ALICE Ch 308

The commentator is chipper Estonian girl with white-framed glasses. “A few clouds in the sky, but overall looking like a lovely day in the Netherlands. There were concerns of rain, but that won’t be a problem for qualifying. Teams will have to consider that with the possibility of rain tomorrow, their experiences in practice and qualifying may not represent reality on the circuit during the Dutch Grand Prix. So far this morning, Lewis Hamilton is looking very strong in the Mercedes and appears to be a probable lock for P1.”

FF1

“The new wings are brilliant. Did Colby have a hand in that?” Lora asks as she sits beside Glynda on the wall.

“She did,” Glynda says, intent on the readout as the cars howl around the track.

“Don’t sound so pleased about it.”

“It’s not a blessing, Lora. If my young, none-too-reliable pit supervisor is a better engineer than my bleedin’ engineers who earn ten times what she does, where does that leave me?”

“Getting a bargain?”

“No, it leaves me with more hard choices to make, and I’ve enough of those, wouldn’t ye say?”

“This is good. If Mio pushes, we can have them both in the points. They might not be able to hold it, but this is the momentum that we need. That both of them need,” Lora adds with a meaningful look at Glynda.

Glynda dutifully makes sure that her mic is switched off, then matches Lora’s glare.

“Mio Mido is a creature of such astounding stupidity that I can hardly imagine anything of less interest to me than her delicate feelings,” Glynda hisses.

A warning flashes on the screen, and both women stiffen at the voices in their ears.

“Oh, dear god,” Lora says. “She’s crashed. Mio? Mio? Are you OK?”

Glynda hurriedly switches channels, wincing at the sudden, deafening burst of words that she assumes are very rude, in Japanese.

Glynda is numb. “How bad is it?”

“I’m finding out,” Lora says, motioning to shush her. “Mio? Mio, can you drive it back? I don’t think she can.”

Glynda puts her face in her hands, pushing up her glasses and rubbing her eyes.

Her screen tells her that Alice just posted a lap that might make her a contender for P3.

“That’s nice,” Glynda says faintly. This would happen when Annette and Vivien Corbin are both attending in person.

A hand touches her shoulder. Frowning, Glynda removes her headset and turns to find several men beside her seat. Some wear official F1 gear, while the others are in suits.

“Good morning, Ms. Darcy.”

“Who the bloody hell are you?” she asks bitterly.

“I’m informing you that there is going to be an investigation of FUTA Racing. I’m afraid that Ms. Wilde is not going to be able to drive in tomorrow's Grand Prix.” There’s a brutal pause. “Or at all,” he adds. “Until this investigation is resolved.” He holds out a sheaf of papers.

Numb, Glynda takes it. Her eyes fall on the list of six names.

The team referred to the former pit crew as the Amazons, but they were actually individuals with names, and Glynda recognizes them.

“These women are no longer associated with FUTA Racing,” she says calmly.

“Yes, but they were during races where FUTA Racing took points. If those are ill-gotten points, we’ll need to reassess certain things.”

“Yes, but why should that affect our races now? These women are not here. Whatever you suspect them of doing, they cannot be doing in the present because they are not here,” Glynda insists.

He looks vaguely pitying. “Ms. Darcy, you will agree that your current pit crew is… unconventional. We need to make sure that everything is the way that it should be.”