A race of two worlds. Chapter 18. Part 4

      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 Four - Yes, Robert. You've done a good job of laying it all out, of course, but what's Jane got to do with it? - You didn't notice, but we found a notebook in Glen's room. It had the same racing-car emblem on it as the notebooks in Miss Shelton's office. I didn't think much of her at the time, I just assumed someone on the staff was involved. I almost made the mistake of asking Ms. Shelton where she could get such notebooks. But he came to his senses and decided to look at the staff first. A closer look revealed that Jane was the perfect accomplice: she knew the race track better than anyone else, had hotel accommodations, had access to all the rooms, could duplicate the keys to the vault and safe, could sketch the grandstands without attracting attention." "Just guessing," Norman frowned. "Then I admit I was a little lucky," Robert touched his fingers tiredly to his temple. - You didn't think we'd find our way to Gray Jeff, through whom you found the Mole, but I did. And I figured out Glenn's identity. Plus, Jeff mentioned he had a woman. I overlaid Glen's record with the details of your background, Ms. Shelton, which Barlow shared with me. And I saw a lot of coincidences: you come from Southampton, where Glen served in the Navy, during his stay in the gang you just moved to Birmingham, where Barlow met you, from fifty-second you move to Northampton, and the traces of Glen are lost. And I also remembered the photograph in your office: the imaginary brother - that's him, isn't it?" "One more question, Inspector," Jane's eyes flashed with fire. - What about Glen? - Of course, time has passed, there's no explosion, I think you can guess that something's happened to him. - Where is he? Is he alive? - I wonder if you two are lovers, or if you married in secret - Robert thought for a moment. None of your business. So what about him?! And the wonderful plan? Whose work was it? It must be your work, and that of your third accomplice, Glenn, your former coworker. Unlike him, more classified even after he was discharged. I don't think Glen would have had the imagination. - Don't touch him! - Agreed, I'll respect your feelings. - Tell me what's wrong with him, Inspector! That's cruel of you. Robert was silent, I think he really did revel in Jane's torment. But the dazed Norman was not silent. Jane, will you confess? But has he proved anything?" "He will," said the assistant director, dismissing the racer as if he were nothing. "I suppose your lover was captivated by an ordinary village constable," Robert grinned. "You're lying! It's impossible! With the latest technical means, it's quite possible. Otherwise he would have come to your rescue by now. Jane closed her eyes. Whether from relief or annoyance. Norman glanced at his wrist. He'd forgotten the start of the last race. No watch. Did he even need this race? With everything falling apart so ridiculously. The idiot in love... - Today, closer to the race, I already knew Glenn's biography, and I was sure of your candidacy, - Robert continued nonchalantly. - The only thing that confused me was how you would remove all the unnecessary people from the paddock - the explosion idea did not give a hundred percent result. But I waited for your move and everything fell into place. The fake American idea is excellent. Of course, your comrade had no trouble playing an agent - after all, he himself served for a long time in the navy counterintelligence or something similar. At other times Breeze's words would have been checked for a long time, but here nobody would have thought to doubt that the Yankees had decided to interfere. Especially when Breeze so casually dropped the name of an embassy official. Really, I'm sure you chose someone who was not going to be there to avoid embarrassment. Besides, there were prominent members of the Irish resistance in Northampton, and I'm sure you played on their greed again, as you had with the Mole, and at the same time you got some of your trained agents away from the circuit. And Breeze was unusually logical and had another set of clues. Even I almost didn't believe it," Robert bowed with a grin, "if I hadn't expected something like this. Not to speak of the big bosses, who are frightened by the international scandal. By the way, Mr. Breeze, or whatever your name is, you're an excellent actor," Robert moved the captive's flapping eyes. - Only in long words sometimes missed the accent. And remember: Americans drink whiskey, like my good buddy Norman. Whiskey, not brandy. So the police happily take the bait: the paddock and the building are empty. That's what this scene was all about. Bottom line: we've given you unfettered access to the money. And as a precautionary measure, an imaginary explosion was prepared. Even if it didn't cause any damage, a huge column of smoke would have looked pretty damn impressive. Even experienced police officers would have lost their composure for a while. In addition, there would have been a lot of panic in the stands. You'd have time to take out the guards, if they were still in the building, albeit at greater risk, and clean out the prize room. I suppose you didn't put the money in the tire for nothing: you planned to move it to the storeroom to avoid any possible complications; there's a pile of wheels there, no one would have thought the stolen prize was there. And then Ms. Shelton would quietly remove it from the racetrack. It's not much in packs. And when they find out it's missing, they'll look first among the Irish separatists anyway - it's not for nothing that you dragged them to London. Who would suspect the irreplaceable assistant director? Of course, the plan is cumbersome, but the payoff is substantial and the associated costs are minimal. I admit, you had a good chance of success. Not for nothing did you persist in proving that you were no dumber than men, miss." "Fuck you," Jane whispered. And she added a word so harsh that even Norman recoiled. "You're wondering what you've finally given yourself away with, Miss Shelton? - Robert's tone was triumphant. How? - By spending last night with Norman. Following us? - The assistant principal's lips curved in contempt. Why? I saw you leave and arrive together, and the hotel told me Norman hadn't slept over. And another piece of the puzzle fell into place. I doubt if Miss Shelton was having a trivial diversion at such an important time. There was another reason. What are you talking about? - I'm sorry, Norman," Robert said sadly. - They had to sneak the charge into the racetrack. And the police were scrutinizing everyone who came in. But who would think of searching the cars of the competitors? Besides, you, on your own account, got yourself an elite seat right in the paddock. While you were asleep, Glen put a bomb in your trunk and you unknowingly took it straight to the racetrack. Constable Morris was waiting outside your car for Glen, and apparently successfully. I may have been a bit off, but in the end I was able to figure out your game, Miss Shelton." "It doesn't add up, Rob," Norman growled. - What's to stop them from planting a bomb outside my hotel?" "It's an unnecessary risk," Robert shrugged. - Besides, what if you'd looked in the trunk? No, she had to personally escort their dangerous toy to the autodrome and make sure everything was all right. - Was that true? - Norman stared at Jane, but she said nothing. She sat with her lips pressed tightly together with a detached look. What else? - Robert looked dead tired. - I went to the administration building and waited for the guests. I thought I'd catch them red-handed. But they split up, and while I was holding Jane at gunpoint, I got a blow to the head from Mr. Breeze. Thanks they didn't shoot me while I was unconscious. Why'd you go alone? You should have told your bosses! - Now the racer was surprised. How much convincing would I have done? It wouldn't have been easy for them to give up the terrorist version. And they would have made a mess of things in a hurry. Honestly, I thought I could do it alone, so I called you in just in case, to help watch them and call the police. - You're lying, Inspector. You wanted to be the only hero and make your bosses look like fools," Jane said expressionlessly. - And also to rub the rival's nose in my attention. Norman noticed that Robert was embarrassed. I don't care. He was preoccupied with something else: "Is it true?! Is this about money?! A lousy $200,000 and something?! All this! - Norman was shaking his fists. - But... but that's just the price of two wins at the Brickyard. Jane, Jane, I told you..." Norman stammered. Norman, that's the kind of money that falls into your hands in a weekend, but for the average man it's enough for half his life," said Robert gently. - Isn't that right, Miss Shelton? Maybe your boyfriend had been staying out of crime for a while, but when you found out that a fabulous sum of money was coming to the racetrack for the first time, your eyes lit up. I bet your ambition was at play here, and such an adventurous plan was thought up on purpose - it's tempting to steal huge sums of money in front of hundreds of policemen without them realizing it, isn't it? - Two hundred thousand ... all because of stinking money! - Norman was still muttering. Shut up, Jane said. - You don't understand. You've had everything for a long time. Money and fame. And you don't even realize your happiness - risking a permanent head injury instead of enjoying life. And you don't understand, Inspector, you're used to living on a paltry salary in a shabby apartment with cockroaches. And even Glen, whoever he is, he's been fine with it: I'm lost at the driving range, he's got a part-time job as a mechanic and he doesn't want to get involved. And I don't want that, you know? Money is freedom and independence. A chance to escape from the ordinary. Well, I know that philosophy," said the inspector. "What would become of that money? - Jane asked angrily. - It would go into the pockets of riders who don't even realize its value! The stupid officials had thoughtlessly allocated an insane amount of money for prize money, instead of spending it on the development of British sport. Who would have been worse off? We didn't plan to kill or harm anyone. The authorities would have forgotten about the money in a week! - What about the bombing? - Robert asked. - What if people panicked and crushed each other? What about the poor corridor boy who miraculously survived? But you don't care about those little things, Ms. Shelton. You have a purpose." "I underestimated you," Jane hissed. "The ignominious path of many a villain," Robert grinned. "How the hell did you figure that out? - I'm a down-to-earth man. I've been dealing with bandits all my life. It's the big bosses who see conspiracies everywhere. And I'm not used to thinking on such a large scale, so I let myself doubt the version that we were so assiduously planted. By the way, it was you who finally convinced me that this is a banal criminal case, not politics. - Me?! - When you told me that no one in Europe considered the race a serious event. The separatists, if they had decided to commit such an unprecedented act of terrorism, could have chosen a more respectable competition. Then Robert got up from his seat: "Well, shall we surrender? My bosses, no doubt, will be upset that it was not possible to prevent an international disaster and earn orders, but you, Ms. Shelton, and you, Mr. "agent", it does not make it easier. And robbery is a serious offense. Are you sure, Inspector? - I know the law better than you do, miss," Robert replied. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," Jane said, smiling for the first time in a while. - They kept the police away from the prize room on purpose, and sat in ambush. Misled the poor girl. A clear provocation. After all, the money never even left the building. What can I do for this? A good lawyer will keep it to a minimum. And your accomplice, who was posing as an American agent? - Robert asked ironically, moving Breeze's leg. - And your whole plan? What plan, Inspector? There was no plan. What did my accomplice do, as you put it? Did he forge an identity card? Did he make some kind of monetary gain? You shouldn't deceive the police, of course, but a man's quirks are not unknown. - He attacked me! - Robert was stunned. - An official! You didn't even identify yourself. You jumped out at me with a gun. And he didn't know about the money, mind you. What was he supposed to do? He was protecting me. And Glen? He's gonna get the full measure of it, Robert wouldn't give up. - The room break-in and the robbery. Box fire. Attempted murder of Trevor. Attempted sabotage at the driving range. What's my fiance got to do with it? - Jane was quite genuinely surprised. - Had anyone seen him during these horrible crimes? Could he be identified? As for the sabotage, you said so yourself: the bomb came in Norman's trunk, so ask him. - You snake! - The racer shouted in anger. - I wanted to take you with me You could have had everything! I'm sorry, my failed husband, but I don't like to depend on men, and I'm used to getting everything myself," Jane said, without even looking at the driver. "Go get the police, Norman," Robert said softly, after a pause. - Let's finish this vaudeville." The racer glanced at the empty wrist again, out of habit. Be that as it may, he has his obligations. And there are people he cannot let down." "What time is it? - Sixteen twenty-two. Fuck! It's the start! Can you figure it out for yourself? I gotta go! - Norman rushed out into the corridor. Robert jumped out. I'll take care of it. And thank you for everything. I couldn't have done it without you. Good luck, Robbie. You can be a bug At least you won't get kicked out? I doubt it. Who else is gonna take care of my bosses' shit? I'll work, especially since I got a lot of unfinished business. I won't resign until it's solved. If you get bored with the fog, come and join us. If you want to, you can become a private investigator. There's a demand for them. Run along. You'll be late. Norman was in a hurry, but he couldn't resist: "They won't get anything for all their tricks, will they? Robert frowned: "If none of the three testify, it'll be hard. There really aren't any witnesses. But I'll try to ground Glenn for a long time, try to prove at least one crime. Jane's a little harder. Don't go too hard on her, if you can. As a London detective used to say, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Robert's usual nonsense, but Norman didn't listen to him. He was racing down the corridor. Heart pounding frantically against his chest. Inhale, exhale. Half a minute to run out of the building. A minute and a half to cross the paddock. And in another twenty seconds to get to the starting line. It's even scary to imagine the commotion in the racing coop: less than five minutes to the start of the third race, and Norman's cockpit is empty! Steve is tearing his hair out of his head. Dumbfounded mechanics look at each other. The competitors smirk in bewilderment. The spectators in the stands point their fingers in amazement. Sports officials are scrambling to find him. The commentator screams... And how could he not! America's best pilot has vanished into thin air. More precisely, he has yet to prove that he is the best. Not to let the experienced Cody get ahead of him, to overtake the too fast Tate, to slip within millimeters of the concrete walls, not to endanger himself and the car, to save the engine and tires. It's nothing compared to what he's just been through. Is he a racer or what?