Favorite. Chapter 20 Part 1

This novel is fictional, you should not look for intersections with historical events. This is a continuation of Nikita Savelyev’s Racing Action Movie, first published on F1News.ru…

Chapter 20 Part 1

The meeting was informal to the core and took place in the most relaxed atmosphere. The participants settled comfortably on the grass in the backyards of the racing city, because even in September it was scorching hot on the Spanish coast.

Mr. Quincey was half on the floor, but he managed not to lose his inherent luster by picturesquely spreading the skirts of his coat and bending his arm at the elbow. Simple Charlie Rodwell drank local beer with pleasure. Will Thomson completely dropped his shirt and exposed his body to the sun’s rays. The senior manager of the BGS, who had sent the director as their representative, was a little shy of the senior comrades and kept aloof. Well, Neville of course. In short, the color of the English racing community.

How’s Lesley? Charlie asked.

– So far no change. The burns are very bad, but he’s fighting,” Neville replied curtly.

– And Martin? Will it arrive?

“He’s in the hospital with Leslie all the time. Promised to race,” Neville said.

“I was talking to Martin on the phone, my voice was dull and lifeless,” Quincy sighed.

“He even turned gray with grief,” added Thomson. ‘I’ve never seen him like that. It turns out that he is very attached to Leslie.

“I suggest we get to the heart of the matter,” Neville suggested grimly. His partner occasionally appeared before his eyes. All covered in bandages, on which occasionally appeared bloody footprints. Hooked up to various machines in a grim white room. Sometimes Leslie would come to her senses and let out a muffled scream full of inhuman pain, which faded into a growl.

“The motorsport association has informed us that in two years’ time they intend to make major changes to the regulations – the volume of the engines will be reduced by a liter to just one and a half liters,” Thomson said curtly.

“This is serious,” Rodwell whistled.

– Still would! exclaimed Thomson. – The design will change drastically. Other engines – a different body shape, a different weight of cars, a different weight distribution. Yes, absolutely everything!

– Is this a subject for general discussion or have officials given us an ultimatum? Quincy grimaced.

“No, no democracy games,” Thomson shook his head. “They are still working out the details, but in broad terms, the decision has been made.

“The puzzle is very curious.” Charlie rolled his eyes at the sky.

“What a hell of a job,” Thomson cursed. “Don’t you understand what this will lead to? We finally learned how to beat the Italians. Almost all cars are green at the start. And a new technique cannot be created in a month. How many different options will there be for shoveling? A mountain of tests and trials. You need money and more money. Lots of money.

‘Is it all so hopeless, Will? Quincy smiled. – You handled the current machines excellently. I have no doubt that you will easily find an approach to innovation.

“Thanks, of course, but it’s not for you to build them,” Thomson muttered.

Mr Quincy stretched out an offended string.

“Now the fireballs are shaped like a torpedo, in the future it will be more like a cigar,” Rodwell kept dreaming. – In my opinion, the most rational form …

“Don’t you understand that all of us together don’t have as many resources as Monetti,” Thomson looked around in bewilderment at those present. – Except maybe…

He nodded to Neville.

– What is the reason for this decision? Neville asked, ignoring his compatriot’s outburst.

– Speeds are increased, too many accidents. Even in the pre-war era, there weren’t as many racers fighting as in years past, Thomson explained.

But this is a step back! Quincy was surprised. – We participate in the best motorcycle racing championship in the world – the fastest cars, the most advanced technologies. A small engine is a clear regression.

– Yes, but what happens to the engines? – the BGS manager opened his mouth for the first time. “Almost all of us use custom engines. Who builds them for us?

– That’s the right question! exclaimed Thomson. – Of course, our partners are not going anywhere – they will rebuild the engines. In one way or another. But who can vouch for their quality and strength?! And Monetti will be on horseback again! They make their own engines. They are tested day and night. But we get a hastily sloppy adjustment.

Where do you want to go, Will? Quincy asked.

– Disagree. The word from the five British teams is worth something.

“Only none of us have as much weight as Monetti,” Rodwell added. – How to force officials to take us into account?

“We just have to beat the Italians regularly,” Thomson shrugged.

“The only one who can do it is Neville,” Quincy said.

“He today, someone else tomorrow,” Thomson snapped.

– And sure, do you consider yourself to be this person? Rodwell asked sarcastically.

– On Sunday, almost a third of the pilots on my chassis will go to the start. You will see that soon everyone will understand the advantage of the rear-engined setup.

– So it’s a third, – the representative of the BGS doubted.

“Recount,” Thomson said.

– This year I had too little time for experiments, and why not? Rodwell thought. “I always found your solution extremely interesting.

“One more,” Thomson grinned.

Why are you so against austerity? Rodwell asked. – Now your advantage is in low weight, and with changes in the rules, the weight of the car will decrease even more.

“Only everyone will fall,” Thomson reasonably observed. “And my wallet is no match for old Mario’s.”

“Two years is not a short time, we can have time to prepare properly,” said Rodwell.

– Who did I ruin an hour for? Thomas sighed. “We don’t have the strength to work for today and for the future. Personally, I want to win now. Otherwise my company will go to hell. The prize money for results I spend on making new machines, making a profit and putting it into circulation. No one buys slow cars that will ever get faster from me. Clearly explained, Charlie?

“I’m on your side, we English should support each other,” Quincey said primitively.

– You race on my chassis and Monetti hangs himself, but won’t supply you with any cars, – Thomson threw and corrected himself immediately – Thank you for your support. Who else?

– It is necessary to coordinate the decision with management, – said the BGS manager. – Protesting against the decision of the sports association is no joke.

“The eternal misfortune of big business,” Thomson said ironically.

“In my heart I’m always for any change, they develop a technical idea,” said Charlie.

– What is the development? Now we have the most powerful machines, three hundred kilometers in a straight line! And there will be little ones with a motor like a scooter! Thomson was outraged.

“It’s still making progress, you’ll see,” Charlie said. – Let history take a turn, but it won’t be long now. We will solve the reliability problem. And the next task will be to develop tremendous speeds not only on straight lines, but also on turns.

“Not in our lifetime,” Thomson said. “So are you with us or not, dreamer?”

“Yeah, where am I supposed to go,” Rodwell grumbled. “And then stop borrowing spare parts.

“It’s no use begging them like gypsies,” Thomson grinned. – Marcel?

– The final decision is Martin’s.

– And yet?

‘As a pilot, of course I hate racing a low-powered carriage,’ Marcel sighed. “But if slowing down helps to prevent accidents, then I don’t mind. Let them change the rules. I had to go to funerals all the time.

– Aren’t you tired of winning races? asked Thomson

– You forgot, but I’m the only one who won both front-engined and rear-engined cars. I can handle it.

Thomson snorted like a kettle and steamed out. Neville himself had not expected such hardness from himself.

“So what’s next, Neville?” Charlie broke the awkward pause.

– On slow tracks, Will’s cars are unbeatable, light weight and little tire wear – factors that had never been considered, but turned out to be damned important. But on fast tracks they just lack power, Neville said.

“Believe me, I’m working on it,” Thomson came to his senses. – Soon your overweight Cadillacs will be behind on every track.

– Do not forget that officials go to such unprecedented measures for the sake of safety. Neville is right, how many guys can be lost, – objected the BGS manager – Maybe I can convince the management of the company to adopt a new scheme.

– Three against two. Compatriots called, – grumbled Thomson.

“Don’t get excited, Will,” Quincy interjected. “Of course, no one likes slow speeds, but our guys are here, and it’s for the sake of their lives. Maybe the officials are right.

– Do you think pilots are more likely to survive in a small car? Rodwell hesitated.

– In those crumbs imposed on us – I don’t think so. And if everyone comes to my design, then it’s possible. After all, the riders die when they fly out of the cockpit or in a fire. But I have a fuel tank in the back, and this is an extra shot at rescue, Thomson said.

Neville stopped listening. Although he claimed that imagination was a bad quality for a pilot, a clear color image appeared before his eyes. Deafening explosion. A moment and a huge dense cloud of black smoke rises in front of you.

Instinctively you still have time to turn the wheel, to slow down, but at that moment you are showered with a large number of small, but terribly hot drops. Head to toe. Oil from an exploding engine. In complete darkness, jump out of the cockpit. And then the clothes catch fire. Heat penetrates the skin. Wild pain. The glasses melt. But the legs work. You can’t see where you’re going. The unbearable smell of burning skin and flesh. The pain is getting more and more unbearable. You run without looking at the road. Where’s the help? Where?

Marcel clumsily crumpled the conversation anyway, they won’t decide anything of value now, and got up from his chair.

== To be continued…