Driven by Toby Vintcent Read Free Book Online Page A

amazing night together. Such passion, such excitement, such arousal – such technique.
    And so, to Straker – Charlie and he having been lovers – rooting through her private messages was prompting severe levels of discomfort.
    He looked down at her phone. It seemed chock-a-block with emails and texts, too many for him to take in right this minute. He would need to go through all the contents methodically later. Even so, he couldn’t help noticing two of the names – at the bottom of two texts – sent just a few days earlier:
    Charlie, my darling. Call me when you get in to Monte-Carlo. Can’t wait. Budge XX .
    While the second one read:
    I need a pit stop, my lover! Splash and dash, no? Adi .
    Straker felt a consuming stab of jealousy. Charlotte Grant had been having intimate relations with other men. And how! And who! The Lambourn Formula 1 team boss and the Massarella Grand Prix driver, Adi Barrantes.
    At the same time?
    Straker forced himself to concentrate, not easy against his surge of adrenalin and mounting anger. He quickly skimmed through her phone’s contacts directory. He wanted to see what other names might be loaded in there, apart from the intimate and painful text messages from Lord Lambourn and the Massarella driver. Indeed there were many, mostly nicknames by the looks of things, but none of them meant anything to Straker. He quickly realized her phone was not going to be of any immediate help.
    A little after two-thirty in the morning Straker took a shower, changed into working clothes, and made his way back down to the pit lane.
    Walking in from the dark, the Ptarmigan garage – harshly lit by glaring fluorescent lights – was frenetic with activity. Backhouse had secured a special dispensation from the governing body for the team to work overnight. Both cars were being dismantled and their components thoroughly scrutinized, tested by their respective crews for any signs of damage or abnormality.
    With all that in hand, Straker worked until daybreak – moving back and forth between the garage and the headquarters truck – to set up his own counter-espionage measures. The jamming device had been replaced in Sabatino’s helmet, and confirmed to be still serviceable. The same went for the team’s original radio circuitry. Now, though, Straker had advised for a second radio to be installed in both cars, but set on very different frequencies.
    To establish the team’s other defences, a number of people were woken at godforsaken hours. Some of Quartech’s specialist military surveillance equipment, along with the necessary operating teams, was even flown out by chartered plane from England.
    As all this was assembled and deployed, Straker was increasingly sure they were ready to fight back.
    But he needed something more.
    He felt he needed some bait.
    Backhouse warned him, though, that this could be a difficult conversation.

EIGHT
    ‘W hat do you mean – you’ve put it back?’ snapped Sabatino. ‘How can it be as serious as you’re trying to make it out to be, if you’re not getting rid of it?’
    Straker and Backhouse were meeting her, in private, first thing the next morning in the cabin of the motor home. ‘And what do you mean, you want some bait ? I’ve got a car to drive – I don’t need the distraction of this sort of spy-game crap.’
    Because of Backhouse’s advance warning, Straker was not fazed by her reaction. Speaking noticeably softly, he said: ‘Doing this is the only chance we’ve got of identifying the people who are trying to sabotage you.’
    Sabatino shook her head. ‘You’ve made a massive leap from the crackle of a defective radio to sabotage. You might be ex-army, but don’t think there’s an enemy under every bush. I won’t be distracted by your need for self-justification.’
    Straker smiled tolerantly and simply let the jibe pass. ‘The last thing I want is to cause you any distraction. All I need is one ploy – which I’ve discussed with Andy –