And so, in a moment of desperate insanity, he took on the second meat grinder - since it afforded the single

greatest gain on the course. It could turn a 13-second deficit into a 3-second one.

He didn't know - or perhaps he didn't have the skill or the nerve to know - that in order to overcome the meat

grinders of New York, you had to take them at absolutely full speed: 810 km/h.

But entering a tight iron tunnel no bigger than a garage door at close to the speed of sound is a bit harder than it

sounds.

Riviera shot into the meat grinder at a cool 750 km/h. The long dark cylindrical tunnel enveloped him. And then the tunnel around him began to iris shut, its gigantic iron cleaves squeezing inward with a loud mechanical clanking, like a giant industrial python suffocating its prey.

And in a moment of clarity, Riviera realised he wasn't going to make it.

He screamed.

The meat grinder squealed with rust as it closed around him.

Its shrieking walls sheared off the tips of his wings first...then they crushed his side air intakes...and his tailfin...and...

The crumpled remains of Riviera's F-3000 was spat out the other end of the meat grinder, battered and unrecognisable; it tumbled into the river, the only thing that had survived: the driver's reinforced safety c.o.c.kpit.

Riviera was alive - just - and only because of the supersolid construction of his car (and the fact that the meat

grinder didn't squeeze all the way inward). Not in any way because of his own skill.

Now only six drivers remained in the race.

CHAPTER FOUR.

NEW YORK CITY, USA (SAt.u.r.dAY).

RACE 3: THE PURSUIT.

LAP: 110 OF 120.

Two separate battles were now taking place on every lap.

Romba and Carver for the lead.

Jason and the two Renault drivers for 3rd. And trailing behind them, only just managing to keep inside the 15-second rule, the General Motors factory team driver, an older Australian driver named Mark Skaife in car 102.

In fact, the 15-second rule performed an admirable service: it kept all of them bunched close together - within striking distance - so that when the chance came, every driver was in a position to strike.

Then the chance came.

When two things happened at once: First, Angus Carver tried to overtake Alessandro Romba as they roared up the side of Ward's-Randall's Island on Lap 110. Carver tried to sneak inside Romba, but Romba held his line stubbornly and as they hit the left-hander at the top of the island, they collided - badly - and separated, lurching wildly in either direction, both of them hitting the nearby demag lights.

The other thing that happened (at the exact same time) was this: as they shot up the East River behind the two leaders, Fabian and Trouveau, working together, boxed Jason in on the left-hand side of the track, so that when they hit Ward's-Randall's Island, Jason had only two options: crash into Ward's Island, or go left - toward the second meat grinder.

Jason went left. And he accelerated. Gave it everything he had. He'd seen the meat grinders enough on TV over the years and every year the commentators said the same thing: you couldn't beat them at anything less than top speed.

So he hit the gas and rushed round the base of Ward's/Randall's Island and beheld the entry to the second meat grinder.

It looked tiny.

Really tiny.

This would be like firing a bullet into a keyhole. The Argonaut rushed toward the tiny opening. Its speedometer topped 800 km/h...

805 km/h...then 810 km/h before - VOOOOOOM!

The Argonaut blasted into the tight cylindrical tunnel - and immediately the tunnel began to iris inwards. Jason leaned forward in his seat.

The Bug looked up at the rapidly 'collapsing' tunnel all around them.

Then the irising walls were so close, they started sparking against the Argonaut's wingtips and Jason thought his car was almost certainly going to die when - whoosh - they blasted out into dazzling sunshine again and found themselves...

...in the lead.

With only ten laps to go.

The Bug exclaimed something.

Jason smiled. 'I'm telling Mum you swore.'

But the jackals weren't far behind.

Because of their collision, Romba and Carver were cactus, and they were quickly swamped by Trouveau and then Fabian and then Skaife. (Romba and Carver would ultimately duke it out for the still-important 2 points available for the 5th placed racer, fighting right up until they were both eliminated by the 15-second rule - in the end, Romba outlasted Carver.) Meanwhile, up front, it was Jason against the rest - and with ten laps to run, he now had a golden opportunity to win the race!

And from that moment, with adrenaline coursing through his entire body, Jason flew nine of the best laps of his life.

The two Frenchmen couldn't believe that he'd come out the other side of the meat grinder. They charged with a vengeance.

It was Trouveau - needing the points more than Fabian - who charged harder, and when he stormed through the first meat grinder on Lap 115, he was suddenly hammering on Jason's tail.

The last four laps of the race would be four of the toughest Jason had ever experienced.

Trouveau hounded him.

But Jason took every turn perfectly.

Well, almost every turn. On each lap, Trouveau gained on him at Liberty's Elbow. The French driver seemed to know it was Jason's weak point - it was as if he could smell Jason's fear. He knew that Jason took it gingerly, frightened of the G-forces, frightened of knocking himself out.

And as they commenced the last lap of the race - Lap 120 of 120 - Trouveau was travelling almost alongside the Argonaut.

And deep in his heart of hearts, Jason knew what Trouveau was going to do.

Trouveau was going to take him at the Elbow.

Up the East River, following the safe route now. Into the narrower Harlem River, under all the bridges spanning it - before blasting out into the Hudson, down its long wide straight, hitting top speed, before suddenly, she came into view.

Lady Liberty.

Jason saw her and grimaced.

He knew the score - the Bug had done the math after Romba and Carver had been eliminated: an 8-point 2nd-placed finish wouldn't be enough to beat Carver on the overall ladder. To go through to the next race, Jason needed the full 10 points. He needed to win.

Death or glory, he thought.

And as he hit the Elbow, he knew which one he'd choose.

Into the Elbow, banking left, their cars almost vertical, banking hard.

And then Trouveau - as expected - made his move.

But this time, Jason held his line.

And Trouveau was a little shocked.

Halfway round the Elbow - and Jason's vision began to blur at the edges.

7-Gs...

Further round the enormous hairpin...and his vision began to darken.

I can make this... he told himself.

I can make this...

8-Gs...

Blinking. Trying...so hard...

8.5...

...to...stay...conscious...

Trouveau was almost beside him now, but the Frenchman couldn't get past.

9-Gs...

And Jason's face was pressed against his skull, his cheeks sucking backwards, his teeth clenched hard and he realised with a thrill that this time - yes! - he was going to make it...

Then he blacked out.

CHAPTER FIVE.

NEW YORK CITY, USA (SAt.u.r.dAY).

RACE 3: THE PURSUIT.