky Flower was quickly losing stamina and had fallen back far to the rear, allowing Vivatar the room he needed to break out of the death hole and pull to the outside, increasing speed and closing in on the three lead horses. The jockey, repeatedly, struck his whip across the sulky shaft, making noise to urge Vivatar onward. The line of horses and bikes, almost side by side in front of him held him back from breaking through.
As they entered the final quarter mile it was a three way race. Vivatar was still barred from moving up and the others had fallen back, totally out of contention. All three horses battled it out with increasing speed; each one momentarily taking the lead and then another.
The crowd was going wild. Cheers and yells filled the crisp night air and the announcer’s voice was drowned out. The noise reached a new level as Whitewater George broke stride and started to gallop. The jockey immediately hauled back on the leathers, slowing the horse and pulling to the outside, trying to force him to regain his stride.
It only took a few moments, but the break was enough to allow Vivatar to pull through the opening and draw abreast of Nightshade Rajah and Ruling Prince. Whitewater George pulled back into the track trapped in Vivatar’s old spot.
As they neared the finish, Nightshade Rajah started to lose ground. Ruling Prince pulled forward to take the lead with Vivatar close behind by a half length. Coming into the stretch, it was Ruling Prince by a neck, then by a nose, and as they flashed passed the finish line, the crowd was screaming with wonder. Photo finish! The crowd would not know the results until the judges had ruled.
When the results were finally announced, Vivatar was proclaimed the winner. The unknown horse; the longest shot of the day had brought in the money.
The darkness of the night and the silence left by the absence of the crowd cast an eeriness over the clubhouse and grounds. The brilliant track lights were extinguished now, leaving the track in deep shadow behind the club house. Lights from inside the building were burning bright and floodlights lit the grounds in front of the clubhouse.
The armored car pulled into the circular drive and stopped by the awning covered walkway that led into the front entrance. The driver shifted into reverse and backed into a driveway that paralleled the walkway, and stopped a few feet from a pair of steel double doors and killed the engine.
The uniformed driver and his attendant guard hopped from the cab with pistols drawn. They moved to the rear of the vehicle and swung the back panel doors open. The two iron doors to the clubhouse swung open and were held secured in place by two uniformed track security men. Six more security guards followed through the opening; two going to each side of the walkway and two went to the front of the truck, to stand guard. All were armed. More security guards lined the hallway inside the club house as two more security men carried heavy metal containers to the armored car and lifted them inside. They returned to the clubhouse two more times until they had loaded a total of six containers.
The entire operation took but a few minutes. When all was secured, the driver and attendant climbed aboard and drove off into night with the day’s receipts as usual. But, there was something different about this pickup. The driver smiled coyly at his companion as they drove off down the road. Neither said anything to the other for a full ten minutes. Behind them, the hulking shape of the raceway clubhouse faded into the distance, blending into the lonely stretch of empty land surrounding it, for it had been built in a rural section, far from any busy towns or cities. After three miles of straight driving, the armored car came to a stop at a four way stop sign. The driver looked in all directions. As usual, there was no traffic at this time of night on such a lonely stretch of road. The land spread out in a flat plain in all directions.
Here, the armored car always made a left turn, heading toward Buffalo. But tonight, the driver chuckled as he whipped the wheel to the right, stepped on the gas and drove speedily toward a different destination.
After a mile, the truck turned left onto a narrow winding dirt road that led back into a wooded area which hugged both sides of the road. The truck bounced on its springs as it dropped into chuck holes and bounded over rocks of varying shapes and sizes. Speed was greatly diminished at this point, but eventually the road smoothed out as it emerged from the trees. A little further on, the truck pulled over to the right through what appeared to be a patch of tall grass, but as the vehicle negotiated the turn, it was obvious that here was a two rutted tractor path leading down into a valley surrounded by high wooded hills. The trail wound downward until the truck emerged into a clear meadow which had the remnants of a mowed hayfield.
The armored car came to a halt in the meadow. The engine went silent and the headlights went out. From across the meadow, two head lights came on momentarily and then went out. Two more times, they flashed. The armored car’s lights came on once again, then off, then on again. Then went black.
The sound of an engine starting across the field broke the stillness of the late night air. Then, the headlights came back on and stayed on
this time. The armored car driver and his companion smiled to each other; their excitement growing by the second as they watched the oncoming headlights approaching; two golden orbs in the darkness bouncing about as the coming vehicle negotiated the rough terrain.
From the top of the hill to the east, a lone hunter sat at the edge of the woods. He had one boot off and he was rubbing the blister on his left foot. The boots were new and hardly broken in. He had been tramping these woods for several hours with two companions, who had gone on without him, while he cooled his foot. The dogs had treed a raccoon someplace deeper into the woods and his friends had headed off toward the barking.
As the hunter started to put his sock back on, he saw head lights of a vehicle descending into the meadow below. More hunters? He thought. Pretty late at night to just be starting out. Maybe they had been hunting elsewhere and decided to try their luck around here.
He watched as he smoothed his sock into place and lifted his boot. The vehicle rolled to the floor of the valley and stopped. The lights went out. The hunter was beginning to lace his boot when he saw the headlights flash across the field. The first vehicle returned the flash and the second vehicle rolled forward.
Odd! The hunter thought. He picked up his . 30. 30 shotgun and crawled further out of the woods to get a better vantage point.
From the beams of each of the vehicle’s headlights, the hunter could finally make out the shape of an armored car and a pick up truck. What the hell was an armored car doing out here? He crawled forward again, peering into the darkness.
He watched while two men emerged from the cab of the armored car and another got out of the pickup. He heard the men laugh as they greeted each other, but their conversation was muted by the distance and he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
After the brief greeting the three men got to work. The two men from the armored car opened the rear panel doors while the other man lowered the tailgate to the pickup. He then stepped aside and let the armored car men do all the work of unloading metal containers, carrying them to the pick up, and placing them in the bed of the truck.
When they were finished moving the containers, the pickup truck driver climbed into the back of the truck and rearranged the load and spread a canvas over it. One of the armored car men went to the cab and came back to his partner, who held his hands out toward him wrists together. What the. . . . ? It looked like the one man was wrapping something around the other one’s wrist. Duct tape! He was wrapping duck tape! Then the man was on the ground and his legs were being wrapped with it.
The man from the pick up, hopped down and took the duck tape from the standing armored car man, who now held his wrists out, while his wrists were wrapped. Then he too sat on the ground while his legs were wrapped.
They’re robbing the armored car, themselves! The hunter thought to himself. And they’re making it look like they were robbed! But wait, what’s that?
The pickup man had returned to his truck and retrieved something from inside the cab. He left the driver’s side door open as he strode back toward the two men on the ground. In the beams of headlights, the hunter could see the man was carrying a rifle or shotgun. It was too hard to see from this distance.
The man raised the weapon to his shoulder, aiming down at his two accomplices. The hunter could hear the excited protests from the bound men as they realized what was happening. A double cross!
The weapon boomed twice, recoiling against the man’s shoulder. A shotgun, the hunter realized. His heart pounded and he could hardly believe his eyes. The two forms on the ground went limp. A silence replaced the booming echoes that died out across the meadow.
The shooter went to the armored car, reached through the window on the driver side door and extinguished the head lights. He now became a shadow moving back to his truck. He tossed the shotgun onto the seat and climbed in after it. The engine kicked into life and the truck drove off.
The hunter continued to watch as the truck navigated its way up the same track that the armored car had taken down into the valley. From his vantage point, on the high hill, the hunter watched as the headlights disappeared into a wooded area. A moment later, the headlights reappeared on the road above. The truck turned right and continued on; its tail lights gleaming red in the darkness.
A short distance down the road, the vehicle turned and the lights disappeared from view once again for several seconds. The light of the headlights winked again through the darkness. Then again. The truck appeared to be on a winding route that descended downward.
An old abandoned quarry was in that direction! The thief must be going down into it, the hunter thought to himself.
*****
Chapter One