Eye of the Cobra (31 page)

No one would know where she was. There was no way they would know what had happened to her.

She couldn’t breathe. She felt herself losing consciousness.

She was in the sea and she was sinking. The water enveloped her and she saw a hand reach out. It was Wyatt’s, but she was too far away and she sank deeper. His face became more and more watery, and though she tried to swim upwards, it was no good. Then the blackness enveloped her.

Twenty laps had gone by and Wyatt was still leading. Behind him was the world champion, de Rosner, nick-named the Doctor because of the cold, calculated manner in which he drove. But the gap between de Rosner and Wyatt was widening all the time. Another five cars were thirty seconds behind them, and this distance too was increasing all the time. He had lapped all the other cars.

Bruce had told him over the radio link that Ricardo was out of the race. This did not please Wyatt because he knew it meant trouble for the team - less points for the coveted constructor’s trophy.

He had to win.

The Shadow was handling beautifully. The engine felt strong and Wyatt was confident that it would last the race. But the Carvalho tyres were taking a hammering, and there was no doubt that he would have to come in for rubber soon. His concern was that the Doctor’s McCabe was fitted with Pirellis, which had a reputation for staying power - the Doctor might go the whole race on one set of tyres.

Wyatt would have to get further ahead of the Doctor before he could dare go into the pits for a tyre-change. Still, the way he was going, he would be forty-five seconds ahead by the fortieth lap. If Reg and the rest of the guys were as fast as they had been in the practice sessions, he knew he could be out of the pits in under eight seconds.

The radio crackled into life again - Bruce telling him to try and take it easy. Several cars had already gone off with overheating problems. Wyatt listened, but did not respond; he had to stay in front; he could not afford to back off with de Rosner on his tail.

Bruce felt the sweat dripping down his face. He looked at the read-outs on the monitor that was radio-linked to the Shadow’s engine, and saw that the engine was overheating - the last-minute conversion hadn’t worked.

Someone touched his elbow. Aito.

‘What is wrong?’ he asked quietly.

No time for lies now.

‘The modification isn’t working.’

‘Bruce, I also have a few things up my sleeve.’

Aito spoke quickly in Japanese to Katana, who sat hunched over the screen alongside Bruce. Katana tapped in a few commands.

Bruce whistled softly.

‘If this is what I think it is, I don’t fucking believe it.’

Aito rested a hand on his shoulder.

‘It is as much a gamble for us as the engine modification was for you. We will always push the regulations to the limit.’

The seconds ticked anxiously by. The engine temperature started to drop. Katana typed in some more commands.

‘You’re remote-controlling the entire management system?’ Bruce noticed that Mickey was hovering behind them. There was an enigmatic smile on the Irishman’s face.

‘These fellas can teach us a thing or two, eh, Bruce?’

Bruce met Aito’s eyes and felt his respect for the Japanese entrepreneur go up a few notches.

‘I think they can.’

In the constructors’ tower Estelle watched the television intently. She had come here to try and make things up with Wyatt, because she was beginning to feel guilty at the way she’d treated him. She understood, having been married to James, the pressure Wyatt was under, and she wanted to give her son as much support as she could. She knew that her being there would mean a lot to him.

At that moment James Hunt was handling the commentary, taking over from Murray Walker. As usual, Hunt wasn’t pulling punches, but he was clearly excited.

‘Out in front now at lap forty is British driver, Wyatt Chase, in his debut Grand Prix for Calibre-Shensu. The question is, how much of this is the car and how much the driver? After Sartori’s unspeakable performance just after the start, we’ll never really know till next year. Sartori has been suspended with immediate effect for the rest of this season. This is a tragic blow for Calibre-Shensu. However, in Wyatt Chase I think I can predict we have the makings of a champion. And with the money Shensu are pouring into the Shadow, combined with the design genius of Mickey Dunstal, nothing is going to come near him. The back markers . . .’

Estelle felt the excitement coursing through her - the old excitement. She felt as she had done years before, watching James. She felt Carlos’s hand on her shoulder.

‘He will win,’ Carlos said.

Estelle was silent. Then she said in a low voice, ‘You know, although I try to, I will never forgive him . . .’

‘James’s death was an accident.’

‘He was driving like a bloody fool.’ Estelle’s voice had risen in pitch. ‘He says he can’t remember, but I can see the guilt in his eyes.’

‘It was ten years ago.’

‘Don’t you understand?’ He could hear her desperation. ‘I love Wyatt. That is why I am here. But he feels the guilt, I know that. That is why he has to take the same risks as his father. And as for what he did to Danny, that is another matter.’

Carlos stared away from her, trying to think of something to say that would ease her torment, yet knowing there was nothing that would help. Eventually he said, ‘You cannot make a man turn away from his destiny.’

‘Even if it means he might die?’

‘Sometimes, only by confronting death can a man live.’

Bruce de Villiers went through the sequence that Wyatt’s pit- stop would take. At zero seconds Wyatt’s car would fly into the pits, running almost into Reg Tillson’s shins at nearly thirty mph. Reg had a steady nerve - essential for this job. Bruce was in charge of the whole operation - in radio contact with Wyatt, and using hand signals. Wyatt would keep his right heel on the brake and blip the throttle occasionally with his toes.

At point-five of a second, the front- and rear-wheel teams would move in. The gun-men, operating pneumatic spanners, would whip off the wheels by three-point-five seconds and slip on fresh ones by five seconds. The gun-men would tighten up the nuts with their pneumatic spanners, raise their hands - and Bruce would give Wyatt the OK to pull away fast after just eight seconds in the pit.

That was how it was supposed to happen. That was how it was going to happen.

On the fiftieth lap Wyatt was still only thirty seconds ahead of the Doctor. Now he had to come in: the Shadow was not handling well - his lap times were dropping and the Doctor was closing in on him. Reluctantly he informed Bruce that he’d be coming into the pits on the next lap.

After the main straight came six bends in quick succession. He went through them as fast as he could, fighting the temptation to take the pressure off the tyres. Every second counted. He shot round the last bend and roared into the pits.

The Calibre-Shensu team swarmed around the car, the tyres coming off the wheels almost as he stopped moving, the new rubber being put on in seconds.

Great. Great. They were moving fast, very fast.

He could go.

Shit. What was happening? What the fuck was wrong! Where was the signal to pull out?

I don’t believe this, Wyatt told himself. They’ve fucked up. Twenty bloody seconds! De Rosner’s going to catch me!

No!

Reg was wrestling with one rear tyre which would not come off. Bruce started kicking it hard as the rest of the pit crew pulled. Then the tyre came loose and they had the next one on in a fraction of a second.

Bruce raised his hand and screamed at Wyatt over the radio to leave.

My God, thirty-one seconds. A total balls-up.

Fuck it!

Wyatt gunned the engine as hard as he could. As he emerged out of the pits, the Doctor’s McCabe streaked past him.

Damn!

Thirty-one bloody seconds when it should have taken eight.

He wasn’t going to lose - not now. He was going to win, whatever it cost.

Bruce couldn’t say anything. The time spoke for itself. Wyatt had been over thirty seconds in the pits, and all because of a jammed wheel. The pit team of twenty men, including himself, Reg Tillson and the Shensu mechanics, were silent.

He could see the other teams looking over at them. He knew what they were thinking. The running of Calibre-Shensu was his responsibility; he had let his driver down badly, and he knew it.

He walked over to the monitor and Aito looked up questioningly.

‘Aito, I fucked up.’

‘Wyatt will catch him.’

‘The Doctor isn’t going to let go.’

‘The Doctor hasn’t got fresh rubber, he’s not in the Shadow and he’s not Wyatt Chase.’

Aito nodded to Professor Katana, who tapped some fresh instructions into the management system.

‘Now, Bruce, we take a risk. Wyatt will get a little more power and the engine will take a little more strain.’

They both turned from the computer back to the track. The Doctor’s McCabe shot past, hotly pursued by Wyatt in the Shadow.

Bruce’s face broke into a broad smile. Wyatt was driving like a demon.

There was only one lap to go and Wyatt was right on the Doctor’s tail. James Hunt’s commentary reflected the excitement of the crowd.

‘Chase has just set a new lap record. But the Doctor still holds the lead and he is driving incredibly fast. This is the final lap, and the question on everybody’s lips is, can Wyatt Chase pass de Rosner to win Calibre-Shensu’s debut Grand Prix?’

Wyatt soared down the main straight after the Doctor. They had lapped all the other cars, and all Wyatt could think about now was how he could improve his speed through the corners. The McCabe was nearly as fast as the Shadow on the straight.

The Doctor took the right-hander after the pits at a perfect line. Wyatt was right behind him, looking for a gap which failed to materialise. The bends piled one on top of the other in dizzy succession, and all the time Wyatt was behind the Doctor. But the Frenchman did not relent.

The main straight saw Wyatt almost gaining on the McCabe, but he did not have the power to pass, and at the left-hander at the end, the Doctor was still in front. Now a bend to the right, and Wyatt was fighting for his life. There wasn’t a chink in the Doctor’s armour; the McCabe was moving faultlessly towards the finish.

A really sharp left-hander came up next. Wyatt laid down the power and surged level with the Doctor. It was an almost suicidal manoeuvre because if he lost it, he’d go flying out of control.

He felt the Shadow straining as she moved into the corner at the absolute limit of adhesion. Wyatt shot past the Doctor and accelerated into the next three bends.

He crossed the finish-line seconds later, in a blur of sound and colour, to a sensation of overwhelming heat. He felt his body almost levitate from the car as the emotion soared through him. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He wanted this moment to last forever. It was everything he had dreamed it would be, and more.

He had won.

Bruce was crying. He had his arms around Mickey, and Reg Tillson was pumping Professor Katana’s hand. The crew were embracing one another, Japanese and British mechanics finally united in the moment of victory.

Bruce pulled away from Mickey, searching for Aito. He stood at the edge of the pit bay, quiet, a faint smile on his face. Tears were running from his eyes beneath the blackframed glasses. Bruce stretched out his hand and Aito grasped it firmly, not letting go.

‘I ... I cannot tell you what this means,’ Aito said. ‘I had no idea it would be like this. I thank you from the depths of my soul.’

Bruce could hear the British commentary over the loudspeakers.

‘This is incredible! A proud day for Britain - and what a start to Wyatt Chase’s second season in Formula One! Without doubt, that is one of the finest drives I have seen in the last few years. The field was very, very competitive, yet Chase stayed close to the front and outmanoeuvred one of the most talented drivers on the track. Down in the pits, I can only feel that Bruce de Villiers must be a very happy man. McCabe must be very sore to be beaten by their former manager in his first outing.’

Estelle was stone-cold, tears streaming down her face as Carlos held her tightly.

‘You know what could have happened on that bend? This is just the beginning. He will never give up.’

Carlos guided Estelle outside, into the maelstrom of sup
porters who were jostling around the pit enclosure. They had to fight their way through the mass of seething bodies to the area below the rostrum.

Carlos gripped Estelle’s hand tightly. ‘This is his moment,’ he whispered. ‘Do not take it from him.’

Wyatt was barely able to drive the victory lap, he was so exhausted. He tried to replay in his mind the last few minutes of the race when he had taken the lead from the Doctor. He could scarcely believe that he had pulled it off. The applause from the crowd at the side of the circuit was tumultuous.