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sinister implications. He shook his head.
    ‘Then we’ve no idea if this is our only foreign body on either car,’ said Straker. ‘First off – and absolutely critically – we have got to double-check everything, before Remy or Helli get in them again.’
    The Race Engineer nodded at the unpleasant corollary of Straker’s logic. ‘Of course. I’ll bring the guys back in right away.’
    ‘Don’t tell them why. No one’s to know there’s a sabotage threat. We’ve got to be careful who does know about this – it could cause suspicion and mistrust, and seriously damage team morale. Can you invent some other reason why the cars might need a total examination?’
    ‘I’ll come up with some paranoia about the FIA.’
    ‘Good. We’ve no time to lose.’
    Backhouse, grabbing his phone, started ringing people, waking them up, calling them in from bars around town – down to the garage – to start going over both cars immediately. When he finished the call-out procedure he returned his attention to Straker. He could see the other was still deep in thought.
    ‘I take it you have no idea who’s behind this?’ Straker asked distantly, before looking up.
    Backhouse shook his head emphatically.
    ‘Have you found the activation frequency of the bug?’ Straker asked.
    ‘Of its transmissions? Yes.’
    ‘No, I mean the frequency that activates the jamming signal.’
    Backhouse looked blank. ‘Why would we? Better we’ve found it and got rid of it.’
    Straker gently shook his head. ‘Do we know who put this there?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Exactly. We’ve got to find out who’s behind this.’
    Backhouse nodded tentatively, knowing he should agree, but he wasn’t quite sure how knowing the jamming frequency was linked to identifying the perpetrators.
    ‘Okay,’ said Straker, delicately handing the bug back to Backhouse. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to find the activation frequency. Then, I want you to put this thing back exactly where you found it.’

SEVEN
    S traker phoned Quartano immediately. It was ten to one in the morning. He was still at the charity dinner. Quartano was incandescent at the news.
    ‘Bloody Charlie. I don’t mind being beaten fair and square. To eavesdrop on our team is bad enough. But to try and sabotage us is something else. Out rage ous.’
    ‘Charlie could well be the culprit,’ said Straker calmly. ‘She’d certainly be the most obvious choice – and most convenient – but we can’t be sure yet. If it was her, then we don’t know whether this was her only legacy, or whether she was working with someone else on the inside? One thing’s for certain: that bug could only have been planted by an insider. She’s out of the picture, now, and can’t do any more damage – so we’ll only know it was her if we don’t suffer any further incidents. But, we do know someone else is involved.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘From Backhouse’s description of the jamming yesterday, it wasn’t blanket. It sounds like somebody was manually activating the interference each time.’
    Quartano grunted at the logic. ‘What’s your plan for combating this?’
    ‘To keep news and discussion of it as quiet as possible. We don’t want to give the saboteurs any warning that we know about them. I don’t want to frighten them off before we find out who they are – and we get the chance to nail them.’
    ‘Who knows about this so far?’
    ‘You, me and Backhouse. We’ll have to tell Tahm and the drivers.’
    ‘Okay, and you’ll also need to tell Treadwell.’
    Straker hummed. ‘If you’re sure about him?’
    Quartano grunted. ‘What else are you planning?’
    Straker didn’t miss a beat. ‘Generally, heightened vigilance all round. I’ve suggested to Backhouse that we do a full examination of both cars before Qualifying – which is happening as we speak – but the guys have not been told why.’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘And my own priority,’ Straker went on, ‘is to set up a range of