Driven by Toby Vintcent

Author:Toby Vintcent [Toby Vintcent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910050729
Publisher: Arcadia Books Limited
Published: 2015-09-08T04:00:00+00:00

Around Goodwood, Helli Cunzer, back up and about again after his terrifying Monaco crash – albeit on crutches – was a crowd favourite. Everywhere he went or tried to go he was fêted by fans and admirers. It took him much longer to get anywhere around the showground.

Later than planned, Cunzer climbed up into the Ptarmigan motor home. Sabatino, who hadn’t seen him since her hospital visit in Monte-Carlo, jumped straight up, flung her arms round him and hugged him closely. The contrast of her interaction with Cunzer hit Straker like a train.

The pint-sized German with his fine boyish features and close-cropped blond hair manoeuvred himself deftly onto one of the turquoise leather benches and stacked his crutches on the floor beside him.

Sabatino looked into her teammate’s face with genuine interest and feeling. ‘I still can’t believe you didn’t break anything major.’

‘Amazing, isn’t it? Several cuts – one big gash from a piece of carbon fibre through my thigh. But otherwise, no. I was extremely fortunate. What a car … What safety!’

‘When will you be able to drive again?’ Sabatino asked.

‘Monza,’ he said with a confident grin.

‘Wow! That soon?’

Straker felt he needed to step in. Time was tight. Both drivers were expected to appear at the Festival at lunchtime. ‘I’ve got us all together,’ he said severely, ‘because I’m anxious you’re made fully aware of the sabotage threat we still face. It’s more serious than we thought.’ Bending down, Straker reached into a holdall and lifted the two key components from Cunzer’s car – the wishbone and the exhaust section – which he placed on the table between them. This was Treadwell’s cue to give an account of the conclusions drawn from the crash investigation.

Cunzer and Sabatino looked increasingly shattered.

They ended up studying the flexure on the wishbone, and inevitably rubbed a finger over the hole in the exhaust.

‘Someone did this to me,’ said Cunzer, the shock of the realization all too clear in his face and voice. ‘Someone made me crash.’ Looking directly at Straker, he said: ‘Who did this? Who could possibly do this – who could be putting my life in danger?’

Straker realized he needed to sound authoritative and yet remain genuine, knowing all too well that he didn’t have enough of the answers. ‘This had to have been done by someone in the team – an insider,’ he stated.

The drivers fell silent.

The mood was eerie.

‘It must be the same person who planted the bug in my helmet,’ offered Sabatino to the room rather than to Straker directly.

‘Highly likely, but not known for sure,’ he replied. ‘Both interventions – the bug and this,’ said Straker with a sweep of his hand over the damaged components, ‘were done some time ago – in the build-up to Monaco – and nothing like this has happened since. They could simply be historic acts, nothing more than a legacy from Charlie Grant.’

‘What about my engine limiter in Spa – and, particularly, the removal of the bug from my helmet after Monaco?’ Sabatino asked.

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