A woman kissed him. Hands were tugging at his jumpsuit, ripping at it. He was shaking hands with his left and right hands, and people were thumping him on the back. It was incredible.
He kept expecting to see Suzie, fighting her way through the throng, but she was nowhere to be seen.
He moved towards the rostrum and his mother appeared through the crowd. She was crying as she kissed him. Then Carlos embraced him.
Around him Wyatt could see the track officials desperately trying to clear the crowd so that he could make his way onto the rostrum.
Where was Suzie?
The Doctor came up and shook his hand warmly. Next it was the turn of the third-placed Brazilian driver, Marco Herrera.
Wyatt staggered up to the top of the rostrum to be presented with his trophy by the Brazilian Prime Minister. He was so exhausted he could hardly lift it above his head.
After that there was the traditional bottle of champagne. Wyatt shook it vigorously, then the cork exploded out of it and the cheering crowd were sprayed with champagne.
And in that moment Wyatt knew he could take the world championship. Before, he had dreamed of it; now he knew that it could be his.
Ricardo sat in his hotel room, a half-empty bottle of whisky by the bed and a glass in his hand. Suddenly he hurled the glass through the centre of the TV screen.
He knew his contract backwards, every driver did.
Suspension by the governing body meant he lost all right to his earnings for the year. Of course there was next year, but he needed the money now. He had not paid his taxes for years, and the Italian receiver of revenue was onto him. He had not even worried about this before, but now his only source of revenue was cut off.
He hated Wyatt Chase more than anyone else in the world at that moment. Chase had shown him what was possible in the Shadow - she could take the championship. But Ricardo knew he was history. He took another drink from the bottle, unable to look the future in the face.
The phone next to the bed rang, but he ignored it, staring out of the window at the blue sea. He would lose his villa when the bank foreclosed on him. How dare they suspend him because he hit the German! Chase, Hoexter, they were all the same . . .
The phone kept ringing. He thought of throwing it through the window, but instead he picked it up.
‘Yes!’ he shouted angrily into the receiver.
‘Ricardo . . The American accent was as smooth as Cointreau poured over ice. Jack Phelps.
‘Aito isn’t very pleased with you, nor is Bruce.’
Ricardo’s drunken mind turned the words over very slowly. Something registered - Phelps did not appear to be angry.
‘What do you want?’
‘I know your circumstances, so let me be quite blunt. You’re in serious financial trouble, Ricardo. You won’t drive again this year. Bruce thinks he’ll persuade FISA to change the ruling, but I have a contact on the inside - he spoke to Alain Hugo just now. FISA aren’t going to budge. You’re out.’
‘Bastard!’
‘He might speak of you in the same way.’
‘I’ve heard enough, Jack.’
He was about to put the phone down when Phelps said the magic words.
‘You need money, Ricardo. You need it desperately. I can give it to you.’
He put the phone down a moment later. Perhaps things were not so bad. Whatever Phelps wanted, he would do. Providing, of course, that the money was right.
Aito Shensu was walking on air. He shook Wyatt’s hand again for the press.
‘I’d like to say that Ricardo Sartori’s suspension will make no difference to our determination to win the Formula One championship,’ he said. ‘Wyatt Chase is a driver superbly qualified to take us to victory.’
Wyatt leaned back on the pit wall, exhausted. He whispered into Bruce’s ear, ‘Where the hell’s Suzie? Isn’t she supposed to be around for this?’
‘I’m sure she’s somewhere about. Don’t worry. Now, I think you deserve a rest.’
Bruce guided him out the back of the pits and across to the helicopter. Wyatt slumped back into the seat and bade goodbye to Bruce, and the helicopter lifted up quickly from the ground. He looked out to see the long, curving lines of the track on which he had fought for the last one and a half hours.
The helicopter banked steeply so that he was staring directly down at the pits. Already it all seemed far away. Wyatt felt a sense of loss. He wished that the moment of winning would go on; he craved to have it again. He needed it more than anything else in the world.
Suzie came round very slowly. The tape wasn’t across her mouth any longer, and she was in a white room without windows or doors. The only light came from recessed luminous panels in the ceiling. Where was she?
Perhaps it was just a dream. She thought that if she closed her eyes it might go away, but no, this was very real. Then she tried to move, and realised that her hands were still bound. The surface beneath her was springy - she was lying on a bed. Her watch and rings had been taken. She felt soiled and dirty.
Wyatt must realise she was missing now. He would be looking for her. But no one had seen her go into the warehouse, and she was sure that Ricardo wouldn’t say a word about their argument.
These worries disappeared as one wall of the room slid back, letting sunlight filter into the room. Suzie drew her legs up to protect herself. She looked up and saw a stocky man with dark, greasy hair. She felt utterly helpless.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. His English was accented, his tone friendly.
‘You are my payment.’
She looked at him dumbfounded, not understanding what he meant. He sat down next to her on the bed and she noticed that his right hand was heavily bandaged. Suddenly, she kicked out with her legs, but the only effect of this was to make her fall off the bed onto the concrete floor. He pushed her down against the cold surface, his left hand exploring her body.
‘You are very beautiful,’ he said softly.
His left hand was perfectly manicured and he smelt of expensive after-shave. On his right wrist, above the bandage, he was wearing what was obviously a custom-made watch. He must be wealthy.
‘You have no right to keep me here,’ Suzie said as forcefully as she could, holding back the urge to burst into tears.
‘So you think I should let you go?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you would tell someone about me.’
‘I would keep my mouth shut.’
‘You must think I am incredibly stupid!’
He pulled her back onto the bed and started to pace around the room.
‘My brother is dead,’ he said, ‘and I was nearly killed. There have been too many mistakes so far. You will not be another, whoever you are.’
He stared at her for a few moments, then walked to the door.
‘Now you must get cleaned up. I will have someone help you.’
He disappeared into the sunlight.
A woman in a khaki skirt and top came into the room a few moments later. She was in her forties, and had a pitted, dark-skinned face.
‘Get up,’ she said in Portuguese.
Suzie shrank back, and the woman grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet.
‘Up, bitch.’
Suzie stood up shakily, and the woman went behind her and untied the nylon band that held her thumbs together.
‘We go to bathroom.’
She led Suzie past the sliding wall and down a passageway constructed entirely of glass. On one side she could see a steamy jungle, endless green stretching off into the distance, far below her. Heart sinking, she realised that there was no possibility of escape. Then she looked to her right and found she was staring dizzily down a tremendous cliff face. How had she arrived at this incredible place? It was as if she had been transported into another world.
The bathroom was tiled with the finest Italian marble, and all the fittings were gold. The woman turned on the taps of the sunken circular bath and then grabbed Suzie’s ar
m and tried to kiss her. When Suzie resisted, the woman slapped her, and Suzie fought back, raking her with her nails. As the woman staggered back, blood pouring from the cuts on her face, Suzie saw that the inside of her left arm was covered with red pinpricks.
‘Maria!’ the woman called, backing away from Suzie.
There was the sound of feet running down a corridor, and an enormous black-haired woman appeared, similarly dressed in khaki. Before Suzie could resist Maria pulled her hands behind her back.
‘Now, Julia, you may have the bitch,’ she whispered.
Suzie closed her eyes as Julia began to fondle and then kiss her. Maria forced her to kneel, leaving her in no doubt about what she would have to do next.
Then there were shouts in the passage, and she felt the arms release her. She opened her eyes as the man who had spoken to her earlier came into the bathroom. He stared at Maria.
‘Didn’t I tell you she was not to be touched?’
Maria smirked.
‘Mr Ortega, sir, she is a prisoner. Prisoners are for fun.’
An armed guard came up behind the man. ‘Maria deserves to see the jungle,’ Jules said softly.
Maria started screaming as the guard grabbed her by the hair and dragged her from the bathroom into the glass corridor. Suzie felt a wave of hot air come into the bathroom as the guard slid one of the glass panels back. Julia lay pressed against the wall, quivering.
Suzie stared down the passageway. The guard was now standing behind Maria, his pistol pushed into the back of her head.
‘Jump!’
Suzie closed her eyes. There was a scream, and she opened her eyes again as Maria’s screams echoed along the passageway. Then the glass panel was closed and there was an ominous silence.
‘See, Julia, if you dare to touch the lady again you will follow your friend. Now, you will please help the lady to take her bath.’
As she lay in the scented hot water, Suzie stared out at the jungle. Her mind was in turmoil. She tried to think about Wyatt, tried to hang on to her sanity. Julia watched her without moving.
The man came back into the bathroom a little later and sat down next to the bath.
‘I must introduce myself, I am Jules Ortega.’
He clicked his fingers, and a man in a white laboratory coat came in, holding a syringe.
‘Dr Estevez, it is time to give her a tranquilliser.’
‘No, no . . .’ Suzie moaned. But Jules took her right arm and held it tightly, and Dr Estevez smiled and pushed the needle into her arm.
‘Relax, my dear, this is perfectly safe. The hot water will improve your circulation.’
‘What is it?’
‘Just something to help you feel more at home.’
Suzie felt her head swimming and a series of kaleidoscopic images appeared before her eyes. She sank down into the hot water. It was going to be all right after all . . .
Antonio Vargas, alias Emerson Ortega, relaxed in his office, waiting for the phone call. He stared through the picture-window at the jungle below him, considering. No, Suzie von Falkenhyn would not be a problem. Life was so simple really - you either had the control, or were controlled. She was Jules’s now, but he was not envious, he did not want her. That side of life had never particularly appealed to him. He thought of Jules and his harem, and decided that Jules would probably take Suzie immediately. But perhaps not. He might not feel like it after what Talbot had done to his hand. Jules had been stupid to try and cross the American.
The phone on his desk rang softly and he picked it up.
‘Antonio, are you ready to make the next delivery?’ Talbot was brisk and business-like.
‘Yes, I have the goods.’
‘You do not foresee any problems?’
‘Your plan is brilliant - you have come up with the ultimate solution. I must apologise for my - er - partner’s stupid behaviour.’
‘No matter. Distribution can start immediately.’
‘Payment?’ asked Emerson, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
‘This, as you will realise, I discussed with Jules. He was a fool to try and play games. As agreed, your first two deliveries to me will be free, and after that I will pay you fifty per cent of the value. The other half will go to pay off the cost of the new laboratory. The money will be laundered in Mexico, then deposited in Zurich.’
‘In Yankee money?’
‘As you requested.’
‘And there will be no problems concerning the rubber?’
‘I will deal with that.’
The phone went dead, and Emerson smiled. Talbot had said he would kill Jules if he tried anything again. He, Emerson, felt a strong bond with Talbot. Life was so simple when you knew who your allies were.
Wyatt relaxed. Suzie’s arms were around him . . . Then the alarm clock shattered the dream and he stared round the hotel room helplessly, knowing that Suzie had not returned.
He got up and took an ice-cold shower, then moved into his training routine. First the exercises to build up stamina, which included multiple press-ups and sit-ups, then the katas, the moves that were a fight against an imaginary opponent. Soon he was sweating freely.
The feeling of victory was gone, and he felt empty. He had wanted to share his success with Suzie, but there wasn’t a sign of her anywhere.
As he moved into the third of the katas his mind cleared, and for an hour he was aware only of his body as it moved through the disciplined sequences.
By nine he had showered and breakfasted. Then he put on a black Calibre-Shensu sports shirt and a pair of matching cotton trousers. Finally he slipped on a pair of immaculate, hand-made Italian mocassins.
The press conference was scheduled for ten in one of the hotel’s conference rooms. Many of the other drivers would already have left Brazil, but Wyatt had to take advantage of the publicity for Calibre-Shensu. He’d received a personal call from Phelps late the previous evening, and Phelps had spelt out, in no uncertain terms, how much was riding on Wyatt. The success or failure of the team, he had declared, was now Wyatt’s responsibility.
He ran his eye over the newspaper that had been stuck under his door. He was on the front page. It was a typical picture - him on the rostrum, spraying the crowd with champagne. The headline, in Portuguese, was simple: ‘Chase Takes Rio’. He saw a sub-head saying: ‘Sartori Suspended.’ The next two pages carried two big pictures, one of Ricardo hitting Hoexter and the other, to Wyatt’s surprise, of Ricardo arguing with Suzie. The headline was as damaging as it could be: ‘Raging Bull’.
What was Ricardo doing, fighting with Suzie?
The phone on the bedside table rang.
‘Tell them I’ll be down now.’
He arrived in the hotel foyer moments later, to be greeted by an explosion of flash-bulbs. Bruce was waiting for him.
‘’Morning, Champion.’
‘Anything special you want me to say?’
‘No. You’ll handle it. Just field any questions they put to you about Ricardo. He checked out of the hotel early this morning and I don’t know where he’s gone. To be quite frank, I don’t care.’
Wyatt went forward into the conference room and climbed onto the rostrum to face a field of microphones and cameras.
The questions started the moment he was up. He kept thinking of Suzie. What was going on between her and Ricardo? Where the hell was she? He answered the press questions in a daze. Then one brought him back to reality.
‘There has been some question as to the legitimacy of the Shadow’s design. How do you feel about that?’ asked a hard- nosed reporter quite close to the front.
Wyatt felt a stab of anxiety, but he didn’t show it. He looked coldly into the reporter’s eyes.
‘I haven’t heard anything about that. Mickey Dunstal’s design is so advanced that as a driver I’m only beginning to explore its potential.’
‘You’re predicting another victory in Monaco?’
‘In Grand Prix racing nothing is predictable. I want to win,
but like I did here, I want to win against stiff competition.’
That brought a wave of muffled applause.
The conference went on for over an hour - an overwhelming success for Wyatt. He left the room in a hurry; he wanted to start searching for Suzie. Bruce was waiting in the hotel foyer, and Aito Shensu was there as well. Wyatt was surprised that Jack Phelps wasn’t present.
‘Let’s go up to my room,’ Bruce suggested, seeing Wyatt’s agitated face.
In the lift, out of sight of the reporters, Wyatt noted that the confident look on Bruce’s face had dimmed. Wyatt knew what a blow it was for him to lose Ricardo. Aito looked tense, too, and Wyatt could understand why - Ricardo Sartori was hardly the sort of ambassador one needed to launch a new car range.
They all sat down in Bruce’s room and he ordered coffee.
‘First things first,’ Bruce muttered. ‘Wyatt, when we took you on, it was a gamble.’
Wyatt couldn’t help smiling. The tables had turned.
‘It’s no longer a gamble,’ Bruce continued. ‘Both Aito and I feel that you deserve a better deal.’
Wyatt thought: you’re scared of losing me. Then he was embarrassed because he could tell that Bruce knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘This is the deal.’ Aito spoke softly as he handed the agreement to Wyatt. ‘Fifty thousand pounds for every championship point you earn.’
‘That means I have just made five hundred thousand pounds?’
Bruce nodded.
‘I’d like you to read it through now,’ he added.
A waitress came in with their coffee and they were silent while she poured for them all. Wyatt read the agreement. It put him right up in the first league.
‘You’re taking over from Ricardo,’ Bruce said bluntly.
‘I see there’s a second contract?’
‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Aito replied. ‘I’d like you to think about that one. You don’t have to take it up if you don’t want to. Basically, you agree to drive cars with my engines in them for the next two years. You will see that for this you would be rewarded substantially.’
Eye of the Cobra Page 25