Hot Seat

Lap Thirty-Six

I reached the Ragged Racing workshop around lunchtime. Rags’ Mercedes was the only car parked out front. I pulled up alongside it and went inside. I found Rags in his office staring at the ceiling. Had he been sitting there since he’d sent everyone home?

I took that as a good sign. He was a desperate man. Desperate men made decisions from a place of weakness.

What wasn’t a good sign was that I was possibly meeting with Jason’s killer alone. He had every reason and now the opportunity to have killed Jason that night. I was keeping that titbit to myself for the moment. I had to hook Rags with a separate line first.

I leaned in through his door. ‘Got a minute?’

‘Can’t it wait, Aidy?’

‘No.’

He sat up in his seat. ‘OK. What do you want?’

‘Assurances.’

‘What assurances?’

I took that as an invite to enter his office. Instead of taking a seat, I stretched out on the sofa against the opposite wall. I was being disrespectful on purpose. I had a part to play. ‘I know you’ve been talking to Chloe Mercer about replacing me. I’m here to tell you that’s not going to happen. What also isn’t going to happen is you dumping me at the end of the season.’

‘You’ve got some nerve.’

For the first time, I saw the spark back in Rags’ eyes. Not surprising. He thought he was talking to someone he could dominate. I just grinned, reached into my pocket and tossed him a packet containing a few ounces of cocaine. It landed on his desk. Claudia had gotten me the cocaine from Custom’s supply once she’d gotten on board with our plan.

Rags eyed the packet but made no attempt to touch it. ‘What’s that?’

‘You should know. I found that in the wheel of my car. Actually, it was a lot more than that, but I just needed a sample.’

Rags picked up the resealable bag and opened it. He wetted his little finger, dabbed it in the powder and tasted it. The colour drained from his face.

‘I know what you’re doing and I want in.’

Rags spat the cocaine out. He resealed the bag and tossed it back on his desk. ‘And what’s that?’

‘Do I really have to say it?’

‘Yes.’ Rags’ voice cracked.

‘You’re transporting drugs in your cars. You’re hiding them in the tyres of the cars and when we reach the tracks, someone comes and takes the wheels. Genius, really. No one gives these transporters a second look at the border crossing. The Customs people are all dazzled by the big, shiny racecars, so it never occurs to them that it would be a Trojan horse.’

‘Except for you.’

‘Not really. I wouldn’t have guessed in a thousand years if I hadn’t noticed it leaking from one of my tyres,’ I lied. ‘I thought it was chalk dust. Dylan tried to pop the tyre and guess what came tumbling out?’

Rags said nothing.

‘It was so obvious you were up to something. You were spending money on exclusive testing and R&D like it was water, but you didn’t have the sponsorship to back it up. I’d bet you’re two hundred grand shy of balancing the books every season. Everyone thinks you’re up to something, but no one would have guessed you were a drug trafficker.’

I could have kept going, bringing Andrew Gates into the mix, but I’d be overplaying my hand. I was playing the part of the greedy driver in over his head. I wanted Rags to bring me into the fold and take me to Gates.

‘You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?’

‘Not really. I’m lucky more than anything, but I’m clever enough to know an opportunity when I see it.’

‘And you see one here?’

‘Yeah.’

Rags shook his head in disappointment. ‘I didn’t think you were the type for this sort of thing.’

‘I could say the same about you.’

My answer forced a slight smile from Rags. ‘So you want a longer contract in return for your silence, is that it? What, three years?’

‘To start with.’

‘To start with? What more do you want? A lifetime contract?’

I shook my head. ‘No, a three-year deal will do me very nicely. We can always renegotiate at the end or I can move on. But no, I want a piece of this. I need a pension plan and what you’re doing is it. I want five grand a month. That’ll guarantee my silence.’

Rags threw back his head and laughed. ‘Christ, you must be a racing driver, because you’ve got the worst fucking timing off the track. Remember that little roadside incident at Zandvoort? That was the nail in the operation’s coffin. It’s over.’

Rags picked up the little baggie of coke and tossed it to me. It landed at my feet.

‘You should have taken more because your pension plan is worth precisely as much as you can sell that for. I’ll give you your three-year contract. Fuck it, I’ll give you ten, but Ragged Racing will be done before the end of the season. You were right. I don’t have the money to keep this team afloat. I could have gotten loans, but the problem with them is that you have to pay them back and without a sponsor, loans only delay the inevitable. I needed money without ties and the money I get from trafficking keeps this team afloat. Without it, it sinks fast. You raided the piggy bank after it was emptied.’

Rags laughed again and pushed past me on the way to his office. ‘Now, let’s write up that contract.’

I was prepared for this eventuality. I let him reach the door to the offices before I called to him. ‘I still want my five grand a month. I don’t care how you come up with it. Just make it happen or I’m going to the cops and you can explain yourself to them.’

‘Tell them. See how far that gets you. They won’t find anything and if you do, I’ll tell them you’re a mean-spirited little prick trying to screw me over because you can’t hack it in the big time. Trust me, I can sell that and the cops will buy it. Goodnight, Aidy. See you next week.’

‘Call your boss. I want to speak to him.’

‘No. You’re getting out of your league now. These people won’t buckle to your threats.’

‘I’m not threatening him. I have an offer for him.’

‘What have you got to offer?’

‘A new pipeline.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The cops are on to you, but they’re not on to me. Steve is receiving and shipping cars from all over the world. Why can’t there be something inside of those cars?’

‘You want to drag your grandfather into this?’

‘He doesn’t have to know. I can make it part of his personalized service. Who wouldn’t want their restored car delivered to them by up-and-coming racing driver, Aidy Westlake?’

Rags was silent for a moment. I hoped my bait was enticing.

‘I’ll cut you in. You’ll keep Ragged Racing on the track.’

How could Rags turn down an offer like that? The chance to recover a hopeless situation had to be irresistible.

‘Do you really want to follow through on this?’

‘Yeah.’

Rags was silent. He was thinking about it. It was there on his face. He was looking into the future and he saw himself there.

‘Come into the office.’

I followed him in. He punched a number into his mobile, but no one picked up. I didn’t think anyone would. He didn’t have anything to offer, until now. His call went to voicemail.

‘Hey, it’s me. Aidy Westlake knows everything, but he wants to make us an offer. He has an alternative to what we’re doing. I think you should listen to him.’

Rags hung up and tossed the phone on his desk. We didn’t say anything to each other. There was nothing to say.

It was an hour before his mobile burst into song.

Rags answered. He was cool, calm and collected with his explanation. He wasn’t the same Rags I’d witnessed at the factory, coming apart one piece at a time when his calls went unanswered. He was back in the game.

He listened to his boss for several minutes before hanging up.

‘Be back here at ten tomorrow night. Make sure you have all your facts straight. You won’t get a second shot at this.’