‘As I mentioned in respect of the judgment on Mr Van Der Vaal,’ San Marino went on, ‘Massarella and Mr Barrantes will also be granted the right to appeal these decisions.
‘Finally,’ said the President, ‘this Council seeks to question the actions of certain employees of Trifecta Systems and Benbecular Engines, Mr Michael Lyons and Mr Jeremy Barnett. We demand their presence at a hearing in Paris on 5th December this year in order for them to account for their actions.’
San Marino stopped looking at his notes and lifted his eyes to address the room as a whole. ‘You should also know — as you may have inferred from his absence at the table — that Mr MacRae has stepped down as head of the Sport’s commercial rights holder, a move the FIA has welcomed.
‘Now, Mr Brogan,’ said the President removing his half-moon glasses. ‘I think you wished to speak after you had heard the Council’s full decisions. I ask you to limit your comments to Ptarmigan’s interests only, please.’
‘Thank you, and of course I will, Mr President. Clearly, I have not had the chance to discuss your judgment with my client, so reserve my client’s right to appeal the fine.’ Brogan then turned to Straker and nodded, as if to acknowledge his earlier written suggestion: ‘Mr President, in the light of the Council’s overall findings, I would ask whether the FIA might be prepared to write a letter on Ptarmigan’s behalf?’
SIXTY-TWO
As the Ptarmigan contingent withdrew back to the library in the Royal Automobile Club, Sabatino’s relief and jubilation bubbled over. ‘We’re Constructors’ Champion!’ she declared with triumph. ‘From receivership to Champions in twelve months. What a result.’
The judgment also meant that, personally, her own F1 points were still secure — meaning she was still leading the Drivers’ Championship. Tahm Nazar, Oscar Brogan and Straker were all swept up in Sabatino’s moment of relief and triumph. There were hugs all round, with a theatrical one from her for Straker.
The now-jubilant Ptarmigan party readied themselves to leave the RAC. As before in Paris, they settled on an approach for handling the press and media outside. They all seemed happy to underplay the result of the FIA’s hearing.
‘The judgment says it all for you,’ offered Brogan. ‘You really don’t need to say anything.’
‘I agree,’ said Straker. ‘Its findings were so clear, there’s no need to spin this. Much more dignified to show restraint — let the editors draw out the distasteful meanings and conclusions.’
As they exited into Pall Mall, their approach was well judged. Ptarmigan’s vindication was clearly not the biggest news from this hearing and judgment. Instead, the banishment of Van Der Vaal, and the departure of MacRae as the CEO of the commercial rights holder, were seen as the bigger stories — and, therefore, the focus of media interest.
After only a few minutes in front of the press, cabs were hailed in Pall Mall.
Sabatino and Straker soon rode away up St James’s Street together. She looked at him with an expression of supreme happiness on her face. Soon, though, it gave way to a you-so-and-so smile, and then, surprising Straker, almost apology. ‘That was ballsy stuff,’ she said, clapping her hand down on his thigh several times.
‘Planning and careful execution,’ he said with just a hint of vindication in his voice.
Sabatino smiled. ‘And you’ve had all that going on — as far back as Spa, just a week after that first sabotage incident in Monaco,’ she observed, as if to herself. ‘Without any of us knowing?’
Straker nodded dismissively. ‘But it wasn’t a certainty that it was going to work. I had to get lucky, too.’
Sabatino turned to face him. ‘Talking of which…’
Bursting in through the front door of her suite at Claridge’s, their hands were all over each other as they barely found their way to the bedroom. Sabatino set about ripping off Straker’s clothes.
‘Well, well, I see the Colonel’s ready for action.’
‘I hope your engine is in its operating window, too.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said licentiously. ‘Hang on a minute.’
Surprising Straker further, he watched her almost jogging — naked — across the large room to the ceiling-to-floor windows. At each curtain on either side, he watched her unhook the luxurious silk tiebacks, with their large tassels, before closing back in on Straker. Pressing herself against him, kissing him, and, once again, cupping him and playing teasingly with one hand, she said: ‘Tie me up,’ and handed him the clutch of silk ropes with the other.
Straker could not suppress a smile. This woman was the stuff of pure fantasy.
Within a couple of minutes she was restrained — one curtain tieback securing each limb — spread-eagled on the bed, and “ordering” him to take her.
But with her now unable to move, he took control.
He started to tease and tantalize.
Beginning at her feet, he focused on stimulating her skin — kissing and massaging every inch of her with his tongue, mouth and fingertips.
She could hardly bear it. She started to writhe — but was securely bound by the silk ropes holding both arms and legs.
As he progressed, her anticipation and frustration increased. He kept going — for over an hour — moving inch by inch up her body. Sabatino began to pull maniacally against the restraints.
Teasing her — and denying her — he raised her to an extraordinary state.
Just before he finally complied, Sabatino was practically screaming at him to take her — the release, when it happened, a letting go of all her pent-up stress and uncertainty from the last three months.
After hours of physical passion, dinner, and more devouring of each other, Sabatino finally fell asleep in the crook of Straker’s shoulder.
As much as he was contented by the outcome of the day, he still couldn’t sleep.
Passing through the lobby of the hotel on their way to dinner, he had spotted a Late Night Final of the London Evening Standard — his eye drawn to its front page. It carried an article about the FIA disciplinary hearing, screaming with the headline:
FORMULA ONE CLEAROUT.
The story did manage to convey some of the drama of the afternoon.
Straker was staggered, though, by the surprising comments made by Eugene Van Der Vaal, after the hearing. Direct quotes reported him as saying:
“I will appeal … monstrous decision … overturn the ban … FIA exceeded its powers … inadmissible evidence … defection con trick … Avel Obrenovich will pay to reverse this ruling … Avel will keep backing Massarella … avenge the wrongs inflicted on me…”
Straker had hoped the FIA hearing — and believed its judgment — would bring an end to the malicious interference from Van Der Vaal and Massarella. Sickeningly, he was not so sure now. In the light of Van Der Vaal’s defiance — and complete lack of contrition — Straker was troubled.
He had in his possession an email from the Massarella boss.
It had been discovered on Michael Lyons’s laptop, following the seizure of his documents under the High Court Search Order. This email, though, hadn’t made it into Ptarmigan’s statement of facts or its bundle of evidence for the FIA hearing. He and Stacey Krall, Quartech’s in-house counsel, had discussed the email at length, and had concluded its content was too far-fetched — and prospective — to help their cause.