Straker groaned negatively, tasting iron on his tongue. Blood was dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His nose, teeth, cheekbones, back, guts, ribs, and knees all hurt like hell. The policeman grabbed his radio and called an ambulance to Newbold Terrace, immediately.
Within ten minutes it arrived. Two paramedics, exercising great care, lifted the still-horizontal and foetal Straker onto a stretcher and then into the back of the ambulance. Accompanied by Krall, he was driven to A&E at Warwick Hospital in Lakin Road. For the next four hours Straker was put through extensive tests, scans and X-rays. He barely recovered his demeanour and lucidity.
Krall’s anxiety showed in her face — amplified by her tiredness. ‘What kind of mugging was that?’ she asked.
Straker inhaled through his mouth, the pain still keenly felt around his nose. ‘That was no mugging,’ he said with a light coughing fit. ‘Muggings don’t involve five people and a getaway car. That was a deliberate attack.’
Krall’s face registered even more concern. ‘Who’d want to attack us?’
Straker groaned, clearly not comfortable in the A&E bed. ‘Someone involved in the case? Someone looking to intimidate us — to frighten us off?’
‘You think so?’
‘Why not? It’s the most obvious possibility.’
‘But why now?’
‘Because of the raids,’ he said quietly, trying not to exert his chest. ‘Those Search Order raids will have changed,’ he said pausing to inhale, ‘the whole dynamic of Massarella’s spat,’ another shallow breath, ‘or whatever the hell this is.’
Krall looked up from a plastic cup of coffee bought from one of the hospital vending machines. ‘Massarella took us to a hearing at the FIA. How much more could the dynamic change beyond that?’
‘Quite a way,’ replied Straker with a half-pant of discomfort. ‘Until then, we’ve only been the reactor to their bullshit.’ He paused to breathe. ‘Your invoking the High Court has shown our readiness to take the fight to Massarella. Those Search Order raids were proactive — they were an invasive act.’
‘But they were done in self-defence.’
‘To us,’ replied Straker. ‘To the other side — they’re an act of war.’
‘I don’t get it. How’s this worth all that?’
‘Very easily,’ groaned Straker again, now trying to shift his position in the bed. Krall put down her coffee cup and helped him rearrange the pillows behind his back. ‘Control of billions of Formula One dollars — let alone our $750 million from Mandarin Telecom — are at stake here,’ Straker half-whispered. ‘Whoever’s behind this: Van Der Vaal? MacRae? Obrenovich? God knows who else,’ he breathed, ‘might just fear our raids could expose what they’re already doing — or stop them from getting their hands on it all by unlawful activity.’ Straker had to breathe deeply, but slowly. ‘I had expected them to react, in some way. I’m pissed off I hadn’t anticipated them do so this quickly.’ He inhaled. ‘Even then, I’d never’ve expected that level of violence.’
Straker settled back against the pillows with another groan and a grimace. ‘The only consolation I can take,’ he said, with a smile-through-the-pain, ‘is that we’ve quite obviously got them rattled.’
FIFTY-SIX
Straker was not discharged from hospital until late the following morning. While he had only broken a couple of ribs, they were still painfully sore — as were his black eye, fat lip, and the other bruises across his face. Taking him by surprise was the party that came to pick him up. Accompanying Krall was Remy Sabatino. Up at the Ptarmigan factory to work on the simulator, she had been distressed by news of the attack, and insisted on coming with Krall to pick up Straker and his car.
Sabatino was clearly disconcerted to see the state of Straker’s face and his general condition. She even felt moved to offer him an arm as the six-foot-two figure tried to shuffle from the main entrance of the hospital towards the waiting Ptarmigan courtesy car.
Driven back to Grumman & Phipps’s office in Leamington, Krall, clearly fired up by the events of the night, was motivated to fight back — ready to go straight to work on the documents seized from Michael Lyons and Trifecta Systems the day before. Straker — finding it hard not to lisp — gave her a series of firm instructions: ‘Do not touch your car — I will arrange for the police to check it over, and then for it to be collected — and repaired — if necessary. Do not leave Grumman’s offices unaccompanied — I will have you picked up later by a Ptarmigan car, when you are ready. Also, I will arrange for you to be put up locally in private accommodation, instead of in the hotel you’ve been at.’ Straker, this time, was not asked why these precautions were needed. Krall nodded her acquiescence to them without objection.
Straker, too, was keen to get back into the assignment — to return to the factory and push on with the next stage of their FIA defence. Sabatino, though, having seen him heave himself so awkwardly out of the Ptarmigan car, and grimace as he pulled himself to his feet alongside the Morgan, declared he was not fit to do anything, let alone drive — stating that she would instead.
‘I’ve seen the way you drive,’ he retorted. ‘The difference is that I don’t have a team of mechanics to take out the dents — when it all goes tits.’
Sabatino just smiled, letting the taunt to go by. She simply walked to the passenger’s door, ready to hold it open. But then Straker, very suddenly, took her by surprise. He lunged forwards and grabbed her forcibly — staying her arm — stopping her touching the car door. He almost lost his balance doing so. She looked startled by the ferocity of his action. Gently, he let her go. Then, instead of making to get in, Straker, inelegantly — and with much groaning — lowered himself down onto the surface of the road, to look up under the chassis of the Morgan.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Taking heed of last night’s attack,’ he hissed as, in a contorted press-up position, he crawled awkwardly across the tarmac to the next wheel arch.
Sabatino, seeing how seriously Straker was taking all this, didn’t find herself laughing at or mocking his unusual actions — particularly having heard from Krall about the viciousness of the attack.
Straker crawled awkwardly round the whole of the car, checking its entire underside. Having finished, and groaning back to his feet, he then fiddled with the external release catches, and looked under the engine covers, particularly around the electronics. He finished his security check, and closed the car back up.
‘Right, go and crouch down behind that wall,’ he wheezed, pointing her across the street to the low balustrade. Sabatino looked concerned, but didn’t argue.
Checking she was a good distance away, Straker gingerly opened the car door manually. Without getting in, he checked the car was in neutral — before inserting the key. He turned the ignition. The V6 fired. There was nothing untoward — it fired cleanly first time.
Sabatino walked back across the road. Straker limped round to the passenger side. She suddenly found herself looking at him, almost asking permission to open the door. With her help, he lowered himself gingerly down into the low-slung sports car.
Sabatino, trying to lighten the mood, asked: ‘Can we drop the top?’
He explained how, and the roof was stowed away. She climbed in behind the wheel. ‘British Racing Green, bonnet louvres, wire wheels, cream leather seats, walnut trim — very nice,’ she said musically in genuine appreciation of the car.
‘Look after it, then,’ he said as he tried to pull on his seat belt. Hearing the stifled groan that it induced, Sabatino leant over and helped him buckle up.