The Significant Seven Read Online Free

on me. And I’ve got no interest in again becoming an arm, no matter how unofficial, of federal law enforcement.”
    Engel leaned forward in her chair. “Jack, at least listen to why we’re here.” Tirabassi barked, “You’re not exactly number one on our list of people to deal with, believe me.”
    Engel signaled her partner to let her proceed. “Jack, have you heard of the sponging of horses?”
    “Sponging? Of course. What the hell, that’s what I did when I was working as a groom for that little dictator Angelo Cilio. Horse comes back from working out, you cool him out, then wash him and sponge him off till he’s dry. So what?”
    “There’s another sponging,” Engel said. “It’s rare, it’s cruel, and it’s criminal. And it’s going on at Heartland Downs right here outside Chicago.”
    Doyle said, “Damon, what the hell is she talking about?”
    Tirabassi said, “This is the deal, Doyle. Say somebody wants to bet not on, but against, a big favorite, wants to insure that the horse runs poorly. One way to be certain to accomplish that is to insert a small, egg-shaped piece of sponge in the horse’s nasal cavity. That cuts off between forty and fifty percent of its normal oxygen supply. Horses breathe only through their noses. With a sponge in them, it’s like, well, like a car’s not getting enough gas when it’s being driven. The horse doesn’t
look
in distress. And it sure can’t tell anybody about what happened.”
    “How many cases have there been? And, how do they determine the horse has had this done to it?”
    “At least three races at the current Heartland Downs meeting have been involved,” Engel said. “In each case, the horse that looked like the favorite on paper, but didn’t get as much money bet on it as you would expect. Then it ran terribly. With the favorite guaranteed to run poorly, the crooks could structure their bets leaving him off their tickets. As a result, the exacta and trifecta payoffs were huge. Winning tickets were cashed both on-track and at area off-track betting parlors, but not many of them. There were only a few people involved in the cashing. Each one was an old guy, what they call a ten percenter at the track, a person who pays almost no income tax because he’s retired. He signs the IRS forms. Then, from what we can figure out, he gives the cash proceeds to whoever asked him to carry out this chore, and is paid with a tenth of the winnings. Ten percenters.
    “
All
of the names used to fill out the IRS forms were completely fictitious, backed up by phony Social Security numbers. This tells us this is a pretty sophisticated and widespread ring. If we hadn’t kind of stumbled upon one of these cashers, as I guess you could call them, and scared the crap out of him, we wouldn’t even know this much. What we don’t know is who is running this ring. Who is doing the sponging to the horses.”
    She said, “I need another cup of coffee.” Doyle and Tirabassi waited in silence until she returned.
    “The spongings were discovered,” Engel said, “after the horses’ trainers noticed unusual nasal discharge, sometimes accompanied by a strong, foul odor. They’d call in a veterinarian. Using an endoscope, he’d find the sponge. There were a rash of these sponging cases at the New York tracks back in the 1930s, then nothing for many years until the mid-nineties in Kentucky. They convicted a former horse trainer down there of carrying out these more recent ones. Then he disappeared before he was imprisoned.”
    Doyle said, “Well, that’s some nasty business. But what have I got to do with it? What’s your point?”
    “Our point,” Tirabassi said, “is this. We want you to help us catch whoever is doing the sponging.”
    Doyle’s laugh was long and loud. “Aw, Jesus, Damon, you’ve developed a real sense of humor over the past couple of years.” He paused to look directly at the now red-faced agent. “How would I do something like that, Damon?