Part 13 (2/2)

When he spoke, Syracuse seemed to choose his words carefully: 'Let's just say, I didn't expect my career to end in New York later that year.'

And with that he looked to Jason, as if expecting him to deduce what such a cryptic answer meant.

Jason thought about it.

'You didn't expect to crash out later that year in New York,' he repeated aloud. 'Which means you expected to race in Italy again, in future years...'

'Correct.'

Then it hit Jason.

'No way...'

Syracuse nodded slowly. 'You've got it.'

'You were doing research,' Jason said. 'You were reconnoitring the Italian short cut for the next year.'

Syracuse nodded, impressed. 'Well done, Mr Chaser. To this day, you're the first person to have figured that out.'

Jason couldn't believe it. It was so deviously clever. He said: 'Everyone thought your taking the short cut was a desperate attempt to catch the leaders, but it wasn't. You had no intention of catching the leaders at all, or even winning the race. You spent four hours searching the maze, working out its secrets so you could use them in future years.'

'Four and a half hours, thank you very much,' Syracuse said. 'And then Alessandro Romba wiped me out in New York later that season and I never got to use that knowledge. Tough break. But I thought your use of the short cut in today's race - following that Xavier fellow in - was just as clever. I hope you were taking notes as you went through. Because that knowledge will be with you whenever that short cut is used from now on - well, at least until the School reconfigures it.'

Jason beamed at Syracuse's praise, and glanced over at his father, recalling his words from two days earlier: 'When you start learning as hard as you can, I guarantee he'll start treating you differently.'

Henry Chaser knew how much it meant. He just smiled knowingly.

Beside Henry, however, Martha Chaser had become lost in her thoughts again.

At length, Scott Syracuse stood up from the table. 'Thank you all for a lovely dinner, but I fear I have to go.'

'Hey, thanks for coming,' Jason said.

'Don't stay out too late, Mr Chaser. Just because you qualified for the big tournament on Sat.u.r.day doesn't get you out of cla.s.ses tomorrow. Lessons will take place as usual.'

'Aw! Don't you ever take a break?' Jason asked. 'See you in the morning, Mr Chaser. Good night, everyone.'

CHAPTER TWO.

THE INTERNATIONAL RACE SCHOOL.

HOBART, TASMANIA.

FRIDAY, 31 MAY.

The next day was like an episode of that old TV show, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous - albeit an episode that Jason watched in bits and pieces from the window of a cla.s.sroom overlooking the Derwent River.

Jason knew that the Race School's annual Sponsors' Event was renowned for its carnival atmosphere, but he hadn't been prepared for the sheer opulence of that atmosphere.

The whole of the river had been decorated with flags and banners. Hover boats happily tooted their horns, welcoming the flotilla of yachts and hover vessels that descended upon Hobart.

Around lunchtime, gigantic hover yachts began to arrive at the Royal Hobart Yacht Club. They variously belonged to famous movie stars, visiting politicians and of course, the heads of the major hover car manufacturers and race teams. One wholly chartered hover-liner pulled into the main dock and unloaded a bevy of glamorously dressed women and powerfully dressed men, the elite of Europe and East-Coast America.

Last and most celebrated of all, came the professional racers who had once been students at the Race School.

La Bomba Romba, from Italy.

Fabian, from France.

And Angus Carver, the fighter pilot, and member of the elite US Air Force Racing Team.

It was celebrity heaven. The local media just loved it.

Jason, however, didn't really get it.

As far as he was concerned the Sponsors' Event was about winning a knockout tournament. But for all of these people, it seemed to be just as much about attending the School's black-tie Gala Ball that evening and the Victory Dinner on the Sat.u.r.day evening after the tournament, doing deals and being seen at every marquee in between. Apparently, the Sponsors' Event was one of the big events on the global 'society calendar'.

Jason didn't even know what a society calendar was.

And then, around mid-afternoon - to the media's absolute delight - the largest private yacht of all arrived, bearing royal insignia on its bow.

The crest of the Royal Family of Monesi.

Prince Xavier's father, King Francis of Monesi, had come to watch his eldest son compete in the tournament.

And while all this was happening, Jason, the Bug and Sally went to cla.s.s: Jason and the Bug - watched by Scott Syracuse - did simulator sessions on virtual tracks that featured demag strips.

At the same time, Sally was busy erecting two closed-circuit cameras in their pit bay - pit practice was next and Syracuse, feeling that the Argonaut's pit stops had been somewhat erratic over the course of the season, wanted Sally to see for herself exactly what she did before, during and after each stop.

Curiously, both Horatio Wong and Isaiah Was.h.i.+ngton were once again too unwell to attend cla.s.ses.

Jason suspected they were faking it in an effort to get some relaxation time before the big day. Both Wong and Was.h.i.+ngton had qualified for the tournament, and strangely when they had been ill in the past, they had raced just fine the following day.

For his part, Syracuse barely raised an eyebrow when he got the call from the School nurse about their illnesses. He just went on with his cla.s.ses.

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