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The pages were from the Kevin Mills。 'I don't know why you want this list of the great and good；' he wrote； 'but for what it's worth and because I promised； here is a list of the guests entertained by Topline Foods at lunch at Aintree on the day before the Grand National。'
The list contained the name of the angry Lancashire farmer； as was expected； but it was the top of the list that did the psychological damage。
'Guest of Honour；' it announced； 'Ellis Quint'。
All the doubts I'd banished came roaring back with double vigour。 Back too came self…ridicule and every defence mechanism under the sun。
I couldn't； didn't； couldn't believe that Ellis could maim…and effectively kill…a child's pony and three young racehorses。 Not Ellis！ No！ It was impossible。
There had to be dozens of other people who could have learned where to find all four of those vulnerable unguarded animals。 It was stupid to give any weight to an unreliable coincidence。 All the same； I pulled my box chart out of a drawer； and in very small letters； as if in that way I could physically diminish the implication； I wrote in each 'Who knew of victim's availability' space the unthinkable words； Ellis Quint。
The 'motive' boxes had also remained empty。 There was no apparent rational motive。 Why did people poke out the eyes of ponies？ Why did they stalk strangers and write poison pen letters？ Why did they torture and kill children and tape…record their screams？
I wrote 'self…gratification'； but it seemed too weak。 Insanity？ Psychosis？ The irresistible primordial upsurge of a hunger for pointless； violent destruction？
It didn't fit the Ellis I knew。 Not the man I'd raced against and laughed with； and had deemed a close friend for years。 One couldn't know someone that well； and yet not know them at all。
Could one？
No。
Relentless thoughts kept me awake all night and in the morning I sent Linda Ferns' cheque back to her； uncashed。
'I've got no further；' I wrote。 'I'm exceedingly sorry。'
Two days later the same cheque returned。
'Dear Sid；' Linda replied； 'Keep the money。 I know you'll find the thugs one day。 I don't know what you said to Rachel but she's much happier and she hasn't had any bad dreams since you came last week。 For that alone I would pay you double。 Affectionately； Linda Ferns。'
I put the cheque in a pending file； caught up with paperwork and attended my usual judo training session。
The judo I practised was the subtle art of self…defence； the shifting of balance that used an attacker's own momentum to overe him。 Judo was rhythm； leverage and speed； a matter sometimes of applying pressure to nerves and always； in the way I learned； a quiet discipline。 The yells and the kicks of karate； the arms slapped down on the padded mat to emphasise aggression； they were neither in my nature nor what I needed。 I didn't seek physical domination。 I didn't by choice start fights。 With the built…in drawbacks of half an arm； a light frame and a height of about five feet seven； my overall requirement was survival。
I went through the routines absentmindedly。 They were at best a mental crutch。 A great many dangers couldn't be wiped out by an ability to throw an assailant over one's shoulder。
Ellis wouldn't leave my thoughts。
I was wrong。 Of course I was wrong。
His face was universally known。 He wouldn't risk being seen sneaking around fields at night armed with anything like a machete。
But he was bored with celebrity。 Fame was no substitute for danger； he'd said。 Everything he had was not enough。
All the same 。。。 he couldn't。
In the second week after the Derby I went to the four days of the Royal Ascot meeting； drifting around in a morning suit； admiring the gleaming coats of the horses and the women's extravagant hats。 I should have enjoyed it； as I usually did。 Instead； I felt as if the whole thing were a charade taking illusory place over an abyss。
Ellis； of course； was there every day： and； of course； he sought me out。
'How's it going； Hotline？'
'The Hotline is silent。'
'There you are； then；' Ellis said with friendly irony； 'you've frightened your foot merchant off。'
'For ever； I hope。'
'What if he can't help it？' Ellis said。
I turned my head： looked at his eyes。 'I'll catch him；' I said。
He smiled and looked away。 'Everyone knows you're a whiz at that sort of thing； but I'll bet you …'
'Don't；' I interrupted。 'Don't bet on it。 It's bad luck。'
Someone came up to his other elbow； claiming his attention。 He patted my shoulder； said with the usual affection； 'See you； Sid；' and was drawn away； and I couldn't believe； I couldn't； that he had told me why； even if not how。
'What if he can't help it？'
Could pulsion lead to cruel senseless acts？
No。。。
Yes； it could； and yes； it often did。
But not in Ellis。 Not； not in Ellis。
Alibis； I thought； seeking for a rational way out。 I would find out…somehow…exactly where Ellis had been on the nights the horses had been attacked。 I would prove to my own satisfaction that it couldn't have been Ellis； and I would return with relief to the beginning； and admit I had no pointers at all； and would never find the thugs for Linda； and would quite happily chalk up a failure。
At five…thirty in the morning on the day after the Ascot Gold Cup； I sleepily awoke and answered my ringing telephone to hear a high agitated female voice saying； 'I want to reach Sid Halley。'
'You have；' I said； pushing myself up to sitting and squinting at the clock。
'What？'
'You are talking to Sid Halley。' I stifled a yawn。 Five…bloody…thirty。
'But I phoned The Pump and asked for the Hotline！'
I said patiently； 'They re…route the Hotline calls direct to me。 This is Sid Halley you're talking to。 How can I help you？'
'Christ；' she said； sounding totally disorganised。 'We have a colt with a foot off。'
After a breath…catching second I said； 'Where are you？'
'At home。 Oh； I see； Berkshire。'
'Where； exactly？'
'be Bassett； south of Hungerford。'
'And 。。。 um 。。。' I thought of asking； 'What's the state of play？' and discarded it as less than tactful。 'What is 。。。 happening？'
'We're all up。 Everyone's yelling and crying。'
'And the vet？'
'I just phoned him。 He's ing。'
'And the police？'
'They're sending someone。 Then we decided we'd better call you。'
'Yes；' I replied。 'I'll e now； if you like。'
'That's why I phoned you。'
'What's your name； then？ Address？'
She gave them。 'Betty Bracken； Manor House； be Bassett'…stumbling on the words as if she couldn't remember。
'Please；' I said； 'ask the vet not to send the colt or his foot off to the knackers until I get there。'
'I'll try；' she said jerkily。 'For God's sakes； why？ Why our colt？'
'I'll be there in an hour；' I said。
What if he can't help it。。。
But it took such planning。 Such stealth。 So many crazy risks。 Someone； sometime； would see him。
Let it not be Ellis； I thought。 Let the pulsion be some other poor bastard's ravening subconscious。 Ellis would be able to control such a vicious appetite； even if he felt it。
Let it not be Ellis。
Whoever it was； he had to be stopped： and I wo