Investors count the cost as Bill Vlahos' racing bets club collapses Racing identity Bill Vlahos. They were million-dollar bets that bookies say were impossible to make. In the depths of winter, punters avoid Melbourne's soggy racetracks in favour of warmer circuits such as Sydney. And yet on June 15 this year, racing identity Bill Vlahos claimed his punters club, The Edge, staked $13.8 million, including more than $8 million in Melbourne. In a betting sheet sent to members, Mr Vlahos said he had backed the favourite in the second at Moonee Valley, Mr Make Believe, to the tune of $1.8 million. It finished last. While Mr Vlahos claimed The Edge was down $6.7 million that day, over the longer term he boasted of returns of up to 218 per cent a year. "If - and that is a huge if - the money was placed somewhere in the world and they ended up winning millions, as Mr Vlahos claims, no bookmaker would ever let him on again," a corporate bookmaker said. It's total fantasy. Crooks, cops, the rich and the poor: Bill Vlahos took money from all of them. For years the cash, tens upon tens of millions of dollars, flowed into Mr Vlahos' personal bank account. In May last year, he had more than $52 million stashed in the NAB account, he told club members. And for a moment in January the amount held in the account peaked at $114 million, according to a bank statement produced to the NSW Supreme Court. It didn't seem to matter that there was no documentation, no receipt given. Mr Vlahos seemed to have the golden touch, an uncanny ability to pick race winners week in, week out. But now all that is gone, and along with it up to $500 million in paper profits and the smaller, but still very large, amount up to 1000 investors handed to Mr Vlahos in what one called a "leap of faith." "My financial world is shattered," one punter told Fairfax Media. Up until last week he thought he was a millionaire. Also shattered is Mr Vlahos' life and his racing empire, BC3 Thoroughbreds, which was financially intertwined with The Edge. BC3's administrators deny BC3 deposited $1 million into The Edge's NAB account in January, as shown by bank statements, but have not challenged the validity of more than $100,000 in transfers in the other direction. Early last Monday morning, at BC3's Surf Coast property, Mr Vlahos was allegedly beaten up and a fire was started, destroying a ute he claims contained a laptop holding key documents relating to the punting club. He walked away from BC3 later that morning, resigning from the company and leaving chief executive Craig Cameron to call in administrators. Within 48 hours, two of the biggest players in the bloodstock trade, Inglis and Gerry Harvey's Magic Millions, swooped on the Vlahos operation, spiriting away more than $8 million in horses bought on credit. Earlier this year, Mr Vlahos told his members he had a betting bank of more than $90 million. Fraud squad detectives are now trying to figure out how much money is gone, where it has gone and who has it. Key to the puzzle is an obscure Dubai resident, Daniel Maxwell, who Mr Vlahos claims was the link between the punting club and international betting markets. Also obscure is when the club started. In one set of documents, provided to a group of US investors, Mr Vlahos claimed the club started in early 2005. However, when settling his dispute with the mysterious Maxwell a fortnight ago, Mr Vlahos said the club was "established in 2008." In 2006, Mr Vlahos was barely known in racing circles, with the largest known bet he placed hitting just $2000. He burst into prominence the following year by paying $1.2 million for 75 per cent of the Peter Moody-trained Pillar of Hercules, which had been seized by police from drug kingpin Horty Mokbel. It was a disastrous investment, as the horse proved disappointing, despite being a son of high-class stallion Rock of Gibraltar. However, Mr Vlahos pressed ahead, buying horses at yearling sales in 2008. And he was talking large in January 2009, promising to buy 100 horses at auction that year. He was feted by Inglis and Magic Millions, which advanced him millions of dollars in credit to buy yearlings. As the BC3 operation expanded, the prices Mr Vlahos bid climbed ever higher, setting new benchmarks for yearling prices in Australia. Last year, Mr Vlahos paid $2.6 million for champion mare Black Caviar's little sister, Belle Couture, and he topped that earlier this year by bidding a record $5 million to secure Black Caviar's half-brother, Jimmy. At the same time as BC3 was grabbing headlines, The Edge was quietly growing. While talk of the club was abroad, Mr Vlahos insisted his members keep details secret. From his email address - goodluck @fingerscrossed.com.au - he sent a steady stream of updates: picks for the week ahead, details of the bets Mr Vlahos said he actually laid, returns for the quarter's punting efforts. In January, the strain started to show. Normally, punters were supposed to be able to withdraw money from the club at the end of every quarter. But after declaring a bumper result of 46.1 per cent for the December quarter, Mr Vlahos was seemingly overwhelmed by punters wanting out. Fairfax Media understands one group of Brighton-based businessmen managed to get their money, but others have not been so lucky. "It has been a hectic period the last three weeks," Mr Vlahos told members in a January 18 email, obtained by Fairfax Media. Unfortunately, big mouths have made it hard for us again. I have had to notify a number of groups they are not involved any longer as requested to do so by our betting contact. The transfers have been a little slower as I have had to move those groups on, which means some large transactions. By late April, it was Anzac Day that Mr Vlahos blamed for "a little spanner in the works regarding timing." It was "annoying for all of us to have these issues at the end of the recent quarters," he said in an April 28 email. In May, he said "all urgent transactions have been attended to," but by July there were more problems. "Takeouts this quarter which amount to over $41 million will drop us well below our ability to continue," he said on July 12. Claiming The Edge was "on the verge of receiving a minimum of two confirmed (no maybes, confirmed) huge injections of funds," he begged members to wait another six to eight weeks. Otherwise, he warned, the club would have to be dissolved. "Unfortunately, we have not been able to stay in the game," he told members two weeks later. He said the club would be wound up and money returned to its "rightful owners." Nonetheless, despite members bombarding Mr Vlahos with worried calls and emails, the betting club staggered on into September. Mr Vlahos had been desperately seeking finance from New Zealand and the US. Kiwi real estate agent Tony Vining knocked back a request for a loan of $US21.9 million ($24.5 million). It is not clear whether Mr Vlahos had any more success with Michigan-based PLG Capital, which he approached for a $178 million loan. PLG director Charles Williams declined to comment, "as we are subject to the Privacy Act." "As for your reports of the company collapsing [BC3], we have not been informed and will look into it," he said. He was also unwilling to reveal where PLG's parent, PLG Capital Bank, was based. Whether or not Mr Vlahos got the US money, The Edge members were still waiting for theirs. They continued to wait through October and into November, kept at bay by a barrage of emails from Mr Vlahos. He complained people were "threatening myself or my family" and distracting him by "going to lawyers." "I accept the fear, anxiousness and pressure of requiring funds," he said in an October 22 email. I also appreciate that some people have lost faith and think this may not be real. The last hurdle, Mr Vlahos said, was the mysterious Maxwell, who for some reason was apparently denying him access to a crucial Westpac account containing $194 million held in both mens' names. It is this account that the NSW Supreme Court heard last week does not exist. "I WANT THIS TO BE OVER," Mr Vlahos pleaded on November 20, promising the saga was close to its end. "I emphasise that the end of the month is an outside date and we could all be celebrating by close of business today," he said. Nearly a month later, club members have little to celebrate.