Hot Seat

Lap Sixteen

Easter’s question left me speechless. Who had talked to the press about the reckless driving and why the hell did George Easter have to bring it up now?

Rags jumped to my defence. ‘You got proof of that, George?’

‘Well, no,’ Easter stammered. ‘It’s just something that was reported to me.’

‘Well, I suggest you keep remarks like that to yourself, unless you’ve got proof to back them up. And for the record, we don’t comment on unsubstantiated rumours.’

Claudia moved in swiftly to help end the interview and Rags pulled me off the podium. The second we reached the pits, he marched me into the back of the transporter and slammed the rollup door shut, sealing us in.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Rags barked. His question echoed off the walls, hitting me again and again. He paced back and forth like a caged animal as I filled him in on the details. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?’

‘I didn’t think—’

‘No, you bloody didn’t. If you had, you would have come to me straight away.’

‘It wasn’t anyone’s business.’

‘You’re wrong there, buddy boy. The day you signed for me, your business became my business.’

‘The charges aren’t going to stick.’

‘It doesn’t matter if they stick or not. What you do has an impact on me and this team. There’s Honda to consider, sponsors, the ESCC and Ragged Racing’s image just to name four. If you’d come to me with this the second it happened, I could have done something to protect you. I would have had an official statement in place as soon as this went public, instead of looking like a prize tit in front of a European audience.’ Rags put his face in mine and tapped the side of my head with his index finger. ‘Is any of this getting through?’

‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry don’t mean shit after the mess you’ve made today. Jesus Christ, the first double-podium finish of the season and all anyone will be talking about is your reckless-driving charge.’ Rags finally drew breath. ‘How bad are the charges?’

‘Bad.’

‘Bad enough to lose your licence?’

‘Yes.’

‘Jesus.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’ve said that already.’ Rags shook his head. ‘I’m thinking I made a mistake with you.’

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I’d gone from hero to villain at the flick of a switch.

‘But I’m going to cover for you,’ Rags said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for everyone connected to this team. This ship is sinking because of you and I’m going to fix that leak. Got that?’

I nodded.

‘In the meantime, I suggest you clear this mess up.’

‘I will.’

‘See that you do. Now, get out of here before you really piss me off.’

I let myself out and Rags slammed the door behind me. Claudia was standing a discreet distance from the transporter. She squeezed out a sympathetic and pained smile. I walked over to her.

‘I pretty much ’eard everything.’

I groaned.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Can we get out of here? I’m feeling a little exposed at the moment. Hey, lock up your daughters, here comes that dangerous driver.’

Claudia smiled and her warmth helped soothe my angst. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Back at the hotel.’

‘OK, I’ll drive you.’

I grabbed my kit bag from the pit garage where everyone universally ignored me. I decided that was marginally better than getting a bollocking from them.

I skipped changing out of my racing overalls. At this point, I just wanted to get the hell out of there, so I climbed into Claudia’s Peugeot.

Relief washed over me as she put distance between us and Spa.

‘I just want to know one thing,’ Claudia said. ‘Are the claims true?’

‘No.’

Claudia nodded. ‘Then that’s good enough for me. I’ll do what I can to defend you to the press.’

I could have hugged Claudia at that moment. For once, someone believed in me.

‘Now, there are going to be questions from the sports media. I will ’andle them. I’ll work with Rags to ensure that the ESCC, Ragged Racing and you are all singing off the same hymn sheet.’

Singing off the same hymn sheet? Claudia had been hanging around far too many English people.

‘OK. Thanks.’

She pulled up in front of my hotel. ‘I’m ’ere to make you look good.’

‘You have your work cut out for you.’

She laughed. ‘No doubt, Aidy. As soon as you ’ave anything, please call me. From what you’ve told me, these claims won’t stand up. When they don’t, I’ll make you look like an ’ero.’

‘I’d like to see you do that. Thanks for the ride.’

I climbed from the car and she flashed me her million-euro smile.

‘There’s one thing you can do to help me,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’

‘Find out who leaked the news to George Easter.’

‘I’ll do that. Au revoir, Aidy.’

I left her, then showered and changed before checking out. I still had the room for the night but I didn’t want to play black sheep for everyone at Ragged Racing.

I pulled out my mobile to call Steve and found I had a text from Nick Ronson. I’d forgotten all about meeting him. I opened the text. He wanted to meet in his hotel room at seven p.m., but I wasn’t hanging around for another four hours. I called Ronson’s number and told him to meet me in thirty minutes.

Ronson wanted to meet in Liege. It was a good place. It was far enough away from Spa that we wouldn’t be spotted by anyone leaving the circuit and not too out of the way from my drive back to England. I plugged the address into my car’s sat nav and pointed the car north.

As soon as I hit the road, the adrenaline high I’d been riding since the race petered out and fatigue set in. Maybe driving three hundred and fifty miles back to England tonight wasn’t such a good idea. I set the cruise control and let the car carry me along.

I didn't want this meeting with Ronson anymore. It could wait until we were back in England. I was more interested in how George Easter knew about the reckless-driving charges. Obviously, someone had leaked the details, but I couldn’t see Sergeant Lucas being the culprit. Smearing my name didn’t help his case one way or another, but it did help Miss Angry Renault. The bigger issue here was how the hell had she worked out my identity?

My thoughts were broken by the wailing siren and flashing lights of a police car climbing all over my rear bumper.

‘Shit,’ I murmured. Just what I needed. A ticket on top of everything else.

I knew they couldn’t be pulling me for speeding. I’d set the cruise control for the limit. I pulled the car over.

Two highway officers approached the car, one on each side. I powered down the window for the one coming up on my door.

The policeman rattled something off in French.

‘Je ne comprends pas,’ I said. It was one of those key phrases I’d never forgotten from French class: ‘I don’t understand.’ If I was going to race in Europe, I needed to possess a tourist’s understanding of a couple of key languages.

The policeman huffed in disgust and shared something with his colleague. I’m sure it wasn’t complimentary.

‘Do you speak English?’ I asked and got a brusque headshake.

I smiled in an attempt to break the ice, which brought out a sneer. The cop snapped his fingers and rattled off more impatient French.

I still didn’t know what he wanted or why I’d been pulled over, but I knew the preliminaries. I handed over my driver’s licence, insurance and lease for the car. It was all in English, so I wasn’t sure how much help it was to him.

Torchlight smacked into the back of my neck. I turned to see the other cop waving his torch over the car’s interior.

The cop with my paperwork snapped his fingers at me and I turned back to him. He hit me with more French that I didn’t understand.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re saying and I don’t know why you’ve pulled me over.’

I hoped the language barrier would play to my advantage. If I was too much of a bother to waste time on, maybe they’d wave me on with a warning. If they didn’t go for that, I could call Claudia to play interpreter.

The cop shook his head at me and handed me my paperwork and licence back.

‘Thanks and sorry.’

Before I could put the paperwork away, the second cop yanked open the rear passenger door, dived across the back seat and grabbed something off the floor mat.

‘Jesus, what the hell?’

The cop fixed me with a disgusted glare and yelled something to his partner.

I didn’t get to see what the second cop had found before my door was thrown open and the first cop wrenched me from my seat. I released the seat belt before it throttled me. The cop slammed me against the side of my wet car. Rain soaked through my T-shirt and I shuddered from the sudden damp.

‘What’s going on?’

I didn’t get an answer, but my heart ratcheted up at the feel of handcuffs biting into my wrists. I was alone in a foreign country where I didn’t understand the language. I could just imagine what Rags was going to say when I dropped this bombshell on him — whatever it was.

The cops bantered back and forth. Their conversation totally excluded me despite the fact that it was about me.

‘Hey, hey!’ I barked.

It silenced the cops.

‘What the hell is going on? And if you don’t know what I’m saying, get a sodding phrase book.’

The cops shared a glance before the one who’d dived across my back seat smiled. That smile chilled me more than the rain soaking through my clothes. He tossed what he’d found in the back of my car on the roof. It was a clear plastic bag filled with a white powder. No phrase book was required to explain what it was and how much trouble I was in.