Sabatino’s face seemed to set. ‘When was that?’ she challenged. ‘I didn’t hear it.’
‘It was while you were all discussing the opportunistic pit stop,’ Straker replied calmly.
Sabatino looked dismissive. ‘I didn’t hear anything like that.’
Straker nodded. He let the moment hang for a few silent seconds. ‘All of this was on your original radio circuit, which was why we fitted a second radio, on a separate frequency, and turned your original radio down to zero. You weren’t meant to hear any of it. You might all like to take a listen, though,’ he said and pressed the play button on the recorder.
The implications of the recording were obvious.
Before it had even finished, Sabatino’s whole demeanour had changed completely, as if someone had thrown a switch. She said, ‘Not being able to speak over the radio — right then — would have scuppered me … I’d have been denied that ad hoc pit stop. I … wouldn’t … have won.’
Straker was pleased his methods might finally be being acknowledged. He hoped his expression conveyed none of his satisfaction, though, and to make sure, he lowered his voice: ‘While the saboteur was trying to jam us, I got a fix — via triangulation.’ Straker briefly outlined his strategy before sliding copies of a printout from the surveillance screen showing the intersection of the vectored signals across the table. ‘The location, this time, turned out to be a block of flats in Rue des Princes,’ he said, handing out photographs of the building.
Sabatino looked at the picture of the screen and then the photograph showing the block of flats, appearing increasingly surprised.
‘It seems the saboteur is in a temporary let of Apartment 5,’ continued Straker. ‘His name is Michel Lyons and this is what he looks like,’ with which Straker produced another sheaf of photographs and handed these around the table.
Backhouse looked staggered. ‘How the hell did you get all this?’
‘A few tricks of the trade,’ replied Straker. ‘Anyway, this isn’t a complete story, I’m afraid. None of you seems to know him.’
Sabatino picked up one of the photographs and studied the face of the man she now had to acknowledge had been trying to sabotage her race. ‘What do we do about this?’ she asked, looking down the length of the table at Straker. ‘How do we stop this arsehole doing anything like this again?’
‘Several things,’ he replied, ‘but I wanted to go through a few thoughts with you before I discuss my action plan. First, we have no idea of the scale of this threat. Until we’re all satisfied that Helli’s crash was due to mechanical failure or driver error, I advise we see Ptarmigan — as a whole — to be under threat, here. That said, I didn’t detect any jamming of Cunzer’s radio this week.
‘Second, we need to establish the source of this threat. The jamming device planted in Remy’s helmet could not have been planted by an outsider. It could only have been put there by someone intimately connected with the team — someone close. An insider. That creates all kinds of sensitive issues, not least suspicion — about whom we suspect and whom we should trust. We might be lucky, though — it could just have been a leftover from Charlotte Grant.’
‘Charlie?’ chipped in Sabatino. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Very, Remy,’ replied Quartano.
‘Yes,’ agreed Straker. ‘Long story. But, if it was her, the saboteurs, now, have clearly lost their mole, which makes things a lot simpler. We must be ready, though, for it to have been someone else — someone who may still be active on the inside.
‘My final observation,’ Straker went on, ‘is to do with the intention of the threat. Your helmet device could have been intended for one of two purposes. Either to eavesdrop and gain advantage over us — learning about our design changes, technological innovation, tactics, pit-stop strategies, and so on. In other words, competitive espionage. Or it was intended for disruptive purposes to throw us off our game and damage our chances. Sabotage.’
‘What’s your read of their intention?’ asked Quartano.
Straker paused. ‘From the precise timing of each burst of jamming,’ he said, ‘I have no doubt that this was sabotage. They were quite clearly trying to damage Remy’s chances.’
The room fell silent.
‘Okay,’ said Quartano, ‘that might give us a hunch why they might be doing this, but we’ve no idea who.’
‘Correct,’ replied Straker, ‘apart, that is, from the unknown Michel Lyons.’
‘What about the tease you had me play along with during Q2 yesterday,’ asked Sabatino, ‘when Andy pretended we were going for a three-stop strategy?’
Straker shook his head. ‘Inconclusive, Remy, I’m afraid. The tease certainly prompted a subsequent wave of jamming transmissions in Q3, while you discussed brake balances — and which led to my fruitless intercept up by the Palace. The only car to start the race on a three-stopper was Simi Luciano’s Massarella, but we can’t be sure he did that because of the teaser message.’
‘Right,’ said Quartano in a chairmanship tone, as if to indicate the need to draw something from the discussion. ‘As you say, Matt, none of this is conclusive, but at least we now know we’ve got a problem. Also, whatever motivated these people to do this can only be reinforced by Remy’s win here, let alone with her and the team currently leading both Championships. Let’s heighten vigilance as much as possible — among the team out here, the mechanics, the roadies, and everyone back at the factory. Matt, I want you to go to Shenington as soon as possible and review all our security measures across the board. Right now — while the F1 circus is still in town — I’m going to ask for an unofficial word with Bo San Marino, to alert him to our problem.
‘In the meantime,’ said Quartano raising his glass in tribute, ‘well done again, Remy — and Andy. A truly historic day and a totally deserved win, both strategically and tactically. Could you both go and make a fuss of Dr Chen and his directors? Make sure they all feel part of this.’
As everyone rose from the table to rejoin the celebrations on the quarterdeck, Quartano added: ‘Matt, I’d like you to come with me to see San Marino, please? And be ready to talk through your collection of evidence.’
An hour later Straker and Quartano were shown into Bo San Marino’s suite in the stylish Columbus Hotel. The President of the FIA looked as patrician as ever, glowing from Formula One’s triumphant afternoon.
‘Congratulations, Dom,’ he said in his soothing Italian lilt as he generously shook hands. ‘Remy’s win is truly a spectacular achievement for her — for you — for us — for the whole sport.’
‘Isn’t it, Bo. One of the great sporting stories. Sadly, though, we have to tarnish things, I’m afraid. We have some unnerving news for you.’
‘About Helli Cunzer?’
Quartano shook his head. ‘He’s not yet come round, and it’s still too soon to gauge the effects of his terrible crash. No, that’s not our news.’
The Marquis of San Marino looked a little disappointed as he showed his guests to the table in the dining area of his suite.
Once settled, Quartano invited Straker to give an overview of their situation. Telling the story from the beginning, Straker produced Remy’s helmet from a bag and showed him the location and nature of the jamming device. He then explained how he had detected the saboteur, and produced his findings. He played a recording of the team’s radio traffic — to illustrate the precision of the jamming bursts both in Q2 and in the race when the safety car was being deployed.