As if the Italian crowds needed anything more to cheer about, they positively exploded when they saw the Argonaut II abruptly veer left and shoot towards the yawning Tunnel of Taranto, the wide concrete entry to the short cut.

The Argonaut II - last and alone and absolutely delighting the ma.s.ses - blasted into the tunnel.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A misty concrete-walled labyrinth, illuminated only by the Argonaut II's floodlights.

Jason slowed, surveying the tunnel system. The first junction he came to contained six forks.

Syracuse's voice said calmly: 'First junction, take the ten o'clock fork.'

Jason did it, banking left, heading down into the Earth.

The next junction also had six forks. And the next and the next.

But Syracuse's directions were precise. 'Take the two o'clock fork - Straight ahead - ninety degree right-hand turn - '

Down they went, deeper into the tunnel system, before suddenly the tunnel-junctions became even more complex: now they contained eight forks - with two extra tunnels now shooting vertically upwards and downwards from the centre of each new fork.

' Vertically down,' Syracuse said when they came to the first eight-p.r.o.nged junction.

'Down?' Jason queried. 'We're gonna hit the Earth's core soon.'

'Yes. Down,' Syracuse said firmly.

But then he directed them sideways once again and after a few more junctions their tunnels started to take an upwardly-sloping trajectory.

'Now take the ten o'clock fork at the next junction,' Syracuse said, 'And get ready...'

'Get ready?' Jason asked. 'For what - '

He took the next fork as directed and - bam - his eyes were a.s.saulted by blinding sunlight and the sight of the glittering Adriatic Sea, the blue cloudless sky, the seaside mansions of the city of Bari, and the rugged eastern coast of Italy stretching away from him to the north.

As the Argonaut II exploded out from the cliff-side exit tunnel to the short cut, pandemonium broke out amongst the spectators gathered on the headland all around it. Their collective roar of joy could be heard twenty kilometres away.

The Bug squealed with delight.

Jason swallowed in disbelief.

They'd made it!

They'd come out the other side of the short cut!

But before Jason could revel too much in his achievement - shoom!-shoom!-shoom! - he was overshot by three hover cars. The cars of: Alessandro Romba.

Fabian.

And Angus Carver of the USAF Racing Team.

The fourth car to bank around him was Xavier Xonora's Lockheed, and in a fleeting instant, Jason glimpsed the Black Prince's sideways-turned face and his look of pure shock. Xavier obviously hadn't expected to see Jason again in this race.

Even more satisfying was the car Jason saw in his side mirrors - the purple-and-gold Renault of Etienne Trouveau, the nasty French racer who had almost put Jason out of the race. The Argonaut II had come out of the short cut ahead of Trouveau!

It took Jason a second to absorb it all.

He and the Bug had just made up three whole minutes on the rest of the field, and in doing so had gone from last to 5th.

'Thanks Mr Syracuse!' he said into his radio. 'You just got us back in this race!'

As Sally's team trailer entered the outskirts of Pescara, every single giant-screen television in the town was showing replays of the Argonaut II blasting out from the short cut.

Every commentator on every TV and radio station was astonished at the Argonaut's recovery. Last to 5th in one fell swoop. Fifth! They couldn't believe it. And with the second series of pit stops due in Pescara in about ten minutes, the race was now officially on.

But with that news, as if on cue, the second black Ford that had been trailing Sally's trailer across the country suddenly accelerated, pulling ahead of the Lombardi trailer.

And as the two vehicles zoomed underneath a freeway overpa.s.s the black Ford suddenly jack-knifed sideways, inexplicably cutting across the front of the Team Lombardi trailer, smashing into its front b.u.mper, forcing it off the road and directly into a concrete pylon supporting the overpa.s.s.

With a terrible crunching sound, the Lombardi trailer smashed into the pylon, and crumpled like a giant concertina - while the black Ford simply drove off, darting off into the distance, disappearing.

Everyone inside the trailer was thrown forward by the impact - the driver, Sally, Syracuse - but luckily they were all wearing seatbelts and the trailer was equipped with compressed-air safety blasters that acted like the airbags of old.

The exterior of the trailer, however, was completely ruined.

And as Sally unbuckled herself from her seat, she realised the situation: she was only two minutes' drive away from the pits. But on foot, that would take...

...about ten minutes.

Syracuse knew the score as well.

'Grab a handcart and load it up with mags,' he said. 'And start running.'

Ten minutes later, the leaders entered the Pescara pits. The hover cars roared into the pits in single file before branching off into their allotted pit bays.

Their pit crews were waiting.

Alessandro Romba led the way, followed by Fabian. Then the USAF pilot, Carver, Xavier Xonora and...Jason Chaser.

The Argonaut II swung into its pit bay...

...to find no-one there.

'Sally!' Jason yelled into his radio. 'Where are you!'

A second later, Jason saw Trouveau slide into his pit bay across the way. Trouveau glared at Jason as his pit machine went to work on his car. But when Trouveau realised that Jason had no pit crew around him, his fierce glare became a nasty smile.

At that moment, Pablo Riviera's Ferrari shoomed into the adjoining Lombardi pit bay and his crew went to work. If they could have, they would have helped Jason, but they were Riviera's crew, so they had to service his car first.

'Where the h.e.l.l is Sally!' Jason yelled. Every second he lost here felt like an hour - 'I'm coming!' Sally yelled, appearing from a nearby doorway at a run, pushing a hover handcart stacked with magneto drives and some coolant bottles. Her face and hair were drenched with sweat - she'd been running for some time. Behind her, also pushing a hover handcart, was Scott Syracuse.

Shoom. Romba shot out of the pits.

Sally and Syracuse came alongside the Argonaut II. Sally immediately started unloading magneto drives from her handcart, while Syracuse simply hit a b.u.t.ton on his cart - causing the entire cart to mechanically unfold and rise, transforming itself into: a portable Tarantula pit machine. Sally clipped new mags to the Tarantula's waiting arms, while its other arms started demagging the Argonaut II.

Shoom. Fabian shot out of the pits.

To save time, Sally poured coolant fluid into the Argonaut II's tanks by hand. Emptied one bottle. Chucked it. Emptied another into the Argonaut II. Chucked that one, too.

'Come on!' Jason urged.

G.o.d, he thought, after all we've been through in this race, how can this be happening!

Shoom. Shoom. Shoom.

Carver, Xavier and Trouveau all left the pits.

The Tarantula rose up and spread its arms wide - finished.

'Sally...!'

'Just...one...more...second...' Sally grimaced as she jammed some fresh compressed air cylinders into the Argonaut II's rear-thruster nozzles.

Shoom. Riviera exited the pits.

Then Sally yanked her hands clear.

'Clear!' she yelled. 'Go! Go! Go!'

Jason punched it and the Argonaut II roared out of the pits - in 7th place - and entered the final stages of the Italian Run.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The stage was set for a killer finish.

The setting was spectacular: where the seas on the other side of Italy were dark and rough, here the Adriatic shone like a flat turquoise jewel.

And the finishing stages of the Italian Run were notoriously difficult: this would be no full-speed dash to the Finish Line. After they raced up the coast, the racers would face two fiendishly curved sections of track: the tight and twisting - and identical - Grand Ca.n.a.ls of Venice and Venice II. The second of these two sections was so intense it had a name: the Venice II Gauntlet.

The field thundered up the coast, bending and banking, swooping left and right to take the archways, kicking up spectacular geyser trails behind them.

Romba was out in front, tussling with Fabian for the lead.

Then there was a gap to the next bunch of racers: Carver, Xavier, Trouveau and Riviera - with Jason hard on their heels. Behind him, there was another cl.u.s.ter, led by Kamikaze Ideki in his Yamaha.

Venice came into view. Not Venice II, but the original waterborne city.

The racers shot up and around the fish-shaped island before swinging back south - and rocketing into the Grand Ca.n.a.l from the north. The Grand Ca.n.a.l takes the shape of a wide, swooping reversed 'S' and is flanked on either side by high and historic buildings.

Into the city they went, low and fast, spraying geyser trails as they shot underneath the first of the three bridges that span the Grand Ca.n.a.l, the Ponte dei Scalzi.

Indeed, it was a geyser trail that allowed Jason to get up into 6th place - Etienne Trouveau had seen Pablo Riviera trying to overtake him, so Trouveau had lowered the Vizir slightly at the Ponte dei Scalzi and cut across Rivera's path, causing his geyser trail to spray all over Riviera's c.o.c.kpit.

Blinded by the sudden spray, Riviera had flailed away to the left, out of control, under the bridge, and rocketed like a missile straight at an 18th century church - where his Ferrari lurched to a sudden, springing halt, caught in the hover car equivalent of a gravel trap: a magnetic 'Dead Zone'. Naturally, all of Venice's buildings were protected by these negatively-charged dead zones - so that no piece of history could be destroyed by a crashing hover car.

And suddenly Jason - skimming along behind the two racers - was in 6th place and right on the hammer of Etienne Trouveau.

Both cars banked hard, almost at 90 degrees, as they navigated the swinging bends of the Grand Ca.n.a.l. Under the Rialto Bridge with its enclosed shops, then through the wooden Accademia Bridge - Jason flying within inches of Trouveau's tailfin.

And then they were back out over the open sea, flanked by pleasure liners and hover grandstands, shooting round toward the final sector of the race: Venice II and its Grand Ca.n.a.l.

The Argonaut II shot low over the Adriatic, the Renault of Etienne Trouveau right in front of it.

Venice II loomed on the horizon, its high replica of the great Bell Tower of St Mark's Square standing tall in the afternoon light.

'This is where we make our move,' Jason told the Bug.

Once again, they shot north, preparing for the swinging reverse turn into the Grand Ca.n.a.l.

Jason saw the yawning entrance to the Grand Ca.n.a.l off to his right: flanked by apartment buildings that looked just like those of Old Venice, only these were brand new.

Trouveau hit the Grand Ca.n.a.l on the fly.

Jason charged in after him.

Blurred city buildings rushed by him on either side.