Eye of the Cobra

by Christopher Sherlock

  Bruce knelt down and stared at the figures.

  ‘But the engine could blow up.’

  ‘It could. But Professor Katana has had her up to 17000 rpm on the test-bed.’

  Bruce got up and stared out across the pit lane. It was a hell of a risk. If there were a few retirements, Wyatt could well end up in the points, and though the team wouldn’t win the championship, they’d be in second place. But if he chose to change the engine settings, they could be out of the running and be much further back in the points.

  He clenched his fist and walked back to Aito.

  ‘All right. Reprogramme the engine management chip.’

  It was the twenty-seventh lap, with twenty-six to go, and Wyatt was getting desperate. He’d made it to tenth place, but even though two of the front-runners had dropped out, he knew that at his present pace he could not possibly pass the cars in front of him.

  In the headphones, to his surprise, he heard Aito’s voice.

  ‘Wyatt, we’re going to reprogramme the electronic management chip in your engine - you should be able to push the engine another 2000 revs - maybe even 5000 if you’re prepared to take the risk. Don’t hold back now. I’m with you all the way.’

  Wyatt felt the difference almost immediately, and the engine developed an uncanny snarl. In the first corner he was up to 15000 and passed the tenth car. A vague noise intruded and he guessed it was the crowd cheering.

  He pushed the car harder into the next bend, tracking the ninth-placed driver in the distance. Now he had the power to reel him in and put on the pressure. His hand worked the wheel continuously and he felt his neck taking the strain of the increased G-forces. He was going very, very fast.

  On the thirty-third lap he passed the ninth car on the straight. He heard the headphones crackle into life. Even the distortion couldn’t hide the excitement in Bruce’s voice.

  ‘You’ve just broken the lap record! Keep it up.’

  He was a long way behind the eighth car, and it seemed like an eternity before he finally started tailing it on the fortieth lap. He was running out of time.

  The driver kept blocking him, shooting out to the side whenever he tried to pass. But Wyatt hadn’t got time for these games. He came up on the inside, saw the car moving in towards him. He held his line, going straight for the side of the car. At the last minute the driver panicked and lost control.

  Wyatt felt a lot better after that. The seventh car, driven by former world champion Nico Marx, was just in front, and Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief as the professional made way for his charge - the only driver who had done so.

  Six cars to pass and thirteen laps to go. It was a formidable task.

  The BBC commentator could feel the tension in the crowd, the growing excitement. There was not a single spectator who did not know of the relationship between Wyatt Chase and Aito Shensu - that Chase had lived in Shensu’s country for ten years, and that this had created a special bond between them.

  ‘This is without doubt the most exciting race of the season,’ the commentator said excitedly. ‘De Rosner has been leading the race, the other two front-runners having dropped out, and the world championship is his - unless Wyatt Chase can catch him.

  ‘Till lap twenty-five, it looked as though Chase was out of the running. But then, on lap twenty-six, he suddenly recovered the form that has made him the most talked about driver on the circuit this year. In only his second year in Formula One, he could win the championship at the age of twenty-eight . . .’

  ‘And here we are, he’s moving into the Casio Triangle, and yes, he passed Rolf Steiner in the Kraftwork before Steiner could even work out what was happening. But it’s now only ten laps to the finish and the question on everyone’s lips is: “Can Chase do it?”.’

  The camera closed in on the Degner Curve, where Wyatt was already challenging the fifth-placed Andrews driven by Mort Hume, the only American in the race. Wyatt moved far out on the corner and crossed past Hume in an incredibly risky manoeuvre that could have sent him spinning out of control into the underpass.

  ‘I have never, never seen driving like this. The Shensu- deVilliers Shadow is certainly putting paid to any criticisms of Mickey Dunstal’s controversial design. If anything, the revised design, produced after the FISA disqualification following the Monaco Grand Prix, has made this machine even more competitive . . .

  ‘And here is Chase coming down the straight, passing the fourth-placed Marrington-Ford driven by Michel Rotteglia. This is incredible! Chase is driving faster than any driver I’ve ever witnessed. The lap record is now down to one minute, thirty-nine-point-seven seconds. How Chase’s tyres are handling all this is what’s bothering me . . .

  ‘And now he’s heading for the leading pack, de Rosner up front with the two Ferraris close behind. They’re six seconds ahead of Chase, with nine laps to go.’

  Wyatt felt as if he were in a hypnotic trance. He could not hear the commands that came through over the headphones. All he was aware of were the two red cars coming up towards him. He was now down to eight laps and running out of time. De Rosner was six seconds in front of the Ferraris, and he’d need at least four laps to catch him.

  Seven laps to go, and he was in a rage as the Ferraris blocked his path. There was no way they were going to let him through, and he knew why: if they took second and third places, second place in the constructor’s championship was theirs. Well, if they weren’t going to fight fair, neither was he.

  He moved into the Casio Triangle at the highest speed he’d yet risked, and immediately the rear Ferrari moved out to block his path. He cut inside the red machine and, as he expected, she tried to force him off the track. The leading Ferrari then braked, and together they pushed him towards the edge. He forced the Shadow hard across to the left, wondering if he was going to come out of the corner alive. He nipped between the front of the rear Ferrari and the back of the leading one by a hair’s breadth - and both drivers lost control and spun off the side.

  Now he was after de Rosner. It was going to be very, very close.

  ‘. . . And this is simply incredible. No one can criticise Chase’s expertly timed break through the blocking manoeuvres of the Ferraris, but who would have expected both cars to spin off at the same moment? Shensu-deVilliers now only have to finish in second place to win the constructor’s championship and the way Wyatt Chase is driving, there seems no doubt that he’ll make that easily.

  ‘But as we move into the final lap, it looks as though the driver’s championship is going to go to de Rosner!’

  The camera cut to de Rosner’s machine pulling out of the Casio Triangle and into the last lap. A second later the black-bodied Shensu-deVilliers Shadow charged out, hot in pursuit.

  The crowd were screaming as both drivers prepared to do battle.

  Wyatt felt the car was not responding as comfortably as she had done earlier. He felt sick in the knowledge that his tyres were probably close to breaking-point. But he had to pass de Rosner.

  He hung onto de Rosner through the bends, waiting for an opportunity, but none occurred. He just could not risk putting too much strain on his tyres.

  As they accelerated round the Spoon Curve he realised that it was all or nothing. He came out neck-and-neck with de Rosner, and they flew towards the Casio Triangle. Wyatt knew the Shadow was at maximum power, but he could not outhaul de Rosner. His only chance was the Casio Triangle, where he might just pass him.

  Both men refused to brake, and they entered the corner at a suicidal pace. Just when he thought it was too late, de Rosner’s nerve went and Wyatt shot past, flying over the finish-line seconds later.

  As the elation of victory flooded through his body there was a deafening explosion behind him.

  His car slewed round and round. He saw the side of the circuit come up with sickening speed, and the Shadow smashed hard into it. Then he blacked out.

  Vanessa was running across the track, ignoring the shouts of the marshals, caring only about the black car that
was being bathed in foam. The breath burst from her lungs as she pushed herself harder and harder.

  She saw them lifting the body out of the car and started screaming.

  Narita Airport was packed with people. Talbot looked at his ticket again and moved towards the boarding-gate. It had been a remarkably simple exercise, planting the bomb and the transmitter under the engine cowelling of the Shadow.

  He had planned to explode the device within moments of the race starting, but something had stopped him. His training dictated that a warrior be given the chance to prove himself in combat and then die an honourable death.

  But now the final score had been settled, and with Phelps and Sartori out of the way, he could retire comfortably. It was going to be pleasant flight to Europe. He decided to pay a final visit to the toilet before boarding.

  Two smartly dressed Japanese executives followed him into the toilets. Oriental yuppies, he thought to himself - but the blow across his head changed that perception in an instant and he crouched down into a fighting stance.

  He launched a flying kick at his first attacker that sent him reeling into the cubicles. As the second approached, he caught sight of an older man who had come out of one of the cubicles. It was Shensu.

  The blow took him out before he saw it coming, and the next moment he was bundled outside. No one took any notice of his struggles.

  In a matter of minutes he was manhandled into a light plane, gagged and blindfolded.

  Talbot awoke naked, the sound of the sea in the distance. He lifted himself up from the futon and donned the black gi that was lying beside him.

  He opened the door and walked outside to see the sea. In an instant he knew where he was. Okinawa.

  Aito Shensu was sitting on his calves on the hard sand of the beach, looking out to sea, also dressed in a black gi.

  Talbot froze as he saw Wyatt, on crutches staring at him. Estelle Ramirez and Vanessa Tyson either side of him.

  Talbot heard a voice behind him. The language was Japanese.

  ‘Now you fight Aito. You have disgraced our style. You tried to murder his successor.’

  Talbot felt unsteady on his feet. He looked at the old man with the closely cropped hair. He must be over ninety. He had never been privileged to meet the head of the style before. He bowed.

  ‘Do not bow. You dishonour me. The only honour that can come from this is that you fight Aito.’

  Talbot turned and walked out onto the sand. It would only take a matter of minutes. Shensu was nearly seventy.

  They bowed, and Talbot closed in. Two blows hit his skull in sharp succession and he collapsed to the ground. His mouth felt bloody. He hadn’t even seen the blows coming.

  He staggered up, and received a hammering side-kick to his skull. He collapsed again.

  ‘Up!’ screamed Aito.

  Talbot did not know how long it continued. He could not strike one blow in retaliation, and his body became a field of pain. All he was conscious of was Aito: the old man, and the sea.

  As the sun began to set across the horizon, he experienced a degree of pain he had never thought possible.

  ‘Kill me,’ he begged.

  ‘I accept your request. You must die in the knowledge that you are nothing. That you have disgraced our teachings. That you have used what you were taught to harm weaker people.’

  Talbot swayed on his feet.

  ‘I beg to die.’

  The blow took him without warning and smashed the life from him.

  Estelle followed Wyatt to the mountain top and stared out across the fragile landscape. Already, just weeks after the accident, having been crowned World Champion, Wyatt had made a full recovery from the accident that should have killed him.

  Wyatt handed her the box that contained his father’s ashes and she sprinkled the ashes in the wind. He took her hand.

  ‘Kanashimuna korega bushino michi. Do not be sad. He accepted the way of the warrior.’

  She looked into his eyes, not understanding. He turned away and stared across at the horizon.

  ‘To die of old age, that is dishonourable. To die in combat, that is the greatest achievement. He understood that. That to fear death is the greatest weakness. My father was not afraid when he died, he was victorious, for he saved my life losing his own, knowing that the way of the warrior is death.’