Chapter 3 The Man In The Box
Grey tossed another witness statement onto the imposing pile on his desk, longing to hear the supportive anchor of his wife's voice in this investigative maze.
They talked for a while. Grey inquired about the twin girls before getting back to work.
Grey hunched over his desk in the cramped confines of his makeshift office, its musty air punctuated by the buzzing light.
In front of him was a large map of the race track, which clung to the dingy, hay-colored wall, providing Grey with a visual reference point as he sipped lukewarm coffee.
It had been three days since the Grand National. The investigation had stalled, giving Grey no solid leads yet to pursue.
Key witness accounts differed, showing inconsistencies. Initial theories around foul play or terrorism led to dead ends. Hasten to that. Chief Inspector Sanderson had been up his arse, demanding progress every few hours over the phone. The press had turned the whole thing into a charade.
Grey had yet to offer them anything of any substance.
He stared at the whiteboard covered in timelines, notes, and photographs. Every question mark seemed to mock him. He grabbed the autopsy report from Dr. Walsh, although toxicology and histopathology tests remained inconclusive.
She had noticed signs of stress in the horse's anatomy, which was intriguing Grey thought.
Grey set off for headquarters, determined to make some headway in the investigation, calling Dr. Walsh on the way to discuss the anomalies she had found in the horses' tissue.
"Did you find anything else unusual?" Grey asked.
"While my autopsy found evidence of high-stress levels, including enlarged adrenal glands and elevated hormones, I'm afraid I don't have a definite cause."
"There has to be something significant we're missing here in those tissue samples?" Grey said frustratingly.
"The tests didn't reveal any toxins or injuries that would explain the physical changes I observed," Dr. Walsh explained.
"I need you to take a closer look. Give me something I can present to Sanderson!"
"I'll take a second pass through the autopsy results right away, Mr. Grey."
"Thank you, Doctor. Talk to you soon," Grey said abruptly, ending the call.
Meanwhile, at headquarters, Detective Turner looked up when Grey entered the bustling investigation command center at his post. The room buzzed with activity as two dozen detectives worked at long desks. Phone receivers were constantly ringing, printers were spewing out papers, and whiteboards were filled with clues written in different colored markers.
"Any progress yet?"
Detective Turner shrugged from his seat at the central desk.
"Not much, I'm afraid..."
"I just spoke to Dr. Walsh; she told me that, based on the autopsy results, something must have severely agitated or startled the horses immediately before they began displaying such erratic behavior."
Grey tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk.
"Turner, have any unusual substances been found at the racetrack grounds? Anything related to their feed?"
Turner slipped on his black-rimmed glasses.
"Just a minute, Guv," Turner said, shuffling through some paperwork on his desk.
"Well, this is the official statement, to paraphrase.
The racetrack's management and racing commission has conducted thorough inspections - stating that nothing suspicious was detected in the horse's environment, stables, equipment, or feed."
"What do you think Turner, do you have any fresh theories or angles to consider? You've been on this case non-stop, perhaps a fresh pair of eyes could help."
"It could be anything - rat poison, pesticides, some industrial chemical, magic mushrooms!"
"Well, that narrows it down."
"Hey, I'm just getting started here. Give a man a chance!"
"Alright, Detective, impress me."
Turner thought for a moment.
"Whoever did this likely had access to the stables. That points to an inside job - one of the trainers, jockeys, or stable hands maybe?"
"What about a scorned bettor? Someone who lost a lot of money and wanted revenge."
"No self-respecting gambler would go to that length over a few bad bets." Turner scoffed.
"I'm just throwing out possibilities here. You horse racing enthusiasts know the industry best," Grey said, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"Damn right, we do. Alright, you've got me. Bettors are a possibility we can't rule out."
Grey chuckled. "Nice to see that mammoth ego of yours can be punctured from time to time."
"Keep it up Guv, and I might have you assigned to stable duty."
A good debate and a bit of levity were just what they needed to kick-start things.
"All joking aside," Grey commented. "We're getting nowhere fast."
Detective Jamison, one of Grey's lead investigators approached. After exchanging nods with Turner, he turned to Inspector Grey.
"Sir, I have something interesting to show you."
Grey stood up straighter, exhaustion temporarily banished from his eyes.
"Tell me, Detective?"
"When I was reviewing the camera footage for a third time as you had suggested...I found something that may be significant, sir."
"Let's hear it then. What did you discover in the footage?"
"Come with me," said Jamison.
"I'll show you the footage in the media room."
Jamison led Grey and Turner through the marquee to the adjacent media room.
Though not as large as an incident command center, the room held enough equipment and personnel to review footage and evidence of the day's events.
The media room buzzed with activity. Police radio chatter filled the air. Rows of monitors showed continuous footage from the race. Grey and Turner sat at the central console. Turner caught a whiff of stale coffee and cigarettes, next to Grey's shoulder.
Jamison leaned over with a remote control in hand.
"Here we are," he said, with a click, the footage he had marked commenced.
The footage showed a tall man clad in a unique top hat at odds with the dress code of the nearby spectators, wearing sunglasses in the VIP section. Jamison tapped the keyboard, whipping up a sequence from another camera.
"This shows a different angle!"
"Jamison, what are we meant to be looking at here exactly? I don't have all day to pore over footage that may or may not be relevant."
"Sir, this man in the hat and sunglasses seemed suspicious to me. His body language, the walking stick!"
"What's so suspicious about this man, Jamison? At first glance, he seems like any other punter!"
Turner chimed in. "Let's hear Jamison out, Guv. He may be onto something we have nothing else at the moment."
"Go on Jamison. What did you find suspicious then?"
"His body language caught my attention. The way he's scanning the crowds and racetrack - it's almost like he's conducting surveillance," Jamison said, directing at the footage.
"Surveillance for what purpose? You have my full attention now, Detective."
Jamison paused the footage.
"If I could get your feedback on this person's movements and behavior, it may give us valuable clues as to his intentions and personality."
"Very well Jamison I will indulge you, let's analyze what we can see so far," Grey said.
"There's something odd about the way that man is moving through the crowd. He doesn't seem to be interacting with anyone," Turner noted.
"Hmm, you're right. And he's kind of making a beeline for the royal box checkpoint, wouldn't you say?"
Jamison adjusted several knobs, toggling through additional camera angles that tracked the man's solitary progress through the VIP section.
"This is when things get interesting, gentlemen."
Jamison cut to another time stamp, showing the man's progress to the royal checkpoint.
"This footage is exactly five minutes before the start of the race," Jamison said.
"We see our guy draw closer and closer. Notice how the guards stop and frisk all of the guests when they enter the royal entrance".
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Grey and Turner leaned forward, eyes riveted to the screen.
"What am I looking for?" asked Turner.
"Watch this," Jamison interjected.
He zoomed in, which showed the man walking straight through the sentry of royal guards without a single check.
Grey and Turner exchanged a puzzled look.
"There seem to be major irregularities with the royal security protocols," said Grey.
"That man should not have been able to gain access to the King's box so easily," added Turner.
"There's more going on here than meets the eye."
"Jamison, can you get a better angle on this man?" Grey instructed.
Jamison tapped a few more keys, changing the footage to a better angle.
He then put the sequence on a loop so they could observe it frame by frame. Still, the man's features remained hidden behind his hat and sunglasses.
"Jamison, go back a few frames," Grey said sharply.
Jamison reversed the footage, then played it again frame by frame.
"There," Grey said, leaning forward.
"The guard on the left. When he turned aside, did he wink?"
A dark suspicion was dawning on all three of them now. They studied the guard, who deliberately looked away when the stranger entered unimpeded.
"It seems we have a person of interest on our hands, aiding and abetting this intruder," Grey said grimly.
"Turner, have the investigative units accounted for the whereabouts and movements of all royals, their attendants, dignitaries, and bodyguards present?"
"As far as I know, everything has been accounted for. Why?"
Grey fell silent for a second. "Turner, I need you to look into costume hire shops near the racegrounds.
See if anyone recently rented a hat like that one."
"You've got it, Guv, my lads, and I will head out and ask around."
"Detective Jamison, examine this man's movements within the royal box itself. I need you to move the footage along."
Jamison nodded and set to work, tapping and clicking several controls on the console. The footage on the large screen jumped ahead.
Grey and Turner watched Jamison speed through various time stamps, their eyes scanning for any clues within the royal box that might shed some light on the strangely clad man's motives and intentions.
Jamison brought up another shot - this time the mysterious man stepping boldly to the king.
They watched the king give a slight nod, and the guard moving aside, gesturing for the stranger to take a seat next to him.
"It's not unusual for a royal race day, to invite acquaintances to watch from the box," Grey mused.
"Turner, have the boys carry out a full facial recognition analysis on the still frames from the footage. We need to identify this man immediately. Just in case, it could lead to something."
"Will do, sir," Turner replied, jotting down notes.
"My lads will get those mugs scanned and checked against every bloke in Britain."
"And I want a lip-reading expert brought in to analyze the king's conversation, as well as a body language expert to study this guy's comportment," Grey said urgently.
Turner chuckled. "A lip reader and a body language expert? We must be grasping at straws!"
"Just make it happen, Turner. In whatever bizarre way you can manage."
"Consider it done, guv."
"Jamison, the man's behavior is unusual, I give you that," Grey admitted.
"But walking freely through a checkpoint doesn't prove much - or break the law even. Many of the King's accredited guests wouldn't be stopped.
Is there anything else you noticed, Jamison?" Grey asked.
"There is one more thing I noticed. Something even more troubling."
Grey sat up straighter. "Out with it then!"
"When you watch the footage in split-screen mode, one being the race and the other on the royal box itself there are some inconsistencies, watch," Jamison said.
Jamison positioned the split-screen mode. One monitor displayed the race unfolding. The other showed the king and the man speaking in hushed tones.
Jamison pointed to when the horses began going nuts. Directing Grey and Turner's attention to the royal box in conjunction.
The king sat upright in his throne-like chair, transfixed by the horrifying scene on the racetrack.
Meanwhile, the unidentified individual next to him watched the race with an unmistakable air of smug satisfaction, a sinister smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"This looks off-kilter," Turner enthused.
"As if it was meant for the king to witness."
"Pause it there!" Grey said, with a dark suspicion taking shape in his mind.
"Look at the contrast. The callousness of the stranger beside our monarch's evident distress."
"The unfeeling bastard is eating a trifle while people are being trampled on," Turner hissed in disgust.
Jamison pointed something out even more bizarre. To where Shadowfax crossed the finish line.
The trio leaned forward. To their surprise, they saw the king's lips curl into a subtle smile. It was a strange, almost a sneering gesture, quite at odds with the evident turmoil occurring on the racetrack.
"His reaction makes no bloody sense!" spat Turner.
"With all the carnage, how could the king smile at such a time?"
"It is...an unnatural reaction indeed," Grey said shaking his head.
Jamison continued. "Watch the king and the stranger leave together, they enter a private corporate box further along the grandstand."
"That corporate box belongs to Balmoral Industries," Turner said, recognizing the logo.
Grey was stunned. "The king entering that box with the stranger suggests a closer relationship. A relationship more personal than we imagined."
"Do we have clear optics of the security cameras inside Balmoral Industries' corporate box?" Grey asked Jamison sharply.
"Sir...accessing that type of footage is above my authorization level."
"I don't care about authorizations, Detective. We must have access to what transpired between that man and His Royal Highness."
"Guv, honestly we cannot access such footage without a warrant or executive approval."
Grey shot to his feet, eyes blazing.
"We've wasted enough time already. Every second we sit here scratching our arses, that man is putting more distance between us!"
Grey marched out. Detective Jamison and Turner hastened to catch up, excited at the prospect of maybe a breakthrough. Back at the incident command center, Grey stepped onto the platform, his voice cut through the hum of voices like a knife.
"Detectives!"
The room fell silent. All attention focused on him.
Grey grabbed the thick black marker from the whiteboard tray - angrily rubbing out several lines of hastily scrawled notes, sending dust flying.
He forcefully jabbed the whiteboard, where he wrote in large capital letters: UNKNOWN MAN IN ROYAL BOX.
"This is our lead now," Grey said.
"All our focus lies here. Footage has come to light of an unidentified man speaking privately with the King just before and after the race.
Before we conduct any interviews related to the Royal family, I must first seek clearance from the Chief Commissioner at Scotland Yard.
This investigation concerns the security of the King himself, after all, so a measured, authorized approach is imperative!"
He surveyed his team sternly. "Is that clear?"
A chorus of "Yes sir, followed."
"Good. Here's the plan. We're going to analyze the footage from cameras 1, 3, and 5 using facial recognition software.
I want you to focus the parameters on the age range between 18 to 30. Flag any possible matches above 80% confidence!"
The detectives scrambled, writing down Grey's orders, nodding urgently. an electric focus filling the room.
"Also I want a full round-up of all the ushers, waiters, and servers who were working the royal box. Someone had to serve this man drinks or food. I need you all to dig deeper guys and girls. Cross-reference the staff schedules against guest lists for that area - get on it now."
Several detectives began speaking into their phones, mobilizing the police units and technical analysts needed to carry out Grey's orders. Papers shuffled; detectives scraped back chairs as the investigation unit sprang into action.
The police clerks hurried, opening heavy metal filing cabinets that lined the windowless tent.
Dozens of narrow drawers filled with manila folders containing lists of employees, contact details, and photographs.
"Turner, you and Jamision will brief the team on the footage. Go over the notes you have taken, while I contact Sanderson."
"Right on it guv."
After briefing the team. Grey left the command center, mulling through the scenarios they had discovered so far, when the British Horseracing Authority official appeared, accompanied by a young street urchin - a lad no older than 15, with ragged clothes and scuffed boots.
"Inspector Grey, this young man claims to have witnessed something about your investigation," the official said gruffly.
"This had better be important."
The official handed him an evidence bag.
"The boy found this buried in one of the outer stables.
Looks like some kind of supplement pouch with various product codes and symbols like a serial barcode," the official said examining the amber gel inside.
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Where exactly was this discovered again?" Grey asked.
The gypsy spat, ink-stained fingers twisting.
"I saw something strange in the stalls, guv'nor. Something no horse should've had."
Grey fixed the gypsy lad with a pointed stare. "Did you give this to the horses?"
"Me grass? I don't squeal like a butcher's pig to no coppers, guv."
Grey towered over the lad. "I'll make it worth your trouble, lad. Name your price and it's yours."
"Two hundred quid is a fair price, guv'nor, for not keepin' me trap shut!"
"How about I take you down the station for questioning and sling you in the nick instead?" Grey countered coldly.
The gypsy lad paled. "I'm just a stable hand! I give horses what they tell me. I ain't no killer, I swear!"
Grey withdrew 100 quid from his wallet. "Who's 'they'?" He took a liking to the cheeky lad.
The boy's eyes lit up at the money.
"Some bloke gave it to me for the horses, said it'd give 'em an edge."
The gypsy ran his fingers through the two fifty-pound notes.
"Plus a whole lot more if they won."
"Were all supplements and treatments for the horses cleared and registered before the race as required?" Grey said facing the official.
"Everything was checked and double-checked as usual, all in order."
"So you're confirming there were no unauthorized substances or devices given to the horses?"
"Now see here, we run a tight ship. Any insinuations about negligence on our part are utter—"
"—I meant no offense. I'm merely crossing off all possibilities." Grey said holding up a hand.
"This situation grows more perplexing by the moment."
A grim look passed between Grey and the official.
“The supplements must have been secretly introduced into the horse’s medicine or feed after official checks were completed,
I can't believe this has happened. We have the strictest protocols in place."
"I know," Grey replied reassuringly.
"Whoever carried this out was devious and determined enough to circumvent even the most stringent of checks."
He placed a comforting hand on the official's shoulder.
"Take this evidence directly to the command center."
Seeing the boy was telling the truth, Grey withdrew another 100 quid from his wallet as a reward.
"Go with him and make an official statement, lad. Tell them everything you know about the man who paid you."
The gypsy nodded reluctantly hoping he was not getting into trouble.
Grey checked the supplement, before heading for his makeshift office. He had clues now - clues that needed to be pieced together into a coherent picture.
Grey finally picked up the phone, waking up Chief Inspector Sanderson, outlining the investigation's progress to date, including the mysterious man sighted in the royal box, and the newly discovered supplement taken from the gypsy stable hand.
"Grey, you're crawling around the royal stables. You've got to be careful. Gather more concrete proof before accusing His Highness, if you know what I mean," Sanderson warned.
"I understand," Grey said. "I know it's a smoking gun!"
"Yeah, a very hot one!" Sanderson said before he ended the call.
He leaned back in his chair. The case was coming together, piece by piece. But the final clues, linking the culprit to the crime, remained elusive.
Grey spent the late hours poring over notes, files, and footage, calling various experts. He picked at a cold cup of coffee as dawn's light gradually seeped into the office stable windows.
Another day awaited. The perpetrator of this crime would not evade him for long.