Royal Heist Read Online Free

Christina, take the camera off her
no
w
!”
    Leonie looked frightened and lowered it. Christina took the camera, explaining, “It’s supposed to be unlucky, sweetheart. Take as many as you like after the race.”
    De Jersey, Fleming, and Mickey were deep in conversation, the incident forgotten. “I think it’s best to give him his head. With this ground it’s going to be fast. Let’s see what he can do, maybe give him a tap halfway, keep him off the rails, center of the course. It’s already been churned up, so if it’s too rough move him across.”
    Mickey’s face was expressionless. He and de Jersey walked toward Royal Flush. De Jersey bent low, speaking privately: “You know him best, Mickey. Do what you have to do. Let’s see how good he is.”
    Mickey smiled. “See you in the winner’s enclosure, then, shall I?”
    De Jersey laughed and gave his jockey a leg up. Mickey tightened his gloves, tapped his helmet with his whip, and urged Royal Flush to walk out of the ring. The crowd headed back for the stands to watch the race. The horses would take a good, easy canter to the starting gate.
    De Jersey walked ahead toward the owners’ and trainers’ stand, leaving Fleming to guide Christina and the girls. He didn’t see David and Helen Lyons waving from behind the barrier, but they had seen him pause by the Queen; David had the photograph to prove it.
    Christina fanned herself with her race card as they headed up the steps to the front row of the stand. They were all very hot. She knew not to speak to her husband as he trained his binoculars on Royal Flush cantering up to the starting gate. De Jersey lifted them, lowered them, looked to the wide screen, then went back to the binoculars. Fleming was more relaxed.
    “He’ll start his shuffle in a minute,” he whispered to Christina. Whenever de Jersey watched one of his horses race, he would shift from one foot to the other as if he were standing on hot coals. They exchanged smiles.
    Now the commentator was saying that all the horses were in the gates except Royal Flush. Then he was in, and the next second they were off. Fleming stood close by de Jersey, who muttered, “Came out well, but he’s boxed in. Move him up, Mickey, that’s it—good, he’s in a nice position.”
    As Christina squinted at the screen, Natalie asked where Royal Flush was.
    “I think he’s fourth, no fifth—he’s right in the center. See the star on Mickey’s cap?”
    De Jersey yelped, and everyone turned to look. He was hopping up and down. “He’s dropped back! What the hell is he doing?” His face was like thunder. “Come on, come on, Mickey!
Ride him. That’s it! That’s it.
” He nudged Fleming so hard that he was almost knocked off his feet. “He’s moving up, sitting in a lovely position, see him?”
    But the Queen’s bay was breaking away from the pack. He was almost a length in front of the rest of the field.
    De Jersey lowered the binoculars as the horses thundered down the backstretch. Royal Flush was still in fourth but looked as if he was tiring. Boxed in on both sides, he was struggling to hold his position. Then, suddenly, he began to draw ahead of the horses, neck and neck on either side of him.
    Christina turned to see her husband standing, as if frozen, his hands at his sides. Then she was shouting at the top of her voice: “Come on
.

.

.

Come on. Yes, Yes. Come on!
”
    Suddenly Royal Flush seemed to get a second wind. The horse flew, his stride never faltering as he moved up from fourth to third, and then he was unstoppable. He passed the winning post two lengths ahead of the field. Mickey, high in the saddle, turned to look behind as he raised his whip in victory.
    Fleming and de Jersey looked at each other, speechless for a moment, then Fleming gasped. “He’s done it, just like you knew he would.” De Jersey blinked back tears. Then Christina was in his arms, and his girls were hugging him. There were congratulations from everywhere, but