Page 48 of Dirty Air
“Well, of course. We are a German company. Most of our engineers and mechanics are German. I’m sure that would make communication easier.”
Fritz stuffs a piece of egg into his mouth as he nods. The thought that he would be able to tell his mechanics exactly what his car feels like, exactly what he knows is wrong. It could be the difference between earning points or not.
In a Mercenary, it could mean the difference between the top step and the bottom.
“Our sponsors want ads in German, so they’d fall all overthemselves to back you. A young, attractive, German driver? They’d be stupid not to.”
Sven thinks Fritz isattractive. Champagne isn’t strong enough for this conversation.
“Plus, you’d be able to move closer to home. Your sister, she just got married?”
Fritz startles. “How did you know that?” It was a private wedding. He hadn’t posted about it or mentioned it to anyone.
“I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time, Friedrich.Fritz, excuse me.” Sven patiently cuts into his steak. Blood runs from it. “You’ll beUncle Fritzsoon enough. Any nieces or nephews that come along, you’ll want to be a part of their life one day. That’s easier to do when you live closer to home.”
And Fritz can’t say Sven isn’t right, because he is. It does make sense for him to be a part of the German team—especially since they just so happen to also be at the top of the field.
There’s only one thing missing.
“Would you consider additional personnel?” Fritz asks. “There is a team member I would like to continue working with.”
“Your trainer is yours, not Red Boar’s.”
Fritz is all too aware that he's stuck with Dieter. “Not my trainer, my race engineer.”
Sven takes a bite of his steak, chewing thoroughly. “Tell me about him.”
“Before VFIBR, he worked for Ferraro.”
Sven’s eyebrows raise, and Fritz is further grateful for Henry’s book.
“He does not know a lot of German, but he is the reason I won yesterday. I could not have done it without him.”
Sven seems genuinely surprised. “The man who almost knocked you out in the pitlane?”
“Yes.” Fritz smiles with pride. “That is the one.”
“I see.”
Fritz tries not to fidget while Sven takes his time, chewing and mulling it over before answering.
When Sven looks up again, he sighs. “I’m sorry, but our race engineers have both been with the company for over ten years. They know the car better than anyone—better than our drivers. I’m not sure it would make logistical sense at this time.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Fritz is so stupid. Of course Mercenary already has elite race engineers—that’s why they are where they are. Still, now that Fritz has had a taste, would he want to drive without Henry?
Would Henry evenwantto follow Fritz to another team? After he had put so much effort into learning about the VFIBR? Into moving back to England?
Sven motions for the waitress to bring the check, and she does so in record time. “Sorry to leave you like this, but I’m happy we were able to run into each other before my flight.”
“Me too.” If anything, Fritz has a lot to think about.
Sven pays for both of their meals. “Think about what I said, okay? We can set up a formal meeting with your father later.Auf Wiedersehen.”
Sven pats Fritz on the shoulder again and disappears through the restaurant. He’s a stand-out guy and heads spin as he passes tables.
Fritz turns back to his meal and pokes at his food. He’s not very hungry anymore, for some reason.
Living in Germany, working for Mercenary—it’s a dream, really. But what does that dream look like without Henry? What would it mean to be on opposing teams, fighting against each other?
