Noble House

Very carefully the men put Travkin on the stretcher. McBride joined them, then Gornt and others. "How is he, Ian?"
"We don't know. Yet. He seems all right." Gently Dunross lifted one of Travkin's hands, examining it. He had thought he had seen a blow in the far turn and Travkin falter. A heavy red weal disfigured the back of his right hand. And the other one. "What could have caused this, Dr. Meng?"
"Oh!" More confidently the little man said, "The reins perhaps. Perhaps a whip, could be a blow . . . perhaps in falling."
Gornt said nothing, just watched, inwardly seething that Bluey White could have been so inept when everything had been so neatly set up beforehand with a word here, a promise there. Half the bloody stadium must have seen him, he thought.
Dunross examined Travkin's ashen face. No marks other than inevitable bruising. A little blood seeped out of the nose.
"It's already coagulating. That's a good sign," Dr. Meng volunteered. •
The governor hurried up. "How is he?"
Dunross repeated what the doctor had said.
"Damned bad luck, Noble Star shying like that."
"Yes."
"What's the stewards' objection, Ian?"
"We're just going to discuss that, sir. Would you care to join us?"
"Oh, no, no thank you. I'll just wait and be patient. I wanted to make sure Travkin was all right." The governor felt the rain running down his back. He looked up at the sky. "Blasted weather—looks like it's here to stay. Are you going to continue the meet?"
"I'm going to recommend we cancel, or postpone."
"Good idea."
"Yes," McBride said. "I agree. We can't afford another accident."
"When you have a moment, Ian," Sir Geoffrey said, "I'll be in my box."
Dunross's attention focused. "Did you talk to the minister, sir?" he asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
"Yes." Sir Geoffrey was equally casual. "Yes, he called on the private line."
Abruptly the tai-pan was conscious of Gornt and the others. "I'll walk you back, sir." To McBride he said, "I'll follow you at once," then turned away and the two of them walked for the elevator.
Once alone Sir Geoffrey muttered, "Hardly the place for a private conversation, what?"
"We could examine the course, sir." Dunross led the way to the rail, praying. "The turfs terrible, isn't it?" he said, pointing.
"Very." Sir Geoffrey also kept his back to the eyes. "The minister was very perturbed. He left the decision about Brian to me, providing Mr. Sinders and Mr. Crosse first agree to the release, pro—"
"Surely they'll agree with you, sir?" Uneasily Dunross recalled his conversation with them last night.
"I can only advise. I will advise them it is necessary providing you assure me it is. You personally."
"Of course," Dunross said slowly. "But surely Havergill, South-erby or the other bankers would carry more weight."
"In banking matters, Ian, yes. But I think I require your personal assurance and cooperation also."
"Sir?"
"This matter will have to be handled very delicately, by you, not by them. Then there's the problem of those files. The AMG files."
"What about them, sir?"
"That's for you to answer. Mr. Sinders told me of his conversation with you last night." Sir Geoffrey lit his pipe, his hands cupping the flame, protecting it from the rain. After the tai-pan's call to him this morning he had at once sent for Crosse and Sinders to discuss the matter of the exchange prior to asking the minister. Sinders had reiterated his concern that the files might have been doctored. He said he might agree to release Kwok if he was sure of those files. Crosse had suggested trading Kwok for Fong-fong and the others.
Now Sir Geoffrey looked at Dunross searchingly. "Well, Ian?"
"Tiptop's due, or was due this afternoon. May I assume that I can say yes to his proposal?"
"Yes, providing you first get Mr. Sinders's agreement. And Mr.
Crosse's."
"Can't you give that to me, sir?"
"No. The minister was quite clear. If you want to ask them now, they are in the members' stands."
"They know the result of your call?"
"Yes. Sorry but the minister made it very clear." Sir Geoffrey was gentle. "It seems the reputation for fairness and honesty of the present tai-pan of the Noble House is known even in those hallowed places. Both the minister and I bank on it." A burst of cheering distracted them. Noble Star had broken through the cordon of ma-foo trying to recapture her, and galloped past them, officials and stableboys scattering. "Perhaps you'd better deal with the race objection first. I'll be in my box. Join me for tea or a cocktail if you wish."
Dunross thanked him then hurried for the stewards' room, his mind in turmoil.
"Ah, Ian," Shitee T'Chung, the nominal chairman called out anxiously as he came in, all the stewards now present. "We really have to decide quickly."
"That's hard without Travkin's evidence," Dunross said. "How many of you saw Bluey White slash at him?"
Only McBride put up his hand.
"That's only two of us out of twelve." Dunross saw Crosse watching him. "I'm certain. And there was a weal across both his hands. Dr. Meng said it could have been made by a whip or the reins in falling. Pug, what's your opinion?"
Pugmire broke an uncomfortable silence. "I saw nothing malicious, personally. I was watching like hell because I was on Noble Star, 1,000 on the nose. Whether there was a blow or not it didn't seem to make much difference. I didn't see her falter, or any of the pack, other than Kingplay. Noble Star was well in the running till the post and everyone had their whips out." He tossed over one of the copies of the photo finish.
Dunross picked it up. The photo was as he had seen it: Pilot Fish by a nose from Noble Star, by a nostril from Butterscotch Lass, by a nose from Winning Billy.
"They've all got their whips out," Pugmire continued, "and they had in the turn, quite rightly. It could easily have been accidental —if there was a blow."
"Shitee?"
"I must confess, old boy, I was watching my Street Vendor and cursing Kingplay. I thought your filly'd pipped Pilot Fish. We, er, we've polled the other trainers and there's, er, no formal complaint. I agree with Pug."
"Roger?"
"I saw nothing untoward."
"Jason?"
To his surprise Plumm shook his head and disagreed and Dunross wondered again about AMG and his astonishing accusation of Plumm and Sevrin. "We all know Bluey White's cunning," Plumm was saying. "We've had to warn him before. If the tai-pan and Donald say they saw it I vote we debar him and disqualify Pilot Fish when it comes to a vote."
Dunross polled the other stewards, the rest wavering.
"Let's call in the jockeys, White last."
They did. All the jockeys muttered permutations of the same thing: they were too busy with their own mounts to notice anything.
Now the stewards looked at Dunross, waiting. He stared back, well aware that if he said, I vote we unanimously debar Bluey White for interference and disqualify Pilot Fish, all in favor say aye! that they would concede and vote as he wished.
I saw him do it, he told himself, so did Donald, and others, and it shook Alexi for that necessary split second. Even so, in all honesty 1 don't think that cost Noble Star the race. I blew the race myself. Alexi was the wrong choice for this race. He should have shoved Pilot Fish into the rails on the second corner when he had the chance, or put his whip across Bluey White's face, not his hands as I'd have done, oh yes, without hesitation. And there are other considerations.
"There's no doubt in my mind there was interference," he said. "But whether by accident or design I doubt if even Alexi will know, I agree it didn't cost Noble Star the race so I suggest we just caution Bluey and let the result stand."