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visits, generalized stuff that Tenuta the horseman doesn’t want to deal with. He had a guy like that, but he retired. Now he needs another. That, Jack, would be you. It would give you perfect cover on the Heartland Downs backstretch.”
    “How did you talk Tenuta into this?”
    Karen said, “It was easy. Ralph is a super straight shooter. He’s appalled at this sponging stuff. And his brother-in-law, Bud Dorsey, is a good guy in our Chicago bureau. Tenuta called him, asking for help. Then the track’s security people chimed in. That’s how FBI involvement in this investigation started.”
    “Well, hell,” Doyle said, “why don’t you rope the brother-in-law, Dorsey, into this and not me.”
    “Bud Dorsey knows
nada
about horses or horse racing. But he told us Tenuta would be agreeable to a set-up like this. He swears Tenuta is a good guy, honest, loves racing, doesn’t want to see it tarnished.”
    “Why can’t the horses be tested before their race?” Doyle said. “You know, use the endoscope on them before they run?”
    “Can’t be done,” Tirabassi answered. “A horse undergoing an exam like that wouldn’t be able to run that day. That kind of pre-race testing is impossible. For one thing, it’s too expensive. Also, most horses do not take kindly to such an invasive examination. It can throw them off for a day or two.”
    Doyle sighed. “Our government must be in dire straits for its representatives to tab me as a best bet.” He looked out the window, shaking his head. “You gotta laugh at this situation,” he said. “Count me in.”

Chapter Three
    August 29, 2002
    A week after their triumphant return from Saratoga, the newly christened Significant Seven met for an afternoon of racing, and business, at Heartland Downs northwest of Chicago. They sat in Arnie Rison’s seven-person box, situated under the cantilevered roof and in the shade, enjoying its comfortable chairs and small television that enabled them to watch the racing action not only down on the track in front of them, but around the country. Hovering nearby was a friendly young woman armed with a portable bet recorder. Thus, they didn’t have to leave their seats in order to wager. Also on hand was a waitress eager to take their food and drink orders. Little Chris Carson had the winner of the first race and was alive in the double, so he was somewhat distracted as the field for race number two pranced onto the track. The rest of the men gave Arnie Rison their complete attention.
    “Everybody’s done their homework on trainers. We’ve exchanged notes or phone calls. I’m ready today to recommend Ralph Tenuta as our trainer. He’s a local guy with a great record for performance and honesty.”
    Judge Toomey said, “I’ll go along with you, Arnie. Tenuta is a brother-in-law of an old law school buddy of mine, Bud Dorsey, who’s been an FBI agent for years. He says Tenuta is the straightest shooter since William Tell. Gives him big high marks.”
    “I went over his training records,” Chris Carson said. “Very impressive. He led the Heartland Downs trainer standings the last three years in both total winners and winning percentage. And he doesn’t have that big a stable. He’s an ex-jock, a little guy, very sharp where he places his horses. And, as Henry mentioned, he’s got a great reputation for honesty.”
    “A major factor,” said Marty Higgins, “in picking a trainer.” They laughingly agreed.
    Rison said, “A retired trainer named Robby Voelkner was very candid a couple of years ago, talking to our friend Ira Kaplan, who quoted him in
Racing Daily
. Voelkner was furious because another trainer, a real slick operator, had apparently outmaneuvered him. Ira identified him only as Trainer X, but everybody knew who he was talking about. He had signed up a new owner that poor Voelkner thought was all set to hire
him.
Voelkner told Ira, “That new owner has the money, Trainer X has the experience. Within a year, that