Crash Course by Derek Fee (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📕

and clean. I can fix it but it’ll only be a temporary job though with a bit of luck it should hold until the end of the race.”

“Who checked the fuel lines in the final inspection?” Kane asked.

“Reg did the engine checks and Bill checked the fuel lines,” Doc answered.

“As soon as we dock, I want to speak with Bill,” Kane said. “Where is he?”

“He sloped off as the race began,” Doc said. “We haven’t seen him since.”

Reg worked quickly and deftly pulling in the small amount of slack in the fuel lines. He cut the line and made small incisions around the periphery before inserting the other end of the cut tube into the openings. As soon as the two ends of the tubes were sufficiently tight, he bound them with tape.

“For God’s sake, Reg, hurry.” Kane couldn’t keep the anxiety out of his voice.

“We’ve had it in this race, Mark,” Morweena said.

“I thought it was you who told me that offshore racing was two hours of attrition. We need to stay in there and give this race everything we’ve got.” The other boats were disappearing into the distance ahead of them. “Reg, you finished back there yet?”

“Keep your hair on, skipper.” Reg spliced the final piece of tubing. “The bottom of the engine housing is swimming in fuel.” He pulled a hand pump off the side of the housing and pumped the fuel over the side.

“You’ll never get it all out, Reg.” David’s voice had a resigned calm. “As soon as you’ve drained the bottom as best you can, you’ve got to get going again.”

“What about the trim?” Reg asked, continuing to work the pump.

“Forget about the bloody trim,” he shouted. “What about a loose spark down there? To all intents and purposes, we’ll be travelling in a time bomb. One spark into even a small pool and we can kiss our arses goodbye.”

“I did my best,” Reg said, fixing the pump to the side of the engine housing before slamming down the canopy and joining Doc by jumping into the waiting speedboat.

Kane immediately tried the ignition and after a few turns, the engines took. “What the hell are we waiting for?” he shouted at Morweena.

Morweena pushed the throttle and the boat powered away, a full lap behind the leading boats.

The helicopter carrying David and Tom whirled away skywards above their heads.

“How does it look from up on top?” Kane asked.

“Pretty hopeless, I’m afraid.” David’s voice was flat and listless. Even ten minutes lost in a two-hour race could prove fatal. “The lead boats are a lap ahead.”

“There’s plenty of time to catch the bastards,” Kane said.

“That’s the spirit, Mark,” Tom’s voice came over the radio. “The only thing I’ve learned in forty years of business is that it’s never over until it’s over. Hang in there, boy.”

As the leaders turned the buoy south-west of Saint-Honorat to start the next lap, Kernow was ploughing through the waves behind them. The throttle was fully open and they flew across the surface of the water only touching to obtain another impetus as the propellers bit into the sea. All Kane’s concentration was now on closing the distance between them and the last boat which he couldn’t even see in the distance. He was sure that Barrett was responsible for sabotaging their boat but the actual saboteur would be found nearer to home. He would settle with both Barrett and Bill Thompson when the race was over. “Tardelli’s out,” David’s voice crackled over the radio. “There’s smoke pouring out of the engine housing.”

“How far behind are we?” Kane asked, peering through the spray-soaked Plexiglas canopy. “We can’t see a bloody thing.”

David swung his binoculars around and looked back at the hull of the Kernow speeding through the water. “You’re made up some ground. You’ll soon be among the laggards but the lead boats are still well ahead.”

“Is that bloody throttle fully open?” Kane asked sharply.

“Yes, the bloody throttle is as open as I can keep it without blowing the engines completely,” Morweena said. The engines whined as she was late in throttling back as they leapt out of the water. “Get my point.”

Kane could see the buoy directly ahead and beside it the crimson hull of Tardelli’s stricken boat bobbing in the water. White wisps of smoke were still pouring from the open engine canopy and a motor launch was preparing to take the boat under tow. Tardelli’s luck was out on the Riviera. “It’s never over until it’s over,” Kane said softly, bracing himself as they reared out of the water and came crashing down on the waves. Perhaps Morweena was right and they were pushing too hard. Only time would tell. She throttled back slightly and Kane eased the boat around the turn tilting into the buoy as they cornered. The boat powered out of the turn and raced off in pursuit of the leaders.

“Skata!” Karakatis smashed his hand into the steering wheel. He couldn’t believe the news from his team manager. Penhalion’s boat was back in the race. They couldn’t have fixed the boat that quickly. Thompson had screwed the whole damn thing up. The birdbrain hadn’t even been capable of the not so difficult task of scuppering Penhalion’s boat. He should never have trusted the mechanic. If you wanted something done properly, you had better do it yourself. He would make sure that Thompson paid dearly for his mistake. It wasn’t just a question of recouping the money. There was the question of exacting suitable punishment for the failure to put Kane out of action.

“Give me maximum throttle.” Barrett looked at Milan.

“Ja, Mein Kapitan,” Milan said opening the throttle fully.

The Metro launched into the air after hitting the top of a wave. Barrett watched helplessly as the nose of the boat rose skywards before hanging suspended for a second and then crashing seawards. A bolt of fear shot through his stomach. That was too bloody close, he thought.

“Watch what you’re doing, you crazy fucking bastard,” Barrett shouted.

“Only