‘Sure thing,’ said the kid, sliding into the Coupé and steering it towards the pit building.
Dutch turned the other way to look at the race track, a long strip of grey tarmac that ran parallel to the grandstand before twisting out of sight. ‘What now?’
‘The briefing,’ Nat told her. ‘Then we get to show you off to the press. Any difficult questions, I’ll field them.’
* * *
The race briefing had been scheduled to take place in a long, low-ceilinged room with strip-lighting beneath the grandstand. She glanced at a race roster posted on a wall, although she recognised no more than one or two names.
A few dozen fold-out chairs had been put out in rows facing a low stage, but no more than a dozen were in actual use. Dutch saw the Countess Philippa Graf von König, wearing a yellow-and-black driving suit, her navigator Wilfred Maur beside her in a buttoned-up shirt, jodhpurs and black leather knee-high boots.
König glanced around at Dutch’s entrance and did a double-take. She leaned towards Maur and muttered something. Apart from them, Dutch saw General Hurley, Doktor Elektron, and Dietrich Sokoloff. And if Sokoloff was here, then Lucifer Black was racing, even if, as usual, Black himself remained forever out of sight. The rest were unfamiliar, although a pair of men in priest’s cassocks caught her attention.
She took a seat near the back, ignoring the murmurs and over-the-shoulder glances. Andrew Llordes, a race supervisor she remembered from years before, stepped up to a lectern on the stage and shuffled through some notes.
The Countess whispered something to Maur, their heads close together, before turning around in her seat to address Dutch. ‘I thought you were in prison,’ she asked, her voice dripping with familiar condescension.
Dutch flashed her a tight smile. ‘Not any more.’
‘I assume it wasn’t good behaviour that got you out.’
‘Didn’t they have a riot?’ asked Maur with a sneer. ‘I’m sure I heard mention of a riot.’
‘Dutch got released before the riot broke out,’ said Llordes from behind his lectern. He caught Dutch’s eye. ‘Lucky escape. And welcome back to the race.’
‘Thanks, Andrew,’ Dutch replied.
‘A very lucky escape,’ added Maur, glaring at her.
Doktor Elektron had also turned to look at her. When he caught her eye, he leered from beneath a domino mask, his open mouth exposing blackened teeth.
‘Okay,’ said Llordes, shuffling the papers one last time, ‘let’s get started.’
A satellite image of Teijouan appeared on a screen behind him, much of its centre wreathed in impenetrable cloud and fog. A scale on the map showed the island to be a thousand kilometres in length. In shape it resembled a leaf, broad in the south, but narrowing at its northern tip. Tall mountains ran down its western coast, with equally rugged terrain towards the island’s centre.
‘Weather’s pretty good for this time of year,’ said Llordes, ‘although there’s indications of a typhoon brewing south-east of Japan. It’ll hit the East Coast sometime over the next forty-eight hours, but we’re not expecting it to interfere in any serious way with the race.’ He pointed a remote control at the screen and two red crosses appeared on opposite sides of the island. ‘There are two fuel and supply rendezvous, both in the usual locations. I—’ he paused as Dutch let out a loud yawn. ‘Something you want to say, Dutch?’
‘For Christ’s sake, why do we even need a briefing?’ she asked. ‘We drive up one side and back down the other side, while trying not to get eaten or stomped on. First to cross the finishing line wins. That’s all there is to it.’
‘As much as I hate to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain,’ said one of the two priests, ‘I can’t deny the young lady has a point.’
‘You need to be aware of weather conditions,’ said Llordes, regarding Dutch with a no-bullshit look. ‘Not to mention major Kaiju sightings. You should know this, Dutch. You’re pretty much a veteran around here.’
The picture behind him changed to show something that looked like a cross between an armadillo and a porcupine, and big enough to be at eye-level with anyone standing on top of the buildings surrounding it.
‘A Spine-back,’ Andrew announced. ‘Admiral Linares reports multiple sightings of this specific example close to where the course passes through Takau, so take note.’
‘Any confirmed kills?’ asked a man Dutch didn’t recognise. He was big and beefy with an Australian accent, and wore khakis and a slouch hat.
‘Four that we know of,’ replied Llordes. ‘We think it’s the same Spine-back that took out Beef Rocket.’
‘Man,’ said a kid next to Elektron who couldn’t be out of his teens. ‘I’d like to take that damn beast out myself. I had every one of Rocket’s albums. Still can’t believe he’s gone.’
The kid—who went by the moniker of Kid Atomik, according to the roster Dutch had seen—wore a dark one-piece costume almost as outlandish as Elektron’s own black-and-silver affair. She wondered if the kid had ever read Yellow Puma’s book about his three years as Elektron’s first sidekick; the book had reduced Elektron’s reputation to tatters, but somehow he still managed to find new recruits, each more psychotic and unbalanced than the last. She wondered how long Atomik would last before bailing like all the rest.
The screen changed again, this time showing a blurry video of a thing with multiple heads rearing up on trunk-like rear legs. ‘I’m sure most of you recognise this as a Screecher,’ said Llordes. ‘We last observed this particular one fighting a Venomosaurus in the centre of Taihoku. Screechers are the most lethal Kaiju so far, with a total of twenty-three known kills to date.’ On the screen, the beast lumbered towards another Kaiju, almost as big, with silver-grey skin and a long, lethal-looking barbed tail. ‘And this is a venomosaurus, of course. They’re close behind with a total of twenty confirmed kills.’
‘Confirmed kills?’ asked one of the priests. ‘How many unconfirmed kills are there, young man?’
‘The number of racers who remain unaccounted for outnumber
