The Widowmaker Read online

  Lexie nodded and escorted Raul back to the hospitality tent, pausing at the bar to order the lunch packs. “The corner table?” she suggested. “It's in the sun."

  Raul nodded, his mind elsewhere. They sat down and he accepted a refill of the champagne flute, his notebook open on the table before him.

  "A near record practice lap is a good thing,” Lexie prompted. A little psychology never hurt.

  "Two seconds better than our lead rider.” Raul pondered that, his expression grave. “We are wasting our time. The Widow-Maker is our only hope."

  "Will Glenn ride it?"

  "The others won't. They are afraid."

  Raul took his cell phone from an inner pocket of his jacket and made a call, his Italian too fast and too soft for Lexie to follow. There was a long pause while he listened to the speaker at the other end and then he broke the connection. “Another drink,” he said, draining the glass. “A mineral water with ice for Glenn."

  Lexie turned and saw him approaching. “I'll bring them back and then deliver the lunch packs."

  Raul nodded. “Come back afterwards,” he said. “I may need protection."

  "I'm neutral,” Lexie warned.

  "Better than an enemy,” Raul said, rising to his feet with her. “You might distract him."

  "I doubt that's possible,” she said. “He knows too much about me.” The bitterness in her voice escaped her control and triggered a sharp look from Raul.

  "Come back as soon as you can.” He smiled. “I am intrigued."

  Lexie returned the smile and nodded. She liked Raul. He was genuine.

  * * * *

  Glenn saw Lexie nod in response to something Raul said and her smile lifted her face beyond mere beauty. He disciplined his expression as she turned towards him. He had enough problems without adding hers.

  His father had rung a few minutes before Lexie's arrival at Pit Six. Not to give advice, just a heads-up on the situation behind last night's confrontation. He now understood the responses and was inclined to support the girl. She'd created a reputation and circumstances had reinforced the situation until she was struggling. It was odd her family didn't understand, but he suspected her pride was the culprit.

  "I'll bring your drink to the table. Raul suggested mineral water with ice.” Lexie had reached him.

  "Thank you. That would be nice.” He moved aside to let her pass.

  Glenn wasn't surprised at the depth of his father's knowledge. Lionel Smallwood had been a community copper. He'd run Blue Light discos, youth clubs, served on committees for a dozen purposes, lending his efforts without stint. A question from him flowed through a hundred channels, official and unofficial, and was responded to with trust. The informant knew Lionel wouldn't abuse their confidences.

  "Glenn!” It was Raul gesturing to the seat opposite him. “Sit down. Lexie will bring your drink."

  Glenn had changed his racing leathers for a lightweight set of team overalls and the sun felt good on muscles strained by ten laps of pushing the Widow-Maker as hard as he dared. There were adjustments to be made, the final tuning of the suspension to track and surface, but he suspected they'd make little difference. Turns Four and Ten were still the key. Get around those without falling or losing ground and the bike could hold its own.

  "You did well.” Raul never liked silence. “A near record lap."

  "Any one of the top three riders will do better, once the race starts on Sunday.” Glenn knew the pressures tearing at Raul. He needed hope to keep his father alive, but he dreaded another death. However, without a success at this meeting his factory was bankrupt.

  "We can't win?” Raul's smile died.

  "Half the field might fall on the final lap.” Glenn's grin went lop-sided to dismiss the possibility.

  Lexie's return with the drinks interrupted the conversation. Glenn started to rise from his seat, but she stopped him. “Don't get up. I'll bring two salad plates and then take the pack lunches down to the Pit."

  "Bring the salads, and one for yourself, when you come back from the Pit,” Raul said. “I suspect I'll need the comfort of a beautiful face by then."

  Glenn saw the affection in Lexie's response and knew his friend had wormed his way into another heart. Utterly faithful to his wife, Raul used his freedom to charm every woman he met. They felt safe with him.

  "As you wish.” Lexie's more than professional courtesy was an unnecessary confirmation. “Would you like anything in particular?” She went on to list the menu's possibilities.

  "I trust your judgment.” Raul was smiling at her. “The salad plate."

  She turned to Glenn and accepted his nod. “I'll be back."

  Glenn watched her walk away. It put off the moment when Raul would ask the questions he dreaded, forcing him to make a decision between loyalty and common sense.

  "If we could build a suspension like that into the Widow-Maker...” Raul left the sentence unfinished.

  "It would still be a killer.” Glenn didn't.

  "I spoke to the hospital. This is his last chance. He won't last till the next one.” Raul was not quite pleading.

  "I thought as much. What do you want?” Glenn bought time with the unnecessary question.

  "A top three finish?” Glenn couldn't evade this plea.

  "Neither our bikes nor our riders are up to it.” Raul deserved the truth.

  "The Widow-Maker?"

  "It frightens them too much. They saw how close I came on Four and Ten. A fraction more power and it would have flipped and I'd have joined Giovanni in the cemetery. Any less power and the others pass you. The suspension's still untamed.” Glenn was hammering the nails into his own coffin. Raul could ask the questions, but it was his call how the race was run and who rode what bike.

  "A race is different to practice ... especially if you're dicing with another rider through either Four or Ten...” Raul was stating the obvious in hope that Glenn would contradict him.

  "It might frighten the one behind enough to make them back off.” Glenn was smiling, reading Raul's mind. “If it got that bad, the stewards would wave us off the track. Assuming always they let us start."

  The threat focused Raul. “Is that likely?"

  "They watch the practices, videotape them as well. Their technical people will analyze the tapes. The punters might come in the hope of seeing a spectacular crash, but the officials don't want anything that could bite them at the inquiry. I'm going out again this afternoon. If they don't stop me, we'll be able to race the Widow-Maker."

  Raul glanced to the left and right, as if frightened someone would overhear Glenn's summation. “Is it that serious?” He'd lowered his voice to the edge of audibility.

  Glenn nodded. “Everyone knows our situation. They're watching to see what we do."

  Angela appeared at the entrance, saw them and crossed to their table. “These are our lap times and the qualifiers for the grid. Your time puts you in the third row. The others are back further.” She handed Glenn the clipboard, but remained standing.

  "Has Rico adjusted the compensation hydraulics?” Glenn ran his finger down the qualifying times.

  "He's running the tests now, checking the response pressures.” She was looking at him, trying to read his intentions. “He'll be ready by the afternoon session."

  "I'll go out late. We'll have more times by then and know what we have to beat."

  "You sound more like a rider than a manager.” Angela was seeking confirmation.

  "We'll see what happens.” Glenn was broadcasting nothing. He handed back the clipboard and Angela accepted it without looking. She was studying his face instead.

  "Here come our salads.” Raul was warning them of Lexie's approach.

  * * * *

  Lexie slowed when she saw the three faces turn to her and knew they'd been discussing something serious. Angela and Raul looked as if Glenn had just announced the team's bankruptcy. He seemed amused and his lips curved in a welcoming smile as he came to his feet.

  "Hi, those
salads look delicious. Let me help you."

  She suspected he was welcoming the diversion rather than the food, but it didn't stop the flush of pleasure at his warmth. It made her fumble a little and he had to rescue the three sets of cutlery before they fell to the floor.

  Raul and Angela, their self-discipline reasserted, helped.

  "I'll eat with the others,” Angela said. “The bike will be ready for a late practice."

  Glenn nodded his thanks. “Keep an eye on the practice times."

  It was Angela's turn to nod. She gave Glenn's face one final searching glance and left.

  "Would you like another drink?” Lexie had her duties.

  "Thank you, no.” It was Raul taking charge to make amends. “Where did you two meet? I remember you at the function, but our friend performs poorly at those, so it must be somewhere else."

  "We met surfing. She's very good.” Glenn was making it easy for her.

  "So is he.” She wouldn't be outdone in courtesy.

  "And?” Raul was no fool.

  "We had dinner together in Cowes.” Glenn made the admission with a smile. It was obvious the two men were friends.

  Raul wasn't satisfied. Lexie could see the temptation in his face. He remembered her words about Glenn knowing too much about her, but feared embarrassing her further. “I will bide my time.” He made the threat with a smile.

  "We'd better confess all.” Glenn sat relaxed in his chair, his lips curved in an answering smile. “Raul's worse than any woman when it comes to secrets."

  "Perhaps it would be better coming from you.” Two could play this game.

  "If you wish...” Glenn straightened slightly, a movement more sensed than real. “Lexie's here almost by accident as she's based herself in London for the past eight years. She's a qualified English teacher, but likes promotional work because of the travel and interaction and is very well thought of by her London agency. It's her father's seventieth birthday and there's a big bash to celebrate it tomorrow night because he's a well-known figure on the Island. The family's been here since the mid 1800s.” He gave her a sidewise glance. “I don't think I missed anything."

  "Other than I ran wild when I was younger and am still living it down.” His manner made it impossible to be affronted by his knowledge. “It sometimes makes it difficult."

  "It takes others a long time to realize we've changed,” he agreed. “They see us through their memories."

  "Bravo!” It was Raul. “He wheedles information from us so effortlessly; it always comes as a surprise when he chooses to display it. Don't be offended, Lexie. He does it to everyone."

  "I'm not offended.” She was reassuring Glenn as much as Raul. “I think I'm flattered."

  "I'm relieved. No offence was intended.” Glenn's sincerity was plain. “We'll be working together for the next four days."

  Lexie smiled. An hour ago, she'd have reacted badly to that, trapped in her Phillip Island straitjacket. Now, it was a simple statement of fact. He'd shown her how to escape the Island's influence. “I'm looking forward to it,” she promised.

  Raul was beaming at them. “Perhaps you can talk sense into this fool. He won't listen to us."

  Lexie sensed Glenn's frown, he was a master of subtle changes, but she turned to Raul. “I think it's your turn to explain?"

  "Our brave-hearted friend feels a sense of obligation to a dying man. He would send my father into the next world with the satisfaction of a realized dream. What he fails to understand is the weight of guilt another death would cause."

  "Why is the Widow-Maker so dangerous?” Lexie had sensed some of the undercurrents, so Raul's words shed light on the rest.

  "See!” Raul was exultant. “She goes directly to the heart of the matter.” He was looking at Glenn, daring him to explain. When the silence extended itself, he turned back to Lexie.

  "A fall during a race presents the rider with two hazards. The first is something solid getting in his way, another bike perhaps or a fixed object trackside. If he avoids those, the next hazard is starting to tumble. If this happens, centrifugal force comes into play, exposing arms, legs and necks to be broken.” He paused until she nodded her understanding. “Sudden changes in torque, such as sharp braking or excessive acceleration, can produce momentary skips with the normal suspension, destroying the rear tire's grip on the track. The Widow-Maker has an experimental suspension system that translates these changes into improved contact between the rear tire and the track, especially during turns. This allows higher speeds into and out of the corners. The rider's problem lies in overcoming his instinctive reactions when negotiating a sharp bend. Apply power too sharply and the bike can flip outwards, throwing the rider in a dangerously high arc. He can't avoid tumbling and strikes the earth at too great an angle to slide. It killed Giovanni, Angela's husband."

  "Do the authorities know this?” Lexie had learnt something during her only motor racing promotion before the Australian Grand Prix.

  "It has provisional approval, but this has to be ratified by each national body before it can be raced in their country. Glenn's practice runs provide them with a chance to see it in action."

  "So a near record lap shows them its potential, prompting them to overlook the risk.” Lexie spoke her thoughts aloud, seeking confirmation of her understanding.

  "You are a remarkable woman.” Raul's tone was admiring.

  Glenn hadn't spoken, content to let their talk flow around him, interested, but uninvolved in the outcome. He'd already made up his mind; let them say what they might. His attitude was so reminiscent of her father's that Lexie reacted without thought.

  "You don't care what we think, do you?"

  "There are so many things outside our control. The authorities could deny me the use of the track this afternoon ... or they could decide against ratifying the provisional approval. Salvatore could die and make the exercise pointless. My lap times might not be good enough to qualify...” He didn't go on with a list he considered pointless.

  "You're not being honest.” Raul joined the battle. “All those things are true, but, except for my father, you have a measure of control over the outcomes."

  "I promise to keep my options open until the last moment. Will that satisfy you?"

  Glenn spoke to her, but was answering Raul. She'd stumbled into a conflict of two strong wills and they were using her to continue it. Neither cared what she thought. She was just a convenience...

  It hurt!

  She'd gulled herself into believing they'd admitted her to their world out of some personal recognition, but she was nothing to them. Anger drove her to her feet, drawing a startled look from Raul and one of understanding from Glenn, who half rose, hand outstretched to stop her. She'd have none of it, brushing his hand aside and storming away, blinking to hold back tears of rage. As she ran down the steps to the concourse, peripheral vision showed Glenn's hand on Raul's arm, restraining him from following her.

  * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Angela found her in the change room provided for the promotional staff. “Glenn and Raul sent me with apologies,” the pit boss said. “You wandered into the firing line of their disagreement about the Widow-Maker. It wasn't fair of them to involve you.” She smiled. “Those two spar all the time. Take no notice of them. We don't."

  Lexie's tears were dried and her mind cleared enough to be embarrassed by the strength of her reaction. She'd flip-flopped from congratulating herself at overcoming the Island's influence to childish pique at being marginalized by the two men in their ongoing argument about using the Widow-Maker. She'd not cared that the subject was serious, the risk to Glenn's life...

  "I think it's me who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have allowed myself to become embroiled in their business.” It was true. She'd allowed personal feelings to take charge.

  "It's hard to stay uninvolved with Glenn.” Angela's tone betrayed her feelings. “He touches something in you. I'm worried how far he'll go with the Widow-Maker too, but nothing we s
ay matters. His decisions are his alone.” She was looking at Lexie with compassion. “You've joined an exclusive club, the Glenn Smallwood Protection Society."

  "But I hardly know him.” Lexie sought information rather than argued. Two people had assumed her connection to Glenn. She wanted to know why.

  "What was your first impression of him?” Angela was smiling.

  "Distant. He wasn't enjoying the socializing."

  Angela nodded. “And now...” She was intent, studying Lexie's reaction.

  "He's warm ... funny at times ... intelligent ... perceptive...” Lexie's words came spaced with pauses as she analyzed her reactions to Glenn.

  "Most people only get the initial impression,” Angela's voice was soft. “We're the lucky ones, but it comes with a price. He makes you care."

  Lexie didn't believe her at first. She'd watched Glenn charm the waitress in the Bistro. Then she remembered the promotions manager, a wheeling, dealing salesman who glad-handed everyone. He'd thought Glenn a hard head. A dozen small impressions surfaced from the hospitality tent and the Bistro, each one confirming Angela's claim.

  She'd been blind.

  She wanted to blame the Island, but knew it wasn't true. She'd hidden behind her childhood too long. She'd do her job and keep Glenn at a distance. Letting him close was too dangerous.

  "We're neglecting our duties,” she told Angela. “Let's get back to them."

  Raul greeted her warily, still puzzled by her reaction, but Glenn gave her one glance and ignored her, continuing his instructions to the two team riders as if she wasn't there.

  "Forget the Widow-Maker,” he said. “Concentrate on your machines. They've been tuned to the circuit. Take the first five laps easy. Get the feel of them. Turns Four and Ten are the keys. Experiment with your lines and finish up with five laps hard. We're aiming at a mid-grid position.” The riders nodded at each point. “Tony will lead."

  A final nod and the two riders separated, heading for their bikes.

  Helmets on, comms checked, and they were away.

  Lexie was at the back of the pit, clearing away the half eaten lunches, storing the containers for recycling and bagging the scraps for collection.