She grinned. ‘Well, circumstances forced me to take an extended break.’
Hurley had the grace to wince. ‘I should have thought of that before speaking. But at least you’re out now.’ He frowned. ‘We were all wondering…why such short notice? I didn’t even know you were taking part until I saw you walk into the room.’
‘An insane billionaire kidnapped me and told me if I didn’t race for him, he’d have me thrown from his private jet without a parachute.’
The General looked startled for a moment. ‘Strugatsky?’
‘Wu.’
Hurley sighed and shook his head. ‘They’re both conniving, evil sons of bitches.’ He reached out a hand and Dutch clasped it. ‘Good luck, Dutch.’
‘You too, General.’
‘Press in five minutes,’ Llordes called out, and people started to make their way out of the room. Nat came over and motioned to Dutch to follow him.
‘Stand at the back,’ he told her. ‘Smile, and don’t answer any questions.’
* * *
She found herself in another part of the building, where a table faced towards rows of seated journalists. Elektron and the Countess were already seated at the table, with representatives of their corporate sponsors standing in a gaggle to one side. Nat pushed her in next to the General, who stood ramrod straight at the back. Cameras flashed, and she saw Nat speaking to a member of the Speedway’s security.
The drivers spent the next twenty minutes answering questions. A lot of them were aimed at Dutch, but Nat fielded every last one with practised ease, giving them answers that added up to very little real detail at all.
‘Well, at least it was mercifully brief,’ he said after they had finished and were on their way back out of the room. He glanced at his wrist. ‘We’ve got thirty-five minutes until the handicaps start.’
‘I haven’t had a chance to see how the Coupé looks under the hood,’ said Dutch. ‘I need to strip out any modifications Muto put in there or I’ll risk disqualification.’
‘About the handicaps,’ said Nat, as they walked side-by-side to the pit building. ‘Mr Wu wants you to pull back. Don’t try to come in first.’
She turned to stare at him. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’
‘I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re not in this race to win.’
‘Even so, you can’t expect me not to—!’
‘Let someone else get the headlines. You don’t have to come in last—a middle ranking should be about sufficient.’
Her nostrils flared. ‘You’re asking a lot of me, Nat.’
‘Nonetheless.’
She looked him square in the eyes for long enough to see he wasn’t going to back down.
She flexed her knuckles and pressed her hands together, fighting down frustration. And, although she would rather have died than admit it, she was worried that whatever innate skill she’d once had for surviving the Run had been left behind in a Russian jail cell.
‘Fine,’ she said at last. ‘Let’s just get this the hell over with.’
* * *
She made her way alone towards the pit buildings, a row of garages situated beneath the grandstand. When she entered the garage assigned to them, she found a familiar figure kneeling beside the Coupé and peering inside one of the wheel-wells.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she demanded.
Doktor Elektron started, then gave her a lopsided grin. His one-piece suit glistened with custom inlaid electronics, a stylised silver lightning-bolt angling down from his left shoulder before terminating at his right hip. The eyes behind the ridiculous little domino mask he always wore were blue, and a little too bright. His dark hair lay flat and greasy against his forehead.
‘Dutch,’ he rasped. ‘It’s great to see you back in the game.’ He stepped towards her, extending one gloved hand. His costume creaked as he moved, the circuitry flashing silver beneath the overhead lights.
Dutch stepped back and grabbed a wrench from a worktable. ‘Stay the hell back,’ she yelled, swinging the wrench in a wide arc. ‘What the hell were you doing there?’
‘Nothing,’ he said with feigned shock. ‘I didn’t even recognise your old car at first.’ He glanced at it. ‘Sweet ride, Dutch.’
‘What the hell?’
Dutch glanced around to see Nat had walked in.
‘I found him in here by himself when I arrived,’ said Dutch. ‘He’d been doing something down by the front right wheel-well.’
Nat stepped past her and up close to Elektron. ‘Either tell me what you were doing, or I’ll knock your teeth out through the back of your skull.’
‘Hey,’ said Elektron in an aggrieved tone. ‘You know we’re allowed to check each other’s cars out before a time-trial.’
‘Under supervision,’ Nat reminded him. ‘And you were here alone.’ He looked to Dutch for confirmation and she nodded. He reached a hand towards Elektron’s shoulder. ‘So why don’t you—’
‘Nat,’ Dutch shouted, ‘don’t!’
Too late: Elektron grabbed hold of Nat’s wrist with both gloved hands, pulling him close. Nat gasped, his jaws clamping together in a rictus grin. A faint smell of ozone filled the garage. When Elektron let go, faint blue sparks jumped from the palms of his gloves.
Nat slumped to the floor next to the car. Dutch stepped past him, swinging the wrench with such vigour that Elektron retreated with haste.
‘I acted in self-defence!’ Elektron screeched. ‘And that wrench is metal, you idiot.’
Dutch swung the wrench again, then moved to one side and pointed to the exit. ‘Get the fuck out of here before I knock your brain out of your ass. Now.’
Elektron glared at her, then darted past her and out through the door. As soon as he’d disappeared from sight, she dropped down next to Nat and helped him back up.
‘What—’ he grabbed hold of the side of the car to keep himself upright ‘—the hell happened? Those gloves—!’
‘You’re kidding me. It’s Doktor Elektron. That’s, like, his modus operandi.’
He coughed and stared at her with glazed eyes. ‘I guess I forgot.’
‘He used to run around New York beating up muggers. These days most people would be cheering for the muggers to beat him up.’
Nat swayed as he stood upright. ‘Okay,’ he said with a shuddering breath.
