The tunnel that led out from the Small Cave bent in a wide, wide curve to the right - testing each driver's G-force-resistance like Liberty's Elbow did - before it opened onto the second of the Twin Caves.

This was the Big Cave.

And it made the Small Cave look puny.

It was the largest natural underground s.p.a.ce in the world, discovered only a few years previously, and it was utterly breathtaking. Towering waterfalls and rocky pinnacles as high as skysc.r.a.pers lined the superlong cavern.

Magnificent naturally formed aqueducts connected some of the pinnacles, and the water running down them spilled off their ends, spraying into the air before dropping away into darkness.

A gently-sloping bridge of rock ran all the way down the length of the mighty cave, stabbed here and there by thin vertical waterfalls that over many years had cut clean through its edges, and it was along this that the racers sped, winding between the thin but powerful jet-streams of water.

Romba, then Fabian, then Jason.

To the roars of the crowds in the hoverstands, the three remaining racers blasted down the rockway and disappeared into the final section of the Endless Tunnel - a section that ended at Niagara.

Niagara Falls.

The sight, glorious. The sound, deafening. The crowds flanking the world's most famous outdoor falls: ma.s.sing and roiling and bursting with antic.i.p.ation.

All eyes were glued to the tiny pipe-like tunnel that poked out from the base of the main falls, waiting to see which racer would emerge first.

Alessandro Romba did.

And the crowds went nuts.

Fabian blasted out next, followed last of all by Jason. The three cars banked quickly, sweeping up the hill on the US side of the Falls, before they all stopped at the landward end of a long thin rail-less footbridge that extended out over the flowing river, at the very precipice of the Falls.

Jason leapt out of the Argonaut and, chasing Romba and Fabian on foot, he dashed out across the long narrow bridge.

Sitting on a platform at the end of the footbridge were four podiums and on each podium sat each racer's trophy.

Romba's trophy was the Italian flag. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it and turned and began the run back to his car...and the return journey home.

Fabian's trophy was typical Fabian: it was a poster of himself standing with the Ma.r.s.eilles Falcon. He grabbed it and dashed back to his car, pushing roughly past Jason as they ran past each other on the narrow bridge.

Last of all, Jason came to his podium.

And he beheld his trophy, crafted by his mother.

It shone in the sunlight like a treasure, haloed by the rainbow created by the spray of the Falls.

A small piece of soft wool.

Painted all in gold.

A golden fleece.

Like his cla.s.sical namesake, Jason grabbed the fleece, turned, and then ran as fast as he could back to his chariot, and thus began the most thrilling hour of racing he had ever experienced in his short life.

CHAPTER TEN.

RACE 4: THE QUEST.

SECTION: THE ENDLESS TUNNEL (INBOUND).

Jason jumped into the driver's seat of the Argonaut and hit the gas.

The little Ferrari roared off the mark, swinging in a wide circle in the turnaround at the top of Niagara Falls, before descending down the roadway to the base of the Falls, where it swung out over the river and shot like a bullet back into the Endless Tunnel.

Into the dark again.

Heading for home.

Roaring, charging, chasing, racing.

Jason hammered the Argonaut through the branch-like pa.s.sageways of the Endless Tunnel, ducking left, veering right, now engaged with Romba and Fabian in a headlong race for home.

He saw Fabian's tail-lights glowing red not far ahead of him - and suddenly, there came a voice in Jason's helmet earpiece, a French-accented voice that shouldn't have been there. ' You cannot win, boy.'

It was Fabian.

He must have discovered Jason's radio frequency and now, in the crunch-zone of the race, decided to put in a taunting call. This was very improper, but not technically illegal.

' Why keep trying?' Fabian said. 'You've done so well for a child. Why not leave the rest of this race to the men?'

Jason eyed the Frenchman's tail-lights.

'I'm coming after you, Fabian...' he said firmly.

And he was.

He was gaining steadily on Fabian as they shot through the dark rocky tunnels, so much so that when they hit the Big Cave, the Argonaut sprang alongside the Ma.r.s.eilles Falcon on its right-hand side.

Fabian saw Jason and frowned - 'Peek-a-boo,' Jason said.

In reply Fabian rammed him.

But Jason swung wide, softening the blow.

This only seemed to enrage Fabian even more and as they shot up the long ramp of the Big Cave, Fabian slammed the Ma.r.s.eilles Falcon into the Argonaut again.

Jason, however, was up to the challenge, and he held his line as the two cars swooped up the bridge side-by-side and shot into the long sweeping (now) leftward curving tunnel that connected the Big Cave to the Small Cave.

Banking with the turn.

Flying hard.

Flying fast.

Fabian on the inside, Jason on the outside, their cars positively galloping, tearing the very fabric of the air with their speed.

And then, in a fleeting moment, Jason saw Fabian's eyes in his helmet - saw them glaring over at Jason with pure derision and hatred.

'I'm gonna get you, you little punk!'

'Not today,' Jason said.

'And why exactly not?'

'Because I've remembered something you haven't,' Jason said.

And as he said it, they rounded the final segment of the curve together, perfectly side-by-side - Fabian on the left, Jason on the right - and the thing that Jason had remembered suddenly came upon them.

The wreckage of Etienne Trouveau's car.

It was still crumpled up against the entrance to this tunnel - now the exit - blocking the entire left-hand side of the track.

Fabian's side of the track.

Fabian saw it too late - and his eyes boggled at the sight - and at the realisation that Jason had got the better of him; had deliberately got him to travel on this side of the track, heading straight for his team-mate's wreck.

Fabian screamed.

Then he covered his head as the Ma.r.s.eilles Falcon exploded clean through the remains of the Vizir, sending pieces of the two Renaults showering out in a huge starshaped spray - while at the same time, the Argonaut shot past the double wreck in total safety.

The central core of Fabian's car actually survived the trip through the Vizir - although unfortunately for Fabian, its wings, nosewing and tailfin hadn't.

The battered remains of his car shot off the nearest edge of the S-shaped bridge in the Small Cave and sailed down into blackness...

...where, perhaps undeservedly, it would be caught in a safety Dead Zone, its race run.

Needless to say, the crash's effect on the race, on the entire Masters Series, was electrifying.

Fabian had just DNF'd - meaning he would get no points at all for this race. His Masters Series was over.

Now the Masters would be fought out by the last two racers on the track: Alessandro Romba and Jason Chaser.

With the two Renaults out of his hair for good and flying on outrageous amounts of adrenaline, Jason now eyed the tail-lights of Alessandro Romba.

La Bomba Romba.

The No.1-ranked driver in the world, the man seeking to become the first racer ever to claim the Grand Slam, the man who this whole year had never been cleanly pa.s.sed.

Until today, Jason thought.

A two-horse race.

Romba fleeing.

Jason chasing.

Chasing him as hard as he could.

Down the length of the Small Cave, then into the labyrinthine pa.s.sages of the Tunnel.

Romba drove hard.

Jason drove perfectly.

And over the course of twenty minutes, he gained on the World No.1, moving within a car-length of him before - - sunlight a.s.saulted them both as they blasted together out of the Tunnel.

Onto the Interstate now, sweeping left and right between the trees and hills - with Jason hammering on Romba's tail, giving the World's No.1 absolute h.e.l.l. Then Jason made his move, tried to get past Romba on the inside left.

Romba blocked the move - legally, fluidly.

Jason tried again, this time on the right.

And Romba blocked him again.

Jason persisted, left, then right, searching doggedly for a gap, showing the World's No.1 no respect.

Then again Jason went left - and Romba went that way too - but this time it was a perfectly disguised fake and Jason suddenly cut right...

...and zipped past Alessandro Romba as Romba overbalanced to the left!

The crowds lining the highway gasped.

Then they roared with joy, delighted at Jason's skill. It wasn't a crash or luck or some foul move that had got Jason past Romba.

It had just been d.a.m.n good driving.

And suddenly, with only ten minutes left in the New York Masters, Jason found himself in the lead.