I finished up at Brands at around four and drove up to Northamptonshire to meet with Nick Ronson. He’d left me a number of less-than-complimentary messages after I’d missed our meeting in Belgium. I arrived at the pub just before seven. As I climbed from my car, Ronson got out of his. He wasn’t alone. Russell Townsend of Townsend Motorsport got out with him. His presence added a new dimension to Ronson’s interest in Jason’s death. It seemed Ronson had management approval. I crossed the pub car park.
‘You didn’t mention you were bringing anyone else, Nick.’
‘I didn’t know I had to. Get in.’
‘I thought we were going in the pub.’
‘Too noisy. Too crowded,’ Townsend said. ‘We should go somewhere private.’
‘I’ll follow you.’
‘Just get in, Aidy, and stop pissing around,’ Townsend said. ‘You’ve already stood us up once.’
I cast a look back at my car.
‘It’ll be OK,’ Ronson said.
I guessed changing the meeting location and separating me from my car was an attempt to unsettle me. Unfortunately for them, it didn’t work. After Andrew Gates and HM Customs, it took a lot more to spook me these days.
I got into the back of the car and Ronson started driving.
Townsend turned around in his seat to face me. ‘Are you going to play ball, Aidy?’
‘Play ball?’
‘Rags is a cheat. You know it and I know it. It needs to be brought out into the open.’
Even if there were suspicions surrounding Rags, Townsend’s quest for truth and justice rang slightly hollow. The sound of sour grapes was thick in his voice. It was understandable. He’d lost his factory backing and all the cash and support that came with it.
‘I’m here to find out why one of your guys was killed. And before you start pointing fingers, let’s just remember where I found Jason. His dying next to Ragged Racing’s transporter doesn’t look good for you.’
‘Or Rags. The last thing he’d want was someone exposing his secrets.’
I still struggled with the idea that Rags or anyone connected to Ragged Racing would kill someone over a racing indiscretion. The punishment for being exposed paled against the one for murder. The risk didn’t match the reward.
‘Did you send Jason to scope out the transporter?’
‘No. He was working without my knowledge. He knew how I felt about Rags and what I suspected, but I didn’t send him.’
‘But you’re involved now,’ I said.
Townsend shot me a disgusted look. ‘Only since Rags gave Nick a going over. That should tell you about the kind of man you’re working for and what he’s capable of.’
I let that one bounce off me. ‘If you didn’t send Jason, then why was he trying to find dirt on Rags?’
‘Jason didn’t like cheaters,’ Ronson said. ‘He believed in doing things the right way without exception.’
‘He was a dying breed – an idealist,’ Townsend added.
I didn’t bother pointing out Townsend’s unfortunate wording. I wondered if Jason’s sense of right and wrong had anything to do with growing up around his brother.
‘What do you think he was doing that night?’ I asked.
‘I think he wanted to look at one of the cars. If he found something bent, then he had Rags.’
‘Or he was meeting someone from Ragged,’ Ronson added. ‘He knew most of the crew.’
It would explain how Jason had gotten a set of Ragged’s keys. If he was such a straight arrow, he wouldn’t break the law to find justice. He’d ask someone to help him open the transporter. I thought of the sound of feet running away when I’d been calling for help. They could have belonged to Jason’s helper. Maybe Jason had asked someone to turn a blind eye for a few minutes and disappear while he searched the transporter, and when he came back, he found me crouched over Jason’s body and ran.
‘Like who?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know. Like I said, he knew most of the crew.’
I wondered who Jason would turn to for help. Someone he was close to at Ragged? Or would he go straight to the top and confront Rags? I knew so little about Jason that I didn’t know how he would act. His brother would though.
We arrived at our destination – the Townsend Motorsport workshop located within arm’s reach of Silverstone circuit. Instead of a faceless unit on an industrial park, a farmhouse and a barn was home to the team.
Ronson parked in front of the farmhouse and we walked through the house into the barn. The agricultural motif ended with the exterior. Inside, the farmhouse had been converted into a modern office space and the barn was a well-equipped and organized workshop, just as you’d expect with a professional motor-racing outfit. The mismatch gave Townsend’s operation charm. I bet it had won over a lot of sponsors in its time.
‘Impressed?’ Townsend asked.
I nodded.
‘You should be. I’m the best in this business and so are my cars. That’s how I know Rags is cheating.’
I looked from Townsend to Ronson and back. ‘You keep saying Rags is cheating, but you haven’t said how.’
Townsend slapped a roll of paper towels off a workbench next to him, sending it flying. ‘I don’t know how, but he has to be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s wiping the floor with us,’ Townsend barked.
Sour grapes really were at the heart of this and I resisted the urge to point out that just because you’re losing doesn’t mean the other bloke is cheating. Half of winning was confidence and Rags was eating away at Townsend’s confidence every time he took to the track. I picked up the roll of paper towels and handed it back to Townsend.
‘I don’t see how Rags is cheating.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ Ronson said.
I sighed. ‘I haven’t been with the team long, but I haven’t seen anything dodgy going on and it’s pretty hard to get away with something major in the ESCC. The engines are sealed and there are only two tyre choices.’
‘Then explain how he’s getting that performance out of his cars.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s in the gear ratios he’s selecting and the suspension setup. It’s the only place where he’s got room to play.’
‘If he’s on the up and up.’
‘Yes, if he’s on the up and up, and you haven’t proven otherwise.’
‘You disappoint me,’ Townsend said. ‘I didn’t take you for a dirty driver. Then again, there is that reckless-driving charge pending against you.’
If Townsend hoped to needle me with that remark, he failed. I was tiring of his anaemic pressuring. ‘What is it you want from me?’
‘Your help in proving Rags is a cheat.’
Here we go again. Why did everyone think I could solve their problems at my own expense? ‘And exactly why would I want to help you do that?’
‘You seem like the kind of driver who wants to win and win clean. Now, I intend to prove Rags is a cheat one way or another, with or without you. If I do it without your help, the tar brush is going to splash you too.’
Townsend’s intimidation play wasn’t going to work. I could see how he thought it would. My twenty-second birthday was a couple of months away and I was still green in this sport. But, life had put me on the fast track for growing up. I’d seen more than my fair share of life already and while I didn’t consider myself the sharpest of the sharp, I wasn’t a child who could be pushed around with idle threats.
‘So far, you haven’t proved anything except your own bitterness.’
‘You little shit.’
Townsend’s hands balled into fists and he lunged for me. Ronson grabbed him and kept him from throwing a punch.
‘See,’ I said, ‘we can both be rude to each other, but it doesn’t solve anything.’
‘You really are an arsehole,’ Ronson said.
‘No, I’m just tired of your petty threats. You’re looking for my help. So, how can I help?’
Townsend stepped back and Ronson released his hold. Townsend’s fists disappeared.
‘I want one of Rags’ cars.’
‘What?’
‘Just for the night. You drop it off and I’ll examine it. We’ll document everything we find and then you return the car. No one need know.’
I was already shaking my head. ‘You’ve got to be joking. Car theft is not what I need at the moment.’
‘It’s not theft if we prove he’s cheating.’
‘It’s theft regardless of what we find.’
Townsend and Ronson shared a look. I’d made a verbal blunder and said we.
‘I’ll protect you.’
‘I’d like to know how.’
Townsend’s lack of a response gave me all the answer I needed when it came to his protection.
An alarm bell went off in the back of my brain. Townsend might be on a quest for truth and justice just the way Jason Gates had supposedly been. But who was to say Townsend was interested in proving Rags was a cheat? Motor racing was a competitive sport with a capital C. When one team fell upon an idea, all the others wanted it and they weren’t backward in coming forward when it came to discovering how. Rags had proved over the last five seasons that his kung fu was the best in Europe and it had cost Townsend his factory backing. My stealing one of Rags’ cars could be some scam to get me to hand over a car so that they could reverse engineer the answer to Rags’ performance or worse, so they could cripple it. I’d have to be mentally deficient to buy into this scheme regardless of the motives.
‘Why turn to me to help you?’
‘Because you were there when Jason died,’ Townsend said.
‘And you stepped in when Rags had me,’ Ronson said.
‘So you’ll help us,’ Townsend said.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I thought you Westlakes had a reputation for honesty.’
I held up a hand and Townsend stopped. ‘What’s in it for me?’
‘The satisfaction that a cheat is exposed and a killer found.’
‘And that you’ll get your Honda factory backing back and a shot at the title for the first time in years?’
‘Hey, that’s not fair.’
‘Nor is the fact that if Ragged Racing gets disqualified, I’ll lose my drive and my reputation.’
‘So you won’t help?’
‘I’m not going to screw myself over to benefit everyone else,’ I said.
‘That’s self-serving of you,’ Ronson said.
‘I guess my family’s reputation has been exaggerated.’
‘Look, Aidy, you’re right,’ Townsend said. ‘You didn’t create this situation. You’re just caught in the middle, so I’ll make you a deal. You help me and I’ll do my best to run a third car.’
‘You’ll do your best?’
‘OK, I’ll talk Honda and Pit Lane into putting you up as our third driver. It’s not your fault they’ve hitched their carts to the wrong ponies, now is it?’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘So you’ll bring me one of Rags’ cars?’
‘No. I’ll help you, but I’m not stealing a car for you.’
‘Then what are you going to do?’
‘You have the specs on the cars – wheelbase dimensions, the layout for the suspension pickups, power curves – yes?’
‘Naturally.’
‘Good. I want them.’
‘Why?’ Ronson asked with a note of suspicion in his voice.
‘Because I will personally check every square inch of Rags’ cars down to the nuts and bolts and if they don’t match specs, then we have our cheater.’