Page 94 of Tipping Point

When I step into the Delta Victor pits, the whole pit crew is standing, clumped around the monitor inside the garage, Erik and Jack across the lane at the command centre.

I grab a pair of earphones, tapping into comms, clutching the speakers to my ears as I strain to listen.

“Finn, ease off the corners. We need the tyres to last!” It’s Erik, his voice deep and angry.

It isn’t just me. Finn is being reckless.

A few crew members who recognise me on sight step aside to allow me to huddle around the screen with them. On the monitor, Finn is still locked into a furious battle with Rheese. They’re approaching a very tight corner. Rheese decreases his speed fast, and it’s all Finn can do not to crash into him. He isn’t on the optimal line, and at the last moment, he doesn’t slow down. He drops a gear, and the car shoots out.

There is a collective gasp from the crew, echoed out in the stands. Cutting a tight line, he turns his car to Rheese’s inside corner and Rheese, refusing to let him pass, turns his car to cut Finn off. Finn is fast enough to make the corner, but Rheese clips the rear of his car, sending him into a tight spiral off the track.

Everyone is angry and on their feet, yelling curses over the risk of the maneuver and Rheese’s dangerous tactics.

The car barely comes to a standstill or Finn is flooring it out of the gravel, smoke pouring from the tyres as it slips back onto the road, giving dangerous swerves and shudders.

Something is wrong with the car. Rheese must have damaged it.

“Finn, we’re running diagnostics. We think it’s the suspension,” Erik’s voice barks over the earphones.

The stewards penalise Rheese and he lets Finn pass him shortly after.

Erik is calling the stewards to complain, angry voice insistent that Rheese should face more than a penalty. He wants an inquest.

Someone switches off Jack’s comms, and I can see him shouting swear words that thankfully will not reach the stewards’ ears.

When pushed, Rheese will always push back, and he will always relent at the last second.

It’s so obviously his style, and Finn had been sure to press Rheese way beyond that point.

It was risky, and stupid, and if he gets penalised too, he’ll deserve it.

That’s why Erik is making suck a stink about Rheese, to keep eyes off Finn, but the commentators have already picked up on it and are broadcasting their opinions out over the track for the whole world to hear.

“Brennan pushing forward in an uncharacteristic risky tactic. Highly unusual, even for his earlier style. Incidentally, this is the same track he suffered a severe accident that almost cost a spectator her life fifteen years ago.”

You can’t have a life and be a race car driver. The thought comes, unbidden.

But he had turned them down. He would stop racing.

The contract. He’d turned it down. He’d made up his mind about it. But when? He’s been driving like this since the start of the season. Since they announced his contract wouldn’t be renewed.

You can’t have a life and be a race car driver.

But he didn’t have a life. He’d made sure of it.

Erik is shouting down into the microphone, insisting Finn should pit. The suspension is making the drive dangerous.

Finn ignores him.

You can’t have a life and be a race car driver.

My head is pounding. I watch as Finn shoots precariously between two cars, gaining another spot. Too fast, too dangerous. One of them jars against the rails as he tries to evade Finn. As one, we swivel to look at the in-car footage on a separate monitor, footage from Finn’s car that shows his perspective. We watch him grappling for control, swerving wildly before he gains control of the too fast car.

He’s third.

The pit crew erupts in shouts of relief, and the stands outside are shouting furiously.

My head is spinning. I’m nauseous with fear.

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