Original subtitles

Help me!

The runners have just about reached the start now. For this, the third race on

the card, the Mayfield Stakes. The tapes are lowered, and Blue Rocket, the odds

-on favorite, will face them on the favored inside.

The starter, Major Phil Blake, has called the roll. He mounts the rostrum.

The white flag is up. They're under orders, and they're off.

All except the favorite, Blue Rocket, usually brilliant at the gate. He's

spinning like a top with Wally Sanders and is very badly left.

And as Blue Rocket sets off in what may be hopeless pursuit, Ulster Maid is the

first to show clear of Indian Tint, then Blackmail, and Flying Cloud almost

together. And it's still Ulster Maid making it, with Blackmail moving up now

on the outside of Indian Tint to go second.

Flying Cloud improving fast. Blue Rocket still out of touch.

As they race up towards the line, it's Flying Cloud, clear of Blackmail and

Indian Tint. Flying Cloud the winner, second Blackmail, third Indian Tint.

Well, no doubt about the result of the Mayfield Stakes, and equally, no doubt

there is going to be a far from friendly reception here for Wally Sanders, the

rider of Blue Rocket.

Look here, Sanders.

We've considered your explanation, and I'm afraid we're not entirely satisfied.

It seems to me you haven't told us the whole story.

What about it, eh?

You still insist that it was your horse that was at fault?

Yes, sir.

You read at the start, and I couldn't hold him.

But good heavens, man, it isn't as if it were a green two-year-old, you know, as

well as I do, that that horse has run a dozen times without a hint of trouble.

Yes, but not this afternoon, sir.

Saunders, will you give me your word of honour that this was an accident?

That there was no outside influence or pressure of any kind?

Yes, sir.

I will.

Very well.

But now listen to me.

You've got a good record, Saunders, a very good record, and you'll be retiring

soon.

We don't want to spoil that for you, so we've decided to let you off with a

caution.

But if there's any repetition of this kind of thing, we shall be forced to

warn you off for good. Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Good.

Don't let me see you in here again.

It won't happen again, sir.

That's a promise.

All right.

Let's leave it at that then, shall we?

Down there, boy.

Is he dead?

Don't think so. Not yet, anyway.

He must have been lying out there half the night.

You think somebody would report it sooner?

This is a happy day for some insurance company.

Very good, Mr. Bradford.

Matthew, Mr Crabtree of claims department wants to see you.

Well, has he had my application for transfer? I gave it to him last night.

Did he say anything?

Well, naturally, he asked for my recommendation.

And? You'd better go and ask him.

Yeah, I know, but, I mean, you spoke to him. What do you think?

As a matter of fact, I made my recommendation in writing.

But, of course, if you're asking for an opinion, I think that machine will

continue to receive the benefit of your own inimitable skill for some time yet.

Thank you, Mr Carter.

Come in.

I think you wanted to see me, sir.

Yes, ma'am.

Sit down.

Thank you.

You're the young man from the shipping department, aren't you?

Yes, that's right, sir.

And you'd like to transfer to claims?

Yes, sir. Which is another way of saying that you're not happy in the shipping

department, right?

Well, no, sir. It's not just a matter of that. I think I could do better away

from the desk.

I see that you did your national service in the Royal Marines.

Ended up as a lieutenant.

Yes, sir.

I wonder.

Have you any knowledge of procedure in this sort of work?

Well, I do think I know a little bit, sir.

Yes, well, of course, a little bit may not be quite enough.

Let's just see how you would set about an actual case, shall we?

Take this, for instance.

Now, what we have here is a claim from a jockey who appears to have been involved

in a motoring accident.

The amount of the claim is £20,000.

We've had a board meeting, and we don't like it.

Well, pay her £20,000.

I was referring to the circumstances of the alleged incident.

The policy was taken out only three days before the accident. And on the day of

the accident... The man was involved in some professional trouble.

Trouble? Yes, sir.

I believe he failed to win a horse race in which he was generally expected to be

successful. It may be that some sort of betting coup was involved.

At any rate, I understand that the stewards of the course weren't entirely

satisfied with his explanation.

Do you know anything about horse racing?

No, sir. I'm afraid I don't. Not very much. I'm glad to hear it.

However, if you were working on a case like this... So knowledge of that kind

would be useful, wouldn't it?

Yes. But I would imagine a firm as large as this one would have contacts among

its own clients who could tell me all that was necessary.

Trainers, bookmakers, that sort of thing.

I believe the more respectable variety prefer to be described as turf

accountants. However, you're quite right.

We do in fact have a client who operates a reasonably respectable bookmaking

business.

Now tell me, where would you start?

Well, with the jockey, I imagine, sir.

That seems reasonable enough.

Well, let's just see what your chief clerk, Mr. Carter, has to say about the

idea of a transfer for you.

There you are, Mr. C.

You're going to have to find a new pair of hands to thump that machine.

What do you mean? I thought... Well, your friendly recommendation has been

overruled, and I start work with the claims department tomorrow morning.

Right?

Mr. Sanders?

Yes?

My name is Matthews. I'm from the insurance company.

Oh, come to settle up, have you?

Well, no, not exactly. It doesn't work quite as quickly as that, you know.

What do you mean?

It's all there in the policy, isn't it?

Any accident stops me riding and I'll get the money.

What makes you so sure you won't be riding again?

Oh, I asked the doctor.

He told me so himself.

I see. I'm sorry.

What do you think you'll do then? When you get out of here, I mean.

I don't know.

I wouldn't like to leave racing altogether.

I was thinking about taking out a trainer's licence.

That is when I get the money.

Yeah, well, it was the accident itself I came here to talk to you about.

What is there to talk about?

I've told the police often enough, haven't I?

I just ran out of road.

It's a nasty stretch along there.

Yeah. I'm told you were up before the stewards after your last race.

What's that got to do with it? I don't know, but it's true, isn't it?

Yeah, and I accept your explanation.

Perhaps there were other people that didn't.

What do you mean by that?

Well, there are people who say that your accident might have been arranged by

someone.

They're lying.

You're just trying to get out of pain.

I've been told of that money, and I need it. I'm sorry, you'll have to leave.

This man is in no condition to talk like this. Mr.

Sons, believe me, I'm not trying to stop you getting your money. I just want the

truth. Come along, Mr. Matthews.

I don't think you understand.

He's a very sick man.

I'm sorry.

Look, is it true that he won't be able to ride again?

He's got a broken leg, a broken hip and three splintered ribs. That's apart from

any internal injuries.

He'll be lucky to live, let alone ride.

There's just one more thing.

Could he have got those injuries and the beating up?

I don't know. But if he did, it would be the most vicious beating up I'd ever

seen. Excuse me, Doctor, but...

Is it all right to see Mr. Sanders now?

Yes, all right, just for a few minutes.

Tell the staff nurse it's all right, will you?

Who's she?

His mother.

Well, jockeys do have them, you know.

No, no, no, Mr.

Matthews. You'll be reading too many detective stories or something like

that.

Bookmaking's just a business like any other.

Not so very different from your own, I dare say.

Really, all a question of making the books balance.

And we certainly don't go in for beating people up. So I'm always being told, but

the fact remains that Sanders is seriously injured. He may die.

And even the police have their doubts about it being an accident.

Yes, a pity about that. He was a nice chef, Sanders.

I met him several times, you know.

Saw him win the Eclipse last year on Sleepy Nina.

Lovely little jockey.

Said if somebody had it in for him, it certainly wasn't the bookmakers.

You mean because it was the bookies that cleaned up after his last race?

Well, most of us did.

Someone must have lost.

Yes, the chaps of all was due, the punters.

As a matter of fact, our firm did lose on that race, too.

Now, please don't go jumping to conclusions.

We took some bets from another firm.

Smaller business.

They were laying them off.

Wouldn't that suggest they knew something?

There you go again. No, not necessarily.

Look, I told you, it's all a question of making the books balance.

If you've got too many bets on one horse, you lay them off with a bigger

man, that's all.

Why should that firm be the one to get all the bets on that particular horse?

Nobody said they did.

They must have had a good many bets, then.

All right, I'll say you're a trier. I'll say that for you.

Tell you what, why don't you go speak to them yourself?

I'll give them a ring.

You get me, Mr Burnside, of trigger transactions, will you?

No, no, Mr.

Matthews.

Oh, Floyd.

Let me have last week's figures, will you?

I want to show Mr.

Matthews where some of the money from Flying Cloud came from.

But you got the wrong end of the stick, haven't you?

I should have thought that anybody who had a packet on Flying Cloud would be

very pleased that Sanders lost it on a blue rocket.

Especially if they put him up to it, but maybe they fell out over the division of

the spoils.

Well, we'll see, shall we?

Now, here we are.

Wednesday the 17th.

Five bob to win.

Oh, it's a pound each way from a client in Clapham.

He wouldn't be a man, I suppose, would he?

No, perhaps not.

Oh, it's a pound each way. Ten bob to win.

A pound each way. Oh, there's pages of it. But it's all in shillings and

eightpence.

Oh, no, wait a minute.

Now, here's something.

Five bob on the nose from a chap in Wandsworth.

Now, there's a right villain for you. All right, all right, I get the point.

But tell me, if, as you say, this is all chicken feet, why lay it off at another

firm? Well, it all mounts up, you know.

I thought you'd been told all about bookmaking.

I mean, unless you balance your books, you're just backing horses the same as

the punters.

Hang on.

Miss Trevins wants a pony each way on Office Girl. He owes two already.

Oh, does he?

All right.

Hello, Mr. Evans.

Well, I'm very sorry, you know, you're way over the top already.

Yes, it's over 200.

All right.

Okay, you're on.

It's all right. He's going to send a check in the morning. All right. Now,

look, Mr.

Matthews, I think you're barking up the wrong tree.

I don't think you're going to find out what you want to know from a bookmaker's

office. In fact, I doubt whether you're going to find out at all.

But if you must go on, why don't you ask one of the heavy backers?

Someone who lost a lot of money on that race.

Any suggestions?

Have you ever heard of a man called Lucky Ben Black?

No. Well, let me put it this way.

If I were to tell you that Ben Black was a crook, I wouldn't exactly be giving

away a secret.

They haven't caught him yet.

But there's not an illegal activity in this town that he hasn't got interest

in. That is, apart from his legitimate enterprises.

What are they? Oh, borderline stuff.

Clubs, fruit machines, that sort of thing.

Well, where does the racing interest come in?

Well, that's Ben's little weakness, if you like to call it that.

They call him the man who'll bet on anything.

Poker, prize fights, racing, even the rain on the windows.

You name it, he'll bet on it.

Where does this tie in with the Jocky Sanders?

Well, that's just what I was coming to.

Now, I wouldn't want you to let anybody know where you got this, but I happen to

know that Ben Black lost a packet of money on that race.

A real packet.

And if there's one thing Mr. Black does not like, then that's losing money.

Do you get my point?

Yes, I think so.

Where do I find him?

Well, he hasn't exactly got a registered office, you know.

Try asking around some of the clubs.

Which? You want the lot, don't you?

All right. Try the Silver Moon just off Curzon Street.

Thank you, I will.

Don't thank me yet.

If you do find him, you may have reason to regret it.

Mr. Black is not the easiest person in the world to get along with.

And I haven't said a word.

All right?

I won't forget.

Get down the stairs there a bit, Steve.

I'll do that.

Well, goodbye and thanks again.

You're welcome.

Father, please.

Do you remember?

No.

Cigarettes? No, thanks.

I have got something.

Oh, well, you'll need some more, won't you?

Yeah.

Thanks. Thank you.

Matches?

Uh, no. No, thank you.

Oh, do you know where I could find a Mr. Black, a Mr. Ben Black?

Afraid not.

Never heard of him?

No.

I was told I might find him down here.

Beg your pardon?

Oh, it's all right. It doesn't matter.

Thanks.

The beer's warm.

Matthews!

You want to start mining your own business?

Well, there'll be more to come.

It's alright.

He doesn't look well he fits.

Shall I get him a drink?

Yeah, I think he'd like that.

Would you like a drink?

Right.

How's he doing?

I don't know.

Perhaps I'd better clean him up a bit.

Yeah, you'd better do that. We're only looking too untidy, do we?

I'll see what I can find.

What happened to you, then?

Somebody was telling me to mind my own business.

Yeah, sounds like good advice.

I just didn't like the way it was given, that's all.

You can't do everything, can you?

Here. You still want to meet this here man you were looking for?

Yes, I do.

Where have they gone?

I should know now.

Didn't you see them go?

No.

You're dead.

I'll see that.

I won't.

I'll raise it.

You're 20.

Another 50.

Ah, Riley.

You brought Mr.

Matthews to see us.

Won't be a moment.

What are you going to do?

I'll see you.

Look, I didn't come here to watch a game of cards.

That's all right, Mr. Matthews. We won't be long.

What about you?

I'm skin.

All right, what have you got?

Full house.

Well, Mr. Matthews, they tell me you were looking for me.

Yes. Well, here I am. Take a chair.

No, thanks.

All right, if you want to stand, stand.

You might as well sit down.

You look as if you're going to fall over anyway.

You say so.

You look awful.

What happened?

You should know.

Maybe I should, but I don't, so why don't you tell me?

I was beaten up by some friends of yours.

Yes.

Which friends would that be?

Probably the same friends who beat up the jockey Sanders and wrecked his car.

You play poker?

Huh? Why don't you pick them up?

What am I supposed to use for money? Oh, I'll stake you.

Yes, 50.

What's the idea of this?

Nothing. I just don't like talking when I could be playing poker, that's all.

All right?

It's your money.

That's right.

It is.

Tell me, why would anybody want to beat up a nice young man like you?

Perhaps I was learning too much.

Oh, no.

I've been watching you, son.

You haven't learned a thing.

Are you sure?

Dead sure.

You'll bet.

What if I was to tell you that I know you lost a large sum of money on

Sander's last race?

Old Birdseed told you that, didn't he? Who?

Burnside, Mr Burnside of Trigger Transactions.

What makes you think so?

What makes me think so? Do me a favour. Do you think I don't know Burnside?

I can just see him put his big greasy hand on your shoulder like he was your

old man or something.

Don't let on, but I'm going to do you a big favour.

And then he tells you confidentially, of course, that I'm the biggest villain in

London, that I lost a pot of money, that I had Sanders done up, and so on and so

forth. Mr.

Burnside's got a very big mouth, and one of these days somebody's going to sew it

up for him.

How many cards do you want?

Two.

What else did he tell you?

That I was London's fruit machine king?

Yeah, something like that.

I bet he did. But he didn't tell you that he was trying to muscle into that

market himself, did he?

Dealer takes three.

You know, I have a little rule I always like to stick to.

You might try to remember it if you have any dealings with Burnside.

Never back losers.

He's what you call a loser, is he?

He will be.

All the same, you don't deny your own activities.

What do you call them?

No, of course not.

All right, so I'm a crook in my modest way, but that's got nothing to do with

horse racing.

It may interest you to know that I don't approve of crooked gamblers.

You'll surprise me.

Well, you've got to have principles. I mean, if you can't have an honest bet,

you don't know where you are.

You've got to have some standards.

Well, I suppose the Jockey Sanders couldn't live up to those high moral

standards, is that it? You're damn right he could not.

He was on the crook for sure. That horse should have walked it. But he didn't,

which means you had a good reason for having him beaten up. That's right.

Very good reason.

Except that someone else seems to have got to him first.

Maybe the same lot that got to you this evening.

Who might that have been? I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me.

So you might as well go on thinking it was me.

Anyway, now that Mr. Sanders is unavailable, maybe the bloke that's

taken over from him will do the right thing.

It's your bet.

You mean he'll do as he's told?

Well, now, that depends on who's doing the telling.

Still, you're bad.

That's 50.

How much does that insurance company pay you to be thumped around by us villains?

About 15 pounds. A day?

A week.

15 a week?

And they call me a crock?

Look, son, I'd pay you twice that much just to stay at home.

Perhaps you should have offered when I first started. It's a bit late now, you

see. I've got a personal interest.

I see you take exception to being thumped around.

I don't blame you.

As far as I can see, it's liable to happen again.

All right, I'll see you.

What have you got?

Flush.

Beats me.

Surprises you, doesn't it?

Just shows you never know your luck or when it's going to run out.

You take my advice, you'll cash in now.

You want me to keep this?

You wanted, didn't you?

Riley, will you show Mr. Matthews to the door?

Oh, by the way, those boys who gave you the beating up, did they say anything to

you? I should have thought you'd known that.

Yes, they told me to mind my own business.

Is that what you're going to do?

I don't know.

Maybe it'll turn out that my business is as extensive as yours.

What do you say the name of that jockey was who was taken over from Sanders?

I didn't.

But you'll find out anyway.

It's Clive Parker.

I wouldn't go staring things up there if I were you.

Are you afraid I might live to regret it?

No.

I'm afraid that you won't.

Yeah? Is Mr. Parker at home, please? Mr. Clive Parker?

No, no, he's not here.

Any idea when he might be back?

I don't know if he'll be back at all.

Not till late, anyway.

Would you mind telling him that Mr.

Matthews called?

I'm staying at the Northumberland Hotel.

You might ask him if he could ring me when he gets back. It is rather urgent.

All right, I'll tell him.

Goodbye.

Crabtree speaking.

Oh, it's you, Matthews.

Well, what have you got to tell me?

I see.

Good heavens, man.

We're not paying you to get involved in vulgar brawls.

What about the police?

No, I don't think we've got anything sufficiently concrete to bring in the

police. Not yet, anyway.

Look, I'll try and ring again tomorrow.

If you want to contact me, I'm staying at the Northumberland Hotel.

It's... Oh, can you hold on a minute?

It's the Northumberland, isn't it?

Hello? Hello?

Oh, haven't we... Get over there.

Go on.

Who are you expecting?

Clive Parker?

Well, he won't be coming.

And if you don't let him alone, you'll get this. Understand?

Yes, yes, I understand perfectly.

I'm a little surprised at Mr. Black's choice in government.

He's running short of staff.

I don't know what you mean.

Oh, never mind.

You might tell him I prefer you in your other costume.

You do work for Mr. Black, don't you? Never mind who I work for.

Just remember what I told you, because I mean it.

Oh, hello, Mr.

Couchy. I'm sorry to keep you waiting.

I've just been held up by a girl with a gun. I'm locked in my room, so I'll have

to ring off. Get the porter to let me out. Goodbye.

What are you doing here?

I might ask you the same question.

I didn't know this was one of Mr. Black's establishments.

We don't meet in the strangest places, don't we?

Is Mr.

Clive Parker at home?

No. And stop talking about Mr. Black, because I've never heard of him. No?

No, I haven't.

If you must know, I'm Clive Parker's sister.

Now tell me what you want and get out.

I've told you, I want to see your brother, if that's who he is. Well, he's

out. Well, I'm sure he won't mind my waiting.

Very funny.

You can do what you like, but I'm not expecting him.

Well, you're not going to lock the door again, are you?

Look, I don't know who you think I am or what you think I'm going to do to your

brother, but if it'll save any more confusion, why don't you listen for a

moment and I'll explain?

All right, go ahead.

I thought you weren't expecting anyone.

Hello, sis.

Who's the boyfriend?

You're Clive Parker?

That's right, yes. How do you do? My name's Matthews. I'm with the Universal

and General Insurance Company.

How are you?

Yeah, well, I'll be off then, Clive. Yeah, okay, Freddie. Well, I'll see you

out. No, don't bother. I'll, uh... I'll see you tomorrow.

Yeah, okay.

Who's that?

Just a friend.

Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Matthews? Well, I haven't come to sell

you any insurance, if that's what you're worried about.

I'm not worried.

Well, good.

I'd like to talk to you about a colleague of yours, Wally Sanders.

What about him?

Well, it's been suggested that his accident... Well, that it may not have

been completely accidental.

Oh, that's just a little odd talk.

Old Sanders used to drive that car like a maniac. I mean, he was bound to cop it

sooner or later.

Maybe, but there's some pretty strong evidence to suggest that someone was

getting at him.

You've been reading too many newspapers.

All that stuff about racetrack gangs is a lot of rubbish.

I didn't mention anything about racetrack gangs.

Well, that's what you meant, wasn't it?

Well, anyway, what would anybody want to get at Old Sanders for?

I don't know. I thought perhaps you might be able to tell me. Well, how the

hell should I know? I mean... Look, I don't know any more than you do.

Well, I know enough to make a pretty good guess. I thought perhaps you might

be able to do the same.

Yeah.

But right now I'm not interested.

So you can do your guessing on your own.

Wait a minute.

I want to hear what he's got to say.

And I want you to hear it too.

All right.

Well, get on with it then.

Thank you.

Someone headed in for Wally Sanders.

And it may have been because someone thought he deliberately threw his last

race.

Brilliant, sir.

There is another possibility.

And that is that he did deliberately throw his last race and that the people

who put him up to it wanted him to do it again.

And when he refused, they had to get rid of him.

And having got rid of him, they had to look around for another jockey to take

his place.

Well?

Well?

Well, what are you asking me for?

Look, if you think you know so much, why don't you go and ask Sanders?

Well, go on, then. Go and ask him.

Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.

It's all right.

It's not even your fault.

I knew something like this would happen when Clive got mixed up with that crowd

he goes around with.

Can you tell me about them?

It's trouble.

I don't even know who they are.

All I know is they've changed him.

When he was an apprentice, all he ever cared about was riding.

I've known him go to bed at night half-starved rather than risk putting on

too much weight.

Now he wouldn't walk across the street unless there was something in it for

him.

And when I try to talk to him about his friends, he just tells me he can look

after himself. Shuts up like a clam.

How long has this been going on?

Quite a while now.

It's only the last few days it's been getting really bad for him.

Since Sanders had his accident, in fact.

He came home the next day looking like death.

And ever since then, people have been calling him.

And I can tell by the way he talks on the phone. They're putting the pressure

on him some way.

So that when I came looking for him, you thought I was one of them.

And you were the only one who ever left any sort of name or address.

I thought you worked for Ben Black. You know, you must have a talent for being a

gangster.

There's one thing that puzzles me, though. I assumed you worked for Ben

Black because I met you in the Silver Moon Club.

But Black does own it, doesn't he? No, I told you. I've never heard of him.

No, the person that owns the Silver Moon Club is called Burnside.

Burnside.

Little chap who runs a bookmaking business. That's right.

Do you know him?

Yes, he was the one that first put me on to Ben Black.

How come you're working for him?

Well, it was through a friend of Clive's.

After Dad died.

See, Clive was still an apprentice then, so I had to get a job that paid enough

so I could keep on the house and look after Clive.

What do you think of him?

Burnside?

He's not the sort of man I'd choose to work for, but I hardly ever have to see

him.

Does your brother have much to do with it?

I don't think Clive's ever met him.

Well, that doesn't get us very far, does it? I wish I knew what to do.

Look, do you think it would be any good to get in touch with the police?

No, not unless your brother's willing to tell us exactly what's going on and

who's behind it all.

I don't worry.

I'll try and help you sort it out.

But how?

Well, I think I'd better do what your brother suggested.

Go back to the hospital and see Sanders again.

He didn't tell me much when I was there first, but I'll try the names of either

Burnside or Black on him. That should have some effect.

You will call me, won't you? Let me know. Yeah, so I'll come back here later

if you like. Oh, please.

Well, it shouldn't take me very long. Will you try and keep Clive here? I may

want to have a word with him later on. All right.

I'll see myself out.

Come

and

sit down here, Mrs. Hunter.

That's a friend of his, isn't it?

Yes.

Yes. Yes.

And here's a nice little bit of irony for you.

You've been sniffing around because your employers don't want to pay out on the

insurance.

But the old lady's been asking to see you because she's taken it into her head

that you were a friend of his or something.

It's not just the insurance. Of course not. There's always something else.

Do me a favor, will you?

Don't disillusion her just yet.

Hello, Mrs. Saunders.

I'm sorry. I would have come earlier. It's a shame you couldn't see him.

He was talking about all the other jockeys and that.

He was going to ride in the Oaks again, the ship.

He won that race in 53, you know.

Horse called Whirlwind.

Never seemed to care about anything else much.

I wonder if he could have won it again this year.

He was talking about something like that just now.

We could have walked it.

That's what he said. We could have walked it.

Do you suppose that's what he meant?

Yes, Mrs. Sanders, I expect that's what he meant.

The oaks.

I see you didn't take my advice.

Well, that's your business.

But let me tell you, this friend Parker's riding in the Langham Stakes

tomorrow.

I have a lot of money tied up in that race. I don't want to lose it.

Anybody who louses me up again is going to get squashed.

Like Wally Saunders, for example?

Well, if you think that's a good example, use it.

Just see that the message gets to Parker, that's all.

I'll make up my own mind about that.

Where's Clive? He's gone.

Gone?

What do you mean he's gone? Gone where?

I don't know.

I went up to his room after you'd left, and he wasn't there.

I've been calling our friends, trying to see if anyone's seen him, but no one

has. We've got to find him. Things are happening faster than I thought.

Did you know he was riding in the Langham Stakes tomorrow?

No. Well, he is, and Ben Black's mixed up in it. I've just seen him.

Haven't you any idea where he might be?

We could try the King Penguin. That's a drinking club some of his friends use.

Where is it?

At the end of Campbell Street. We could take the car.

No, I'd better go.

You stay here in case he comes back.

I'll call you when I find him. All right.

What about Saunders?

He's dead.

You want to cut that out?

If the old man catches you drinking that stuff, he'll have you all guts.

I'm not afraid of him.

Well, you should be.

I don't owe him anything, you know.

You know, that's a very funny thing.

Oh, Wally Saunders said that. Is that the way you train for all your big

races?

Yes.

But it's none of your business, is it?

You don't want to take any notice of him, Mr Weasley? He's stewed. No.

Yeah, I don't know why you bother with him, you know.

Unless you're thinking about his sister, of course. I wouldn't mind having a...

Enough from you. Out.

What was he saying about Sanders when I came in?

Nothing, nothing.

Not a thing.

Well, anyway, why ask me?

You're the expert on old Sanders.

Well, what did he tell you, eh? Well, stand up. He didn't tell me anything

because he's dead.

No, he's not dead.

He's going to be all right.

They told me so.

They told you wrong.

You're wrong.

It's fine.

Listen to me.

Come on, listen.

I'm telling you now, your friend Wally Sanders is dead. He died this afternoon.

Have you got it?

They told me.

They said he'd be all right.

They said they just knocked him about a bit. Who told you that?

Come on, who told you that? Well, they did.

It's over. Come on, I'm getting you home.

Hey, what about the drinks?

I'll chalk them up to Ben Black.

Who?

Anyway, Sander's mother confirmed one thing without knowing it. He was forced

into throwing that last race.

That's right, isn't it?

But I didn't know they'd kill him. All right, all right. Well, tell me you've

got at him.

It was Ben Black, wasn't it?

He's told everybody he lost on that race. And in fact, he probably made a

fortune. It was him, wasn't it?

Why?

Why would they do that to him?

They wanted him to pull the landing stakes tomorrow, just like the last

time. But he wouldn't.

He never wanted to do it in the first place. But they threatened him.

And then when the steward said he'd be warned off, he just refused to do it

again. So they fixed him up with an accident.

And then turn their attentions to you.

Yeah.

I'm supposed to lose tomorrow.

What do you mean you're supposed to lose?

Well, I'm riding the favourite, Red King.

Everybody thinks he'll win by a distance, but the boys reckon they can

make a kill-in on a horse called Flash Harry.

So I'm supposed to keep Red King from winning.

Is that what you intend to do?

Well, I've got to.

You can't. Look, don't you see that even if you get away with it, even if the

stewards don't warn you off for a good, these people are not going to let you

off the hook. You have to do it again. And each time you're getting deeper and

deeper.

Sooner or later they're going to be caught, and when they do, you'll go with

them. Now, for goodness sake, why don't you tell us who's behind it so that we

can go to the police?

But I can't.

Look, they'd never let me get away with it.

They'd kill me. Look, don't you understand what the alternative is?

Your career as a jockey will be finished.

And then the only way you'll be able to make a living is by working for the same

people. Look, I know that. I know.

But it's too late now. It's too late.

Is that all you've got to say?

Listen to me.

If you think people made sacrifices for you so you could throw it all away and

turn into a cheap little crook, you're wrong.

It's time you learned to do something for yourself.

I'm sick of trying to look after you.

Now, you'll have to make up your own mind about going to the police.

But if you pull that race tomorrow, you can clear out.

Because I never want to see you again.

Yeah, but there's nothing I can do.

Sis!

He's gone to bed. I told him to get some sleep.

Has he told you what he's going to do?

No.

I don't think he knows himself.

He doesn't want to let you down, but he's terribly afraid.

Will you be going back to the hotel?

No, no.

Clive asked me if I'd sleep here on the couch and take him to the track in the

morning.

Why are you doing all this for him?

It's the second time I've been asked that today.

Perhaps I'm trying to ingratiate myself with you.

You've succeeded.

You jump in the back. I'll drive.

What time is it? Don't worry. We've got plenty of time.

Well, then, follow it. Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure.

Right.

It's no good. They're bound to catch up with us when we get out in the country.

Don't worry about that now.

When I get to the crossroads, I'm taking the turn to the high street. When I get

there, you jump out and get into a doorway, right?

All right.

We'll lead them off in another direction. You take a taxi to the track.

They're catching us.

It's all right now. It's too late.

Come on. Get out.

Where's Parker?

I'm afraid you've missed him. He's gone by taxi.

Shut up and get in that car.

Get after him. Use that car. Try to reach him before he gets to the track.

You go with him.

Parker throws that race, you're going to pay for it.

Both of you.

I'll get Ian.

Hi, Clive.

Thought you were never coming.

What are you doing here?

Someone to see you? That's all right.

If anyone asks, just tell them we've come to wish you good luck. That's

right, isn't it, Mr. Burnside?

That's right, Clive.

Sorry I can't wait to see you lose, but I've got to get back to the office.

Freddie here was telling me that you weren't very well yesterday.

So I thought I'd come along just to make sure there's no misunderstandings.

There won't be.

That's good.

Well, the boys will be here, just in case.

Well, Clive's looking a bit off colour.

He wouldn't let us down, would he? Nah, don't you fret.

Red King's a dead cert.

To come in last.

I warned you what would happen if I got lanced up again, didn't I?

In that case, you shouldn't have worked overtime, convincing me it was you who

wanted Clive to throw the race. Now, come off it.

I told you about Burnside the first time we met, but you didn't want to listen to

me, did you?

If you're telling the truth, why are you after Clive?

Look, I'm not stupid.

I've seen Burnside's boys buzzing around like a load of vultures.

So, we decided to pick him up, keep him till the race is over, just so that some

honest jockey can ride the horse my money's on.

Now if Riley doesn't get him, I'm gonna lose a lot of money.

And all I'll have is you two.

Now you leave the girl out of this.

It was me that stopped you getting hold of him.

And I'm making the decisions now.

That's bad.

Just get there as best you can.

See Parker before he gets out there.

Tell him if Red King doesn't win that race, something very unpleasant is

liable to happen to his sister. Give her ten minutes.

Clive will listen to reason when Riley talks to him. You don't have to keep a

girl here. Sit down.

Don't share your faith in friend Parker.

I think we just wait till we hear from Riley, shall we? Look, you can gain

nothing... Will you sit down before you're knocked down? Jim?

Five pounds to win on Red King.

Okay, thanks.

Well, did you get all that money for Flash Arion?

Yeah, half an hour ago.

Good. Now we can get on with making up the book.

All those nice little bets from all the nice little men that keep racing day.

Well, it looks as if we're all out of luck.

Some more so than others.

Might as well switch on.

Might as well watch what you're going to pay for.

What have you been playing at?

All right, never mind about that. What did Parker have to say?

You're still out of luck.

Riley didn't make it.

Don't worry, I think Clive's got more in him than we've given him credit for.

What's that?

I said I think Parker will win the race anyway without any encouragement from

your pet gorilla.

You want to bet?

Certainly.

All right, give a bet.

If Red King wins that race, you walk out through that door.

And if he doesn't...

Serenade in the grey on the left of the picture and moving across to the right

in the striped sleeves, young Clive Parker on Red King, having his first

ride for the stable since he took over from Wally Sanders.

That's Mr.

Burnside's little protege.

They're off. And away to a pretty even start, with the exception of Serenade a

little slow. And the first to show is Dark Warrior by a length from Gina's

Folly and Roll Away. Then comes Dispute. They're getting a real good gallop. And

it's still Dark Warrior ahead of Gina's Folly and Dispute. Red King, the

favorite, is moving easily.

Clyde Parker has him tucked up in there at the back of the field. This way to

stay.

Nowhere.

Well strung out now.

We change camera angle as they approach the three furlongs from home marker. And

Flash Harry is taking much closer order. And it's Flash Harry now. You may spot

the number 10 on his server cloths. Gina's folly and roll away dropping

back. And now switching cleverly to the outside. Clive Parker making a forward

dash on Red King.

And it's Red King coming with an electrifying burst of speed to get up on

the post and win in great style. Flash Harry second. Dispute third.

And there's no doubt about the winner of the Langham Stakes. Red King, dutifully

written by young Clive Parker, has got up to beat...

Well, I've got to be wrong sometime.

I'll do that, Clive.

No, no, no, it's all right. I

don't

want to spoil the party, but someone should get on to the police.

There are going to be some very disappointed friends waiting for your

boy.

Hi, thanks.

Well, they're getting on to the police at the track and they're sending a car

round for us.

Where's Ben Black in his mind? I don't know.

He muttered something when you went to the phone and then when I looked round

again, they'd gone.

Probably not too keen on being found on the premises when the police arrived.

There he is.

His neck's broken.

He must have tried to get away just a little bit too fast.

I don't think you need to stay here just now, sir. We'll get in touch with you.

Hello there. Everything all right? I don't know.

Burnside's dead.

Is he?

Yes, at least think he fell down and broke his neck.

Do they?

Young lady, I owe you an apology.

Oh? Yes, I think your brother's going to make a very good little jockey.

I reckon he deserves a little, uh, protection.

Well, like I told you never back losers