HIGH OCTANE by Dan Ames

Author:Dan Ames [Ames, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Slogan Books, New York, NY

11

August parked in the same underground garage he'd used Friday.

The track was alive now, Saturday qualifying in full swing. He could hear the engines even from the parking structure, that high-pitched scream of racing machines pushing their limits.

He took the elevator up to street level and emerged into chaos. The crowd had multiplied since yesterday with thousands of people moving between grandstands, concession stands, merchandise tents.

The air smelled like exhaust fumes, fried food, and beer.

Sponsor banners hung everywhere, corporate logos competing for attention.

August moved through the crowd, his size creating a natural path.

He passed a group of men in team polo shirts, mechanics or engineers on a break. They were talking about qualifying times, tire strategies, technical details August didn't understand. He kept moving.

Near a merchandise tent, three women stood with drinks in their hands. One of them was speaking urgently, her voice cutting through the ambient noise.

"...found her in his car. Can you imagine? First the driver, now this woman. I'm telling you, something’s going on."

"Nobody knows what’s happening. And the police aren't saying anything."

August filed that away. The news had already spread. Elena Brunner's murder was public knowledge, fueling speculation and fear.

He continued walking, working his way toward the Renaissance Center. The corporate suites were up there, but August had no intention of going back to them. Instead, he was looking for something else. A place with a clear view of the track where team owners and officials might gather.

He found it on the third level of the Renaissance Center, an outdoor observation deck that jutted out over Jefferson Avenue. It had been set up as a VIP viewing area, with high-top tables, a bar, and an unobstructed view of the track below. Security stood at the entrance, checking credentials.

August showed his VIP pass. The security guard waved him through without comment.

The deck was maybe half full. Racing officials, team representatives, a few journalists with better access than most. Everyone had their eyes on the track where cars screamed past at impossible speeds, engines howling as drivers pushed through qualifying laps.

August walked to the railing, looked down at the circuit. The dual pit lanes were busy, teams ready to service cars between runs. Timing screens showed lap times down to the thousandth of a second. The competition was fierce, every driver fighting for position on tomorrow's starting grid.

Movement caught his eye. To his left, maybe thirty feet away, Werner Kästli stood at the railing with a pair of binoculars raised to his eyes. He was alone except for one other man, younger, wearing a Kästli Racing polo shirt. The team member was checking something on a tablet, occasionally glancing at the track.

August watched for a moment. Kästli's attention was completely focused on the circuit below, the binoculars tracking one of his silver and blue cars as it navigated the turns. His posture was rigid, controlled, the same precision August had noticed yesterday.

August moved along the railing, casual, like he was just finding a better vantage point. He stopped a few feet from Kästli, looked out at the track.

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