Time: 23 Years Prior.

Location: Sydney, Australia.

Carter was bored now. He thought to himself. It's Monday, what can I do on a Monday? Then he remembered. I'll go to the races. Suddenly he was there. Randwick was crowded. It was Queen's Birthday weekend. A Monday race meeting at Royal Randwick. He loved the races ever since he was a kid. He remembered how he and his mates, Trevor, Malcolm, Mark and David, would often walk home through Centennial Park having dropped their last money including their taxi fare on the favourite in last race. They had been going to just about every Randwick meeting ever since right into adulthood. They told their wives and girlfriends that it was their 'boys will be boys' time. Some, like Layla, didn't like the gambling but they did it anyway.

He smiled to himself. I wonder if Mal and David are here. He was in the bar. David nearly knocked him over as he gestured to the others to follow him to the bookie ring. But his hand and arm had passed right through Carter.

Carter attached himself to Mal as they passed and went with them. It was nearing start time for the Bronte Handicap for mares, David said, "I'm going to put fifty a place on the favourite."

Mal had been quiet all day, "I miss Carter so much"

"Yeah, we all do" chimed in Mark.

Trevor then said something that would change things for Carter forever. He said,, "Hey Mal, why don't you ask Carter to tell you the winner? He must know up there."

Then he didn't know why he said this but Mal said, "You know I just might do that. I've had this funny feeling that Carter is here with us."

"Whaaaat? You've seen something?" asked Mark.

"No . . I just know he's here, I felt it back in the bar, and I still feel it now."

"You're feeling yourself alright!" quipped Mark. "He's dead, finito, there's nothing after that, nothing."

Trevor laughed, they all did, but Mal's was half hearted. Trevor said, "Go on Mal, why don't ya. Go over there and sit down and have a chat with Cheval. Shit his name means horse in French surely he can tip us a winner!"

Mal strode over to a vacant bench and left them laughing. Mal spoke softly to himself, "Carter, I don't know if you can hear me or if you are there or not. But if you are, can you show me which horse will win this race? Just this once. I won't bother you again. Just to shut them up. I know they don't mean it, they miss you too, but not as much as I do. No one could miss you as much as I do, except maybe your Mum, and Layla but that's different, a different kind of 'miss.'"

They all came over to him now.

"Anything?" Trevor asked hopefully. Mal just shook his head.

"Let's go look at the horses." suggested David. They all left ~ Carter in tow.

They all sidled up to the fencing around the mounting enclosure. Mal said, half out loud, "Come on Carter make one of the horses do something unusual so I'll know it's the one you want me to back!"

Carter said, "That one, the one with the lightning bolt on the shoulder of the jockey, and it's Kathy, Mal, Kathy O'Hara, and it's got three names, Falvel On Diva, remember my system? He was shouting now. But nobody heard . . . least of all Mal. The crowd had begun to cheer loudly.

The horses were starting to go out onto the track. There wasn't much time. Carter thought, please Teacher help me . . . help Mal . . . I'll do anything you say . . . Anything!

Teacher appeared, "The races eh? Very quaint! Go over to Falvel On Diva and attach your light.* He did. "Now ask her to whinny, the horse - not the jockey.

Carter said, "Very funny . . . Not." Falvel On Diva gave out a whinny on queue just as she passed Mal.

"Is that the one Carter?" asked Mal.

Teacher said "Again". Carter patted the horse . . . she let out another whinny.

"Are you sure?" Mal asked again.

Teacher shouted "Again!" as she left the mounting enclosure and went into a light canter onto the track with Carter in tow. Falvel on Diva let out a loud whinny! Carter was dragged along with her at speed now. Teacher laughed.

"Let go, Carter Cheval . . . let go!" He retracted his light and the horse was gone.

"That's the one, number 12, Falvel On Diva. That's Carter's tip!" Mal shouted.

"Shut up!" Mark said, "You want the whole world to know?"

"Shit it's a hundred-to-one . . . we better go and back it!" said Mal.

David was the form expert. He said, "Well it's not hopeless. It did win its last start, broke its maiden at Kembla Grange. It's got pretty good breeding but David Payne used to train it, and he got rid of it, so he must reckon it's no good. I wouldn't be backing it in this race.

"That's probably it. He wants us to back David Payne's horse. It's only eight-to-one now, that's more like it.

That's what I'm gonna do," said Trevor.

Mal chimed in, "No, look, don't you see! It's got three names, that's Carter's system. You know how much he loved to back Kathy O'Hara's mounts. And it whinnied. Three times . . . after every question. That's it I'm putting fifty each way and it's the first leg of the Quaddie. I'm taking it with field, field, field or something. Let's take our horses in the trifecta at least!"

The others reluctantly agreed. "Why don't you ask Carter for the other legs of the Quaddie then?" Mark joked.

"Alright I will!" As he filled the tickets out something stabbed him in the back. He looked to see who had bumped into him. No one was there, the pen had marked number 5 in the second leg, something seemed to be telling him 5 and 7 is twelve. He took 12,5,7,12. He rang up his bookie and put 12 with the field in the other legs. It took all of the balance of his account over $1000. Just in case, he thought.

The others thought he was mad. "If it wins I'll take the tote home!" he laughed. "It's only money!"

Rounding the turn David cheered as the favourite led the field as they past them with 200 metres to go. It was still two lengths in front with 100 to go. He was incredulous when little Falvel On Diva sailed past it and won by three quarters of a length. David's horse, the favourite, ran second and Payne's horse third. Mal let out a yelp that could be heard in the top deck of the Members.

"Shit ! I've got the trifecta ten times ! Waaaaahoooooo!"

Father Dan looked down at the ruckus. Wasn't that little Mal Shoebridge . . . yes it is, and there's Mark Woverton, and Trevor, what's his name, Butcher, that's it and David . . . nice boy David, nice eyes . . . David Bruce that's right, father's a lawyer like Carter's dad. Last saw them at the funeral. Don't seem to come to Mass anymore like so many of their generation.

Thank God some of the younger ones had started to return. The ones that were too young to understand the rumours. Either that or were so strictly brought up by their parents that they were unable to think for themselves. They came to church to avoid damnation as much as to seek solace in the Lord. Apparently fire and brimstone weren't an appealing alternative to an hour a week at Mass.

Shit they're coming upstairs! Stay calm. Nothing wrong with a priest coming to the races. They had already seen him here a few times before anyway. Remember the Spectre mantra - better to hide in plain view. The races was a perfect place for them to meet. Punting and horse ownership were two pastimes that straddled all social and wealth boundaries. Nothing much would be thought of a meeting involving a priest, a media mogul, and the head of a spy organisation and a captain of industry.

He turned his attention back to his companions, but to call them that was somewhat of an injustice. Powerful men in their own right. Capable of anything. He had been scared of them at first. But after a while they had all come to an agreement that if one of them had to leave the group the end would be swift and painless.

He got back to the conversation. All had gone rather well. The police were baffled and had put the shootings down to a bikie war. It had been a stroke of genius to trick the Assassins into robbing the gun shop and stealing two Glocks, a professional hit man's weapon of choice, complete with silencers as well as the Uzis.

The girl from the mayor's office had been collateral damage. A sort of insurance policy. It was always good to have a plan B. An escape route even if it just bought you a little time. Unless someone stirred it up the case was closed. The only ongoing threats may be the girl, Layla, and his mother. There's that other bitch too, the one from the show but she seemed more interested in her career.

The group burst through the glass swinging doors whooping and hollering.

Some of the members tutt tuttered them, others ignored them, a few joined in the celebrations. The boys went straight to the bar and didn't leave until after the last race.

They whooped and hollered after each of the remaining races. They were having a very good day. They must have slapped Mal on the back a million times. You would have thought he had sunburn . . . but it was the middle of winter in Australia. Funny how people always slapped you on the back only when you had sunburn! Even old Aunty Daisy! Or if you had a sore hand everyone you met wanted to shake it including the girls.

The SPECTRE meeting broke up before the last race vowing to meet at the next Randwick Meeting in a fortnight. They didn't witness the extraordinary scenes in the members when number 12 won the last race at 33 to 1,

Mal had seen Father Dan leave, and was tempted to run after him and tell him about today's experience and his good luck.

He thought better of it though. He didn't want to antagonize some of the members any further. And besides he had seemed to be in a very heavy discussion with his other syndicate of owners . . . he guessed that is what they must have been. Father Dan was known to spend some of his money on horse syndicates. Instead of trying to find Father Dan out in the crowd he pulled out his mobile and rang Layla. She sounded down when she answered but he would soon fix that.

"Layla honey, he shouted down the phone. Get ready you are coming out tonight. We are all going to the Casino. I've just booked a table for seven pm in the Gallery Restaurant."

She sounded reluctant said she was tired.

He insisted "You have to come Layla! It's important. Something wonderful happened today. Carter contacted me."

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"No. . . er . . . maybe a little. But if you love Carter like I do you'll come no matter what. Trust me. I'll explain tonight when I pick you up. Oh and it's on me.! It's all on me. You don't have to worry about money. I don't have to worry about money - not anymore!"

Chapter 8 - A Day At The Races.

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