Debutant. Chapter 10. Eureka! Part 1

This novel is fictional; there is no need to look for intersections with historical events. This is a continuation of “Debutant” by Nikita Savelyev, the first readers of which were readers of F1News.ru…

Chapter 10. Eureka! Part One

– No, just look! And we call ourselves a racing force. This is unheard of!

Usually soft-spoken and intelligent, Mr. Baker threw lightning like an ancient Greek lightning bolt. He spewed terrible curses, threatened all conceivable punishments and sometimes even banged his fist on the table. The boss’s eyes filled with anger and Henry tried to run away into the cramped space of the garage, just in case.

This is what it is about. A large number of pilots showed up for the race in England: twenty-four. It’s not surprising; many private owners decided to courageously test their strength on their native land and familiar path. Everything was going to be fine, but the race management, under pressure from the organizers who did not want to spend extra money, announced that only sixteen racers would be allowed to start. The calculation turned out to be correct: the six fastest teams reacted philosophically to this news, their speed is more than enough for selection, there is no reason to object. And the rest do not have enough authority and strength for reasoned debate.

Henry fully shared his boss’s dissatisfaction, but he had absolutely no idea what could be done.

“We won’t leave it like that; twelve cars have to compete for just four places at the start.” A real travesty,” Edward seethed.

– Monetti and the best British are enough for the public. It is understandable that the organizers do not want to spend money on small things. And the official reason is to avoid crowds, so that the leaders don’t constantly overtake those who are lagging behind in the lap, and it’s short,” Georges noted casually, as he polished his nails with a nail file.

You’re sure you’re definitely at the starting line, right?

“The circuit is also fast, there are only eight corners, there is enough space for everyone.” And with powerful engines you can almost overtake in a straight line,” Henry replied, not failing to notice the way his partner’s face contorted at the mention of powerful engines. Henry, together with the guys from the last tests, finally discovered the “weight distribution” of the engine in his car, and now he developed a maximum speed higher than that of the Frenchman. All that remains is to check how the car will behave during the race.

– They offered a compromise: let there be eighteen cars, but the last two are still without starters. We have found fools. Bakker concluded. – We must collect signatures, otherwise these bureaucrats cannot be defeated.

‘There is a lot of money at stake; no signature can save you,’ yawned Georges, throwing his feet with the tools on the table.

– I will try to convince private riders not to go to the races on Friday, this is a good half of the peloton. So how do the organizers get in? – it dawned on Edward.

“Everyone is an individualist through and through, everyone thinks: why shouldn’t I be at the start,” Georges noted. – No one will agree with that.

“We can’t get things moving if we sit still,” Edward jumped up energetically and ran out of the box.

“Novice players – try to get it, prize money – it’s just a laugh,” Georges grumbled. – It’s not even interesting to fight for six.

“Who would let you in there,” Henry muttered under his breath.

– Do you know where the biggest prizes are? – Georges couldn’t calm down. – In your home country, in America! Fifteen thousand dollars. How much is this in pounds? And for the victory at “Kirpichnitsa” they promise so much that we never dreamed of. And why did you leave? I understand that the world championship sounds better than just the American championship. Prestige is more important than money!

Georges smiled sarcastically, happy with his joke.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Henry also stood up, so as not to be left alone with his cynical partner.

He maneuvered deftly through the now familiar pre-race chaos. The track was filled with excited fun, an impossible roar of voices and the busy hum of engines. The area around it is very noisy and not very clean, people are like ants, constantly running in different directions, you can’t walk a meter without nodding to someone you know.

Henry understood it well: Baker Racing was once again faced with the dull prospect of going to the podium for nothing, but in his soul the excitement, instead of a sad resignation to fate, bubbled like sparkling champagne under a cork. The odds are slim, but we will fight. We will definitely fight. Was it in vain that he worked hard during the tests, unlike Georges, who skimped on the tests and ended up with a dozen extra mares under the hood? You are lying! You can’t get us Yankees with your bare hands.

Henry appeared in the frame of a photographer who was enthusiastically photographing the surroundings, smiled warmly at the young but already prim British ladies walking under an umbrella, poked fun at mechanics who passed by, bowed politely to a motorsports official and chased a car away. skinny dog ​​circling around looking for something to eat. You wouldn’t go hungry yourself.

With a keen eye, Henry saw Peter Bridge, who confidently cut through the crowd, and decided to avoid the meeting – he deftly got lost among the motley crowd. Henry was openly afraid of his countryman, and avoided him in every way; suddenly not only the insignificance of Henry’s successes would be exposed, but also the complete absence of performances for three years. It will spread throughout the paddock – Mr Baker will not appreciate an obvious lie. They will calculate without any pity. A few weeks ago, Henry and Bridge accidentally found themselves in the area, with nowhere to go, so Henry quietly, sweating, briefly told his revised biography, which he himself had begun to believe. Luckily Peter was attentive and didn’t react. But Henry would rather not get into trouble again.

The canteen of the autodrome was a large tent. Inside it was so cramped that it was impossible to drop the note, and the commotion and laughter were so loud that it seemed as if the linen covering would collapse on the people seated. Of course, the ubiquitous co-rivals are here too. Rinaldo, who had built a diagram of the track on the table with a knife and fork from napkins and salt and pepper shakers, laughingly showed how he made laps around the race track, the others said cheerfully.

Henry looked ahead and did not notice how he came across a young man of small stature with an excessively large head. He looked around for something, probably also looking for a place.

== To be continued…