Driven (38 page)

There was no attempt by anyone around the Council table to intervene in Backhouse’s testimony.

‘Van Der Vaal had an unexpected early bonus, Mr President,’ he continued. ‘You cannot imagine Van Der Vaal’s jubilation when he heard that even the first inconclusive FIA hearing into this case prompted Mandarin Telecom to pull out of their sponsorship deal with Ptarmigan. Not only was his plan working earlier than expected, it also opened up the way, afterwards of course, for Massarella to try and pick up that potential contract for themselves.

‘Charlotte Grant, God rest her soul, was complicit,’ Backhouse added. ‘She had already done bad things to Quartech, and was trying to do them again to damage Quartano’s prized project – his F1 team – for her own personal reasons. But she would not have got anywhere without Eugene Van Der Vaal’s initiating everything. I may well have blown my reputation and credibility for this deliberate
deception, Mr President, but I
had
to do something to prove that Ptarmigan was the victim here.’

Backhouse had clearly reached the end of his testimony.

The room was aghast.

It stayed silent for quite a while.

It was strangely unnerving.

As if nobody knew what could possibly happen next.

Straker, too, was nervous. How would his subterfuge be received? Would
he
be censured for mounting such deception? Surprising himself, the first person he turned to for a reaction was Remy Sabatino.

She met his eye.

Her face seemed stern to him. Had he upset her again? Straker held her stare. Then, very slowly, Sabatino’s expression broke, giving him the tiniest hint of a smile. It graduated into a smile of you-shouldn’t-have-done-that-you-son-of-bitch-but-I’m-sort-of-glad-you-did. He gave her a smile of relief in exchange, before turning his attention back to the hearing.

San Marino now looked concerned. ‘Mr Backhouse, thank you for that bombshell.’ The President exhaled. ‘Eugene,’ he said with a strong hint of disdain, ‘do you wish to reply?’

Van Der Vaal looked completely thrown. Straker had expected the man to explode with some blast of a defence – defiance – outright denunciation of Backhouse’s testimony, perhaps, or even a direct attack on his character. But nothing came. Straker reckoned the blow inflicted by the surprise telephone testimony – that Backhouse had been a mole, not to mention the weight of the man’s evidence – was probably too much for him to regroup that quickly.

Straker scanned the rest of the room, trying to gauge the reactions from other Council members. Were they glowering at Ptarmigan, ready to challenge and chastise them – over the deception and the nature of this testimony – or were they prepared to accept it?

He watched all twenty faces around the table turn in Van Der Vaal’s direction.

They were clearly looking to
him
for an answer.

Not to Ptarmigan.

Not to Straker.

‘Mr President,’ said Brogan choosing this moment to step back into the discussion. ‘Ptarmigan has made its case. We’d be very happy to take any questions.’

San Marino’s attention, though, stayed trained on Van Der Vaal.

‘We have some questions,’ said a pronounced Finnish accent, sternly, from the far end of the table, ‘but for … Eugene … and Joss.’

There were mutterings of agreement.

San Marino turned to address the Ptarmigan contingent. ‘In that case, Mr Brogan, let me thank you and your client for your presentation so far. May I ask you and your colleagues now to leave the meeting?’

‘Certainly. Do you wish us to remain in the building?’

‘Yes, please,’ said San Marino.

As the Ptarmigan party stood up to leave the magnificent plaster and chandeliered room, Oscar Brogan asked: ‘Is it your intention to reach a judgment today, Mr President?’

‘Ideally, yes,’ replied San Marino looking at his watch. ‘But after all this,’ he said with a circular wave of his fingers, ‘I’m afraid I have no idea when that will be.’

H
aving withdrawn from the hearing and returning to the library, Straker braced himself for an onslaught.

It came – but was surprisingly gentle.

‘Why the
hell
didn’t you tell us what you were doing with Andy?’ asked Sabatino with a stern face but with a smile in her voice.

‘Because of authenticity,’ he said.

‘Say
what
?’

‘If I was to plant a successful mole in the Massarella camp, to combat the sabotage threat,’ replied Straker, ‘he
had
to be credible. I
had
to have you completely pissed off with Backhouse. The more
you showed your disgust with him, the more Van Der Vaal would buy Backhouse’s defection and credibility. Your faces – that time Van Der Vaal paraded Andy up and down the pit lane in Monza – were an absolute picture. Utterly authentic.
Utterly
invaluable. Anything less than the raw contempt and loathing you showed in your expressions, and Van Der Vaal would have suspected that something was up. I couldn’t risk even your body language not conveying your disgust. If anyone had inadvertently given this wheeze away, Backhouse’s cover – and therefore his value as an intelligence source – would’ve been blown.’

‘So he wasn’t the
insider
saboteur?’ said Nazar.

‘Good God, no,’ replied Straker. ‘He’s one of the team. To his soul. He was the whistle-blower,’ he said looking at Sabatino, ‘helping us nail Van Der Vaal.
He
gave me that tip-off about Michael Lyons being sacked by Trifecta – and, vitally, that Lyons had hoarded documents and evidence as an insurance policy against possible accusations of sabotage.’

Nazar had to smile as he began to appreciate the fullness of what had been going on. He ended up shaking his head. ‘Superb, quite superb,’ he said in his crisp Indian lilt. ‘It could so easily have
not
worked.’

Straker smiled. ‘Tell me about it. My biggest risk actually came from above – from Quartano. I was quite sure the plan was all over when he started trying to slap an injunction on Backhouse. Thank heavens Andy’s employment contract with Ptarmigan is so crap that Stacey couldn’t enforce it.’

‘You mean not even
Quartano
knew about the Backhouse ploy?’ exhaled Sabatino.

Straker shook his head. ‘No. No one did.’

T
he Ptarmigan team was recalled, but not for three and half hours. Its members re-entered the majestic committee room of the Royal Automobile Club and retook their seats at the antique table.

Straker was intrigued to see that the chair where Joss MacRae had been sitting was now empty.

San Marino then called for the Massarella team to appear.

Once Van Der Vaal and his people were back in their places, the President put on his half-moon reading glasses and addressed the Council.

‘We have reached our decision,’ he declared authoritatively. ‘I will start with Ptarmigan, as this hearing originally related to allegations made against them. I will then address the new information about Massarella and the case they have to answer.’

‘Understood, Mr President.’

‘On the original allegation of industrial espionage – the charge that information was transferred from Massarella to Ptarmigan – we conclude that information
was
exchanged.’

The Ptarmigan team braced themselves and tried not to show too much of a reaction.

‘As has been learned, however, Ptarmigan were ill-served by a member of their staff, who is now deceased. Nevertheless, the management processes at the team
did
allow for information to be fed in without being properly scrutinized or checked. While we are not prepared to punish Ptarmigan for the actions of an obviously rogue member of staff, we do believe Ptarmigan’s internal processes were less than thorough. As described in Ptarmigan’s revised statement of facts, however, it is clear that these processes are now much tighter. We are content to believe that this is not an ongoing risk. Nevertheless, wrong was done, for which we intend to fine Ptarmigan the sum of $100,000.’

San Marino looked up. ‘Mr Brogan, is there anything you would like to say in response?’

Ptarmigan’s barrister looked surprised that the President was inviting comments already. Brogan even seemed a little thrown. He took a moment to respond. ‘What about Championship points, sir?’ he asked tentatively.

San Marino shook his head. ‘No loss of points in either Championship.’

So that – relatively modest fine – was
it
?

Straker immediately turned to look at Sabatino. She gently thumped the table top, smiled, and then affecting slow motion, punched him on the upper arm. Without wallowing in her reaction, Straker quickly pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and slid it straight across to Brogan. The barrister unfolded it and saw the suggestion; turning to Straker, Brogan nodded and smiled at the idea, before he readdressed the meeting:

‘Thank you, Mr President,’ said Brogan. ‘I have no observations to make at this stage. May I reserve the right to speak, however, after your comments about Massarella?’

‘Provided the comments are appropriate.’

‘Of course.’

‘Now we come to Massarella,’ said the President, turning to face an extraordinarily unabashed-looking Van Der Vaal. ‘An unexpected case has been made against you today. The Council has given you the chance to account for yourself. We appreciate that you were not granted as much time as you would normally be afforded. However, you
have
made a defence of your actions and I have to say that this Council finds it wanting. To have instigated a transfer of intellectual property with the sole intention of making it look like industrial espionage – so as to implicate the recipient – is scurrilous behaviour on any level. However, the Council is satisfied that this was not an institutionalized scam. Consequently, Mr Van Der Vaal, we hold you personally responsible and have arrived at a judgment accordingly. You are to be fined $2 million and banned from any involvement in Formula One indefinitely.’

Straker could not resist glancing over at Van Der Vaal to see how he was taking this. Straker allowed the unprofessional – emotional – side of him a moment to delight in having beaten this odious individual and in exposing him, publicly, for what he was: an overambitious common-or-garden thief and liar.

‘The Council, of course, will grant you, Mr Van Der Vaal, the right to appeal this decision,’ concluded the President.

Straker could not see any particular reaction from the Massarella boss. There seemed to be no change from the brutish expression. ‘I
will
definitely appeal this fiasco,’ he growled. ‘You can count on it.’

San Marino gave the slightest of bows, as if merely to acknowledge his right to do so, before going on: ‘Next, we consider Adi Barrantes, Massarella’s Number Two driver. The Council has been in telephone contact with Mr Barrantes today, to question him about the evidence presented in this hearing. He has not denied his involvement in the engine-limiter incident in Spa. As a result of his unsporting involvement in the high-speed sabotage of Remy Sabatino at Spa, he is to be fined $250,000 and lose all his Championship points – Drivers’ and Constructors’ are to be taken away.’

Straker was staggered. Massarella may not have been punished directly, but the loss of the Constructors’ Championship points would hammer the team’s ranking and, therefore, hugely reduce its receipts under the Concorde Agreement. Massarella’s revenue, this year, would drop by tens of millions of dollars.

‘As I mentioned in respect of the judgment on Mr Van Der Vaal,’ San Marino went on, ‘Massarella and Mr Barrantes will also be granted the right to appeal these decisions.

‘Finally,’ said the President, ‘this Council seeks to question the actions of certain employees of Trifecta Systems and Benbecular Engines, Mr Michael Lyons and Mr Jeremy Barnett. We demand their presence at a hearing in Paris on 5th December this year in order for them to account for their actions.’

San Marino stopped looking at his notes and lifted his eyes to address the room as a whole. ‘You should also know – as you may
have inferred from his absence at the table – that Mr MacRae has stepped down as head of the Sport’s commercial rights holder, a move the FIA has welcomed.

‘Now, Mr Brogan,’ said the President removing his half-moon glasses. ‘I think you wished to speak after you had heard the Council’s full decisions. I ask you to limit your comments to Ptarmigan’s interests only, please.’

‘Thank you, and of course I will, Mr President. Clearly, I have not had the chance to discuss your judgment with my client, so reserve my client’s right to appeal the fine.’ Brogan then turned to Straker and nodded, as if to acknowledge his earlier written suggestion: ‘Mr President, in the light of the Council’s overall findings, I would ask whether the FIA might be prepared to write a letter on Ptarmigan’s behalf?’

A
s the Ptarmigan contingent withdrew back to the library in the Royal Automobile Club, Sabatino’s relief and jubilation bubbled over. ‘We’re Constructors’ Champion!’ she declared with triumph. ‘From receivership to Champions in twelve months.
What
a result.’

The judgment also meant that, personally, her own F1 points were still secure – meaning she was still leading the Drivers’ Championship. Tahm Nazar, Oscar Brogan and Straker were all swept up in Sabatino’s moment of relief and triumph. There were hugs all round, with a theatrical one from her for Straker.

The now-jubilant Ptarmigan party readied themselves to leave the RAC. As before in Paris, they settled on an approach for handling the press and media outside. They all seemed happy to underplay the result of the FIA’s hearing.

‘The judgment says it all for you,’ offered Brogan. ‘You really don’t need to say anything.’

‘I agree,’ said Straker. ‘Its findings were so clear, there’s no need to spin this. Much more dignified to show restraint – let the editors draw out the distasteful meanings and conclusions.’

A
s they exited into Pall Mall, their approach was well judged. Ptarmigan’s vindication was clearly not the biggest news from this hearing and judgment. Instead, the banishment of Van Der Vaal, and the departure of MacRae as the CEO of the commercial rights holder, were seen as the bigger stories – and, therefore, the focus of media interest.

A
fter only a few minutes in front of the press, cabs were hailed in Pall Mall.

Sabatino and Straker soon rode away up St James’s Street together.
She looked at him with an expression of supreme happiness on her face. Soon, though, it gave way to a you-so-and-so smile, and then, surprising Straker, almost apology. ‘That was ballsy stuff,’ she said, clapping her hand down on his thigh several times.

‘Planning and careful execution,’ he said with just a hint of vindication in his voice.

Sabatino smiled. ‘And you’ve had
all that
going on – as far back as Spa, just a week after that first sabotage incident in Monaco,’ she observed, as if to herself. ‘Without any of us knowing?’

Straker nodded dismissively. ‘But it wasn’t a certainty that it was going to work. I had to get lucky, too.’

Sabatino turned to face him. ‘Talking of which…’

B
ursting in through the front door of her suite at Claridge’s, their hands were all over each other as they barely found their way to the bedroom. Sabatino set about ripping off Straker’s clothes.

‘Well, well, I see the Colonel’s ready for action.’

‘I hope your engine is in its operating window, too.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said licentiously. ‘Hang on a minute.’

Surprising Straker further, he watched her almost jogging – naked – across the large room to the ceiling-to-floor windows. At each curtain on either side, he watched her unhook the luxurious silk tiebacks, with their large tassels, before closing back in on Straker. Pressing herself against him, kissing him, and, once again, cupping him and playing teasingly with one hand, she said: ‘Tie me up,’ and handed him the clutch of silk ropes with the other.

Straker could not suppress a smile. This woman was the stuff of pure fantasy.

Within a couple of minutes she was restrained – one curtain tieback securing each limb – spread-eagled on the bed, and “ordering” him to take her.

But with her now unable to move,
he
took control.

He started to tease and tantalize.

Beginning at her feet, he focused on stimulating her skin – kissing
and massaging every inch of her with his tongue, mouth and fingertips.

She could hardly bear it. She started to writhe – but was securely bound by the silk ropes holding both arms and legs.

As he progressed, her anticipation and frustration increased. He kept going – for over an hour – moving inch by inch up her body. Sabatino began to pull maniacally against the restraints.

Teasing her – and denying her – he raised her to an extraordinary state.

Just before he finally complied, Sabatino was practically screaming at him to take her – the release, when it happened, a letting go of all her pent-up stress and uncertainty from the last three months.

A
fter hours of physical passion, dinner, and more devouring of each other, Sabatino finally fell asleep in the crook of Straker’s shoulder.

As much as he was contented by the outcome of the day, he still couldn’t sleep.

Passing through the lobby of the hotel on their way to dinner, he had spotted a Late Night Final of the
London Evening Standard
– his eye drawn to its front page. It carried an article about the FIA disciplinary hearing, screaming with the headline:

FORMULA ONE CLEAROUT
.

The story did manage to convey some of the drama of the afternoon.

Straker was staggered, though, by the surprising comments made by Eugene Van Der Vaal,
after
the hearing. Direct quotes reported him as saying:

“I will appeal … monstrous decision … overturn the ban … FIA exceeded its powers … inadmissible evidence … defection con trick … Avel Obrenovich will pay to reverse this ruling … Avel will keep backing Massarella … avenge the wrongs inflicted on me…”

Straker had hoped the FIA hearing – and believed its judgment – would bring an end to the malicious interference from Van Der Vaal and Massarella. Sickeningly, he was not so sure now. In the light of
Van Der Vaal’s defiance – and complete lack of contrition – Straker was troubled.

He had in his possession an email from the Massarella boss.

It had been discovered on Michael Lyons’s laptop, following the seizure of his documents under the High Court Search Order. This email, though, hadn’t made it into Ptarmigan’s statement of facts or its bundle of evidence for the FIA hearing. He and Stacey Krall, Quartech’s in-house counsel, had discussed the email at length, and had concluded its content was too far-fetched – and prospective – to help their cause.

He had chosen not to share the email with Sabatino either.

Given Van Der Vaal’s comments in the press, though, Straker now wrestled with this view. Wasn’t he duty-bound to tell her? Didn’t those quotes from Van Der Vaal mean that he and Massarella were out to vindicate themselves – to even the score? Didn’t it mean that they were harbouring thoughts of revenge?

And if that was the mood in the Massarella camp, what did it mean for Adi Barrantes – heavily fined and stripped of all his Championship points from this season? Didn’t that mean he now had
nothing
to lose?

All this – going into Brazil, with the pivotal significance that race meant to Sabatino in the Drivers’ Championship – was truly alarming.

The undisclosed email in question discussed a completely different degree of sabotage against Ptarmigan which – now used out of spite for the purposes of revenge – could yet come back to haunt them.