Hot Seat (27 page)

Nevin had asked for the human component. That was what I needed to be. I squeezed all thoughts of drug trafficking from my mind and put everything I had into keeping up with Haulk's car. I mimicked his lines around the track. I put down mental markers where he braked, where he turned, where he clipped the apexes. I needed this information not only to learn the circuit, but to overtake him.

After five laps, I was keeping up with him, even when he pushed that little bit harder, then I reeled him in a tenth of a second at a time. In showing me his line around the track, he'd exposed his driving style. Just like a card player revealing his tells, I knew what Haulk was going to do. I watched for the telltale puff of exhaust smoke every time he changed gears and held the gear just that second longer before shifting to wring every last rev out of my engine. Every time the rear of his car rose up when he braked for a corner, I stayed on the power for a fraction longer. And I reeled Haulk in.

I could smell it as well as see it. The acrid stink of burnt exhaust fumes filtered through the vents in my car. Instead of repelling me, the scent spurred me on. I was on the hunt and I had my prey.

On the tenth lap, I crawled all over Haulk's rear bumper as we went into the sweeping right-hander before the start-finish straight and, on the exit, I jerked out from behind him and drew alongside him. He saluted me as I breezed past.

‘Very impressive,' Rags said through my headset. ‘Now bring it in before you go and ruin it.'

Both Haulk and I slowed for a cool-down lap and I rolled to a halt in front of my pit garage.

Dylan opened my door and helped me out of the car. ‘Mate, that was quick.'

‘Really?'

‘Telemetry doesn't lie,' Nevin said, holding his laptop. ‘Nicely done.'

‘Aidy, Nevin, over here,' Rags called out.

‘Time for us to listen to our master's voice,' Nevin said, before addressing the crew. ‘I want fresh rubber all round and a full tank when I get back.'

I exchanged a look with Dylan. He knew what he was supposed to do.

We met Rags at the pit wall. ‘We need to talk,' he said.

My heart fluttered.

‘I like how you responded out there, but I don't want to have to give you a bollocking to get you to perform.'

‘I know. I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be sorry. Get your act together. You just took the ESCC champion apart in ten laps. I want that every time without shouting for it. I meant what I said about you blowing hot and cold. I can't have that. I want fast and predictable. Does that make sense?'

‘It does.'

‘So, is there a problem?'

Yeah, close to a hundred kilos of coke, I thought. ‘It's an adjustment thing.'

‘There isn't time for adjusting. You have to be on from the start.'

‘In the lad's defence, we didn't think he'd have a win under his belt at this point,' Nevin said. ‘He's doing better than we thought and our expectations are higher.'

‘Maybe so, but he's shown he can mix it up with the best, so he has to do that race after race.' Rags turned to me. ‘Can you do it?'

‘I can do my best.'

‘Not good enough. Can you do it?'

‘He can,' Nevin said.

‘Then I'm making it your job to get the best out of him.'

‘Consider it done.'

Rags fixed me with his stare. ‘Are you going to break my heart?'

Quite possibly, I thought.

Rags briefed Haulk and me on a plan of action, which included a day of driving on full tanks, quarter tanks and tyre testing. Tyre testing meant we'd be burning through a lot of tyres. It would be easy to lose the cocaine-loaded tyres in the mix.

After the briefing, I pulled Dylan to one side. ‘Where are the wheels?'

‘Over there. When we pulled them off, I stacked them and marked them with a blue dot.'

He nodded to the corner of the pit garage where the eight wheels were stacked.

‘And the others?'

‘In similar spots.'

‘Keep an eye out for anyone coming by to take them.'

‘Will do.'

‘Aidy, ready to cause some more havoc?' Nevin called across the pit garage.

‘Yeah, just give me a minute.'

‘This is a game of seconds. No time for minutes.'

I smiled at Nevin and said to Dylan, ‘Call Barrington. Tell him to expect a tyre delivery.'

The sound of my car firing up told me it was time for me to get back out there. I returned to the pit garage.

‘Get in the car and earn your pay,' Nevin said.

‘What pay?'

He smiled and handed me my helmet. ‘Just get in the car.'

I wore a groove in Zandvoort, piling on lap after lap. Rags didn't give Haulk or me any downtime. Today was costing the team a pretty penny and Rags seemed to be on a mission to get the most out of that penny. We logged over a hundred laps before we called it a day. The two cars had guzzled tanks of fuel and shredded dozens of tyres. The crew would be working hard to overhaul the cars as soon as they got back to the workshop. A hundred miles of track punishment was the equivalent of ten thousand road miles. The oil would be soup, the brakes would be bare and the wheel bearings would be shot. The cars would be old men after a season of this punishment.

I climbed from the car, not realizing how sore my back and arse were. I'd feel it in the morning. Nevin handed me an energy drink and I tottered into the pit garage. I peeled off the top half of my racesuit and tied the sleeves around my waist.

I sucked down half the sports drink, but my throat closed up when I spotted the eight wheels still sitting where they'd been all day.

Dylan sidled up to me. ‘No one's been by for them.'

It didn't make sense. I grabbed my kit bag and went into the men's toilet to change. While I was in there, I called Barrington. He didn't answer and my call went to voicemail. I left a message telling him to call me.

After I cleaned up, cheering greeted me in the pit garages.

‘What's going on?' I asked Nevin.

‘Dinner's on Rags.'

‘Nice.'

I helped my crew pack up the car and equipment. The move bought me plenty of goodwill with the team. It also forced Haulk to help out. What was he going to do otherwise – just stand there?

Rags disappeared to his car and made call after call.

Who was he calling? His connection in Holland? Or Honda to tell them how testing had gone?

I made a move to grab the wheels carrying the drugs. I thought someone might stop me, but no one did. As I went to load them on to the tyre rack, my crew shooed me away. ‘No stealing our jobs,' Roy Carroll said.

When everything was packed up, Rags led the convoy. As we had in the morning, Haulk and I rode with Rags. Dylan rode with the crew. We drove through the town of Zandvoort and picked up the road that took us east towards the airport.

The chatter in the car was upbeat. Rags rained compliments on us for our performances. I struggled to keep up with the conversation. All I could think about were those cocaine-loaded wheels. Why hadn't anyone come for them?

We left the town of Zandvoort in the distance and travelled on a quiet stretch of road. Just as the road signs announced Bentveld was the next town, Dutch police cars poured out from a side road, lights and sirens blaring. Two cop cars raced in front of Rags' car and slowed, blocking the road ahead. A string of police cars came up on our left side to pin us in. There was no going around them and Rags stamped on the brakes to avoid slamming into the back of them.

‘What the fuck is going on?' Rags bellowed.

Barrington, I thought.

Rags pulled up short, causing the transporter behind to lock up its brakes and rear-end us. The impact felt like a punch in the back and sent Rags' car forward a couple of feet.

‘These fuckers are going to pay,' Rags snarled and flung the door open.

‘Stay in the car,' Haulk said.

Rags ignored the good advice and jumped from the car.

‘Shit,' Haulk said and jumped out.

‘If you can't beat 'em, join 'em,' I said and opened my door.

Three cops, talking in a mix of both Dutch and English, were telling Rags to calm down and get back into his car. Rags just shouted at them, demanding to know what the hell was going on and who was going to pay for the damage to his vehicles.

Two more cops appeared in front of Haulk and me. Haulk immediately fired off something in Dutch that disarmed them. We jogged over to Rags and a plain-clothes cop who had a sheaf of papers in his hand. Haulk cooled the situation down by talking to the cops in Dutch. Rags crossed his arms and just smouldered while Haulk spoke to the detective in charge.

I looked back down the line of vehicles. The whole crew was at the side of the road looking bewildered and confused, Dylan amongst them. He looked worried. I understood his fears. This wasn't on the script.

With half the road blocked, a handful of cops took over traffic duties. Cars drifted by the scene, staring at the transporters and us.

I looked for Barrington. He was the ringmaster of this circus, but I didn't see him at first. He swept past me at the wheel of a car, moving with the traffic and fixed me with a disapproving stare.

‘What kind of bullshit is this?' Rags bellowed.

‘The warrant says they're looking for narcotics,' Haulk said.

I inched closer to Haulk and Rags.

‘Seriously, they think we're moving drugs?' Rags said to Haulk, then turned his disgust to the cop in charge. ‘I have just dropped a small fortune in your country today and this is how I get treated?'

I wondered how much involvement Haulk had in the smuggling. It had been his idea and connections that brought us to Zandvoort today. Had his problems with the law ended in his teens or had he matured into something more insidious?

‘Sir,' the lead detective said, ‘I just want to search your vehicles. If we find nothing then you'll be free to go. The quicker you stop protesting the quicker you'll be on your way.'

Rags was silent for a minute. This was one race he couldn't win. He threw up his hands. ‘OK, do it. Waste your fucking time.'

The detective signalled to his men and they descended on the transporters and Rags' car. Rags told the crew to open the transporters up. Once the doors were open, the police ordered everyone back and they descended on the vehicles.

Barrington played it smart. The cops didn't go straight for the wheels. They rifled through toolboxes, storage cabinets in the transporters and the cars. The drugs had to be discovered organically. First, search the obvious, then get inventive.

‘This is bullshit,' Rags said for the umpteenth time.

He didn't get any arguments, not that anyone was saying anything. Everyone stood in silence while the police worked.

I didn't know what to make of Rags. He reacted how I would expect someone to react if they were innocent. These weren't the protests of a guilty man. I looked at the crew for anyone who was sweating. The only person who looked even close to guilty was Dylan.

The lead detective clambered up into the transporter and grabbed a wheel off the tyre rack. ‘I want the tyres removed,' he said to Rags.

‘What do you want?' Rags said.

‘I want the tyres off these wheels, so I can see inside.'

Rags coughed out a laugh so loud with derision that it left a trail. ‘You've found nothing, so you want to be as awkward as possible. Is that it?'

‘I'm not debating the subject, sir. Just do it.'

‘Nevin,' Rags called.

Nevin tapped Dylan on the shoulder and they jumped into the transporter to pop the tyres from the rims.

My breath caught when Nevin picked up the first of the wheels with the drugs inside. He and Dylan popped the rim. Nothing. No coke. Just air. I fought the urge to ask what was going on. These were the marked wheels, yet they were empty. Dylan and Nevin popped the next marked wheel. Again, nothing. Every wheel revealed the same – nothing.

Dylan jumped down from the transporter and stood next to me. ‘What just happened?'

‘I have no idea.'

All I knew was that Barrington wasn't going to be happy.

T
he Dutch police disappeared into the sunset. In typical fashion, they left the carnage of their fruitless search behind them. Cars, parts, tools and tyres littered the side of the road with no apology or offer to help put everything back.

No one spoke or moved, because Rags hadn't spoken or moved. He just stood stock still, glaring at the cop cars' taillights.

‘Get this shit packed up,' he said when the last of the cop cars was long gone.

I grabbed a couple of wheels.

‘What the fuck are you doing?' he barked at me.

‘Helping.'

‘You're not here to help. You're here to drive. And you're not driving right now. I want you and you –' Rags pointed at Haulk and me – ‘out of here. You've got a plane to catch. Now, get in the damn car. The rest of you, I expect everything on the roadside back on the transporter.'

Barrington had overplayed his hand with the road stop, but not all was lost. He'd beaten the bushes, so it was likely that something would come flying out. I was interested to see what Rags did next.

‘See ya back home,' I said to Dylan.

‘I'll tell you if anything interesting happens.'

Haulk patted me on the back as he crossed behind me. We followed Rags to his car. He left a thick pair of rubber streaks as he pulled away.

‘What do you think that was about?' Haulk asked. He was a brave man to ask considering Rags' mood.

‘What the fuck do you think? Someone is fucking with my team. First, they stitch Aidy up on reckless-driving charges. Now they've called in a bullshit trafficking claim that casts a dirty light on our team.'

It was the first time Rags had showed any sign that he believed in my innocence. That threw me. Did he really believe what he'd just said? Was he unaware of the fact his team was being used as a drug-smuggling operation or was it just smoke for our benefit? Barrington saw the whole team as dirty, but that might not be true.