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Chapter 2

  The fraught press conference bulged at the seams against the multitude of journalists. Rows of cameras lined the perimeter, their strobes trained on the stage when Chief Inspector Sanderson ventured through to the waiting podium. Sanderson raised bloodshot eyes. The Chief was expecting a tough one today, and that’s exactly what he got when the first question speared him before he could utter a single word. A reporter jabbed.

  “How did this calamity even occur, despite all precautions? Was it a terrorist attack?”

  “Our investigation has barely begun. You can be rest assured every stone will be overturned until we discover the truth.”

  “What about rumors of complicity by the British Horseracing Authority?” another voice challenged.

  “I understand your concerns, but we have no evidence at this time to indicate any wrongdoing by the BHA. Our investigation is pursuing all credible leads, regardless of the individuals or organizations involved.”

  A BBC correspondent pressed on, his voice stern, confronting the head of Scotland Yard.

  “How many lives could have been saved if emergency responders had acted more quickly? What can you tell us about the number of fatalities?”

  The Chief’s face became withdrawn when he read out the statistics. Gasps spread through the press at the alarming death toll. The correspondent continued.

  “Were these deaths preventable with faster action by the police force? What steps will be taken to ensure a tragedy of this scale never happens again?”

  A reporter from The Daily Sport interrupted. “Care to explain how the king’s prized stallion, Shadowking, somehow managed to survive, unscathed when all the other horses perished?”

  “I cannot speculate on any one horse. We’re investigating all possibilities with the sole aim of preventing future tragedies.”

  An edge of irritation crept into the Chief of Scotland Yard’s voice. “I must ask the reporter to refrain from politicizing a still-unfolding tragedy!”

  The reporter’s insinuation only raised the tension levels in the press tent. He promised a tireless investigation, but deep down, he knew the media’s hunger for scandal was insatiable. Even his most tempered responses only minutely fanned the flames of suspicion. He raised both hands. “Everyone, please.”

  The Chief’s eyes fell upon an elderly woman sobbing in the front row, realizing she must be the relative of one of the victims. “I can only give you my deepest sympathies for your loss. I promise we are doing everything possible to find answers for the victims and their families.”

  The woman looked at Sanderson—dead on.

  “Answers? What answers? Your plain answers won’t bring my son back. Will they?”

  “I’m so sorry, madam. We’ll do everything we can to bring you the closure you deserve. We have a team of dedicated family liaison officers who will assist you with your grief. As facts emerge, we will do our best for all the victims involved.”

  The woman wiped the tears from her reddened cheeks, making no acknowledgment. Her grief was too raw for empty promises. Her son’s deceased face filled her thoughts, drowning out the chief’s canned responses. A hush fell over the room. Some reporters focused their cameras on Sanderson, hoping to capture an evocative image for the front pages.

  “I ask you all to respect the privacy of the families as they grieve. Let facts guide us, not rumors. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my team and I have important work to do.”

  Sanderson stepped down from the stage, moving swiftly without making eye contact towards the marquee exit, surrounded by police officers, amid another round of camera flashes. Emerging into the cool afternoon air, Sanderson felt drained. The press junket had been his toughest one yet. Officers had cordoned off sections of the race grounds with police tape; isolating the main incident site. Uniformed officers manned the barricades, checking credentials, diverting onlookers away. Sanderson flashed his ID card, heading for a grove of trees at the edge of the racecourse. Forensics officers combed the stables, with investigative digital photography and 3D scanning techniques. Ambulances queued amongst a line of temporary command posts. It was such an unusual case. But even a police response unit such as this may not uncover the truth, Sanderson thought. A man leaned against a tree smoking a cigarette, catching Sanderson’s eye. His long coat flapped in the gentle wind.

  “Inspector Grey. I thought that was you?”

  Grey turned. Weathered creases framed sharp grey eyes, eyes that scanned the Chief with deliberate focus.

  “I heard you’ve been having a hard time of it?”

  “What a bloody mess! It’s a proper den of bastards back there!”

  “Rather you. Than me!”

  Sanderson rubbed a hand over his tired face. “That could be you one day.”

  “You know that’s not my style, Chief.”

  “Any leads so far, Inspector?”

  “Nothing concrete as of yet.”

  “Come,” said Grey. “We’ve set up a temporary base to coordinate the investigation.”

  Sanderson nodded grimly. “Lead the way then, Inspector.”

  They approached a large marquee tent marked ‘Incident Command Center’. Sanderson marched in. Officers and officials had set up makeshift workstations, poring over files and maps. Tables were piled high with police files, witness statements, and evidence photos. A stage was set up, where a whiteboard was covered in notes, questions, and circles highlighting potential leads. Inspector Grey took the lead, with Sanderson standing attentively by his side. He surveyed the investigation units, nodding politely to a few of the more senior officers he’d worked with before.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you know, we have a very complex and public investigation.”

  He proceeded to outline the roles and responsibilities of the various teams, referring to officers by name where possible and giving specific directions tailored to their specialities and resources. Grey referred to his notepad, then directed his focus to the group of detectives.

  “Jamison, Singh, Riley. I want you all to question witnesses immediately; both at the racetrack and beyond. Start with those closest to the incident. Review all evidence. Familiarize yourselves with the case files. You know the drill?”

  Detective Jamison interjected. “Sir, some witnesses are reluctant to come forward due to immigration issues. What should we do?”

  Chief Inspector Sanderson spoke up. “Whatever their status. Your priority is gathering testimony. We’ll handle the rest.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “We’ll need additional staff to manage witness interviews and evidence reviews,” proposed Detective Riley.

  “Of course. Submit your requests, and I’ll approve the necessary resources,” Sanderson replied.

  After a brief discussion, Grey and Sanderson dismissed the detectives to begin their urgent work. Grey looked down at his notepad again. “Mr. Wicks, I understand you’ve led security here for many years. If I’m correct?”

  “In my fifteen years on the job, I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s simply devastating. I just want to do everything I can to help.”

  “I appreciate your dedication, Mr. Wicks. Now is your chance to stretch your investigative muscles. As a first step, I need your team to carefully review all guest lists and records. Any small anomaly could provide an important lead.”

  “My team is already compiling that information as we speak. I’ll have preliminary reports for you in a few hours.”

  “Good man. As a follow-up, prioritize interviews with any staff who had interactions with the horses as well as spectators in the area at the time. This is an all-hands-on-deck situation if ever there was one.”

  “We’re already reaching out to schedule those first interviews,” Wicks replied.

  Grey crossed another item off his checklist and then looked up at Wicks. “It seems your team is already getting on with it. I appreciate your diligence and professionalism in this difficult situation.”

  “We’re grateful for your team’s full cooperation,” Sanderson noted.

  Grey was satisfied. “I will be in touch if we have any additional requests. We’ll touch base later.”

  Mr. Wicks took his leave, while Grey turned to another page in his notepad. This time engaging with the British Horseracing Authority official. “Your mandate is to ensure the safety and integrity of horse racing in the UK if I’m right?”

  “We take this responsibility very seriously.”

  “Your parallel investigation will be integral if we coordinate closely to avoid duplicating efforts.”

  “We both want answers,” said the official.

  “Indeed,” said Grey. “Which is why I’m asking you to open your investigation in tandem with ours.”

  “Of course, Inspector. Anything to lend a hand.”

  “And the same in return,” Grey said. “Share all details, however small. No information is insignificant now.”

  “You have my full cooperation!”

  After dealing with the insurance people, Grey had discussions with the private investigators, employed by the wealthy bereaved family members. Leaving the marquee behind, Grey stepped onto the racetrack. Sanderson stayed behind, showing a united front. Lighting a cigarette, Grey had another port of call on his bucket list. He wanted to see firsthand if there were any clues to be gleaned from the deceased horses. Arriving at the pathology laboratory, Grey noticed how eerily quiet it was; except for the hum of the refrigeration units containing the carcasses. Eight horses lay on cold metal tables, eyes closed as if they were in a peaceful slumber. Dr. Walsh looked up as Grey entered.

  “You must be Inspector Grey. I’m Dr. Walsh, the Chief Veterinary Pathologist for Scotland Yard. I hope my examination can be of some help?”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Don’t we both,” Grey said.

  She wore a protective gown, gloves, and a face mask. She had been called in to examine the horses. A small team of technicians and veterinarians collected the samples and documented findings.

  “If you’d like to observe, I’ll need you to suit up to avoid contamination.”

  She gestured to the protective gowns and boots hanging on the wall. Grey duly obliged without fuss. She began where she had left off with a beautiful chestnut mare named Shining Star. Dr. Walsh worked methodically, yet with a tenderness Grey found surprising. She handled the horse’s organs under her scalpel as if she were dissecting a loved one, proceeding to make an incision along the ventral midline of the thorax and abdomen, from the base of the throat to the pubis symphysis. She reflected the skin and muscle layers; exposing the organs and cavities. There was a stillness and vulnerability to the horses on the slabs that tugged at Grey’s emotions in a way that human remains rarely did.

  “Not too squeamish, are you, Inspector?”

  “I have seen my fair share of dead bodies over the years. But dead horses at crime scenes is not really my forte.”

  “I usually deal with animal cruelty cases, poaching, suspicious deaths. Stuff like that, but not to this degree.”

  “Suspicious deaths!” Grey inquired. “Doctor, have you found anything unusual so far?”

  “At this stage of the internal exam, I haven’t observed any obvious abnormalities like tumors, ruptures, or internal bleeding. I can’t detect some things just by visual inspection alone.”

  Grey watched as Dr. Walsh collected organ samples for histopathology. Small sections of the lung, heart, liver, kidney, and spleen were placed into labeled specimen containers filled with formalin for fixation and the preservation of tissues. The sample containers were placed on the counter for further microscopic analysis.

  “These could possibly show any cell damage or parasitic infections. Things of that nature. Changes that might help determine the cause of death. But I cannot promise you anything.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “At least 24 hours for initial results. Poisons and chemicals are additional specialized tests. They may require a bit longer.”

  “Try and keep me in the loop, Dr. Walsh. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Sleep is a stranger at times like these!”

  “I’ll call you the moment I find anything of significance,” Dr. Walsh promised.

  Beginning to un-suit himself out of the protective gear, Grey studied the mare’s still forms one last time, knowing the horses were in capable hands. They said goodbye with Grey knowing he had a long night ahead.

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