Part 24 (2/2)

Dido skipped happily away from the table. Jason just watched her go.

Sally McDuff broke the spell by clapping him on the shoulder. 'Nice work, Romeo. I didn't know you were such a sweet-talker with the ladies. Let's a.n.a.lyse your performance during that conversation: ”Er...uh...yeah” and ”Th...thanks”. Heads up, Champ, I'm sure you'll do better next time. Come on, let's go home and get you to bed. Tomorrow, we rest. Then on Sunday, we race.'

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE LOMBARDI GRAND HOTEL VENICE II, ITALY (SAt.u.r.dAY).

Sat.u.r.day was a 'focus' day for Jason. A time to sit and contemplate and focus on the big race ahead.

With the press camped outside his hotel, Jason stayed in his suite for most of the day, mainly staring out the window at the sea.

The Bug played headset car-racing computer games, his form of relaxation. Sally paced a lot, and read and re-read her pro circuit Pit Bay Rules and Regulations Manual. In the afternoon, Henry and Martha Chaser arrived in

Venice II. They would have come earlier in the week, but Henry had had to work on the farm. Now, they just hung

out nearby - Henry marvelling at the suite ('Gosh, it's so big'), Martha just knitting as usual.

Midway through the day, Jason's racing leathers arrived: a brand-new black flightsuit with yellow piping down the arms and legs and 'LOMBARDI RACING' splashed across the chest. Yellow gloves, black boots and a sleek yellow helmet completed the package. The Bug and Sally received similar outfits.

And then in the early evening, Jason made a fateful decision. Tired of room service, he went down to the hotel's executive dining room for some dinner.

The executive dining room was an exclusive restaurant reserved for those guests staying in the upper floors of the hotel.

As he sat down on his own, Jason saw Dido sitting at another table with two adults, presumably her parents.

'Dido...?' he said.

'Jason!' Dido came over.

'I didn't know you were staying here.'

'Yeah, I am, well, thanks to my parents,' Dido said. 'They're, well, kinda rich. Listen, you look like you want to be alone, to prepare for the race, so I'll just leave you be - '

'No,' Jason blurted. 'It's okay. You don't have to go. I mean, if you...if you wanted and if...if it was okay with your folks...maybe you'd like to eat with me.'

A wonderful smile sprang across Dido's face. 'I'd like that. Let me go and ask.'

Moments later, Jason was seated by a huge bay window overlooking the Grand Ca.n.a.l, dining with the beautiful Dido Emanuele by the light of a lone candle - two teenagers looking like a pair of adults, dining in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the world.

They talked into the evening, and Jason loved every minute of it. Dido was smart, funny, captivating and normal. And better still, she seemed to like him, too! Before he knew it, the restaurant was empty and they were sitting there all alone and it was only when Sally McDuff appeared at his side that he came out of his trance-like state.

'Well, hey there, Superstar,' Sally said. 'We were all wondering where you'd got to. Thought you might have taken an introspective stroll or something. But then it got a bit late for that. It's almost midnight, you know.'

'It's what?' Jason looked at his watch. She was right. It was 11:55. 'Dido, I'm sorry. I have to go. I've got to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.'

'Hey, no problem at all,' Dido said. 'I'm sorry for keeping you this long. I didn't even notice the time. Thank you for dinner.'

Jason nodded. 'No. Thank you. I really enjoyed it.' He left with Sally.

Sally watched him as they walked, bemused. He looked like he was walking on air.

She shook her head. 'You know. That's what I like about you, Jason. You're a quick learner. Yesterday, you were a stammering idiot in front of that girl. Today you're as smooth as Casanova himself. Nice work, kiddo. Nice work. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day.'

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE ITALIAN RUN.

ROME, ITALY (SUNDAY, RACE DAY).

' Racers. This is your three-minute warning. Would all pit personnel please vacate the start area,' intoned a stern male voice over the public address system.

The starting area for the Italian Run was the Colosseum. Every racer started from the same spot, in the exact centre of the 2000-year-old Roman amphitheatre.

The pole sitter took off first, blasting out of the stadium, followed by the second-placed starter who, sitting on a car-sized conveyor belt, would be cranked out onto the starting grid, ready to go exactly twenty seconds later. Then would come the third car, and the fourth, and so on, all drawn out into the arena on the conveyor belt, a new racer starting every twenty seconds until all 28 had commenced the race.

In the dark stone conveyor-belt tunnel, Jason and the Bug stood a short distance away from their F-3000 - now christened the Argonaut II - 12th in line on the belt. Jason's eyes scanned the preparation chamber.

'He's not coming,' he said.

Sally had a headset phone strapped to her head. 'He's not answering his phone either.'

There was no sign of Scott Syracuse. He hadn't arrived in Italy yesterday, nor had he left any messages for Jason and the team. No 'Good luck', no anything.

Having his parents here was one thing, but Jason had hoped Syracuse would come - if only just to give him some professional words of support.

'Racers. This is your one-minute warning. Pole sitter to the starting grid, please.'

'Jason...' Sally pressed him towards the Argonaut II.

But Jason was still scanning the area for Syracuse.

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