Hot Seat

by Simon Wood

  ‘I think that’s a little bit of an exaggeration.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Nice car,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I needed a replacement after what you did to my previous one.’

  ‘Come off it. We both know I didn’t crash into you.’

  Another shrug.

  ‘What happened? Did you run off the road after you chased me? Or did you write it off on purpose?’

  ‘Are you a little dense? You crashed into me and left me at the side of the road.’

  She was keeping to a script. She couldn’t afford to make a slip.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked.

  ‘You’re a menace to society.’

  I thought my turning up on her doorstep would scare her into some admission, but it wasn’t working. I had nothing to shake her belief, but maybe I could force her into incriminating herself.

  ‘You know I’m not. You made the whole thing up. Why did you tell Chloe Mercer about this? It had nothing to do with her.’

  ‘I like motor racing and I’m a big fan of hers. I’ve been following her since she started. I thought the information would be helpful to her.’

  And it was. It had put a serious dent in my reputation. But what were the chances that a race fan just happened to get into a near traffic accident with a racing driver she doesn’t like just so she can orchestrate a story to ruin him? The logical answer was it was almost impossible. I knew all about cruel luck from my parents’ untimely deaths. But my run-in with Jenni was different. Bad luck was never that organized. People were, though. Someone had wanted this crash to happen.

  ‘Big fan, huh?’

  ‘The biggest.’

  ‘What’s your favourite race of Chloe’s?’

  Her arrogant confidence evaporated in a split second. She stared at me like I’d handed her a nuclear bomb to diffuse. That wasn’t the reaction I expected from Chloe Mercer’s number one fan.

  ‘Well .?.?. I .?.?. I .?.?. I don’t .?.?. there’s so many to choose from. They’re all my favourites, especially the races she won.’

  Jenni Oglesby was full of crap. She was no fan of Chloe Mercer’s or anyone else’s or she would have known that despite coming close a few times, Chloe had never won a race.

  Jenni recovered her composure. ‘You’re going to pay for what you did and it’s going to cost you more than the damage to my car. You’ll be finished by the time I’m through with you.’

  I could see where Jenni was coming from. If she got away with this, it would cost me and not just financially. No team in the world would want me. She’d kill my racing career stone dead. I couldn’t let her do this to me, not when I was on my way to making a name for myself in this sport.

  ‘You’ll probably go to prison for this,’ she said. ‘You won’t like it there. No foreign travel. No TV interviews. No star of the future there.’

  ‘Stop,’ I said. ‘Just stop.’

  She’d closed the gap between us. There was real pleasure in her expression. She was enjoying her victory too much. I resisted the urge to shove her away. I couldn’t give her any more ammunition to use against me.

  ‘It hurts, don’t it?’

  ‘Look, it’s time to end the game. You win. There’s no one here listening. It’s just you and me, so there’s no need to keep pretending. We both know what happened that day and we both know you made it up. I can’t prove it, but it doesn’t matter. I just want this to end.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  Jenni’s look of triumph looked unbreakable, but I knew it wasn’t. It was time to disappoint her.

  ‘Yeah, as I see it, you’ve beaten me. But I’m not so sure about the cops.’

  A twitch pulled at the corner of her mouth.

  ‘They’ve been by to investigate. They haven’t found any evidence to back up what you’ve said. I still don’t know where I supposedly ran you off the road, but I wonder if the skid marks back up your account? The analysis of skid marks is an accurate science. Did you know that? Worst of all, you don’t have a witness.’

  ‘So you say.’ A tremor had entered her speech.

  ‘I do say because if the case was iron clad, the police would have charged me by now.’

  I was finally getting through to Jenni. The leer was gone and her confidence was waning.

  ‘When the truth comes out, and it will, the cops are going to come for you and not me.’

  Jenni was silent now.

  I had her. As much as I enjoyed seeing the tables turned, it made her dangerous. She could lash out just as Steve feared and drop me in a bigger and darker hole. She wouldn’t though, if I gave her a way out.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ I said. ‘Y’know? We can work this out.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘What do you want? It’s pretty obvious that you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, so you must want something. Are you really only interested in smearing me?’

  The word ‘yes’ slipped between her lips, but fell short before completion.

  ‘What do you want, Jenni? What do I have to do to make this mess go away?’

  A light returned to her face. I’d given her hope, which I prayed would lead to greed. She didn’t disappoint.

  ‘I want money.’

  ‘How much?’

  Lap Twenty-Seven

  ‘How much is she asking?’ Dylan asked.

  Steve, Dylan and I were in the situation room. We met most nights after Dylan had gotten back from Ragged to discuss what we had learned. Tonight, I had what I’d learned from Jenni Oglesby to share and Dylan had called me all excited to say he had some hot intel. Tonight was also going to be a little different because I’d invited Carrie Russell. I had a couple of questions for her.

  ‘Fifteen grand,’ I said.

  ‘Shit,’ Dylan said. ‘How much do you have left from the sale of the Van Diemen?’

  ‘About eight grand.’

  ‘I can use Gates’ upfront money to cover the rest,’ Steve said.

  ‘So you’re going to pay her?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Yes and no. I just need the money for show. I have to catch her in the act of taking it.’

  ‘She’s going to be sorry she crossed us,’ Dylan said.

  ‘And her partner,’ I said.

  ‘Partner?’ Dylan said.

  ‘She says she’s Chloe’s number one fan, but she doesn’t know anything about her. That means someone is feeding her the lines. That also means this reckless-driving scam was set up by someone else.’

  ‘Chloe?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘It feels like it. If she disgraces me, she’s in line to take my Pit Lane title by default.’

  ‘It’s a hollow victory to win it by default,’ Steve said.

  I shrugged.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Make the payoff, document it, then hand it over to Sergeant Lucas and let him do the damage.’

  ‘I hope it’s that simple,’ Steve said.

  So did I.

  Dylan stood up. ‘OK, who wants to hear what I’ve found?’

  ‘The floor is yours,’ I said.

  Dylan grabbed a marker and stepped up to the murder board. ‘OK, a couple of interesting titbits. Kurt Haulk went through a difficult teen phrase. He grew up in a not-so-great area of Rotterdam. Don’t ask me to pronounce it. He ran with a rough crowd. He’s got form. Nothing heavy. He was caught up in a couple of assault charges that never went anywhere because of lack of evidence. Interestingly enough, one was an assault involving a knife. Make of that what you will.’

  I could make quite a bit out of it.

  ‘How’d you find all that out?’ Steve asked.

  ‘Some of it popped up on Google. I also joined a few Dutch motorsport forums and struck up a couple of conversations.’

  ‘That’s all fine and dandy,’ Steve said, ‘but what’s his motive for killing Jason?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘We need more than a shrug,’ Steve said. ‘What else have yo
u got, Dylan?’

  ‘One for the timeline. I went back through Ragged’s results over the last few years. The team was a pack runner until five years ago.’

  ‘What changed?’

  ‘Mike Whelan.’

  Whelan was a big touring- and sports-car driver. He’d won touring-car championships in Britain, Germany and Japan.

  ‘He won the ESCC title for Ragged that year and dominated the series, but instead of defending his title, he walked away from the team at the end of the season to drive a Corvette for some ropey team in the ALMS.’

  ‘That’s around the time Rags started taking money from Gates,’ I said.

  ‘Now that I’m one of the lads at Ragged, people are confiding in me,’ Dylan said. ‘The word is that Rags paid big to have Whelan for the team so the money would have had to come from somewhere.’

  ‘But why leave a winning team?’ Steve said.

  ‘Why don’t we ask him?’ Dylan said. ‘We’ve got the Norisring race this weekend and Whelan is going to be there for the Porsche Cup.’

  The doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be Carrie,’ I said.

  I went to the back door and let her in. I took her into the situation room where Steve and Dylan introduced themselves. She went up to the murder board and timeline. She put a hand to her mouth while she read our conclusions. It was a long time before she turned to face us.

  ‘You’re serious about finding Jason’s killer?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Andrew has threatened to take it out on Steve if we don’t,’ Dylan said.

  I shot Dylan a look.

  ‘Andrew is a shit bag,’ she said.

  No one disagreed with her, but he was a grieving shit bag.

  ‘How can I help?’ she asked.

  ‘You told me that Jason broke things off with you three months ago to protect you. Can you think of anything that might explain that?’

  Carrie shook her head.

  ‘You also told Aidy that he’d been collecting evidence and hiding it in a picture,’ Steve said. ‘What started him on that road?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did anything out of the ordinary happen? It could have been something seemingly small.’

  ‘I’ve been racking my brain and the only thing I remember is Jason spotting Ragged Racing’s cars once. We’d been shopping in Milton Keynes and as we were driving back, we passed this old service garage. The Ragged Racing truck was there with the cars.’

  ‘Doing what?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but Rags was there. Jason wanted to stop, but I didn’t want to.’

  ‘Do you know if he went back?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Do you know the address?’

  ‘No, but I could show you the place.’

  This could be Jason’s ground zero. This was a lead too good to put on the back burner. ‘Do you mind showing us now?’

  The question surprised her. ‘I suppose. It’s on the way back home.’

  ‘You’re going to have to count me out,’ Dylan said. ‘I’m setting off with the team for the Norisring first thing in the morning.’

  Carrie led the way while Steve and I followed her in my car. It took less than an hour to reach Milton Keynes where we pulled into the parking area of a disused accident-repair garage. I grabbed the torch from my glove box and we got out of my car.

  I aimed the torch at the faded sign over the front of the building that said, Rudolph Repair.

  Carrie stood next to us. ‘The transporter was down the side and they were loading the cars into the back.’

  ‘Was the place in business back then?’ Steve asked.

  ‘No. It was like this. I think that’s what caught Jason’s eye. Rags had that nice workshop in Banbury, so what was he doing bringing his cars here? I thought maybe he was downscaling and taking the place over. I hope this is of help because it’s the only thing I remember.’

  ‘It definitely helps,’ I said. ‘I’m going to dig around some more, so it’s best you get off. I don’t want to get you into trouble. It’s a talent of mine.’

  I smiled. She didn’t.

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘OK. Just be careful. If I remember anything else, I’ll call.’

  Steve and I watched her go before we went around to the rear of the building, away from prying eyes. The windows were boarded and the doors padlocked. Steve got the crowbar from the boot of my car. I always kept a toolbox with me. It helped to be prepared. He popped the lock off the door and we let ourselves in.

  I tried the light switches and the fluorescents blinked on, but I switched them off. We didn’t need to let the world know we were poking about.

  I searched for the bathroom and found it had running water. As Steve wandered around the garage, he picked up a compressed air-hose line and air came hissing out until the compressor kicked in.

  Interesting. Why would a defunct business still have the power and water going?

  The place had yet to be cleared out. It still had operational hydraulic lifts, a tyre-changing machine and most of the equipment a repair centre needed. I was surprised that this kit hadn’t been sold off when Rudolph Repair went under. This gear was still worth a lot of cash second-hand.

  I aimed the torch at the ground. There should have been a thick layer of dust on the floor, but it was pretty clean except for a couple of discarded newspapers. I picked them up and examined them.

  ‘There’s been a recent visitor,’ I said. ‘These papers are only two weeks’ old.’

  ‘This place is active,’ Steve said. ‘Time to go before they come back.’

  We let ourselves out. As Steve was putting the crowbar back, I noticed I was being watched. A boy no more than fifteen was staring at me from his front garden across the street.

  ‘Shit,’ I murmured. ‘We’ve got company.’

  Steve followed my gaze across the street. ‘What do you want to do?’

  Decision time. Stand my ground or run away. I decided to stay.

  ‘Wait here,’ I said.

  I raised a hand and jogged across the road. As I got close, the kid backed up a step.

  He was weedy and just a couple of inches shorter than me.

  I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. ‘You know much about this place?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘You see this place every day. Is it in business?’

  He took a step forward and cast a suspicious eye over me. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I’m in the car trade. I thought it might make for a good location.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  Yeah, I wouldn’t have believed that line either. It was the best I could come up with on the spot.

  ‘You with that other bloke?’

  I jerked a thumb at Steve. ‘You mean the old guy?’

  ‘No. This other guy. A bit older than you. He gives me fifty quid a week to watch this place and call him every time someone comes here. He hasn’t called me back in over a week.’

  So Jason was having this place watched. ‘Yeah, I’m with that guy. He won’t be around anymore. Jason, right?’

  The kid nodded.

  I regrouped by taking out my wallet. I had eighty-five quid, which was a lot for me to be riding around with under normal circumstances. I pulled the cash out and held it in my hand.

  ‘I hear some fancy cars come in and out of there.’

  The teen stared at the cash. ‘Yeah, racing cars.’

  ‘Yeah? What kind?’

  The boy described Ragged’s Honda Accords.

  ‘Sweet.’

  ‘Not sweet if they catch you over there. The wankers gave me a kicking for just looking. They won’t like it if they find out you broke in there.’

  ‘Hopefully they won’t. There aren’t any racing cars in there now.’

  ‘No, they just use the place now and again. They bring the cars in, work on them for a few
hours then leave.’

  ‘They do this during the day?’

  ‘No. Always at night.’

  ‘How often are they here?’

  ‘They usually come every few weeks or so.’

  ‘Really, that often? When’d you see them last?’

  ‘A couple of weeks ago. Look, you going to give me that cash or what?’

  The second he snatched the money from me, he stormed back towards his house.

  ‘I was never here, right?’ I called after him.

  ‘Never seen you before, mate. Just like the other bloke.’

  I watched him disappear inside the house before I turned back to Rudolph’s Repair. Carrie was right about one thing – why would Rags bring his cars to this dump when he had a modern workshop? The answer was he wouldn’t, unless he had something to hide. Maybe Rags was cheating after all. I would have loved to have gotten some alone time with the cars, but they were leaving for Germany in the morning.

  Lap Twenty-Eight

  The ESCC was a support race at Germany’s Norisring with the German Touring Car Masters as the feature. It was going to take the team two days to drive over there. I flew in to meet the team for the race on Friday. I was excited for this race since I’d never raced on a street circuit before. After the complexity of Spa, the Norisring is a relatively simple eight-turn lap around the streets of Nuremberg. For a street circuit, it’s fast with plenty of overtaking opportunities. What makes the race notable in an odd way is that it takes place on what’s left of the former Nazi party rally grounds.

  Mike Whelan was here and I needed to speak to him, so I’d scoped out his team’s location in the paddock. But as much as I needed to talk to him, I had my race to focus on, so I stuck close to my team during morning qualifying on Saturday. The team did well. I claimed fifth on the grid, while Haulk grabbed second place. A G-Tek BMW 3-Series claimed pole position, pipping Haulk by three one-hundredths of a second. The Townsend Motorsport Accords split Haulk and me. Naturally, Rags had wanted us to claim the front row and let us know about it in no uncertain terms. I wasn’t sure what needled him more, the fact that the German BMW team had taken pole or that Russell Townsend’s cars were matching our times. I wasn’t particularly bothered. I always drove better in the race than I did in qualifying.