I slowed for the pit lane entrance. I exhaled, glad that the bolts remained in place. It wasn’t just for me. I needed those bolts to stay in place for what I planned to do next.
Alison led her dad and the Fannings towards me as I rolled to a stop. I killed the engine and flicked off the master cut-off switch before popping the belt release on the harness. Mr Fanning helped me clamber from the cockpit and I pulled off my helmet.
‘You looked good out there,’ he said. ‘Very consistent times.’
‘Except for the last lap,’ Alison said. ‘You were really slow.’
‘I spun out. Nothing serious. Just got a little carried away.’
I examined their faces for a reaction, but didn’t get the one I was looking for.
Steve and Dylan drew up in the van behind the Mygale. They jumped out and walked over.
‘I think our work here is done for today. Time to pack it up.’
I cast a look in the direction of the clubhouse where the Hansen brothers were schooling their punters. They were safely housed away. ‘I feel like having some fun. You want to take a spin around the track, Alison?’
‘I can’t. I don’t know what to do.’
‘If I can do it, you can. It’s not hard. C’mon, live a little.’
‘Go on,’ Mr Fanning urged. ‘You’re the only one of us who’s in good enough shape to fit in the car.’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘You know how to change gears and press a clutch, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’re good to go. It’s very simple. All you have to remember is to brake before the corners and accelerate through the bends. No one is expecting you to break any lap records. Just have some fun.’
Dylan clapped his hands and chanted, ‘Do it. Do it. Do it.’
The peer pressure worked and Alison threw up her hands. ‘Alright. I’ll do it.’
‘Good for you,’ Mrs Fanning said.
Steve handed her my helmet. ‘Let’s get you strapped in, young lady. Your chariot awaits.’
Dylan pulled the belts clear for her to get in.
I held my breath. If Alison was behind the booby-trap, she’d find an excuse not to get in. She climbed in and slid into the seat without a second’s hesitation.
‘Stop,’ Mr Baker said.
‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ Alison asked.
‘You don’t have the experience for this.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘She’s more than capable of handling a couple of laps.’
‘I don’t care. I don’t want her going out there.’
‘Dad, I’ll be fine.’
‘See, she’s good to go. Steve, fire the engine up.’
Steve reached inside the cockpit, flicked on the ignition and pressed the starter. The engine caught the first time.
Mr Baker lunged for the car and flipped the master cut-off switch, killing the engine. ‘I said no.’
‘What’s the problem’ Mr Fanning asked.
‘We need to do a spanner check. You had a spin. We should make sure nothing has come loose.’
‘Sure. Where would you like to start – the tracking arm bolts on the rear suspension?’ I asked.
Mr Baker looked directly at me. Instead of the contempt I’d experienced in the past, I saw only fear in the man’s expression. Not fear for himself, but for his daughter. It all made sense in that moment. Up until this point, I knew what had happened, but not the who or why. Now that I knew who, the why answered itself.
‘You did it, didn’t you?’
Mr Baker recoiled from my accusation. ‘Did what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just suggesting we take prudent safety measures.’
‘It’s over. It’s time to come clean. We know what you did.’
‘I’m sorry. You’ve lost me.’
‘Dad, what’s going on?’ Alison asked.
‘Yeah, what is going on here?’ Mr Fanning said. ‘Frankly, I’m confused. Has something happened?’
‘Yes, it has. Clive doesn’t want Alison driving my car because he sabotaged it the same way he sabotaged Alex’s car.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Mr Baker demanded. ‘If it is, I don’t find it at all funny.’
Mr Fanning left his wife’s side and stood directly in front of me. ‘You’d better explain yourself, Aidy, and fast.’
‘He installed several bolts incorrectly so that they’d fall out and send the cars crashing out of control.’
Steve crouched by the rear of the Mygale and pointed to the tracking arm bolts. ‘Eric, look at these bolts. They’re in upside-down and the Nyloc safety nuts have been replaced with ordinary nuts. This is a very dangerous situation and Clive knows it.’
‘Get me out of this car,’ Alison demanded.
I held out my hand to Alison, but she slapped it away. Her father helped her out and she went to him.
‘My God, I haven’t heard so much bullshit in my life,’ Mr Baker said. ‘You need help. Really, you do.’
I didn’t say anything. Naturally, lines had been drawn in the sand. People needed to be convinced. None of it worried me. I knew I was right and I could prove it. I just let him keep talking and digging his own grave.
‘OK, I’ll play along. When did I do this tampering?’ he asked.
‘Last night at Archway. It wouldn’t have taken you long,’ I said. ‘You’re good with tools. I saw your garage. You’re a real handyman.’
‘Is that all you’ve got? A bolt that I or half a dozen other people could have installed? You could have done it yourself in your endless pursuit for publicity. You have no proof.’
‘Don’t I?’
I went up to him. Mr Baker backed up a step, but stopped when he saw I wasn’t going to attack him. He stood his ground with a smug smile on his face. I wiped it off when I tapped his side. There was no need to put any power behind it. Mr Baker yelled out and fell to the ground like I’d hit him with a large, adjustable spanner. While he writhed, I yanked up his sweater. A bandage wrapped around most of his chest and back failed to hide the ugly bruising covering half his side.
‘Steve gave you that when you tried to burn down Archway with him and Alex’s car inside. I thought one of Derek’s guys had done it, but none of them have broken ribs.’
Alison dropped to her knees at her father’s side. ‘Dad, tell me he’s wrong. Tell me he’s lying. Please.’
But Mr Baker shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to kill Alex. I just wanted him to crash.’
‘No,’ she wailed, pounding on her father’s chest. ‘Why? Why? Why?’
‘I wanted him to get hurt to show you the pain this sport brings. If he saw the light and gave it up, you had a shot at happiness. If he didn’t, then you would have seen that you had no future together.’
‘You son of a bitch,’ Mr Fanning yelled and broke away from his wife.
‘No, Eric,’ Mrs Fanning shrieked.
Steve and Dylan raced to block his path, but he shoved them aside. He cast Alison aside and pounced on Mr Baker.
‘You killed my son.’
Rage consumed the normally mild-mannered man. He grabbed Mr Baker by the hair and smashed his head into the tarmac. Mr Baker put up no defence.
‘You killed my son.’
Alison dived onto Mr Fanning to tear him off her father, but she was no match for his size or rage. He continued pounding the life out of Mr Baker.
‘We welcomed you into our home, you bastard.’
Steve, Dylan and I moved in as a unit. Steve grabbed Alison and pulled her off. She kicked and fought, but Steve just weathered the blows. Dylan and I grabbed Mr Fanning and peeled him off Mr Baker. Mrs Fanning moved in quickly and got in front of her husband.
‘Eric, stop it. We’ve got him. He’s not getting away.’
‘He killed our son.’
Tears rolled down Mrs Fanning’s face. ‘I know.’
The fight went out of Mr Fanning and Steve and I released him. Mrs Fanning enveloped her husband in a hug and they sobbed in each other’s arms. Dylan guided them away from Mr Baker.
I helped Mr Baker up and sat him down on the pit lane crash barrier.
‘Why’d you do it?’
‘For my daughter.’
‘For me?’ Alison screamed. ‘I loved Alex.’
‘I had to protect you.’
‘From whom?’ Alison demanded.
‘From the world,’ I answered. ‘This is all about a father’s love for his daughter. But this isn’t just about you, Alison. It has more to do with Jennifer, doesn’t it, Mr Baker? She fell for the wrong man and couldn’t see it even when it was hurting her. Eventually, it killed her. You couldn’t let that happen again, could you?’
‘No,’ Mr Baker sobbed, misery distorting the word. ‘Nick Jensen killed her. He got her addicted. I tried to help get her off the dope, but she didn’t want to know. She cared more for him than her family.’
‘But Alex wasn’t like Nick,’ Alison said.
‘He was. He was going to break your heart. He would have ended up hurting you, even killing you. Racing is dangerous and destroys lives. Look at the financial damage it causes. I’ve walked the paddocks of a dozen tracks. How many of these guys have pissed their financial future away and for what? Pointless bragging rights.’
It was hard to argue this point. For every driver who made it to the top, hundreds crashed on the rocks of financial ruin. ‘That’s not enough to kill for.’
‘No, but I wasn’t going to risk my daughter’s life. Drivers are selfish adrenaline junkies. Their addiction infects every part of their lives and those around them. How many drivers have died taking others with them? Graham Hill died at the controls of his aeroplane, killing five other people. Mike Hailwood crashed his car, killing himself and his daughter. Colin McRae crashed his helicopter killing three people including his son. If you need any further proof, just look at him.’ Mr Baker pointed an accusing finger at me. ‘His father’s negligence killed his mother.’
A flush of embarrassment coursed through me. I looked over at Steve and saw sorrow in his eyes.
‘I didn’t want you to know the misery of having your family destroyed by a drug whether it’s called heroin or motor racing.’
‘You don’t know that would have happened,’ Alison said.
‘I do. Probabilities dictated it. I just didn’t know when it would happen. I talked with Alex. He wouldn’t have given up racing. He would have carried on until it killed him. It was better this happened before you were married and had kids.’
‘You were wrong,’ I said. ‘He was giving up racing for Alison.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Mr Baker said.
‘I do. He told me he was retiring at the end of the season. It was supposed to be a surprise wedding gift.’
Alison sagged in Steve’s arms and wept fresh tears.
‘You’re lying,’ Mr Baker said with panic in his voice.
I shook my head. The colour bled from his face.
‘Oh, God, no. Tell me you’re lying, please,’ he said to me. When I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, he turned to Alison. ‘I just wanted you to be happy, love. I couldn’t lose another daughter.’
‘Well, you have,’ she said.
Steve pulled out his mobile and punched in a number. ‘Detective, we need you.’
Final Lap
‘
Y
ou did well,’ Steve said hanging my wreath on the workshop wall. He placed it alongside one of my dad’s. It looked good up there.
I’d come third in the Festival thanks to some good driving and a healthy slice of luck. The knockout format of the races led to the usual desperate driving, which sent drivers crashing out. Several of the favourites crashed in the earlier rounds. I kept a cool head and never finished lower than seventh in any of the preliminary rounds then went for it in the final.
But Steve wasn’t referring to the Festival. He was talking about catching Alex’s killer. Today was an important day. We were crushing Alex’s car.
‘C’mon, we’ve got work to do,’ he said.
The Festival had been a week ago. I’d reached the post-ball part of my Cinderella moment where everything went back to normal. The Mygale wasn’t going to turn into a pumpkin, but the lease was up. The engine had to come out and go back to Armstrong’s and the car had to go back to Mygale. There was no chance of this car becoming a permanent addition to my racing future.
I’d met Hancock’s challenge and then some by reaching the final of the Festival, so he owed me a season in next year’s national championship, but that offer was dead now that he was safely hidden away in Brennan’s custody. His lawyers were working out a deal for him, but Hancock Salvage wasn’t long for this world. Sale rumours were rife. It looked as if Hancock’s competition would benefit and buy up the company, none of which helped me. I still had my existing sponsors but they weren’t going to get me to the next level. Luckily, my third place finish at the Festival made for a great advertisement of my abilities. I’d already received calls for driver tryouts in Formula Ford, Formula Renault and the European Saloon Car Championship. I just hoped one of my tryouts turned into something.
Steve and I carefully peeled the decals and racing numbers off the bodywork before getting down to the hard part of removing the engine.
A knock at the door drew our attention. Alison stood in the doorway.
I’d been calling since they’d arrested her dad, but she hadn’t returned any of my calls. I’d finally given up after the Festival.
‘Could I have a word?’ she asked.
‘Sure. Come in.’
‘I’d prefer to talk outside.’
‘Oh. OK.’
Steve patted me on the back. ‘I’ve got this covered, son.’
I followed her outside. It was cold under the arches and I wished she’d come inside.
‘How’s your dad?’ I asked.
‘Do you care?’
‘Alison, please.’
‘Sorry. He’s doing as well as can be expected.’
I’d heard from Brennan that they had him on suicide watch. ‘I wish things had turned out differently.’
‘Everybody does.’
I hadn’t felt this awkward around Alison since we’d first met.
‘We’re leaving soon for the salvage yard to crush Alex’s car. I know you wanted to be there. You’re welcome to come with us.’