Driven (22 page)

P
tarmigan F1 pitched tent in Monza, twelve miles north-east of Milan. In the lead-up to the Italian Grand Prix, there was a frenzy of media speculation. Many commentators were building up expectations for a dramatic reaction to a female driver’s incursion into this most masculine of environments. The anticipation was electric. How would all this play out in the spiritual heart of macho Italian motor racing? How would the Tifosi react to a woman driver?

In the end, Sabatino’s apprehension of the Tifosi was completely unfounded. Italian men, for all their love of cars and motor racing, proved themselves to be first and foremost lovers of women. The Tifosi took Sabatino instantly to heart. There was even a hint of mania.

Being Monza, the circuit was crowded – even for the first day of practice. Sunny and warm weather helped. In every direction, the packed stands appeared like seas of fluttering scarlet, rippling in the breeze. Scarlet flag upon scarlet T shirt showed the black prancing horse on its famous yellow shield. Ferrari devotees were there in force. But this time, there was a surprise. Another colour was prevalent. Ptarmigan’s brand of turquoise.

The Tifosi were hailing Sabatino.

This welcome may have eased Sabatino’s own apprehension, but it created – if anything – a bigger irritation for Massarella. Even more so than usual. Massarella may have had the Italian heritage, but they always found themselves playing second fiddle to Ferrari – especially in Italy. Under normal circumstances that may have been galling enough. But this time Massarella seemed to be demoted even further – because of the Tifosi’s excitement for Sabatino and her Ptarmigan.

Van Der Vaal’s expression conveyed more and more of his angry
chippiness. To counter his irritations, he projected his recruitment of Andy Backhouse as a major coup – revelling in having won over a key member of a rival team. The Massarella boss paraded Sabatino’s former race engineer up and down the pit lane, through the paddock – and had Backhouse stand next to him during every TV interview Van Der Vaal gave in the build-up to the race.

Just before a practice session, Van Der Vaal even walked Andy Backhouse across the front of the Ptarmigan garage – with an arm across his shoulders – in full view of Nazar, Treadwell, Cunzer and Sabatino.

S
abatino tried to distract herself from all that pettiness by throwing herself into practice. Taking herself out onto the famous circuit for the first time in a Formula One car, she set about doing her job.

Even on her first out-lap, as she worked temperature into the car, she found it was understeering far more than on any circuit to date. With the very low downforce set-up, the Ptarmigan was seriously struggling to hold the line through the slower corners. Before completing half a lap she was on the radio to Treadwell, her new race engineer. ‘The car’s all over the place. Completely out of balance. I’m getting hideous understeer going in, and a fishtail coming out. Everything’s changed.’

Straker, listening in, fully expected this drop-off in stability to be blamed on his instigating the change of engine management system.

Sabatino drove on. She reached the approach to the faster corners of the legendary Lesmos. Only when the Ptarmigan was cranked up did the aerodynamics start to kick in and give her any confidence.

B
ecause of the understeer, the Ptarmigan team worked without a break over the following two days, dissecting all the telemetry – running endless simulations through their models back in Shenington. They tried everything to mitigate the lively handling of the car. Only by increasing the angle of the front wing could they make any difference – and that seemed to cost her badly in straight-line speed.

E
xtraordinarily – despite all her difficulties – Sabatino took everyone by surprise. She managed to qualify in P2, having learnt over the two days of practice to work with – rather than fight – the vagaries of the car. Simi Luciano, in his Massarella, was only just able to beat her, putting himself on pole.

Straker remained apprehensive. If the saboteurs were still out to do Ptarmigan down, surely this challenging pace was a renewed invitation for them to try again. He tried to convince himself that, with the help of the new electronics firm, he had done enough since Spa to reduce Ptarmigan’s risk from sabotage.

But he couldn’t relax.

He set up all his usual surveillance systems in the motor home headquarters – just in case.

T
he day itself started as a perfect morning for the Italian Grand Prix. The sun shone. The air temperature was in the late twenties. And there was the gentlest of breezes. Nothing less than deserved for the spiritual home of motor racing.

Nevertheless, Van Der Vaal was spitting. What more did he have to do here? He had put an Italian – in a Massarella – on pole, and yet the Tifosi were celebrating one of their beloved Ferraris on the second row.

But that was Van Der Vaal’s problem. To everyone else, the stands were in magnificent voice, creating the classic Monza atmosphere in the build-up to the race.

S
traker hoped he was ready. Now with Cohens supporting them, he had been able to set up even more sophisticated surveillance and feedback systems. He hoped he was not being complacent in having the BBC coverage on one of his three screens and their commentary in one ear of his headphones. As the start of the race approached, he began to listen in. The grid walk had just finished, and the show was being thrown up to the commentary box, ready for the race:

‘Thank you, David, and welcome, everybody, to the Italian Grand Prix, staged on the hallowed circuit of Monza. Conditions are looking good. No sign of rain, and the temperatures are forecast to peak out in the low thirties. Twenty-two runners, and a tight Drivers’ Championship – all promise an exciting afternoon of motor racing. Currently leading – and really beginning to attract attention – is the history-making Remy Sabatino, Formula One’s first female driver to mount a serious challenge on the Championship. Seven races in, and she is six points ahead of her nearest rival – Italy’s own Simi Luciano. The excitement looks like continuing here today – Luciano is one place in front of her on the grid. If
the grid positions were held to the end, though, Remy would stay on top of the Championship table, albeit with her lead reduced.’

‘Indeed, Ben, it really is all
extremely
tight,’
chipped in the other commentator.
‘And it’s
because
it is that tight that Sabatino’s had such a strong reception. Even in her rookie year, she’s taking her fight straight to the big dogs. And that’s not been lost on the knowledgeable Tifosi.
Look
at the stands – here in Italy – here at Monza. I can’t remember the last time I saw the scarlet of the Scuderia so diluted like this. See that Ptarmigan turquoise
–
it’s
everywhere,’ he said as the producer quickly backed the commentator up with several different wide shots of the stands, showing a mass of flags and banners fluttering in the gentle Lombardy breeze.
‘It’s amazing.’

‘Certainly is, Mike. Sabatino and the whole of Ptarmigan have shaken things up this season. And we mustn’t forget, of course, that the team was on its uppers – as recently as the back end of last year. And yet, here they are – less than twelve months on – with a superb car and a woman driver – both as serious contenders for
both
Championships. Don’t let anyone say that Formula One is boring.’

‘Absolutely not, and, of course, the drama doesn’t end there. The pit lane, paddock, and stands are all pleased, today, to welcome back Remy’s teammate, Helli Cunzer – making his first return to the car after that heart-in-the-mouth crash in Monaco a few weeks ago.’

The TV picture cut away from scenes around Monza to a slow-motion replay of Cunzer’s death-defying high-speed crash in Monte-Carlo, the drama of it losing none of its potency despite the countless times it had been shown. At the end of the clip, which showed Cunzer being airlifted off the Monaco circuit and flown out over the harbour in an emergency helicopter, there was a happier shot of the youthful good-looking blond German walking down the pit lane in Monza that weekend, waving at the crowds, acknowledging his reception from so many well-wishers.

‘Well said, Mike, and his return’s all the more impressive with him qualifying P6 on the grid. That result shows, formidably, that his confidence and speed have been restored so quickly – further tribute to driver and car.’

‘Indeed, and we shouldn’t overlook the competitive significance of that, either. If the Ptarmigan drivers hold their starting positions to the end of today’s race, Ptarmigan’s one-point lead would be preserved as the mid-season leaders of the Constructors’ Championship.’

Action was soon visible along the crowded pit straight as the team bosses, mechanics, and array of celebrities started scurrying off the grid.

‘Okay, we’re getting close to the start. The engines are running. We’re ready for the parade lap, round this three-and-a-half-mile circuit.’

Straker used the time during the slow procession to check all his screens and frequency settings at his console in the motor home. A couple of messages, between the pit wall and the Ptarmigan drivers, were helpful testers. They showed all his new Cohens systems to be working perfectly.

‘The cars are retaking their places on the grid. The backmarkers are in position. A green flag is being waved by a marshal from the back. Race Control has confirmation to start.

‘Yes, here we go. We have one red light.

‘Two, three, four – and now five.

‘Just listen to that roar – that crescendo – of power.

‘Wait!

‘Wait…

‘And the lights are … OFF!

‘GO! Monza is GO. Luciano’s away well. He’s on the clean side of the circuit. Sabatino’s got a good start, too – if anything a better one. She’s clearly found grip, even down that dirty side of the track. And look, she’s moving up on Luciano, moving up on the Massarella – down the inside of the run into Turn One.’

‘She certainly is, Ben, she’s had a great start. And, so far, everyone’s got away okay – no apparent incidents.’

‘Luciano’s moving … sorry, Mike … over to the right – aggressively across Sabatino’s front. He’s trying to shut her out, well before the corner. But look, there – look, look, look – she’s not having any of it – she’s not yielding – she’s holding her nerve – holding her position.’

To bring home the drama, the TV shot zoomed in on the extraordinary bottleneck of cars, power and noise into the impossibly narrow first corner.

‘Sabatino’s being squeezed over to the right. She’s going in at a sharp angle. She’s going in deep. And, whoa! – watch that Ptarmigan’s understeer. She’s been suffering from it all weekend – practice and Qualifying – particularly in the slower corners. I don’t think it’s ever been quite as bad as that, though.’

‘It’s the low downforce set-up, Mike – that’s what’s doing it.’

‘She’s having to seriously wrestle that car into Turn One. And look out for that Ferrari – off the second row – looking to pounce on her from behind. Heh, heh! Sabatino’s managed to fend
him
off – but, oh, watch that Ptarmigan fishtail through the exit. She so nearly lost it there.’

‘Sabatino
cannot
have enjoyed that – the Ptarmigan’s, clearly, a real handful with that low-downforce set-up.’

The leaders were are all quickly through the first four corners, and soon approaching the Lesmos.

‘And that’s interesting, Ben – Sabatino seems to be finding some stability, now – at last.’

‘Yeah, Ptarmigan’s aero package showed, all through practice, that it works much better at the higher speeds.’

‘Well, she’s managing to use it, now, to hold her gap behind Luciano to point-seven of a second. Simi would’ve wanted to get away further – with a clear track in front of him – but Sabatino’s not letting him go that easily.’

‘And,
Ben, she’s holding her lead over the Ferrari just behind her, too.’

Suddenly, Straker’s eyes and ears were caught. His surveillance screens flashed and, over the headphones, he heard Treadwell speaking with Sabatino. It turned out to be simply routine – a message that her temperatures were all showing comfortably in their respective windows.

‘Now the front runners are coming round to the end of the circuit – to La Parabolica. The whole field seems to be running well – no major upsets.’

‘Certainly not yet, anyway, Ben. And now, let’s see how they run round this hairpin, and enter the Rettifilo. This, if anywhere, is where we’re likely to see some action on the overtaking front. Who, though, is going to have the straight-line speed advantage. This is where all of that starts – right here, going into La Parabolica.’

Luciano braked late and hard.

‘Sabatino’s braked even later than the Massarella. She’s closed right in.’

‘Now it’s all about the corner and the exit – which car’s giving its driver the better balance and control.’

The Massarella turned in tight. Sabatino’s Ptarmigan was right up behind.

‘Through the apex – and, now, down goes the power.’

‘Both drivers were pretty tight through there.’

‘Luciano seems to be accelerating hard – third, fourth, fifth – right up to eighteen thousand revs.’

‘But Sabatino’s keeping pace out of the hairpin, Ben. She’s right there with him.’

The camera switched to the far end of the half-mile-long Rettifilo, to look back, offering a long, head-on shot of the approaching cars. Through the heat shimmer, the Massarella’s black and business-like profile was all that could be seen, as Sabatino was tucked so closely in behind. Travelling at that speed, the Massarella seemed to bobble over a silvery-watery mirage on the surface of the track. Then the TV picture switched to a helicopter shot, directly overhead, giving the commentators something much more obvious to talk about.

‘There they go – nose to tail. Sabatino’s right up behind the Massarella. She’s getting a good tow, using the hole punched through the air by the car in front, to reduce the drag. But, of course, its turbulence will disturb the airflow over the Ptarmigan, reducing her downforce. But, here – at this very moment – on this straight – that’s okay. There’re no lateral forces on the Ptarmigan right now.’

Sabatino’s car was now almost bumping the rear end of the Massarella. Seemingly in an instant, the turquoise Ptarmigan dived out to the left.

‘Here she goes! She’s having a go down the left-hand side.’

‘Yes, but look at that – Luciano’s seen her in his mirrors – and is moving straight across – to the left – to try and block her.’

Sabatino, being aggressively squeezed over to the dirty side of the track, suddenly lifted off for a fraction of a second before changing direction, darting back the other way – back behind the Massarella – to try a dive again, this time down the right-hand side.

‘That’s clever, Ben – Sabatino knows Luciano can only make one defensive move, under the rules – and that he’s just made it. Now going down the right-hand side, she’s still got three-quarters of the Rettifilo left to mount her challenge – without legitimate influence from Luciano.’

The overhead camera followed the two flat-out cars down the start/finish straight. It showed all too clearly how close the cars were – almost touching – as Sabatino’s Ptarmigan started inching its way alongside.

‘Aargh, this is sensational. Two Formula One cars – absolutely at full throttle – throwing themselves down the pit straight at two hundred miles an hour – and we’re only interested in the tiny relative speed between them.’

‘Which is, what, Mike – no more than two or three miles an hour?’

The TV picture switched again – to the forward-looking camera mounted on the front wing of Sabatino’s Ptarmigan – only inches off the ground. The surface of the track swept by, below, in a hypnotic blur. Filling the left of the picture was the black wall of the Massarella’s rear-right tyre, spinning in another blur – while the car’s black radiator pods and front wing tapered away down to the blurred surface of the road ahead.

‘Wheel to wheel – inch by inch – they couldn’t be any closer.’

‘Is she going to do enough – do enough before the corner?’

‘Who knows, Ben,’
said the other commentator with a chuckle clearly delighting in the drama. The shot changed yet again, this time from behind. Viewers could see the rears of both cars – appearing, from that angle with the compressing of perspective, to be absolutely side by side. Beyond them, hazily in the distance, was the looming braking zone of Turn One.

‘I don’t think Sabatino’s going to do it – she’s not done enough. Her engine hasn’t quite got the grunt.’

‘No, and here comes the end of the straight. Luciano, surely, has the right to retake the line.’

‘I’d say so. And if Sabatino’s going to hold her current line, she’ll be in the dirt very soon, and on a very tight line into that corner.’

Sabatino finally had to yield.

‘Wow, what a shame, Ben – but what a charge!
What
a charge!’

‘Absolutely. What an effort. It shows one thing really clearly, though, Mike – Luciano’s going to have to be on his guard.
Any
mistake he makes out of the Parabolica, and Sabatino will surely have him.’

‘Provided that understeer of hers doesn’t let Luciano get away round the rest of the circuit. She’s got to be right up behind him into and out of the hairpin to stand a chance.’

Round they raced for another lap.

T
heir high-speed joust was repeated seven more times, with Sabatino harrying Luciano all the way down the majestic start/finish straight into the first corner, only to find she never quite got the shot she needed.

Then something happened.

‘Look, Ben, Sabatino’s trying a different entry into the hairpin this time.’

‘Let’s see if it works? Sabatino’s hanging left and braking slightly earlier. She’s turning in slower – but – but – she’s faster out. Look at that! She’s got a much better exit this time. She’s definitely closer as they straighten up.’

‘It’s looking good – she’s tucked right up behind, in Luciano’s slipstream. Can she do it?’

Sabatino darted out, this time to the right.