CHAPTER TWO.

The International Race School's Parts and Equipment Department was housed inside a gigantic warehouse behind Pit Lane near the banks of the Derwent River.

It was a colossal structure, so big in fact that the School had built a glorious silver grandstand on top of it, giving a superb view of the main finishing straight.

On a rare spare afternoon, Jason, the Bug and Sally McDuff came to the student entrance, opened it - just as a stocky bull-necked youth with a bristly shaved head emerged from the Department.

Sally watched him go with interest.

'Do you know who that was?' she said.

Jason squinted after the bull-necked youth. 'No. Who?'

'His name is Oliver Koch. He is Xavier Xonora's Mech Chief.'

'Is that so?'

They entered the Parts Department, came to the service desk that separated visitors from the cavernous interior of the warehouse. The gritty odours of grease, rubber and coolant pervaded the air.

They were met by a weasel-faced young man named Wernold Smythe. Smythe lazily wiped his grease-covered hands on a rag. He was about 26, laid back, and creepy.

'Can I help you?' he asked, wedging the rag into one of the low-slung hip pockets on his overalls.

'Yes. I'm Jason Chaser. Team Argonaut. We've been having some problems with equipment coming out of the Department. Mags which aren't fully powered up, thinned coolant.'

'You didn't get faulty mags from here,' Smythe said quickly. 'Doesn't happen.'

'But we did. Our mags were only 10 per cent charged.'

Smythe leaned forward. 'No, you didn't. Every mag that goes out of here is electro-checked on the way out.'

Smythe jerked his chin at Sally McDuff. 'Maybe your Mech Chief screwed up; left 'em too close to a powerdrain source, like a portable pit machine generator or a microwave transmitter.'

Sally growled. 'I'd never leave a magneto drive next to a microwave transmi - '

'It's happened before.' Smythe shrugged. 'As for coolant. We hand it out in the original manufacturer's bottles, with the seals intact. I got some complaints from a couple of other racers - kid from India and that Piper chick. Y'all probably just got a bad batch. In any case, I'll note your complaint.'

Just then, the Bug tugged on Jason's sleeve, whispered something in his ear.

Jason nodded - then he glanced at the greasy rag protruding from Smythe's hip pocket.

He said to Smythe: 'Would you mind if before tomorrow's race my Mech Chief observes you electro-checking our mags before she takes them away from here?'

Smythe's face turned to ice. 'I don't think I like your tone. Are you suggesting something?'

'Like what?'

'Are you suggesting that I'd deliberately allow depleted mags to be given out to certain racers?'

'Let's just say I'm tired of being "unlucky". I just want to ensure that I don't suffer another bout of unluckiness tomorrow.'

Smythe said coldly: 'I answer to my boss, Department Chief Ralph A. Abbott. He answers to Jean-Pierre LeClerq. How about this: you get me a note from Abbott or LeClerq and I'll let your Mech Chief observe tomorrow's electro-check. Until I see that note, why don't you just p.i.s.s off and leave me to do my job.'

His snake-like stare became a fake smile. 'Now, unless there's anything else I can do for you, I have to go.'

Jason and the others left the Equipment Department. As they walked, the Bug whispered in Jason's ear. 'Yeah, I saw it,' Jason said.

'Saw what?' Sally asked. 'What did the little guy say to you in there?'

'It's not what he said, it's what he saw. The Bug saw something in Smythe's pocket,' Jason said. 'When we

came in, Smythe stuffed his rag into his pocket. But he didn't stuff it in far enough. The Bug saw a wad of hundred-dollar bills sticking out from under it. I can't imagine a grease-monkey like Werny Smythe goes to work with that kind of cash on his person.'

'Which means...?' Sally said.

'Which means he got that money recently. Today. And who was in the Department just ahead of us?'

'Oliver Koch...' Sally said.

'That's right. Xavier Xonora's Mech Chief,' Jason said. The Bug whispered something.

'No,' Jason replied. 'I don't think we can turn them in yet. Just seeing some money in his pocket isn't enough

evidence to prove our case. But I think we're gonna have to keep an eye on Smythe and Prince Xavier's team.'

CHAPTER THREE.

The next day, Jason found himself rocketing north along the eastern coastline of Tasmania in the Argonaut, powering through driving rain.

Ducking, weaving, blasting, charging.

He swooped left, banking into a high-speed turn that took him across the mid-section of Tasmania.

There was good news and bad news.

The good news: he was coming 3rd in this race, behind Horatio Wong and Isaiah Washington.

The bad news: there were only three cars in the race.

It was a three-man practice race between Jason and the other two students of Scott Syracuse: Wong and Washington.

It was the day before Race 16 and while most of the other teachers had given their students a rest-and-preparation day before the race, Syracuse had organised for his charges to have a private race of their own on Course 9, a track which circled the lower half of Tasmania.

Despite the atrocious weather, the Argonaut was absolutely flying.

It shoomed out over the Serpentine Dam, bending south toward Wreck Bay.

The only problem was, it was almost a quarter of a lap behind the other two racers - thanks to an unexpected malfunction of the Tarantula during its first pit stop. The big pit machine had simply shut down halfway through the stop, meaning that Jason and the Bug had just had to sit helplessly in their c.o.c.kpit while Sally McDuff frantically rebooted the robot.

The damage was a full quarter lap.

And this was only a 10-lap race.

Being a longer, more open circuit, pit stops were a.s.sumed to be necessary every four laps. Or not.

So at the end of Lap 8, Jason had to make the call.

To pit or not to pit?

To not pit - while the other two cars did - would allow him to catch up and even overshoot them. It was a daring move, and something Wong and Washington certainly wouldn't expect.

It was also not altogether unprecedented: some of the greatest come-from-behind wins on the Pro Circuit had come from drivers who had audaciously skipped their last pit stop.

But the trade-off was lower-powered magneto drives. Could Jason complete the last two laps on ever-diminishing drives? If he drove perfectly - absolutely perfectly - maybe he could.

'Let's do it,' he said to the Bug when he turned onto the home straight and saw both Wong and Washington predictably enter the pits.

So Jason gunned it - and shot past the entry to Pit Lane.

Wong and Washington both snapped round at the sound of the Argonaut booming away up the straight.

Jason drove hard.

He had two laps to complete and every second he made while the other racers were stopped in the pits was a second he had up his sleeve.

Up the coast he went, then banking left, cutting across the island.

The others finished their pit stops, blasted back out onto the course - in hot pursuit.

Jason urged the Argonaut on.

The other two cars closed the gap. But this course wasn't as tight as some of the other tracks and hence wasn't as brutal on magneto drives. Wong and Washington weren't catching up all that quickly.

The Bug told him their magneto drives were down to 15%.

'We can make it,' Jason replied.

The Argonaut hit the western coast, shot down the sh.o.r.eline. Zoomed round the southern tip of the island, then pointed north and once again saw the home straight.

Shoom! It whipped across the Start-Finish Line.

'One lap to go,' Jason said.

'Come on, Jason...' Sally McDuff's voice said in his earpiece.

Wong and Washington's cars blasted across the StartFinish Line, gaining on Jason like a couple of hungry sharks.

The gap was ten seconds and closing.

Cutting left across the island.

Nine seconds.

The Argonaut was becoming very slippery.

Its mags were running at 10%, the Bug reported.

'Jason, conserve your mags! Use your thrusters more!' Sally said over the radio.

'We're okay!' Jason said. 'We've just gotta hold out for half a lap!'

Across the top of the dam.

8%.

He took the left-hander onto the western coast more gently, losing more time.

4%.

Wong and Washington were close behind him now - 2%.

The final stretch was a long 'sweeper' round the southern coastal cliffs of Tasmania and not too tough on mags and Jason managed to stay out in front.

Then he hit the final left-hander and...