The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) (26 page)

“I do,” said Chung.

The balding man looked at his watch. “In that case, you should prepare your car. We will be leaving here in fifteen minutes.”

Several drivers had already gone over to their cars and were revving their engines, eager to get started. Chung walked along the line of parked cars, checking out the opposition. He realised that his first impression – that the race was between high-powered luxury cars – was mistaken. There were several Toyotas and a Saab, and some of the cars were far from being in top-notch condition. He noticed, too, that the drivers of the more expensive cars were accompanied by older men, and he decided that they were probably sponsors, whereas the drivers of the older cars were on their own. The drivers with sponsors were almost certainly driving the cars for a set fee, or a percentage of the winnings, but the guys with their own cars would be risking everything for a chance of a big win. He wondered where they had got their stakes from. As he passed by, drivers turned to look at him but no one spoke. He could understand why, they were all competitors and there was no prize for second place.

Several of the drivers began sounding their horns and Chung decided he’d better go back to his car. A girl in a tight red dress and bright red lipstick smiled at him and he winked. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Porsche and started the engine. The first of the cars pulled out of the lay-by and headed for Sha Tau Kok and he followed them. They stuck religiously to the speed limit, indicated well before all turns, kept their distance from the car in front and in all respects were model drivers. As he drove, Chung reached into the glove compartment and took out a stick of gum. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly. The gear change was slick and the engine ticked over nicely. He would have liked to have driven the Ferrari in the race but he knew that if he won in the F40 they’d give more credit to the car than to the driver.

The start area was an open-air car park on the outskirts of the town. There were five cars there when Chung arrived and within ten minutes all eleven cars were there. Several groups of men and women were standing around, openly staring at the cars, and Chung saw several men with bundles of banknotes in their hands. Wong had explained that while the drivers raced for the prize, friends and relatives would go to watch and there was an active betting scene. There must have been upwards of fifty spectators gathered in the car park, and Chung was sure that if it hadn’t been for the secrecy surrounding the event there would have been thousands. Hong Kongers loved to gamble, and they’d have a field day at a road race. There was a sharp knock at his window and he turned to see the balding man standing by the side of his car, mopping his brow. Chung lowered the window.

“You will be number eight,” he said. “A very auspicious number. The gods, it would seem, are smiling on you.”

“For that I am grateful,” said Chung. “How were the numbers chosen?”

The man wheezed. It sounded as if he was having trouble breathing. “We have a lottery,” he explained. “The cars will line up at the entrance to the car park in twos. You will be in the fourth pair.”

Chung nodded and thanked the man. He put the Porsche in gear and edged it to the starting area, stopping the car behind numbers five and six, the BMW and a Toyota. He blipped the accelerator to keep the turbine warm. On his right the Audi purred up and its driver, a boy barely out of his teens, nodded and smiled thinly. Chung smiled back.

When all eleven cars were lined up Chung took a quick look at the cheap Swatch watch on his wrist. Less than one minute to go.

The girl in red who’d smiled at him in the lay-by tottered to the front of the group of cars on white high heels and raised her arms above her head. From where he was sitting he could see that she didn’t shave her armpits. She was laughing and wiggling her hands and then with a shriek she dropped her arms to her sides and the race was on.

The engines roared and the cars leapt forward into the main street. Chung slipped the Porsche into gear and followed close behind the BMW. The BMW could go as fast as 173 mph and in Hong Kong cost somewhere in the region of 1.5 million HK dollars. Assuming that it hadn’t been stolen, Chung reckoned that it was such an expensive car that it would only have been entered by someone who was confident of doing well and driven by someone who knew the rules and the terrain. He planned to keep in the BMW’s slipstream for the first two circuits while he got a feel for the course.

The roads were fairly clear and the few cars that were around soon pulled over to the side when they realised that there was a high-powered race underway. All the residents of the New Territories knew about the illegal road-racing and most had seen what happened to cars that got in their way. The driver of the BMW kept his car above 100 mph as they sped towards Fanling, and as he struggled to keep up with him, Chung knew that he’d made the right choice. Less than two miles out of Sha Tau Kok they had overtaken a Toyota and the Saab. On the straights Chung had no problem in keeping up with the BMW, but he consistently fell behind when they entered turns. The driver seemed to assume that there would be nothing coming in the opposite direction and before the turn he would swing out to the far side of the lane, wheels over the white line, and brake well in advance, slowing but not locking the wheels, as he downshifted. The brake lights would go off as the BMW was about one third of the way through the turn and it would begin accelerating, surging ahead as it left the turn.

They slowed as they reached Tai Po where there was more night-time traffic and the BMW had to brake sharply to avoid a green and grey New Territories taxi which pulled out in front of them. Chung almost ran into the back of him but the Ruf’s brakes matched its high performance and he slowed and steered on to the sidewalk. Chung had to drive back on to the road and by the time he’d got into second gear the BMW was 200 yards ahead of him and the Porsche had been overtaken by the Audi.

The road twisted and turned as it ran alongside Tolo Harbour and Chung started to take risks, driving straight through S bends and paying no attention to the lane lines. As the road swung away from the reservoir and towards Sha Tau Kok, Chung’s confidence grew. On a long straight stretch he decided to challenge the Audi. He put the pedal to the floor and took the Porsche up to 140 mph, pushed it to within ten feet of the Audi’s rear bumper and checked that the road ahead was clear. He flicked the Porsche to the side, steadied it and then accelerated, watching the speedometer pass 145 mph then 150 mph. The Audi tried to keep up with him, but Chung passed him, the white dotted lines blending into a single white streak and then he had to brake as he entered a long right-handed curve. Once he could see the Audi in his rearview mirror he flicked the Porsche back into the correct lane – just in time, because ahead he saw a minibus. It flashed past and he had to slow again for a series of bends, the water of Starling Inlet on his right speckled in the moonlight. The driver of the Audi put his headlights on full, out of spite Chung was sure, and he was momentarily blinded. He concentrated on the road ahead as he raced towards Sha Tau Kok and as he reached the outskirts of the town he could see the rear lights of the BMW. He braked sharply as the car park loomed up. He saw the BMW go through the entrance, turn sharply and screech out of the exit. There must have been 200 spectators, shouting and cheering. Chung turned into the car park, had a brief glimpse of the girl in red shouting and pumping her fist in the air, and then he was back on the road, the BMW just eighty yards ahead of him.

By the time they were racing through Tai Po, Chung and the BMW had overtaken two more of the racers, the Nissan 300ZX and the Lotus Esprit. Chung waited until they were at the straight stretch after Plover Cove Reservoir before making his challenge. He knew that his Porsche’s top speed was more than fifteen mph more than the BMW, so all he had to do was to find a section of road long enough and keep his foot to the floor. The manufacturer’s specifications would do the rest.

The road was clear and he swung the Porsche out on to the wrong side of the road. He pressed the accelerator down and felt the twin turbos kick behind his shoulder. He drew level with the black BMW and out of the corner of his eye he saw the driver, jaws clenched and eyes fixed straight ahead, trying to squeeze more speed out of the car. The speedometer ticked off 130 mph, 135 mph, 140 mph, and Chung knew that the BMW was getting close to the limit of its 360 brake horsepower. It weighed some 700 pounds more than the Porsche and top speed had been sacrificed for luxury. Chung began to pull away from the BMW just as he was forced to slow because the road started to curve. The BMW had to slow, too, and he continued to pull away, then, just as he thought he was clear, he heard a metallic crunch and felt the rear of the Porsche skid to the right. The steering wheel jerked in his hand and Chung’s first thought was that he’d blown a tyre. He fought to control the car as the tyres screamed like a tortured animal. Before he could straighten the Porsche he felt it lurch again and his neck whipped back and forth. Chung realised that he was being rammed, that the BMW driver was trying to push the Porsche off the road at more than 120 mph. He tried to accelerate away but the road conditions wouldn’t allow him to go much above 120 mph, which was well within the BMW’s capabilities. Chung braked slowly and guided the Porsche to the right of the lane, giving the BMW ample room to pass, at the same time bracing himself for another ramming attempt. The BMW driver decided to try to get by and Chung watched him disappear from the rearview mirror as it accelerated. He risked a quick look to the side and saw the nose of the black BMW was level with his rear wheel arch. Chung chose his moment carefully, and when he was satisfied that he was in the right position he moved the steering wheel firmly through ninety degrees, swinging the Porsche smoothly at an angle and cutting across the front of the BMW. The full weight of the Porsche pushed the bulkier BMW to the side, towards the pavement. Chung could feel the BMW try to force its way back on to the road and he kept the pressure on the steering wheel so that it was forced up on the pavement with a crash and the sound of tearing metal. He swung the Porsche back into the middle of the lane and accelerated hard. In the rearview mirror he saw the BMW brake furiously and try to swerve to avoid a concrete-stemmed street light. The driver failed and the BMW slammed into the post, its hood exploding upwards in a cloud of steam. The road turned sharply to the left and Chung could no longer see the BMW.

The road curved to the right and he saw Starling Inlet for the second time in the race. Despite the hammering the Porsche had taken, it still handled well. Chung experimented with the steering and with the accelerator until he was sure that there was nothing amiss. As he played with the controls, the Lotus Esprit and then the Audi spurted past him. The Audi beat him to the Sha Tau Kok car park by at least fifty yards, but as Chung turned in there was no sign of the Lotus. The crowd of watchers was even bigger this time as news of the race had spread through the town.

He caught up with the Audi a mile outside Fanling. Its young driver swerved from side to side in an attempt to block the Porsche but Chung faked to pass on the right, swerved to the left and jammed down hard on the accelerator. As he roared past the driver put his quartz lights on full again, but this time Chung was prepared and the blinding lights had no effect. He kept the Porsche up to 100 mph as he sped through Tai Po, cutting through a red traffic light and scaring the hell out of two taxi drivers. On the road to Shuen Wan he saw the rear lights of the Lotus and he sped after it, pushing the Porsche to the limits of its road-holding. Yard by yard he gained and he made his challenge before the reservoir, zipping past it in fourth gear. His hands were sweating on the wheel and his chewing gum had lost its flavour. The muscles in the back of his neck were aching and he knew it was more from the tension than from the whiplash of the BMW ramming.

He saw the Porsche 928GT in the distance and as he left the reservoir behind him he gradually caught up like a fisherman hauling in on a line. He kept an eye on the speedometer and when he was within fifty feet it was showing 160 mph, the theoretical limit of a standard 911 Carrera and about ten mph less than the 928 could manage. He moved over to overtake, pushed the accelerator pedal down and surged forward. He could easily take the 928GT, there was more than a mile of clear road ahead and the Ruf had power to spare but he eased off. He saw the lights of Sha Tau Kok in the distance and he slowed to let his rival take the lead. Chung pulled in behind the red Porsche and kept close to its rear bumper. He kept one eye on the car in front and the other on the speedometer, taking care not to pass the 160 mph mark. If the driver of the car was a typical Porsche owner he probably knew the performance characteristics of most of the different models and if he was overtaken by a 911 when he was on full throttle he’d know that Chung wasn’t driving a standard model. Besides, Chung had known from the start that it would be better not to win his first race. He was there to win the confidence of the road-racers, not antagonise them.

The red Porsche pulled into the car park and was immediately engulfed by a crowd of well-wishers. The driver climbed out and was hoisted on to the shoulders of two well-built youths in leather bomber jackets and tight jeans and they proceeded to carry him on a lap of victory around the tarmac car park. Chung parked his own Porsche some distance away and got out. He leaned against the side of the car and watched the celebrations. The thin man in the suit who’d spoken to Chung earlier went over to the winner and presented him with a blue nylon holdall which Chung guessed contained the prize money.

“You raced well,” said a voice by his side. He turned to see the balding man with his ever-present handkerchief in his hand.