‘I’m sorry.’
Steve ran a hand through his greying hair. It used to be strawberry blond. Over the last few days, I had no doubt helped make room for more grey.
‘I’m guessing the cops don’t know about this arrangement.’
‘Nope.’
‘Jesus, Aidy. Why’s he think you can help?’
‘Because he thinks Ragged Racing is responsible for Jason’s death.’
‘Any truth to it?’
‘Maybe, I don’t know. Jason was up to something or someone thinks he was. His place was turned over.’
‘You’d better start from the beginning.’
I laid it out for Steve, this time leaving nothing out. My revelations seemed to shift a weight from his shoulders.
‘See that woman over there?’ He pointed at the elderly woman Gates had his arm around. ‘That’s Jason’s mum. She’s burying her son today. I know the hell she’s going through right now and so do you. She deserves justice. She deserves to know who killed her son.’
‘I know. I was just trying to protect you.’
‘Forget me. I know how to look after myself. I’ve been doing it all my life so I don’t need you making decisions for me. Got that?’
I nodded.
‘Good. If you know something or think you can find something out that can help ease her pain, you do it. Not because someone is threatening you. You do it because it’s the right thing to do. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. And what happens when you serve the killer up to Jason’s brother?’
‘What do you think?’
‘That makes you a killer too.’
This made me sick every time I thought about it. ‘I know. If I find out who killed Jason, I’ll tell him, but I’m telling the police first.’
Steve forced out a smile. ‘Just see that you do. Now let’s find this killer.’
Lap Fourteen
The ESCC championship kicked off the season at Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium. I set off for Spa on Thursday, a day ahead of the team. I drove alone, happy for the distance from my problems. I didn’t want anything to do with murders and reckless-driving charges. I just wanted to race.
I reached Francorchamps just as night was falling on Thursday. I stopped the car at the roadside, giving me a panoramic view of Spa carved into the Ardennes. Twilight struck the circuit in all the right places, lighting up the black ribbon of tarmac. It was an amazing place to kick off my European racing career. The historic track is as frightening as it is exciting. It’s a real driver’s circuit, featuring the stomach-churning climb in Eau Rouge and the seemingly endless Kemmel Straight. Jim Clark was a master of this circuit, having won the Belgian Grand Prix four times in a row from 1962 to 1965. That was in the bad old days when the circuit was over eight and a half miles long and the weather could be different from one side of the track to the other. Even though safety standards had reduced it to half that length, it was still fearsome. It looked like paradise and I couldn’t quite believe I was going to race here. I was frightened and ecstatic at the prospect of following in the wheel tracks of Jim Clark and my dad.
‘I thought I was the only early bird,’ Haulk said.
Lost in the moment, I hadn’t heard him pull up behind me. ‘I wanted to play tourist before the race.’
‘Good. Our careers are short,’ Haulk said. ‘Enjoy these times, especially when someone is paying your way. Looking forward to the race?’
I took a big breath before answering yes.
Haulk cocked his head. ‘Nervous?’
‘A bit.’
‘You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. You drove well at Snetterton.’
‘Testing and racing are two different things, especially here.’
‘Give yourself a break and don’t overthink this. If you pile the pressure on yourself, you’ll screw up. Forget the expectation, the results, lap times and qualifying positions. Just focus on your driving and the results will come. You can’t let the other stuff get on top of you because it’ll drag you down.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re at the top of your game.’
Haulk smiled. ‘Do you think someone cracked an egg and out I rolled out a championship contender? No, I worked hard to understand the sport and conquer my doubts.’ He snorted a laugh. ‘You should have seen my Formula Ford career. I couldn’t finish a sentence, let alone a race. I did so poorly that I switched from single seaters to saloon cars. I started over, focused on my driving and my results improved. In one season, I went from the back of the pack to winning races.’
I’d admired Haulk for what he’d achieved in the sport, but I now admired him for the way he went about his trade. At thirty-one, he was only ten years older than me, but he was a generation ahead of me in terms of experience. I thought the learning curve had been steep last season. It didn’t look like it was going to flatten out any time soon, if ever.
‘Let me ask you this,’ Haulk said, ‘what are you afraid of?’
‘Making a tit of myself.’
Haulk smiled and nodded. ‘I can’t fault that, but if you focus on the negative, you’ll never achieve the positive.’
‘Thanks, Yoda.’
Haulk frowned. ‘I’m trying to help you here.’
‘I know. I know. I’m sorry. You just make it sound so simple.’
‘That’s because the solution is always simple. How you achieve it is the difficult part.’
My dad never had this problem. He was a natural. He could get into any car and make it fly and not have a clue why. How I wished I had a little more of that DNA in me right now.
‘How much cash do you have on you?’ Haulk asked.
‘About a hundred euros.’
He grinned. ‘That should be enough.’
‘For what?’
‘You’ll see.’ He held out a hand. ‘Keys?’
Haulk drove me the short distance to the competitors’ entrance at the circuit. The security guard approached us and Haulk powered down the window. He put on a white-toothed grin when the guard recognized him. He pumped the guard’s hand two-handed while the guy showered him in praise.
Haulk belted out something to the guard in rapid-fire French that left my schoolboy French in the dust. He waved an arm in the direction of the track then at me. I waved. The guard and Haulk laughed, no doubt at my expense. Haulk continued to bombard the guard with perfect French. He stopped after a minute or two and then made a ‘what do you say?’ gesture with his hands. The guard teetered on the brink of a decision which I guessed wasn’t leaning towards the positive, judging from his expression. Haulk put his hands together in prayer and bombarded the guard again. The guard smiled, shook his head, then nodded. Haulk took the man’s hand two-handed again and pumped it hard. I noticed he had pressed the hundred euros I’d given him, along with a hundred of his own, into the handshake.
‘Say thanks to René, Aidy.’
‘Merci, René.’
René waved my thanks off and opened up the gates. Haulk put the Honda in gear and drove through, waving to René as we passed by.
‘That was smooth.’
‘Be good to everyone in the sport, not just the fans and organizers, because everyone holds the keys to something you want.’
Haulk guided my car through the paddock and stopped in the pits. ‘OK, we don’t have long. René says he can cover for us for about forty minutes.’
‘I’m going on the track now? In this car?’
‘A night drive isn’t the best way to teach you, but it’s better than being blindfolded.’
I swapped seats with Haulk and drove on to the track. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity of a driving lesson. I accelerated hard on to the track and the climbing turn of Eau Rouge loomed ahead like a wall. This was going to be fun.