Driven (25 page)

I
t all happened an hour after the chequered flag.

‘I’ve been summoned to Race Control,’ said Nazar sounding surprised. ‘Are we concerned about anything to do with the race?’ he asked his two race engineers.

‘Not that we’re aware of,’ replied Treadwell.

Nazar made his way to Race Control. As well as the rain, which showed no sign of letting up, the humidity was oppressive. The sensation of all-over dampness was impossible to shake off.

When Nazar arrived through the dark he was met by one of the stewards and shown into a side room harshly lit by the bluish glare of fluorescent light. Someone he wasn’t expecting to see was there waiting: Bo San Marino.

‘Mr President? What a surprise.’

San Marino, far from radiating his 1950s movie star contentment and charm, looked concerned and uncomfortable. ‘Come in, Tahm. Please take a seat.’

There was a period of silence from the FIA President. Finally, he said: ‘I’m afraid we have a problem,’ and slowly placed an envelope bearing the FIA logo on the glass and chrome coffee table between them. ‘Massarella have lodged an official complaint. We have to take the issue seriously, not least because of the precedent to their allegations.’

Nazar was surprised and deeply troubled by
any
accusation. He was equally distracted by how ill at ease San Marino appeared to be. ‘What are they alleging?’ he asked calmly without picking up the letter.

‘Unauthorized use of their intellectual property.’

‘What?’

‘It’s all in there,’ said San Marino, laying his hand on the envelope.

Nazar, in his precise Indian lilt, said calmly: ‘But that’s absurd. You can’t be taking their bullshit seriously.’

‘We are – we have to – given the supporting testimony we’ve received.’

‘From whom?’

‘Andy Backhouse.’

Nazar pulled a face of resigned exasperation.

‘He, now, represents an authoritative whistle-blower – a credible source. You can see why we would
have
to take Massarella’s allegation seriously?’

H
unch-shouldered against the rain, Nazar scuttled back through the dark to the Ptarmigan headquarters. Inside the motor home his team members were already there, two of them equally soaked by the continuing downpour.

‘We’ve been served,’ declared Nazar.

‘
What?
’ blasted Treadwell incredulously.

‘Massarella have lodged a formal complaint against us.’

‘For what?’ asked Sabatino heatedly.

‘Don’t know yet – I’ll read it to you,’ with which he opened the envelope and extracted the letter.

‘What the fuck are they talking about? How can they be serious about those
spiral surfaces
?’ yelled Treadwell. ‘Those are
our
Fibonacci Blades.’

‘This is bloody ridiculous,’ said an incandescent Sabatino. ‘How the hell does Massarella get away with this bullshit with the FIA – when the FIA flatly refused to take our evidence of sabotage any further?’

‘I quite agree, Remy,’ answered Nazar. ‘But San Marino
has
taken these allegations seriously – because of the testimony on which they’re based.’

‘Whose?’

Nazar paused, almost bracing himself. ‘Andy Backhouse’s.’

Sabatino looked like she was fit to burst. ‘The
bastard
,’ she yelled. ‘The
bastard
.’

‘When’s the hearing again?’ asked Treadwell.

‘25th July.’

‘A month’s time.’

‘Three days after the Chinese Grand Prix.’

‘Christ, what do you suppose the topic of conversation will be in Shanghai?’ offered Treadwell rhetorically. ‘What the hell’s this going to do to the Mandarin Telecom deal?’

Matt Straker chose this moment to rejoin the discussion. ‘At the risk of getting my head bitten off,’ he said, looking Sabatino directly in the eye, ‘I believe a hearing with the FIA should be welcomed by us as good news.’

The team in the motor home fell silent, almost in shock. His pre-emptive caveat seemed to have worked, at least with Sabatino. Her reaction to his counter-intuitive comment was a semi-apologetic smile. ‘How could this
possibly
be good news?’ she asked more calmly than he expected, but still conveying considerable disbelief.

Straker smiled back. He had wanted to clear their air, and had made a previous offer to do so – which Sabatino had not taken up. Now, alluding to the tension between them – light-heartedly in a public forum – was addressing their issues without seeming to make things worse.

‘Tell me,’ he asked her directly, ‘do we steal things as a rule?’

Sabatino frowned. ‘Of course not!’

‘So a public hearing with the FIA would allow us to vindicate ourselves, right out in the open. Massarella will look ridiculous when they are unable to prove anything. This hearing will have another big advantage. It will allow us to bring up all the sabotage bollocks
Massarella have been levelling at us. It could, actually, be the only viable way to end Massarella’s interventions – once and for all.’

Sabatino’s complex expression suggested that she had registered some strands of Straker’s thinking.

Treadwell, on the other hand, wasn’t convinced. ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said. ‘Why would they be doing this – why would they make this claim without any proof? Massarella
must
have a case!’

Straker shook his head. ‘Van Der Vaal is motivated by vanity and hurt pride. This is all about the media attention on commercial and financial success shifting – from him – to Ptarmigan. Which means part of it’s about Mandarin Telecom. Van Der Vaal’s ego is so big he’d do this simply to rubbish Ptarmigan’s name and image. It’s a spoiling tactic. If he can fling enough shit, he’ll damage us – by frightening off the Chinese.’

‘Whatever,’ said Treadwell. ‘It’s pretty obvious the Chinese will be frightened off by this anyway, so Van Der Vaal’s plan of shit-flinging is going to work.’

‘Not if I can help it, Ollie,’ said Straker, but was immediately distracted from elaborating: his phone was ringing. Looking down at the caller ID, he lifted the phone up and announced to the room: ‘Quartano.’

Everyone’s expression changed in an instant.

Straker stood up, moved to leave the meeting, and, trotting down the stairs, let himself out of the motor home into the night.

‘J
esus Christ,’ blasted Quartano, ‘I’ve just seen your text about the FIA hearing. What the fuck’s going on? Are these people at Massarella barking mad?’

To Straker’s relief Quartano started to laugh. ‘Yes, sir – and I’d like to say to our advantage. I am actually thrilled they’re doing this. If we play this correctly, we could encourage them to seriously overreach themselves. We could use a public hearing to expose them – and draw everyone’s attention to their bullshit tactics.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way, too, Matt.’

‘But, sir, if Massarella are
not
to win by shit-flinging, we’ve got to keep Mandarin onside. We’ve got to move fast.’

‘Agreed – where are you now?’

‘Still in Singapore.’

‘Hold on.’ Quartano pressed a button on his phone and then another. Straker could hear a pre-stored number being dialled out. It was answered.

‘Jean?’

‘Mr Quartano. What can I do for you?’

‘Sorry to disturb your weekend, but I need us to go to work. First, can you get the plane crewed, fuelled, and ready to fly in an hour?’

‘Certainly, sir,’ replied his PA without hesitation. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Singapore then Shanghai.’

‘Okay.’

‘Second, can you get hold of Stacey Krall?’

W
hile Straker was still on the line, Jean also contacted Dr Chen at Mandarin Telecom and managed to arrange a meeting for 6 p.m. the following day.

‘Right, Matt, here’s what we’re going to do,’ concluded Quartano. ‘Stay in Singapore overnight. Stacey and I will fly in and pick you up tomorrow morning. We’ll all go on to Shanghai together, and break the news to the Chinese face to face. While we’re en route, I want us to come up with a plan to deal with these bastards at Massarella. I’m buggered if they’re going to cost me $750 million. Between us, I want a bash-it-out-of-the-ground defence and, specifically, I want to give those fuckers at Massarella cause for regret.’

D
espite the negative developments of the evening, Straker was feeling buoyed by the all-round reaction to them. His instinct to welcome a public hearing had thrown Sabatino, but had clearly found favour with Quartano. He had left the team meeting somewhat dramatically – to take the call from the Big Man – which no one there would have envied taking. And soon, he had another reason to be pleased.

Straker’s value to the team had clearly not been lost on Sabatino.

She made the next move.

Straker had just hung up on arranging the emergency flight to China, when he saw her text message on his phone.

Sorry not to have been in touch sooner. Happy to speak now, if you’ve got time. R.

T
en minutes later Straker climbed back up the steps into the motor home and found her already sitting, on her own, at the meeting table.

‘How did Quartano take the news?’ she asked with a hint of sympathy in her voice, ‘can’t have been an easy conversation … with so much at stake.’

Straker sat at the table across the corner from her. ‘He’s annoyed, but we’ve got a plan. He’s flying from Heathrow within the hour – to come here. We’re going straight on to Shanghai to explain to Mandarin – face to face – what all this means.’

Sabatino smiled supportively before she appeared to stiffen slightly. ‘I am aware we’ve had an issue since Monza,’ she said neutrally.

Straker waited for more. He wanted more. He paused, looking to see if she was prepared to say anything substantial.

After nearly fifteen seconds of silence, she relented. ‘We were under pressure. The car wasn’t performing. I’d just had a rough ride with the stewards. Massarella were coming at us again, with no sign of any retaliation from us. I was tired of it all.’

He remained impassive. Finally, Straker said: ‘I was – and still am – gutted at not being able to see them off. It remains a matter of professional discomfort to me. Even so, there was no call for your outburst.’

Sabatino’s face conveyed a hint of mocking condescension. ‘You’re offended by being treated like that by a woman.’

Straker’s tone was commanding: ‘No, Remy – none of your chauvinism crap this time. This has nothing to do with gender. It has everything to do with acting as professionals.’

‘Or,’ countered Sabatino, still mockingly, ‘as one-time lovers?’

Straker smiled and looked down.

Dismissively, she added: ‘Intimacy would
have
to make things difficult. I
knew
the Ronnie Scott’s night was going to be a mistake.’

Straker looked back up. His mood seemed to change in an instant. ‘It might have been a mistake for you,’ he said, ‘but unforgettable for me,’ and found himself smiling. He felt exposed and vulnerable the very moment he did so, but knew immediately that he didn’t care.

Sabatino frowned, looking him directly in the eye. Was she gauging him? Reading him?

Within a second or two, her expression changed – markedly. She seemed unable to hold back a vulnerable smile of her own.

T
he Quartech Falcon flew into Singapore Changi Airport. Straker boarded immediately. Quartano’s private jet was on the ground for less than an hour. Refuelled and recrewed, it streaked down the runway and was soon climbing into the eastern sky, heading for China.

On board, Straker was introduced to Stacey Krall, Quartech’s Head of Legal Services.

She was nothing like Straker imagined, having spoken to her on
the phone. Then, on his return from Spa – talking with her about serving Andy Backhouse with an injunction – he had been struck by her deep voice and seriousness. In person, she was in her thirties, petite, with a roundish face, red-haired, severely dressed but, despite the intense appearance, had a mischievous smile and a wicked sense of humour. For all the grown-up things she had to deal with for the firm, and the unimaginable pressure Quartano must put her under from time to time, Straker was impressed by her calmness.

Quartano wasted no time. ‘Right, where are we?’

‘Here’s the letter from the FIA,’ said Straker.

Krall took it and read it intently.

When she’d finished she asked Straker: ‘What are your thoughts?’

He replied: ‘First, the team is adamant this is completely groundless. For some reason, Massarella’s allegations get traction with the FIA while ours don’t.’

Straker then asked: ‘What must Massarella prove – to make this allegation stick?’

‘They’ve pretty much got to prove a physical handover or transfer of the design. If they only reference an
idea
for the blades, they’d have a job to prove it in law. That should be the principle part of our case. Anyway, let me illustrate this more fully by setting up the framework for the statement of facts we’ve been asked for.’

K
rall spent an hour on her laptop sitting at the small desk in the sumptuous cabin. At the end of that time she printed off a couple of copies of her draft.

‘Excellent,’ replied Straker.

‘I take it you’ll be organizing all this, Matt?’ Krall asked. ‘How long before you’ll have collated this stuff?’

‘I’ll get on to the team and have them start each element of it immediately. Will you also be drafting the statement our people should sign to confirm no contact with Massarella?’

‘Sure. Mr Q?’ she asked, addressing him as he worked at his own desk in the cabin. ‘The sabotage by Massarella – are we planning
to launch a counter-claim against them? The forum of the World Council would be an appropriate place to hit back.’

Quartano seemed to ponder this. ‘Let’s pull together the work to do so, but I can’t make that call until we’ve seen Mandarin tomorrow. If we’ve clearly blown it with the Chinese, we’ll hit Massarella with everything we can think of. If Mandarin Telecom are still talking to us after this, though, then probably not; counter-claiming might just stir everything up and appear undignified.’

‘Fine, but I’ll draft a framework for that too – just in case it’s needed.’

Quartano nodded in affirmation.

‘Matt,’ she said, ‘once it’s all together, we’ll take these responses and go to see Oscar Brogan.’

‘And he is?’

‘Quartech’s QC. We’ll be briefing him to represent us in Paris at the hearing.’

‘Good,’ said Quartano hearing how the response was taking shape. ‘Now you’ve heard all about it, Stacey, what’s your take on this case?’

‘We need to take it seriously, however bogus we believe this allegation might be. The FIA has a range of surprisingly punitive powers, and can levy some pretty hefty fines.’

‘How hefty?’

‘I’ve been through the Statutes and, for an incident like this, anything up to $100 million.’

S
traker was surprised at his own reaction to the conversation with Sabatino before leaving Singapore. Relief was the main sensation – that the air might have been cleared. Except that that didn’t seem to be all.

During the flight, though, he was too busy to think about much more than their hearing at the FIA. He spent the following hour on the jet’s dedicated email link, sending instructions to various members of the Ptarmigan team – delegating the compilation of material to populate Stacey Krall’s statement of facts.

J
ust before the Quartech Falcon began its descent into Shanghai, the three of them had lunch together.

‘Have you decided how to play this with the Chinese?’ Straker asked.

Quartano inhaled. ‘More or less. Above all, we’ve got to prevent Mandarin Telecom from losing face over any embarrassment our hearing might cause them.’

‘How do you do that? Do we apologize? Do we withdraw unilaterally from the negotiations? Do we give
them
the opportunity to withdraw?’

‘There are, I expect, two levels to this,’ replied Quartano. ‘There’s the personal level – between Dr Chen and myself. I need to demonstrate my readiness to shoulder responsibility and honour his exposure to Quartech. And then there’s the public level – of how Quartech takes responsibility, so as to protect Mandarin from any embarrassment.’

‘Doesn’t this kind of boxing and coxing tire you?’ asked the lawyer.

Quartano smiled. ‘Not in the slightest. Quartech may be a vast multinational conglomerate, but whatever institution or government we do business with, the decision to buy from us is always made by a human being. Unless we remember, that – above everything else – we will miss out. Badly. Understanding how people think – how they make their decisions – is critical to making a sale and keeping them as a client in future. The Chinese may formalize these considerations more than other cultures, but we all know that nobody, wherever they come from, likes to
lose face
. Nobody likes to be embarrassed. Other people might call it something else, or not have a name for it at all, but the dynamic of human interaction is exactly the same the world over. I love dealing with the Chinese for this simple reason: their protocols for doing things are far, far clearer than anybody else’s. Those who adopt an informal approach to negotiations, and profess to a free and easy attitude, are very often the people who are the most difficult to deal with.’

‘So what’s your game plan for the two levels?’ asked Straker with a curious smile.

‘Very simple. I’m going to imagine I am Dr Chen. How would I want this to be handled if I were him?’

Q
uartano, Straker and Krall made it through Shanghai to Pudong and pulled up in front of the headquarters of Mandarin Telecom. Registering at reception, the Quartech party was escorted to the lifts and up to the office of Dr Chen, the CEO. On the forty-eighth floor, his office was as remarkable as the first time they had seen it, with its astonishing views out over Shanghai. There was another haze hanging over the city, this time in the early evening sun.

‘Dr Chen,’ said Quartano deferentially, as he was shown into his office. ‘Thank you for seeing me. I was anxious to inform you personally, and immediately, of a development with Ptarmigan and to apologize for the embarrassment this may cause you.’

Dr Chen, retaking his seat behind his desk, held his expression more inscrutably than usual.

‘Ptarmigan has been accused of something – of which we are not guilty – and we have been asked to account for ourselves in a public hearing. I am here to offer you our unconditional withdrawal from our negotiations and to make a public apology to you, your board, and employees for the difficulties we might cause you.’

Dr Chen, very quietly, asked what the allegations involved.

Quartano asked Straker to explain.

At the end, Dr Chen said: ‘And you believe that Ptarmigan is blameless?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Quartano.

‘And that you can successfully defend this?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Krall.

Dr Chen sat still and mulled this for a moment. ‘Who is the party making the allegation?’

‘The Massarella Formula One Team, sir.’

‘That’s Mr Van Der Vaal, isn’t it – the man from South Africa?’ asked Dr Chen.

‘Yes sir.’

‘I believe you introduced me to him in Monaco.’

Quartano nodded.

For the first time Dr Chen smiled. It transformed his face. ‘I remember him well. A charming man, as I recall.’

D
ominic Quartano was relieved by Dr Chen’s philosophical and pragmatic approach to the FIA hearing, and that everything with Mandarin could still be on track. But he wanted to make one final gesture.

‘Dr Chen,’ said Quartano, ‘I am concerned – for you, sir – about the PR consequences of our timing. If we announce our contract, immediately ahead of a key public hearing, it could prompt adverse and damaging press coverage for Mandarin Telecom.’

Dr Chen acknowledged Quartano’s sensitivity with a small inclination of his head. ‘What do you propose?’

‘I would feel happier, for you and your team, if we postponed the signing ceremony, previously scheduled to be held here in Shanghai during the weekend of the Chinese Grand Prix.’

Quartano was well aware that this gesture, which he intended to be magnanimous, was also a huge gamble.

If the deal was postponed once, how much easier would it be to postpone it again – if not then permanently – should the FIA hearing go the wrong way?