Driven by Ambition, page 7
“And?”
He cleared his throat. “I assisted Socrates after they caught the saboteur over the break. You must remember that story, Sonia?”
“Yes. Gamble Racing has had a tumultuous few months.”
He swallowed. “Anyway, I helped Socrates with the press releases around that, crafting them to help give sponsors confidence that they’d resolved their security issues.” He glanced at Jaxxon whose lips were pinched together. “And I was at the Gamble Racing car reveal when their trophies were stolen, and I offered to talk to a memorabilia collector friend of mine.”
“With Socrates?” Sonia’s raised eyebrows asked the question that Freddy wanted the answer to as well. Interestingly, she didn’t leap to the conclusion that Gamble Racing still had a security problem. Knowing her, she’d probably tucked that one away quietly in case she could use it for her own team later. He made a mental note to mention it to Jaxxon later, although judging by the twitch in his jaw, he probably already had worked that out.
“No. Socrates wasn’t at the car reveal this season. He is—” Jaxxon closed his eyes for a moment. “Unwell.”
“Gamble Racing has been using that story for a while now. It must be serious.”
Jaxxon lifted up one hand. “It’s not something I can discuss. Shall we get back to the trophies? Is there any evidence that it’s the same person, or people, who took Socrates’ trophies? Or just a coincidence?”
“It could be a copycat crime.” Freddy was far out of his depth. What did he know about something like this? He wanted to hunt down information and try and figure out an answer, for his own satisfaction. Yeah, he needed to stop kidding himself. He wanted to prove to Jaxxon that he wasn’t just some privileged asshole who talked to drivers and looked pretty on television. He wanted Jaxxon to respect him, because then he might kiss him. Fucking stop, Freddy. His crush had gone too far if he was trying to talk himself into being good enough for Jaxxon. Getting involved with someone in the paddock was a terrible idea and he had the history to prove that. Bad idea. Bad.
“What do the trophies have in common, aside from being trophies?” Jaxxon asked another pertinent question. Damn. If he had this amount of chemical attraction to anyone else, he would’ve acted on it already. He really didn’t like this circular angst about a little bit of inconvenient lust.
“Isn’t that enough? Why do we need to understand the motivation of the thief?” Sonia rubbed her temples. The simple gesture pulled him out of his bloody head and back into reality. “We want Seb’s trophy returned.”
“Don’t forget the Montblanc rumour.”
“What happened there?” Sonia asked.
He’d had a chat to Graham a few days ago. “They think their cleaner must’ve moved it. They noticed it missing during a dinner party but they found it later that evening in another room. I mean, it makes sense to be something random like that because why take only one trophy when both of Montblanc’s trophies would’ve been sitting together on a shelf.”
“I think we can ignore that as an unlikely coincidence,” Sonia said.
Jaxxon tapped the table with his finger. “Remember when you said that trophies only come on the market occasionally, if a family needs to sell one for money?”
“Yes.” He had said that.
“There is one thing both Seb’s trophy, Montblanc’s trophies, and Socrates’ trophies have in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Money.”
“Do you mean because none of those three drivers needed to sell their trophies for money, which means they couldn’t be purchased by a collector, only grabbed by less savoury means?” he asked, and Sonia sat up straighter in her chair.
“That wasn’t what I was thinking, although it’s probably useful to understand.” Jaxxon’s eyes narrowed. “I think we should offer a financial reward for details that result in the return of all three trophies. Let’s remind the thief that we have money behind us. They might be counting on the police not having the resources or jurisdiction to do much about finding the trophies, even if they can connect the two crimes. We need to act first and use the considerable resources of our respective teams.” Jaxxon’s implication that both team’s pride was on the line; that the notion that someone could steal from them and the related security problems that would come from having someone access ...
He half-stood up. “What if it’s not about the trophies at all?”
“Excuse me?” Sonia’s question was mirrored on Jaxxon’s face.
“Well, think about it—” He hoped Jaxxon would forgive him for pointing this out in front of his rival, and belatedly realised that he ought to hope the same for his old team too. “—doesn’t the two thefts prove that each team’s security is fallible?”
“Fuck.” Jaxxon and Sonia swore together. “Fuck.”
“A trophy is a useless treasure. It only matters to the people who won it. But if you can prove that you can get past a team’s security to grab one, then—”
“You don’t need to labour the point.” Sonia flashed him a look, the same one she used to give him when he’d crashed as a driver. Grand disappointment in one look.
Jaxxon’s jaw muscles tightened. “It’s obviously a concern. We are in the process of reviewing all our security. Socrates’ trophies were taken from his home, not from anywhere near any team data, but obviously combined with the fact that someone managed to infiltrate our logistics team to sabotage our cars, it’s a problem.”
“We are going to need to be very careful in the way we word a press release.” Sonia recovered first.
“While you guys do that, I’m going to ask Cliff what he thinks about who might be interested in collecting the stolen goods.” Freddy couldn’t help each team with their security, but he could assist in finding the trophies by using his own connections. He hated to disappoint anyone.
“Cliff?” Sonia asked.
“He’s a friend of my family who specialises in memorabilia collection.”
“How does that help?”
Freddy had never felt awkward about his family or his wealth until he’d met Jaxxon. He knew it was his problem and he needed to get over himself. He swallowed. Jaxxon was a stunning example of someone who’d overcome the lack of all the opportunities Freddy had, and it reminded Freddy that his own accomplishments had been easier to achieve. “When the very rich collect things, they don’t particularly care about provenance. Cliff has a good ear for when someone is using less than legal methods to acquire items.”
“He’s a gossip, like you.” Sonia winked and he laughed, surprised that she would say that because her job as Sponsorship Manager was reliant on knowing everything about anyone with wealth or resources who could potentially help the team, aka all the gossip.
“Yeah, we are a regular pair of old assholes sitting at the bar talking about everyone else to avoid our own problems.” Having an excuse to be himself and make a joke felt bloody good.
Sonia clapped her hand over her mouth. “You rascal. I shouldn’t be laughing when we have a major security problem like this.”
“Perhaps we should do a joint press statement in a couple of days with the reward.” Jaxxon ignored the two of them to focus on work.
He could do that too and prove his worth in this discussion. “You’ll need a few days to work out how to structure a reward, so you don’t get overwhelmed with a million fan messages. You know what the internet is like.” He paused as they both nodded. “You’ll need to structure the reward notice to ensure you get concrete answers, not just bullshit.”
Jaxxon looked at him as if he’d stated the bleeding obvious and he wanted to shrink under the table. No, he would square his shoulders and prove himself.
“Good. Leave it with me,” Sonia said. “Jaxxon, let’s meet back in England in two days and go over the reward concept. I’ll update Marcel and have a look at his schedule. He will want to be involved in that stage.” Sonia stood up and stuck out her hand. They’d been dismissed. Jaxxon shook Sonia’s hand with a tight smile, and Freddy waited his turn before they left the truck and walked back out into the paddock. He waved to Maddock, then pulled out his phone to check his hair and face and that he was standing in a good position with the team brand in the background, before taking the microphone from Maddock’s assistant, Lilya. He pressed the button on his earpiece.
“Carol. I have the story. Are you good to go live?”
“Two minutes.”
He nodded.
“Are you going to break the story before they get to do a press release?”
“Yes.”
Jaxxon frowned.
“It’s literally my job, Jaxxon. Do you want to be in the shot?” He would have to change the narrative into an interview if Jaxxon didn’t move.
“No.” Jaxxon strode away and for half a second, Freddy relaxed because Jaxxon was leaving, but no such luck. Jaxxon stood just behind Maddock, ensuring that when Freddy looked at the camera, he’d also be staring at Jaxxon. After a few long slow breaths, he forced himself to be ready. One brilliant, sexy man couldn’t be allowed to distract him from being a professional.
Chapter 7
Jaxxon’s position next to the camera person gave him an excellent view of Freddy with the truck they’d just vacated in the background. In a few days he was going to meet Marcel Levante, Team Principal of one of the leading teams. This time last year, he was a race engineer and meeting the other Team Principals had been a goal. Now it was his life. He was one of them, doing a job he’d worked hard to get, and he could be damned proud of himself. It wasn’t the most ideal circumstances to begin the job, and it probably made him a dick to be a little bit glad that the missing trophies problem had expanded to become someone else’s issue too.
Freddy tilted his head slightly, listening to his ear bud, then nodded. He waggled his fingers at the camera person who handed him a microphone, waited for a while, and then he introduced himself to the camera in the usual fashion.
“Here in the Series One paddock, we love our fans. Without fans, this sport is merely a bunch of rich people spending money to see who has the fastest car, which, to be frank, could potentially be rather boring. Our fans turn Series One into an interesting spectacle and the popularity of our sport ensures more investment and that has resulted in a vast amount of innovation over the years. Innovation which ends up in the hands of our fans through road cars. It is the fans who take this pursuit of speed and innovation and engineering; and give it purpose. Fans make our sport human. We love our fans.” Freddy’s introduction was heart-warming, if a little pointless, but then his open expression became fierce.
“Sometimes a few fans take it too far and risk ruining everything for everyone. I stand here outside my old team’s pitlane with some unfortunate news.” Freddy paused and Jaxxon held his breath too. He couldn’t believe he’d been drawn into this story so easily. What a skill Freddy had, and his competence made him more handsome. It took him from merely a well-constructed face with symmetric features into a real, passionate person who knew what he was doing, and who obviously cared deeply about Series One. His demonstrated ability was Jaxxon’s catnip.
“The 2010 World Championship Trophy, won by Sebastian Damiamo, was in the paddock for some publicity photos. What a season that was.” Freddy’s half-smile was a delight. “The championship went down to the wire with three drivers all in the hunt for the championship heading into the second last race. Complex calculations were being run by all the teams to work out who had to finish where to give themselves a chance. In the end, it didn’t matter as Damaimo won the second last race decisively and only had to finish in the points in the last race to win the World Championship. Fans will remember how exciting it was.” He paused, a little melodramatically. “And now those memories have been tainted. I’m terribly sorry to report that the 2010 World Championship Trophy has been lost, presumed stolen, during today’s race.” Freddy blinked a little, pausing as he composed himself. If he was acting, it was incredibly well done. Jaxxon believed Freddy was on the verge of tears. “You might think ... Oh it’s just a trophy. Who cares?” Freddy squared his shoulders and looked at the camera, which felt like he was staring right through Jaxxon.
“I do. I care.” Freddy tapped his chest. “And you should too. A trophy isn’t a pretty piece of metal to be placed on a shelf and stared at. It’s a symbol of the hard work that a whole team does in pursuit of victory. Almost a thousand people working all year to produce a consistent car, with great strategies for every race and every scenario, and most of all a talented competitive driver who works in unison with the team to win a World Championship. A trophy symbolises the efforts of many people, working towards a common goal, and if that isn’t the entire point of humanity, I don’t know what is.” Freddy cleared his throat. “It would be easy, and perhaps even foolish, to blame an overly zealous fan for this ... alleged theft. For someone to achieve such an audacious theft ... alleged theft ... takes a great deal of planning to get past the incredible security that Series One teams have. This can’t have been an opportunist.” Freddy shook his head as if to stop himself mid-sentence. “None of that is important right now. There are a lot of people working hard to find the trophy.”
Freddy glanced at him, then blinked rapidly. Jaxxon tried to send him a supportive look.
“A missing trophy might disappoint those who worked so hard to earn it. It might even demoralise a team as we finish the first race of the season and head into another Series One season of racing. We aren’t going to mourn this trophy as if it were human. It is not. What this trophy represents is the achievements of many humans. We, the fans, are going to help find it. If you know anything, you can send a message to the number on the screen and your information will be passed to the authorities tasked with finding this trophy.” Freddy lowered his microphone, and the camera person also tipped his camera to point at the ground.
“How was that?”
“Good, man.” The camera person said.
“Thanks Maddock. A man of few words as usual.”
“It’s why I’m on this side of the camera.”
Freddy smiled. “Jaxxon?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?” He didn’t wait for Freddy’s response. “You must know that it was excellent. You crafted a story, you connected with people, and you told them why they should care about this.”
Freddy blushed. “Oh. I wasn’t really asking for such a detailed compliment.”
“I’m surprised that you didn’t mention Socrates’ trophies too.”
“Too complicated.” Freddy shook his head slightly. “For breaking news, it’s best to stick to one topic and not bring in anything overly complex or the main message gets lost.”
“Shit. Did that go out live?” Jaxxon needed to talk to Socrates now before he heard the news from Freddy’s broadcast.
“Yes.”
Jaxxon grabbed his phone and paced away to find a slightly more private spot. He ducked between two of the trucks, hiding in the shadows away from everyone. He rang the rehab centre and listened to the receptionist answer.
“This is Jaxxon Loharani-Jones. Can I please speak to Socrates Drayton?”
“No. Phone calls to patients can only happen between ten and twelve in the morning.”
“I’m aware of your policy and I also know that you will connect me to a patient for an emergency call.”
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
Jaxxon breathed in sharply. The rehab centre had very strict guidelines for external contacts to help their patients through their process of recovery, and he knew that a missing trophy wouldn’t meet their guidelines, so he’d have to lie through his teeth to get to talk to Socrates. “It concerns his racing team and I’d rather he heard this news directly from me than from the television.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Can I please speak to his counsellor? This is important. I understand your rules and why you have them, and I definitely don’t want to set his recovery back.”
Those magic words did the trick. “Transferring you now.”
After a few rings, the call connected. “Dr Heather Walton.”
“Hi. I’m Jaxxon Loharani-Jones. I want to talk to you about Socrates.” They’d talked a few times already, so he didn’t need to do the full introduction.
“Yes?”
“I presume you know that it was the first race of the new season today for his racing team.”
“Yes.”
“Did Socrates watch?”
“No. I was going to call you first to discuss whether he should.” She probably should have discussed this with him before the race weekend. He should’ve called. It was no excuse but he’d assumed that they’d let him watch and he’d been too busy doing to his job, caught up in being the Team Principal for the first race of the season. Jaxxon let out a long breath.
“Thank you. The race itself is fine. The team did well and I don’t believe Socrates is so fragile that he can’t watch the whole weekend live.”
“And yet you are calling with an emergency.”
“The broadcast just broke some news that I believe will upset Socrates and I wanted to tell him myself.”
“Is everyone okay?”
Jaxxon slapped his thigh. He should’ve opened with that. “Yes. All the people are safe and well. It’s not bad news about the team, but it is adjacent news that is of a concern.”
“Tell me.”
“If you recall, both of Socrates’ World Championship trophies were stolen from our car reveal.”
“Yes. He had a major setback after that.”
Jaxxon swallowed. “Another one has been stolen. Not one that Socrates is connected to, but obviously when the news breaks, it’s going to remind him of his own trophies.”
“I have one question.”
“Okay?” Jaxxon held his breath.
“Why do you feel that Socrates needs to be given a warning about this news, and yet you also say he’s capable of watching the racing live without being adversely affected?”
Jaxxon smiled. “This news is personal. His trophies are personal. He knows Seb, he understands how Seb will be feeling about this latest theft. It’s hugely different to the race. Racing is racing. Socrates lives and breathes racing. He will be going—” He stopped himself from using an ableist slur about Socrates’ mental health. “He’ll be more agitated by not being able to watch the whole weekend live than he would if our team had a difficult weekend. Trust me. I’ve worked for a long time in car racing. I understand the psyche of racing drivers better than most people.”
