Dick Francis's Damage by Felix Francis Page A

permanently.”
    Typical PR, I thought. Sitting on the fence.
    â€œWhat if we do not resolve the matter successfully?” I said. “If the whole thing goes horribly wrong and the public discovers that we did not inform the police, then surely that would be more of a PR disaster. Public confidence would be severely shaken.”
    There was a sea of worried faces in front of me.
    â€œAnd are we sure we can keep it out of the media anyway?” I asked. “What about the labs? Can you be sure no one there will call the papers or the TV stations?”
    â€œSecurity at the labs is fine,” Stephen Kohli said. “The samples are just coded with a number. The name of the horse and the race are not shown. All the lab knows is that there were a large number of positives, not where they came from.”
    â€œIt won’t take rocket science for them to work it out, not with Cheltenham just over.”
    â€œMr. Hinkley,” said Bill Ripley abruptly, pointing at me with the arm of his tortoiseshell glasses, “we have discussed this problem at great length throughout the morning and we have agreed to investigate the matter in house, without informing the police, at least for the time being. We have asked you to be present here because Mr. Lever and Mr. Wallinger both insist that you are the best-placed individual in our organization to carry out such an investigation. Are they wrong?”
    All nine of them looked at me again.
    â€œNo, sir,” I said. “They are not wrong.” I paused. “However, I can’t promise you any results. I may not be able to discover who is doing this or how it is done. But, yes, I believe I am the bestperson to try, especially if you want it done so that no one outside this room even knows that an investigation is under way.”
    â€œGood,” Roger Vincent said. “It’s settled, then. We will not involve the police at this stage. Jeff will investigate this matter and report back to us. We have a scheduled meeting of the Board a week from Wednesday.” He turned to me. “Is nine days long enough for you?”
    â€œMore than enough,” I said. “If I don’t have the results in nine days, I don’t think I’ll ever get them.”
    â€œYou don’t sound very confident,” said George Searle, a former racehorse trainer and the Thoroughbred Owners and Trainers representative on the Board.
    â€œI’m not particularly. Whoever is doing this will have made meticulous plans, probably over many months, if not years. He will probably be expecting us to call in the police, yet he must remain convinced he won’t get caught or he wouldn’t have started all this in the first place. The police would have had a team of men and all the resources of the forensic services. I am just a single investigator with little or no backup. Would you be confident?”
    There were some murmurings around the table. Clearly, the decision not to call in the police had not been a unanimous one and now there were some grumbles from the dissenters.
    â€œBut I’ll have a go,” I said. “I should at least be able to find out how it was done and maybe that will allow us to stop it from happening again.”
    That seemed to cheer them up somewhat.
    â€œIn the meantime,” I went on, “by all means place an announcement in
The Times,
but don’t agree to everything.”
    â€œIn what way?” asked Roger Vincent.
    â€œOnly agree to a bit at a time. Negotiate. I don’t imagine thathe will expect to get five million pounds. I’d offer him twenty thousand. Or even less.”
    â€œHow would we do that?”
    â€œPut an announcement in
The Times
that says that Van Gogh accepts Leonardo’s offer of marriage with a proposed dowry of twenty thousand pounds.”
    â€œWould twenty thousand be enough?” asked Ian Tulloch. “It’s not much compared to five