Hot Seat by Simon Wood Read Free Book Online Page B

we’re doing,’ Rags said. ‘Before you get out there and impress me, I have a quick announcement. Come with me.’
    We followed Rags out to the pit lane.
    â€˜Can I have everyone’s attention?’ Rags called across the pit garages. ‘Everyone gather around, please.’
    The crew stopped what they were doing and crowded around him.
    â€˜As everybody is aware, Jason Gates was murdered last week.’
    Several people looked my way.
    â€˜Most of you know Jason started out with us.’
    I didn’t. That put a fresh spin on events.
    â€˜He started out as a grease monkey and left us an accomplished technician. He deserved better. As a mark of respect, I’d like to have a moment’s silence in Jason’s honour.’
    We bowed our heads. There’d been so much fervour in our preparation before hitting the track that the sudden silence was haunting. The only sound was the wind gusting down the pit lane.
    â€˜OK, guys, let’s get back to it.’
    â€˜Lads, a moment,’ Nevin said to his crew. ‘Aidy, these reprobates will be running your car. Say hello to Jim McLeod, Dalton Mitchell, Roy Carroll and Stephen Price. They’ll break their backs for you, but they’ll expect you to do the same for them.’
    I shook hands with all of them.
    â€˜OK, intros out the way, let’s impress the boss,’ Nevin said.
    I jogged back to my car, grabbed my kit bag and changed into my race clothes. This consisted of flame retardant socks, long johns, a long-sleeved T-shirt, shoes and overalls. The clothing always seemed like overkill. Racecars rarely caught fire these days, but there was always the exception. I just hoped I’d never get to find out what it was like to be the exception. All dressed up, I jogged across the paddock back to the pits.
    I stopped when I reached the team transporter. The doors were open, so I clambered up and stood inside. The transporter was a mobile workshop, all gleaming aluminium and polished steel. The cars sat on tracks inside. Storage compartments galore provided a home for replacement parts and tools. Everything that might be needed to strip and rebuild any of the cars was here. Jason had wanted something from here, but what? Nothing stood out at first glance. There was plenty worth stealing, but there’d be no point. Anything he’d find here he’d also find with his own team and certainly none of it was worth killing him over. If Jason had been breaking in to take something, it would be something very specific.
    â€˜Aidy, what are you doing?’ Nevin asked from behind me.
    I hadn’t heard him walk up on me. ‘Just looking. It’s a bit more than I’m used to.’
    â€˜Well, you’re in the big leagues now, son. C’mon, we’ve got work to do.’
    I jumped down from the transporter and the two of us walked back to the garage.
    â€˜I know you’ve driven this car, but now you’ve got to race it. Remember, it’s a lot different from your Formula Ford, OK?’
    â€˜Got it.’
    â€˜The telemetry will feed us everything you’re doing, so don’t think you can bullshit me on what’s happening.’
    I smiled. ‘I won’t.’
    Nevin smiled back. ‘Good lad. I want you to go out and give me twenty. Use ten to get a feel for the car and then give me ten flying laps to let me see how you put it all together.’
    â€˜No problem.’
    â€˜Questions?’
    I frowned. ‘More of a request.’
    â€˜Shoot.’
    I had pre-race customs, although Dylan called them superstitions. I was used to prepping my own cars and knew every inch down to the nuts and bolts. Before I climbed behind the wheel, I always checked each joint and torqued my wheels. It served a technical purpose, but it also calmed and focused me. I explained this to Nevin and he and his crew laughed their heads off.
    â€˜We’re going to get on well,’ Nevin