A race of two worlds. Chapter 18. Part 3

      This is a fictional story, no crossovers with real events should be sought. This is a continuation of "Race of Two Worlds" by Nikita Saveliev for the readers of F1News.ru... Chapter 18. The denouement. Part Three - What terrorists! - Robert shouted. - There are no terrorists! There aren't?! You're delusional! No. It's all lies. Nobody wanted to blow anything up. No way! We saw the bombs ourselves! What bombs?! No serious terrorist would use smoking gunpowder! But Glen almost got us killed! Yeah! But he's a burglar, not a terrorist. What's he want with the circuit diagrams? And the bloody Mole? A screen! It's a distraction! It's all about the prize money! What?! Are you out of your mind?! Time," Robert groaned, and it didn't seem to be from pain. "Explain it to me!" Robert looked around helplessly and then yelled: "Look at the tire! There's money in it! Jane and her accomplice wanted to steal the prize money. With this! Get her and I'll explain everything! Norman looked at the tire, you moron! Norman looked back at the tire, and there was a gaping slit in it, with gray-green papers sticking out of it. And he realized only now that this door led to the money vault! They had gone in there on their first day at the driving range. - If she leaves, it's all gone! - Robert howled. - Move it! Norman had a quick wit when he had to. How long had it been since Jane had escaped? A little over a minute. It'll take about the same amount of time to get out of the building. You might not catch up. He's a pilot, not a swimmer. Norman rushed to the window, got through the bolts in no time and swung it open. He was fortunate to see a nimble figure rushing downstairs. Norman plummeted downward, landing clearly on his feet. Jane turned at the noise. Norman straightened up and with a powerful tiger's leap caught up with the assistant principal. Grabbed her with his strong hands in a grappling grip. Her supple body struggled to break free, but she couldn't. Help! - "There's no one around," Norman grinned predatorily. "Burn! I'll gag you! - Norman brought his palm threateningly close to his captive's face. - Don't force me. We're going back quietly now. Norman, please, darling, let me go, it's Richards, he's with the terrorists, you don't understand, he's a terrible man," Jane whispered feverishly, as if in a delirium. - Let go, please, Norman. What do terrorists need money for? Let's go back. Norman, listen to me. I will. But no tricks. Are you coming or are you coming? Norman, trust me. After you almost shot me? I didn't know you were behind the door. I'm not sure anymore. Are you coming or helping? The inspector was waiting for them at the back door: Got it? Excellent. Keep her safe, and I'll go and get the police. They should be at the front door. No," Norman said firmly. - No one's going to take a step out of here until you both tell me what's going on. Norman..." Robert began. - Not now! Yes, now," he said. - I've been fooled by the terrorists, and you're the one who figured out their plans and called in to back them up. But it turned out to be some guy trying to steal money. And there's something you two are doing! I demand an explanation! Can't you see he's lying to you! - Jane shrieked, breaking free. - Let go of me! Later," Norman promised, not thinking of loosening his grip. - I don't know which of you to believe, but this smells lousy. - You won't be late for the race? - The inspector tried again. I don't care. Let's go upstairs," Robert sighed. - We must see if Mr. Breeze has come to his senses. Who? You'll find out. They went into the money room. Norman noticed that the large safe-deposit box was wide open with empty shelves. Robert, it turned out, had handcuffs with him, and had chained Breeze to the radiator with them; he was moaning, but not yet conscious. And Norman, it must be admitted, was still in shape. The well-fed life had not relaxed him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real fight. Jane sank down in her chair with a pale, lost look, Robert sat on the edge of the table, Norman stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. The Chief Inspector was pale and constantly felt the bloody back of his head, but he spoke clearly and confidently: "Norman, you happen to know almost the whole chain of events. But let me remind you: at first we observed that some intruders were spinning something around the autodrome. And the further we went, the more the villains' insidious plan became fully realized. Infiltration of Harris's room to study the blueprints of the boxes. An attempt to retrieve them a day later. The appearance of Mole, a specialist bomber from among the Irish separatists. The crowning achievement was Rory's hotel room, where we found a pile of evidence - parts of an explosive device, diagrams of bleachers and other junk. After that, no one had the slightest doubt: terrorists want to organize an explosion during an international competition and thus finally undermine our relations with the United States. I admit, Jane, you acted competently: we received evidence in moderation, you tried not to scare us too much, leaving hope that we are able to fight the terrorists - or you would have canceled the race in a fever. In all this beautiful story I was confused by one thing: our unknown enemy appeared in two forms - very clever and elusive and at the same time making stupid, inexplicable mistakes. For example, risked and climbed into the hotel instead of quietly studying the blueprints on the autodrome. Pulled off the attack on Harris clearly and without witnesses, but got caught with spy equipment near the famous chatterbox Carol. Why order an expensive and conspicuous car in Mole's real name? Was it so that he could be instantly identified by the police? And the apogee: perfectly organized crossbow attack on the boxes and allegedly lost in a hurry key. But even before that ignominious ambush," Robert grimaced painfully, "I wondered if there were any other targets for the villains at the racetrack than political ones. And immediately I found one. Incredible prize money, the likes of which had never been seen, not only by British, but also by European racers. And I wondered hard if this was where the dog was buried. There are a lot of international races and only one prize like this. It turned out that the route of money transportation is strictly classified, and the escort is serious - it is practically impossible to repel money by force on the way, besides you will put the whole county police on your tail. On the autodrome prize arrives for a short time - you can somehow cunningly put the guard's vigilance to sleep, try to quietly poison or cut them, but on the day of the race in the building is full of people, not to mention the paddock. Even if you get your hands on the prize, you just can't get away with it. The risk of being seen is extremely high. My suspicions were further heightened when Norman and I found Glen's real lair in Trevor's hallway barracks. Of course, no one expected us to see him, but you're not perfect. I'm outplaying you here," Robert's white face flashed a smile. - I suppose when you were preparing the special room for us at Rory's, you just wanted the vigilant maid to see a bunch of suspicious objects and report it to the police, but my maneuver with the nonexistent metal detector appealed to you. Show us the seriousness of the imaginary terrorists' intentions and destroy a thing that's dangerous to you, too. I had almost no doubt that the key was dropped on purpose, but it puzzled me that the parts for the explosive device were somehow found both there and there. I had to do a lot of thinking. Yes, the nitroglycerin with no stuffing in Rory's fake room worked for my theory that the terrorists were just an appearance, but why would Glen keep bomb casings, fuses, and black powder in his real home at Trevor's? Why the hell would he need them? And then I remembered the Mole. He used something like that, too. Black powder was the clue. It's low-powered, but it produces dense clouds of smoke, that's why they call it smoky. I asked the same Mole: black powder is used in fireworks and increasingly in movies - to create spectacular scenes. I had no doubt about that. Your intention was not to kill as many people as possible, but only to divert attention. Again, these goals are more in line with the intentions of robbers than terrorists. You're not at all bloodthirsty, Ms. Shelton, are you? Besides, I believe you genuinely didn't want to harm the racetrack you've invested so much energy in. And soon you became the first choice to partner with the elusive Mr. Glenn. It's axiomatic - if you're planning a serious event at the site, it's always better to have your own man there. - Can I ask you a question, Inspector Richards? - Jane said quietly. At your service. Why on earth would you suspect me? Yes, Robert. You've made a good case, of course, but what's Jane got to do with it? - Norman jumped up and down.