Declared Dead

'Do you mean he's not going to print it?' I asked, not trying to hide my astonishment. It had never occurred to me that they might not publish it.

'It's not that bad. I think I've persuaded him that it's a better front page lead than PIN MONEY TO BE THE HOUSEWIFE'S FRIEND.' (Pin Money was the ante-post favourite for the race.) 'He's now phoning the lawyers to see what they think and knowing that bunch they'll be seeing problems here there and everywhere. I can hear it already: 'How can you prove this, Mr Thackeray? How do you know Victoria Pryde is telling the truth? How did you obtain entry to Musgrave's offices? What! By posing as government officers? Did you know that you were committing a criminal offence? Have you put these allegations to Mr Musgrave and Mr Brennan?' '

'Will they kill it?'

'Probably not. Old Carlton actually hates lawyers – I think his brother-in-law is a solicitor – and at the end of the day he prefers to act on instinct. Just feels he has to go through the ritual of consultation to keep the proprietor happy. Shit, look at the time! Do you mind if I start writing the copy and then we can go through it together? I think we ought to have a photograph of you to adorn it and I'll just call up the picture library to get one of Brennan and Musgrave as well, if we're lucky.'

An hour later, after a lot of cussing and swearing and discarding of paper, James ripped the final sheet triumphantly from his typewriter and handed the completed copy over to me for approval. He certainly hadn't pulled any punches and on seeing it in cold print I could understand why the lawyers might be anxious.

'It's very good,' I said. 'Do you think you'll get away with it?'

'It's not just very good, it's brilliant. This, Victoria, is the racing scandal of the year and tomorrow is the perfect day to lead with it. Can you imagine what a sensation it will create? Ah, here comes that film back.'

A young gum-chewing messenger dropped a brown envelope on James's desk. It was full of the photographs taken at Musgrave's offices. They had come out beautifully and all the relevant entries from his ledgers and field sheets were clearly legible. James studied them intently for ten minutes or so.

'Good, aren't they? Wonderful things, these miniature cameras. I think we'll use the entries for the Worcester race – that should help you before the disciplinary committee – the ones at Chepstow in December when 1 reckon he made at least twenty thousand pounds, thanks to Brennan, and finally Cartwheel's race at Cheltenham. It's getting a bit late if this is going to be tomorrow's lead. Oh damn! I've just seen the lawyers arrive. You can always spot them by the sadistic gleam in their eyes – as if they were going to judge a thumb-screwing contest. Excuse me while I go and stand up for myself.'

I had run out of form books and newspapers to read by the time James returned. The broad grin on his face spoke for itself.

'Do you want the good news or the bad news?'

'The good news.'

'The good news is that it's tomorrow's lead; the bad news is that the lawyers have vetoed the references to Edward's murder and his link with Musgrave.'

'But why?'

'Contempt of court, love. With the trial coming up we mustn't publish anything which might create a substantial risk of real prejudice – those were the words the chap used.'

'I don't understand. Surely it couldn't do that?'

'I agree with you, but the barrister in there said that we can't go round making out your husband was a bad egg and so on, as it might lead the jury to say he deserved his fate and acquit Tom Radcliffe on sympathy grounds or because someone else might have done it.'

'They both sound like excellent reasons to me! So Edward won't be mentioned?'

'Not by name, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Victoria. I did my best, I promise.'

'I thought you said the editor hated lawyers and always ignored their advice.'

'Normally he does, but when they told him he could be imprisoned for contempt, his resistance withered. Can't blame him really.'

'What about the pen being mightier than the sword?'

'Depends on who's holding the sword.'

'I follow,' I was trying to appear reasonable, although deep down I was bitterly disappointed. I desperately wanted Musgrave to have his comeuppance and had hoped that in the process I might have helped Tom.

'Cheer up,' said James, 'it's not all bad. Let me just put the finishing touches to the story, give it to the sub and then I'll take you out for a bite at the Italian round the corner. It'll come off the presses just after midnight and we can see then just how well they've laid it out.'

Three hours later, we had been joined by Amy and the three of us were standing in the machine room waiting for the first copy to come off the presses. As soon as it arrived, James let out a whoop of delight.

'That should fix them!' he cried. 'What price Musgrave and Brennan being warned off now?'

He handed me a copy to read and I had to admit that the editorial boys had done a good job when it came to presentation.

'JOCKEY AND BOOKIE IN CORRUPTION PROBE' screamed the banner headline above black and white mug shots of Brennan and Musgrave.

EXCLUSIVE. Today the Sportsman breaks its time-honoured tradition of devoting its front page to the world's greatest steeplechase. We make no apology, because in order to survive, and for great races like the National to have any standing, racing must be honest and above malpractice. When a corrupt jockey and a crooked bookmaker conspire together to ensure that horses do not run on their merits, it is the duty of any newspaper that loves racing to expose such iniquity. Such is the case of Eamon Brennan, the well-known Irish jockey, and George Musgrave, owner of the chain of betting shops that bears his name and well-known layer on the rails. Our investigations, led by James Thackeray, have revealed an improper and unsavoury association between Musgrave and Brennan, which has enabled the bookmaker to offer generous odds on horses that had absolutely no chance of winning. Why? Because Brennan would ensure they didn't. Not content with their substantial and immoral earnings, the pair sought to involve other jockeys in their dirty work. Victoria Pryde, leading female rider and retained by the Ralph Elgar stable, was put under pressure to throw away the Gold Cup on Cartwheel. She refused, costing Musgrave over three hundred thousand pounds in losing bets. Victoria's punishment was to become the victim of as nasty a piece of improper riding as has been seen for many years on our courses. Deliberately boxed in on Fainthearted by Brennan in a hurdle race at Worcester, she managed only to finish a gallant third. For Musgrave there was the additional pleasure of cleaning up on the so-called generous odds he had offered to all and sundry on the horse, for Victoria only the boos of the crowd and the ignominy of being sent to Portman Square by the local stewards for not riding Fainthearted on his merits. This is one unhappy occasion when Sir Arthur Drewe and his fellow stewards appear to have been looking the other way.

We set out below copies of the entries in Musgrave's betting records for three separate races – the Union Jack Hurdle at Chepstow, the Cheltenham Gold Cup and the Topley Hurdle at Worcester. On each occasion, Musgrave offered better odds on a well-fancied horse than any other bookmaker, continuing to push the price out irrespective of the enormous amounts of money he had already taken. At Chepstow, where Brennan was riding the favourite (he eventually finished fourth), Musgrave made twenty thousand pounds out of on-course bets alone. At Cheltenham, he stood to make at least fifty thousand pounds but Victoria Pryde's courage lost him a fortune. At Worcester, he again offered long odds against the early favourite, Fainthearted, and collected more than fifteen thousand pounds when the horse could only just scrape into the frame. The Sportsman has details of six other races where a similar pattern has emerged. We have sent the results of our investigation to the Jockey Club and demand that the rulers of racing take the appropriate action to keep racing clean.

Beside the article was a flattering picture of myself in racing silks captioned 'Heroic'.

'Well,' said James, 'what do you think?'

I kissed him on both cheeks. 'It's marvellous. What do you think Musgrave will do? Sue the paper for libel or something?'

'I doubt it, not when he finds out, if he hasn't already, that we've got copies of all those betting sheets. My guess is that he may well soon be helping the police in their enquiries, along with your friend Brennan. You'd do best to keep a low profile for a bit, Victoria.'

'I agree,' said Amy. 'Why not stay with me for the weekend and we can watch the National on TV. There's bound to be a load of journalists trying to contact you and at the moment it wouldn't be sensible to talk to anyone other than the police and, I suppose, the Jockey Club.'