[FIC] Fast Lane - Part III (Arthur/Merlin; NC-17)
Adrenalin buzzed in his veins. Racing was nothing to this, really nothing. It paled by comparison. Arthur thought he lived for the thrill, but, no, this somehow had racing beat. He clenched his jaw tight as Merlin set his teeth over his neck.
He reached out to grasp at the sheets as Merlin slid on top of him.
“No, no,” Merlin muttered, “no. Look at me.”
Arthur wasn't sure he wanted that. Merlin's eyes went glossy and dazed during sex. He was lovely and Arthur wasn't sure he could take Merlin being that way on top of the sensations he was experiencing.
He felt like he'd spill out of his skin, that he'd come apart, and he'd never been in that position. He didn't want Merlin to see that. Not yet.
“Look at me, Arthur,” Merlin said, before pressing into him, a hand behind his neck.
Arthur turned his head.
Merlin touched his lips to his face in a pattern that led him to Arthur's mouth. The first press was chaste, but the second wasn't. Merlin's hand tightened on Arthur’s jaw, holding him as he drew Arthur's tongue into his mouth.
Eyes open, gaze unbroken, they went at each other's mouths, Merlin sucking on his tongue.
Merlin pressed himself against Arthur's body and Arthur trembled at the feel of Merlin's fat prick sliding against his skin, leaving trails of pre-come in its wake.
Dropping a hand from Merlin's shoulder to his waist, Arthur hooked Merlin closer, grinding against him. His breath hitched loudly, and he was making these little noises he'd never been aware of making before. He silenced then against Merlin's lips. Against his flesh, closing his teeth on Merlin's neck, fitting them together.
Arthur worked his hands up Merlin's back, stopping at the shoulder blades.
Merlin was nipping at Arthur’s jaw and that, too, was perfect.
Legs falling open, Arthur tugged Merlin closer between his thighs.
Arthur's face burned. He didn't ask. Couldn't ask. He hoped that the shift of his hips told Merlin everything he needed to know about what Arthur wanted.
Merlin seemed to read Arthur's meaning right, for he braced myself above him, the tendons in his arms sticking out.
Arthur pulled one knee up and hooked it over Merlin's shoulder. He'd be lying through his teeth if he didn't admit to shaking hard. In the last two days he hadn't left Merlin's flat for one moment. He'd been basking in Merlin nonstop. If he stopped and thought about it, it was a lot. It was a bit of a game changer. But he didn't want to think about how this wasn't as casual as the relationships he usually had in-season.
He wanted to have more Merlin, all the time. Full stop.
Merlin's eyes went to the space between their bodies.
Arthur's throat worked and his brows drew together.
Merlin lined up with him, reached down and guided himself in, entering him slowly. Arthur sucked in a quick breath and grabbed Merlin's biceps. He was being pressed into the bed, but even so he moved up so as to spur Merlin on. And woah. That was what he'd been hunkering after. Just that. This close.
Sliding an arm beneath Merlin's shoulder, Arthur forced a pace, causing Merlin to move. For a few blissful moments it was all about the skin on skin feeling, about enjoying the slow momentum. Their breaths fusing, Arthur's body thrumming.
Arthur was tracing patterns down Merlin's back, falling back into Merlin's rhythm, when Merlin looked at him, soft and happy, and lowered his mouth to find Arthur's. The kiss was like a punch, delivered with a softness that hurt even more than savage passion would.
In counterpoint, Merlin angled his hips and began gyrating them. It was getting so good Arthur made a little noise that was muffled by Merlin's seeking lips.
It was getting so good. Arthur was of a mind to curse or shout his feelings from the rooftops, the mere idea embarrassing.
It was getting so good Arthur was so close to working himself up to an orgasm prompted by nothing more than Merlin fucking him, his own cock untouched.
But then the doorbell rang.
Merlin stopped moving, his mouth releasing Arthur's. “Is that?”
Arthur's fingers dug into Merlin's skin. “Yes, it was and, no, you're not.”
“What if it's urgent?” Merlin asked. His eyes were dark with lust and his body was tightly wound. But he still looked sheepish at the thought of doing something wrong, keeping someone out.
Arthur sneaked a glance at his fattened cock. “This is urgent too.”
Merlin stifled a laugh in Arthur's neck and Arthur was sure he'd persuaded him to give up on finding out who the bothersome visitor was when the doorbell went again.
“I think it might just be important,” said Merlin. “Maybe they want you back at the factory?”
“Ha, ha,” said Arthur, erection wilting as Merlin pulled out. “I have two free days before Silverstone and they have no way of knowing I'm here.”
“Then they must be wanting me,” said Merlin, pulling on a pair of rather ratty joggers. “I promise if it's some stupid neighbour about some stupid thing I'll turn them out. Okay?”
Arthur folded his arms but nodded.
“I'll be back in a thrice.” Merlin was out of bedroom pretty quickly.
Arthur stayed in bed, eyes on the ceiling, nose in the pillow, which smelt of Merlin and of him too. It made him smile. And the smile remained on his lips till he heard a voice he knew well coming from the next room.
“Really, Merlin, it's a minor catastrophe,” Vivian said. “My flat's flooded. Flooded. I've lost all my furniture and the walls are getting mouldy already. I need a place to crash at for a few nights. Can't go back home.”
Hearing that prompted Arthur to rise from bed. He put on Merlin's bathrobe because his own clothes had a two day stench about them and marched out of the room.
Merlin was saying, “Well, yes, I see, but--”
“You're not in for it because you've got your hot boy here, I see,” Vivian said, her eyes sweeping over Arthur from head to toe.
“No, I--” Merlin turned around to see Arthur there. “Yes, he's here.”
“And you want to have lots of monkey sex so you're turning me out, I see,” said Vivian in a tiny voice Arthur suspected was laid on thick.
Merlin put both his hands out. “No, it's not like that.”
Privately, Arthur thought it was just like that. In normal circumstances he'd be the first to urge Merlin to do the chivalrous thing and put Vivian up for the night. But after having been denied an almost assured orgasm he was feeling somewhat petty. “I hope it's a little bit like that.”
Vivian picked up her suitcase. “I completely understand. I'll go through my contacts list hoping to find someone who'll take me.”
Arthur knew it would happen. Merlin dashed for her arm and stopped her. “No, no, stay. I have a room for you and everything. Give me an hour and I'll de-clutter the guest room. Oh and you'll be on your own over the weekend because, well--”
“Silverstone.” Vivian's lips turned up. She put her case down and rushed into Merlin's arms. “Thank you for having me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was right. You smell like sex. Go have a shower, please.”
Arthur retreated to Merlin's bedroom and released a sigh. So much for spending his last free days before tests in a bed with Merlin.
****
Merlin was so proud of Arthur. Though he hadn't done well in the Silverstone qualifying session - a slide into the barriers that scared Merlin shitless lost him so much time - he recovered well enough during the race. So much so that, despite having started from the bottom, he ended third.
The race offered a lot of other breathtaking moments as well. Arthur survived a first-lap collision with de Ganis, and a second one with a track-side marker board, only to force his way back in - and pass Mercia's Velany for the final podium spot. And that with four laps of the race remaining.
After Silverstone, Arthur was trailing Valiant by five points and a lot of races of the season were still ripe for the taking. Newspapers were dubbing Arthur the luckiest person in Formula One. Most were also predicting his victory of the overall championship.
Arthur even released an interview in which he declared himself to be, “On cloud nine.”
Things were so perfect Merlin was expecting a set back or two. That would just be normal. Sometimes cars malfunctioned or the weather was adverse. He was ready for that. What he hadn't been expecting was Western doing suddenly so well as to pose a problem.
At Nürburring Valiant thrust himself into the race like a madman, winning it, while Arthur finished third.
Two weeks later, in Budapest, it was more of the same. After a manic opening lap, Valiant got three places ahead, passing Arthur, de Ganis, and then Lancelot too. Arthur tried a heart-in-the-mouth move around the outside of turn nine, but the race settled against him, Valiant pulling away. And winning, sadly.
Two weeks later luck was against them once again. Lancelot did well, but Arthur was involved in a an horrific crash involving two other pilots; the first of whom ended up losing his steering and colliding with Arthur and sending him of the track. This saw Arthur shearing through the back of his car before weaselling his way out of the cockpit. The accident had been caused by one of Valiant's crazy attempts at overtaking.
This caused a twitter feud between Arthur and Valiant with Arthur calling Valiant out on his desperate driving as well as speculation as to Arthur's future in F1. Newspapers featured articles predicting a possible switch to other (minor) teams or the absolute end of Arthur's career.
The truth was that Arthur was only 35 points behind. And since each first place was worth 25 points Arthur only needed a couple more podiums to climb back to the top of the WDC.
Obviously though the goings on didn't fail to worry the execs, and Mr Taliesin called a meeting designed to discuss new strategies.
“As you know things haven't being going well,” Mr Taliesin said, the answer to his words being a general murmur and nod. “We are here to decide on new tactics. We must find the reason why Western is outperforming us lately.”
“Bad luck,” said Elyan, as one of the team's head aereodynamics experts. “We didn't do anything different and last week was sheer happen-stance.”
“Yes,” said Elena. As a mechanic her point of view counted with the big wigs. “They haven't made any changes to the car that weren't mere set up ones. They've used up their eight engine season allowance when Arthur was winning like crazy, so they can't have used a ninth. This means that, since things are as they were before, we just ran into some bad luck.”
“No,” the team's managing director said. “That's too facile an explanation. Maybe we put too much faith in our new CD and his designs. Maybe Mr Emrys' design doesn't stand repeated testing over the long term.”
Merlin felt his face heat. He was ready to defend his design. He thought it was the best he could come up with given FIA regulations and the restrictions imposed by the technology itself. “The engine is a good one,” he said, calling up a series of charts on his lap top that were now being shown on the main screen looming behind the table they were assembled at. “The data shows examples of reliability...”
“It not breaking down isn't good news,” the managing director said, “reliability is all well and good but not if we're under-performing.”
Merlin had no objections to make to that. Perhaps these people were right. He was the least experienced of them all and while in good conscience he'd run all sorts of test to make sure the EX-26 would be the best possible car, he might have made mistakes. He'd made it safe. He'd made it fast though at this point it seemed he hadn't made it fast enough. They could make tweaks to the engine. Try new set-ups. “We can run more tests.”
“Or perhaps,” the managing director said, pushing his glasses to the top of his nose, “we should find a new CD.”
Merlin's face heated. His ears rang. He knew he'd been given a big chance with this job and now it was like a Merlin shaped chasm was opening under his feat. Part of him wanted to fight and explain why his design was worth a shot. He wanted to make his point. Part of him wanted to shut up and disappear. Take the boot and be done with it.
He hadn't come to a decision as to which course to take when Arthur spoke up. “It's not the car. The whole engineering team is supporting him and proud of his design.”
“And yet,” the managing director said, flipping the pages of a bound report, “I have it on paper that you asked for him to be removed from his position should the team under-perform as a consequence of the CD switch.”
Arthur rose to his feet, sending the papers around him flying. “Wait, wait, I never really meant it. Or rather I meant it before I knew him.” Arthur pointed to Merlin. “He's worked harder than anyone I know to ensure we give the best performances.”
Lancelot nodded his head. “I agree. Merlin's given us a car I feel safe in. One I can push a little bit harder without danger. It's been three grand prix that we've done less well at. There's more and it's not as if we didn't finish or finished badly at all.”
“The sponsors won't be happy,” said Mr Taliesin.
The managing director picked up on that. “No, they won't be. And we must protect ourselves by ensuring a winning streak. I suggest we put Mr Emrys' laying off to the vote.”
Merlin's mouth just fell open. “I'm sorry, but I do have a contract here!”
“We'll reach a settlement.”
That meant nothing to him. He'd sold them the rights to his patent and being sacked after a few months of employment would be like a black mark on his CV. Professionally speaking this was pretty bad. “I-“
Arthur's eyes flashed. “If you terminate Merlin's contract I can assure you you're losing me too.”
“Now, now,” said the managing director, “that's blackmail.”
“And that's unlawful termination,” said Arthur.
“I was talking about a settlement.”
“Oh, yes, because screwing him over under the pretence of a settlement is just fine,” said Arthur, taking a step away from the table.
Lancelot looked like he wanted to do the same and Elena announced, “I support Merlin.”
Like Arthur, Merlin rose to his feet. He cleared his throat and said, “I still stand by my design and I will go if you prove to me that the losing trend is due to flaws in it.”
Mr Taliesin was nodding but the managing director was tapping his fingers in annoyance. “Objection noted, Mr Emrys,” he said stiffly, “but I still want to put my motion to the vote. For that reason, I'm going to ask you to wait outside. You have made friends here and your presence could sway the vote.”
Merlin picked up his laptop and his papers and said, “Very well.”
As soon as he was out Merlin heard the clamour of voices, Arthur's, generally pretty calm being the loudest. He definitely heard the words, “This is absurd and preposterous!” and that was when he decided to move away. It was bad enough to get his job snatched from him just when he was so happy about it - not to mention the humiliation of it - but hearing Arthur try to defend him was a little too much.
It knotted his throat up. Arthur was sometimes sarcastic and Merlin hadn't often seen him ruffled. That he would lose that composure on Merlin's behalf was a little bit touching even though Merlin meant to tell him he'd be able to stand on his own legs about it.
So as not to be able to overhear more, Merlin made his way down the corridor. When he found that the buzz coming from the other room had died down he stopped. As he waited for the meeting to be over, he leant against the window and looked out at the courtyard.
He was so lost in thought that he startled when Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Meeting's over.”
Merlin tried to read the outcome in Arthur's eyes and when he couldn't he found himself forced to ask. “So am I out?”
“Not as yet.” Arthur's face was so pinched Merlin was sure that wasn't good news. “If we don't get a podium in the next grand prix you are.”
Merlin couldn't bear to see the intensity in Arthur's eyes so he dropped his gaze. “They can cut their charade short. I'm ready to do better but if they don't want me...”
Arthur's hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. “No, no way. They're not walking away with your patent. Not like that. I'm going to win Monza for you. I swear.”
Merlin let the breath gust out of him. “You don't owe me that. You don't have to.”
Arthur dropped his hand from Merlin's shoulder, trailed it down his arm to end up brushing Merlin's fingers with his. “I don't want you to be treated that way. It's not right.” Arthur took a step forward and a soft smile creased his face. “I want to work with you because I--”
The doors of the meeting room spilled open and Arthur stepped back.
Elena, Elyan and Lancelot came over to them.
“You have all my support,” Elena said, crossing her arms under her breasts. “And if you're going I'm going with you.”
Elyan clapped Merlin's back. “You have mine too. I tried to explain the hard facts to them from an aerodynamics point of view, but they're more interested in victories and sponsorships.”
Lancelot's eyes were earnest when he said, “I'll do my best to ensure a double win for us.”
Merlin had tears in his eyes. Here were so many people he was ready to love offering care and support. Losing this job would mean losing them too and that was worse than the blot on his CV and the lost pay. “Thank you so much, really, I-- Thank you.”
Merlin was group hugged.
****
Arthur didn't see Merlin for days because all Merlin did was work. Not that Arthur didn't - he put in punishing hours - but Merlin was beating him fairly and squarely in that regard.
He didn't need to be at the factory twenty-four seven, seven days a week, but he made it there all the same. And almost never resurfaced. Not unless he looked and sounded like a zombie unable to do anything else but sleep.
Between testing and Merlin's increased devotion to working late hours, Arthur only heard from Merlin on the phone. Arthur was used to toiling for long stretches of time; championship season was taxing for a driver. Every two weeks or so you had to give your best, engage both body and mind to the limits, focus almost entirely on the task in hand.
But what Merlin was doing here was different. It was positively unhealthy. Arthur had tried to tell him but Merlin could be stubborn and self-sacrificial when he wanted to be. So Arthur had to do his best by him in another way.
He'd already promised he'd win the next race for him but that wasn't enough. He needed to make the bosses happy so that they wouldn't sack Merlin.
That was the reason why he accepted a photo shoot for Energy Buzz. If the bosses were satisfied things weren't changing in terms of sponsorship deals, they'd be less inclined to get alarmed about a few single race results and more accepting towards Merlin. If that were the case they wouldn't sack him.
For that very reason Arthur found himself sitting on a stool holding a can of Energy Buzz - Orange Flavour. His shirt was open, all the buttons undone, and he was told to set his shoulders wide and pose 'sexily'.
Arthur felt like a mighty idiot but he thought of Merlin, gritted his teeth, and did it.
An hour into the photo-shoot, Gwaine ambled on set and came up to him. “So, having fun?”
“Not my idea of fun, no,” Arthur told him, even as he was told to shift so he was giving the photographer his profile.
“Oh come on, showing off for the camera must be great,” said Gwaine, fake posing too. “Great confidence booster.”
Arthur grunted. “I'd eagerly trade places.”
Gwaine smirked. “Oddly enough I believe you would. But it's not a good idea.”
“I know.”
“Especially not now,” said Gwaine, frowning at his nails. “Not with the new contract Valiant has signed. It's even bigger than we thought.”
That got Arthur's attention. “What do you mean?”
“What could I possibly mean?” said Gwaine, leaning closer while adopting a conspiratorial voice. “The obvious. The current winning streak's allowed Western to get a better contract with our rival. And there's money in it for Valiant too because he's the Man of the Hour.” Gwaine made air quotes.
Normally, Arthur wouldn't grudge anyone the fruits of their victory but Valiant getting rewarded for basically driving as dangerously as he could didn't sit well with him. It was worse when he considered that his actions might put Merlin in an even more difficult position. “Can I ask you something?”
Gwaine looked happy to be involved at all. “Yeah, sure, fire away.”
“How many people know about Western's new and improved contract?” Arthur gave a look at the photographer, hoping he was still busy fiddling with his equipment. This was a question he wanted answered and fuck if he didn't get what he needed because of a silly torso shot.
“The news is not public,” Gwaine told him. His eyebrow climbed upwards. “But if you're interested and have got the right connections you might find out about it.”
Arthur understood how that might work. Big companies had an eye out for what their rivals did. Excalibur had an eye on Mercia and Western as its strongest competitors. It stood to reason to think that Energy Buzz would be aware of what its own rivals did. “Can I ask you a favour?”
Gwaine lifted both his shoulders in a half shrug. “Tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I'm down with it.”
“Don't tell my bosses yet.”
Gwaine coughed into his fist. “They'll learn about it sooner or later.”
Arthur fixed Gwaine with an earnest stare. “I'm asking you to keep it hushed only until the new grand prix. After Monza...” Arthur couldn't explain the ins and out of Excalibur's internal policy but he could hint. “It's for Merlin, please.”
Gwaine's lips turned up. “For Merlin this and more,” Gwaine said with a flourish Arthur was learning was typical of him. “He's a good bloke.”
Since the photographer was done priming the shot, Gwaine made to strut off the set, but Arthur stopped him with a hand around his arm. “Thank you for that. I-- I misjudged you.”
“Nah,” Gwaine said, eyebrows waggling. “It was just your feelings talking, mate. But I'm glad my lovability record is unbroken.”
Arthur watched him go with a little scoff but he couldn't say Gwaine had it completely wrong. He had been just a little bit jealous and less than friendly towards Gwaine.
The rest of the shoot seemed a little bit more bearable, if only because he had achieved something that seemed more useful than having a few pictures of him guzzling fizzy drinks taken. They told him they'd send him test batches so he could have a say in the choice of promotional material. His PR agent would get the same negatives too. Arthur couldn't care less. If they chose the worst photo of the bunch it was still fine by him.
Once the photographer pronounced himself satisfied Arthur left the premises.
He had Monza to think about. He had to do well. He had to win. He'd do anything to win. For Merlin.
That Thursday he flew out to Italy. He spent most of the day with the team, checking that his car was working at its best and devising a strategy for the weekend. Taliesin called the shots and Merlin supplied schematic variations nonstop. Arthur wanted to tell him to unwind; that he was about to explode and that that would help no one. But he changed his mind when Merlin started shouting at Elena's well-intentioned advice, suggesting Merlin take a break. “I can't, all right! I need to tweak this.”
Arthur who'd been making for him, changed course and moved over to Lancelot, Lancelot's look stressing how he, too, had understood the reason behind Arthur's deviation.
Later that evening, before the press conference and autograph session the Excalibur drivers had been booked for, Arthur made a point of going to look for Merlin in the paddock. Precise as clockwork, Arthur found him there. Merlin was pacing to and fro between a blackboard and an installation displaying two engines.
His shoulders were so tense they seemed to be wanting to climb around his neck. He was muttering to himself, his hair on end and generally appearing like a man at the end of his tether.
Arthur wished he could ease his discomfort with a stroke of his hands, hold him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. He couldn't. Not without everybody knowing about them and drawing the wrong conclusions about why Arthur thought Merlin deserved to stay on the Excalibur team.
Arthur went up to Merlin and stopped him pacing by placing both hands on his shoulders.
“Merlin,” he said. He smiled because that seemed the best option to calm Merlin down. Arthur did it, despite probably looking stupid and while realising it would annoy Merlin. Merlin had no patience for anyone these days. Arthur added, “You know, everything's going to turn out fine.” He flicked his fingers against Merlin's forehead. “There's so many ideas floating in here, granted some of them are silly--” He let his smile stretch - “that we're going to be okay. You're going to do great.”
Merlin breathed a long inhale. “But I've got to decide. Do we change engines or not? We're allowed one more change. A fresh engine would be better. But is that strategic? Shouldn't we wait for Western's to go through its normal wear?”
Arthur knew Merlin was trying to exercise some control over his frazzled nerves, but he wasn't succeeding well so he just said, “Merlin, you're magic at what you do. You'll make the best decision yet.”
Merlin looked at him as if Arthur was spouting nonsense so Arthur just got him into a headlock, however childish that might look, and made him laugh.
Unfortunately, Arthur had to go attend his press conference but he didn't take his eyes off Merlin, who went back to gazing at a complex array of diagrams, until he was out of the compound.
He wished no conferences had been slotted for that day so that he could stay by Merlin's side.
Since the team had signed up for the extra two-hour test session, practice started very early on the following morning. Arthur had got up at dawn and spent an hour at the gym, then rejoined his team.
On trend, Merlin was already there and Arthur suspected he hadn't slept that much at all.
The pattern continued.
On Saturday Arthur didn't win the pole, but things didn't go bad in that he placed nicely all the same. If there was something that Arthur knew how to do, it was how to push ahead and get a lead. He was confident, the more so since Lancelot was meant to fall just one place behind him on the grid.
Despite the good results, Merlin was still acting like a crazed ant.
Sunday Arthur's attention was all geared towards the race. He owed it to Merlin to win.
The green light flashed on the starting gantry, indicating the warm up lap was about to start. Arthur knew that what he did now was going to matter later. To make a good start, he had to ensure he got enough heat into his brakes and, in particular, his tyres.
He did more burn outs than normal just to be sure.
“I think you've got enough grip,” Elena told him over the radio. “Good luck, Arthur.”
Arthur hoped his luck would indeed hold. During warm-up he and Valiant took turns setting the fastest time. Arthur's were promising. He made a point of thinking of nothing but the race. His performance was what counted the most.
With the warm up lap drawing to a close the race proper was about to start. The noise of the engines tore upwards as the red light came on, the racket growing higher as the green flashed. Arthur was off as soon as allowed.
Right at the start of the race Arthur had to fend off a flying start from De Ganis, who had already jumped Valiant, and by the time the following lap was over he had to stop Valiant's thrust for a first place.
Valiant was once again driving like he had the devil at his heels and didn't care one jot if he caused accidents.
He was reckless, his tactic causing others to back off when Valiant simply wouldn't. It was either that or courting death and no driver was mad enough to risk their lives. Valiant's crazy shtick worked in that no one was as reckless as him. You'd just back off rather than crash.
Arthur tried to run his own race and mind his own business, strategically falling back and away from Valiant, only to recoup into the fifteenth lap. It was then that Arthur managed to get past Velany and to climb up the placement ladder.
On the next back straight he was careening down fast but had to come to a halt as he approached the most dangerous curve in the circuit.
“Take it easy, Arthur,” came Mr Taliesin's voice, cautioning him. “Western has one more pit stop to go.”
Arthur had to bank on that. He waited for Valiant to go refuel and then pressed his advantage. He never let de Ganis out of his cross-hairs and closed the gap to the point that he could almost get a good sniff of the Mercia’s rear exhaust. He had a chance to overtake. The perfect chance. De Ganis, a radio comm told him, was only six seconds further up the road.
Arthur was already speeding up enough to follow on his plan to gain first place when he saw a blue blur coming at him. He had to blink to be able to see what it was. “Fuck, Valiant.”
Back from the pit lane, Valiant was coming at him, battling for the corner.
Arthur was already ahead and Valiant should have given way. Knowing Valiant that was a 'when pigs fly' situation, perhaps. The fact remained, Valiant was trying to push Arthur instead of passing the first Mercia car around the outside at the corner. Valiant barrelled outwards, seemingly aiming right for him. Arthur steered, vying for space to avoid a crash. Valiant most certainly was inviting one. He kept on gunning for Arthur, cornering him again, even though Arthur was giving way in so far as he could without ceding his place.
He and Valiant battled it out, Arthur steering to avoid a collision. He needed a little bit of space, just a little bit, and then he could leave Valiant behind.
“Arthur, he's under-braking,” said Taliesin agitatedly. “Leave it.”
Arthur had only one thought, making it for Merlin. “Can't, sorry.”
He didn't brake as much as he could have in the circumstances. His stats would be readable in the pit.
“Arthur, please, let it go,” Merlin said. “Please.”
All it took was one moment, Valiant trying to push him all the way to the outside, and then Arthur collided with him, his teeth rattling into his skull. In the blink of an eye he was spinning out the race track, upcoming cars avoiding him as the Ex turned and turned before coming to a halt.
He was helped out the car by race officials. Thwacking his helmet against the car's broadside, he spat, “That fucker!”
****
Watching the Grand Prix free trials from his own armchair was definitely weird. Before landing a job with Excalibur Merlin wouldn't have set his alarm so as to be able to see the outcomes. He'd have slept through it and not even cared about the results. He'd have read them in the papers and be content with that. Even oblivious.
Now here he was trying to catch a glimpse of what Arthur was doing via a telly screen. It was a little bit sad.
He hadn't even turned on the lights. So, yeah, he was feeling sorry for himself and missing Arthur - even though he'd seen him two days before - and the rest of the team as well. Him and most of the team had become friends. Merlin knew their habits and idiosyncrasies. He knew about their little routines. For example, he was sure that Elyan would be double checking everything right now and then he'd be going through another check before Sunday just because thoroughness was important to him. Elena would be ready to spring into action every time the cars were back for a pit stop. She'd be both primed for action and wearing a smile as she prepared herself for the big moments.
Lancelot would always support Arthur and do his best by team and team-mate. Arthur would do even more than that. He'd be brilliant.
Merlin sighed and rubbed his eyes. Moping after his lost job and Arthur's absence wouldn't help him one bit in the long run. He'd have to find another job and be content with being with Arthur when Excalibur's crazy schedules allowed.
For now though he could enjoy the action on his TV screen.
Merlin had just taken in the latest development in the free trials, when the doorbell rang. At four in the morning. Merlin squinted at his door. Who the hell could it be? It couldn't be Will because he loved his weekend lie-ins. And he couldn't think of anyone else with the guts to turn up on his doorstep so late it was actually morning.
He padded over to the door, making sure to have a look through the peep-hole. Even through its distorting lenses he recognised Vivian's face.
Merlin opened the door. Vivian was sloppily dressed; she had joggers on and a denim shirt knotted at the waist. Her hair was arranged in a messy top bun, strands of hair flying out of it in all directions. She didn't look like the Vivian he thought he knew, always perfectly turned out and stylish. “Hey, what's happened? Flat flooded again?”
Vivian was wringing her hands and giving him a desperate look. “No, no. I need to talk to you.” She looked behind him and into the flat. “Please?”
Merlin invited her in. He turned the telly off and invited her to take a seat in the armchair opposite his. He himself sat down on the edge of his seat, leaning forwards. Vivian was communicating her anxiety to him so he was eager to learn what she had to tell. “Vivian, has something happened?”
Her eyes were preternaturally large and blue. “I have a confession to make.”
Even though he had no idea what she was talking about, Merlin nodded. “Okay, all right. Go ahead.”
Vivian moved off the armchair and took his hands in hers. She went on her knees to do so. “Promise me you won't be furious.”
Her eyes were filled with tears and that alone would have made him prone to reassure her, but he didn't like her opener. “Vivian, you're making me nervous now.”
She bobbed her head up and down in agreement, her grip on Merlin's hands more punishing. “There's a reason we met,” she said, her voice much lower than her usual chirpy registers.
“Arthur got you into that club,” said Merlin, remembering. “And then you rang me up and wanted to date me but I said--”
Vivian's grip on Merlin's hands became tighter still. “No,” Vivian said, her eyes boring into him. “There was a plan. I was meant to date Arthur. But then I caught a glimpse of you and I saw a better opportunity.”
Merlin scowled, lost and confused. What the hell was she going on about? “I'm not sure I get you.”
“You'll have to understand, I was threatened,” Vivian said. She had this deer in the headlights look that made a sense of unease work through Merlin, especially when she mentioned the word 'threatened'. “I just... It was one thing leading to the next.”
“You'll have to begin from the beginning if you want me to understand,” Merlin said, returning the pressure of Vivian's hands.
“All right.” Vivian bowed her head. “I told you I was going out with Valiant before meeting Arthur, didn't I?”
“Yeah,” said Merlin, not seeing what this was leading to. “You did, but what...”
Vivian's tone got a bit less frantic and more sad and anecdotal. “I dated Valiant for some three months before understanding he was a self-centred bully. He got drunk often, though obviously not when he had a race. He was violent too. Not to me but others.” She gave a small sigh. “The number of times he'd come home from a bar brawl was staggering. I decided to call it quits. I'd been stupid. I was reeled in by the fame and the glitter and when I saw who he really was...”
“You dumped him...”
Vivian put her head on his knees. “That wasn't so linear. See, I had fun with him. We did more than hang out. I had so much 'fun' I did things I would never have done if not spurred by him. Some of them aren't very kosher. And Valiant's got proof. Proof that would break my daddy's heart.”
Merlin felt his stomach hollowing out. “You're being blackmailed?”
“Yes,” said Vivian hollowly, wringing her hands. “I never talk about my dad but I love him so much and he's old. I can't break his heart. I can't let Valiant tell dad.”
Merlin's eyes widened. “Vivian, what are you trying to tell me?”
Vivian looked up. “It wasn't by chance that I met you. I was sent to do some espionage, get to know someone from Excalibur. That would offer me a prime opportunity to lay my hands on your secrets. At first Arthur seemed like the perfect pick. He had insider knowledge and was known to date lots of paddock girls. He seemed like the natural choice. Western helped me worm my way in. They knew how. They belonged to that world. But then you were there. Their new CD. You had to know more than Arthur. In spades. It was just perfect.”
Merlin felt his sweat go cold on his skin. “Two months ago. When you stayed...”
“I took a few dossiers from your computer.”
“How?” Merlin asked, standing abruptly and causing Vivian to lean away. “My laptop's password protected!”
“I'm not an idiot,” said Vivian. “I was actually studying Information Technology before I met Valiant.”
“That's...” Merlin balled his fists. He didn't want to shout at a girl he'd once thought of as a friend. But he'd lost his job. Arthur was losing face and might have to end up on another team once his contract with Excalibur ran out. Valiant had got away with nothing but a fine and Western was poised to win both the WDC and the constructors' championship. And not on merit. It was so unfair, it didn't bear thinking about. “Why would you even think that was an all right thing to do?”
Vivian uncoiled and stood, whip quick. “Because I love my dad. Because he's old and his heart's frail. And this is just bloody Formula 1. Who cares which team wins! There's so much money involved in the behind the scenes, it's not going to make a difference to anyone.”
Merlin wanted to pull at his hair but didn't. He could see where she was coming from. Real lives mattered more than championships. Championships were games for rich people. Winning and losing would only impact the lives of the big players, who could stand not having their way for one year. But he was still angry with her.
He wished he could punch a hole in the wall so he could release the frustration he felt. He'd lost a patent, a job he loved and the chance to continue at it with the new friends he'd been making. Besides, this wasn't only affecting him. Arthur had a right to that shot at his dream. He'd worked hard for it. It was sad to think he was losing for reasons that were beyond his powers to control.
Yet, winning a championship wasn't that important in the grand scheme of things. He could see that. There had been a time he wouldn't have cared either. He'd have marvelled at the engines and not given a shit about who was getting points. “Okay, all right. Let's say I understand that,” Merlin said, hands on his hips. “Why on earth are you telling me now?”
“Because in good conscience I can't let what's happening go on.”
Merlin stalked forwards, grabbing Vivian by the forearms. “What do you mean? Is there more?”
Vivian lowered hear head. “I talked with Valiant and his boss. They said they didn't need me anymore. They stole your engine blueprints, but that wasn't enough to get Arthur consistently off the podium. They told me I was done. I got suspicious. Why would I be done if they still needed to do more. So I--” She took a big breath. “Bugged one of Western's offices. They think because I'm a blonde who's been a paddock girl I must be stupid. But I have it all on tape. They mean to tamper with Arthur's car.”
Merlin wanted to vomit. Faulty mechanics at those speeds meant... Merlin launched himself at the phone, dialling as fast as he could without punching in the wrong numbers. “I'm calling Elena. Then I'm getting the police,” he said, as the dial tone sounded.” He pointed at his i-pad. “I want you to book us a flight out to Singapore.”
*****
Arthur slid into the cockpit, the mechanics surrounding him fussing around each minor detail. He was ready for the afternoon part of the qualifying sessions and so was all the team, even though the air was still tense in the paddocks, with people still missing Merlin and mostly direction-less since no new CD had been appointed yet.
Elyan was acting as substitute, holding onto a clipboard and marking items off his list. However good he was, he wasn't the chief designer and was doing what he could at a job not his.
Arthur was trying to smile so as to give the team a sense of purpose and belonging. Help them get to the end of the season. After all, they still all wanted to win. Since for contract reasons Arthur hadn't been able to back out when Merlin was sacked, he owed it to the others to still do his best.
And he would. He held a grudge against their managing director and a lesser one against Mr Taliesin, who should have fought on Merlin's behalf, but he couldn't disappoint those team members who had nothing to do with Merlin's unjust dismissal.
The car was hooked up on the dollies connected to the starter mechanisms. They were a moment away from firing the twenty-four volts needed to turn the engine on, when Elena came running over to them. “Stop it all; we need to take the car apart.”
Arthur took off his helmet without climbing out of the cockpit. “What do you mean we need to take the car apart? Qualifying is about to start.” He didn't have to point at the monitors showing images of the track to make his point.
Elena waved her hands frantically. “Merlin called. He says someone tampered with the car. You can't drive it. It's not safe.”
Mr Taliesin stepped in. “Merlin? As in Merlin Emrys? Are we sure he's not just sore about the loss of his job?”
“Merlin would never play such a trick,” said Arthur. “If he says someone's tampered with the car then someone has.”
Elena nodded. “I want to take the car apart.”
“But where's the evidence?” asked Mr Taliesin. “Our team has been hovering around this car ever since Thursday night. When would someone have tampered with it? But let's assume they had. Why has nobody noticed? There are hundreds of mechanical geniuses on this team. Are you telling me nobody realised there was an anomaly?”
“I think we should go through the car with a fine tooth comb,” Elena said, grabbing the clipboard from Elyan. “I think we should test the engine under stress conditions. Take the chassis apart.”
Elyan glowered at the clipboard snatching but he did say, “I agree with Elena. We can't risk Arthur.”
Arthur climbed out of the cockpit. “I'm not driving this car.”
He didn't want to join the ranks of dead F1 pilots.
“But what proof does Merlin have?” Mr Taliesin asked, looking from Arthur to Elyan to Elena.
“I can give him a ring so you can talk to him for the full story,” Elena said, while circling the car with a frown. She was clearly looking for the best approach angle to take the car apart. “Though details aren't important now.”
“No,” Elyan agreed. “We should contact the police and race authorities.”
Mr Taliesin lowered his head, hands on his hips. “You're right, of course. We're not racing today. We're taking this up to FIA and to the stewards.”
Arthur watched as the mechanics took the car apart, as race officials inspected the paddocks and as finally a FIA representative arrived. The case was put to them. There was a lot of nodding and humming, high words spoken when one of the race representatives refused to cancel the qualifying session without proof of actual tampering. More harried hand gestures took place as they all waited for the team to find the evidence needed to support their claim.
The clock ticking, Arthur sat down, helmet still in hand.
The engine was in pieces; the chassis had been lifted off. Computer scans were being run on each single component to reveal proof of sabotage.
Elyan walked up to Arthur. “If they don't find proof, we're going to be in lots and lots of trouble.”
Arthur's jaw locked so tight his teeth hurt. He believed Merlin. He believed somebody had tried to take his life. The fact that Western might end up winning even though Arthur's car was out of the race so provoking it put Arthur on edge. Thinking they'd failed to kill him by a thread was even more infuriating. “Call Merlin,” he said. “He designed the car, if there's anyone who can guess which part was tampered with so that it wouldn't show immediately, it's him.”
Elyan looked to Mr Taliesin but the latter was busy arguing with the FIA official. “I shouldn't be doing this considering that Merlin is no longer part of the team but I'll get him on the phone.”
A couple of minutes later Elyan came back wielding his mobile. He pressed a key and set up the loudspeaker mode. “Elyan,” Merlin said on his end. “I'm about to board a plane to get to you.”
“That's great Merlin,” Elyan said, shooting Arthur a meaningful glance. “But listen, we can't find proof of meddling. We need to or we're in trouble... Legal, rules-wise, every sort of trouble you can think of and we're in it.”
“Oh shit,” said Merlin. Arthur could hear him thumping up what sounded like metal stairs. “What can I do?”
“If you had to tamper with the 26...” Elyan asked in a voice sharp as a blade, “if you had to slow it down or make it unresponsive and yet guarantee that nobody finds proof of it, what would you do?”
Arthur heard Merlin hum.
“There's tons of things you could do,” Merlin said. The rustling of paperwork being handed back and forth made itself heard. A polite feminine voice sounded in the background. Arthur assumed it was the flight attendant. “Have you got charts?”
“Heaps,” said Elyan, looking at the print outs that were being produced for the techs' benefit. “We need help narrowing it down.”
Merlin said, “Oh, God, how do I guess without access to the raw data?”
“I could mail it to you but you're about to take off, I gather.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, huffing and puffing as he, Arthur guessed, went down the plane's aisle. “Yeah.”
“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said barging in on the conversation, “I know you can figure it out. You know I...” Arthur paused, eyes sliding to Elyan for a brief moment. He filled his lungs with air then, as he let it out, he said, “You know I trust you.”
Merlin was so silent on his end Arthur feared the line had been cut off, but then Merlin said, “I'd either create fatigue cracks in the steering column so that it would fail at some point or damage the rear-drive shaft. Cause some extra wear.”
“I'll go tell Elena to check,” said Elyan, giving the phone to Arthur. “Take care.”
Before hanging up, Arthur said, “I want you here like nothing else.”
“I'm coming,” Merlin said, the promise clear.
Arthur grinned and switched off the loudspeaker function. “You bet,” he said, choosing to misinterpret Merlin's words.
Merlin broke into uncontrollable laughter. “You big knob, I sort of love you, you know. I'm glad you're safe.”
“I didn't even make it on the track. I'm okay. ” Arthur's heart expanded in his chest. “Thanks to you. Just... Just get your tiny arse over here, all right? There's a job waiting for you, I suspect. They owe it to you to take you back.”
The line went dead for real this time, Merlin probably having had to switch his phone off, but Arthur didn't mind. That only meant Merlin was one step closer to getting there. Arthur would see him again. He was looking forward to it.
One man from the group of mechanics and experts gathered around the EX-26 said, “It's the steering column. There are hairline cracks! Look.”
*****
Part IV
He reached out to grasp at the sheets as Merlin slid on top of him.
“No, no,” Merlin muttered, “no. Look at me.”
Arthur wasn't sure he wanted that. Merlin's eyes went glossy and dazed during sex. He was lovely and Arthur wasn't sure he could take Merlin being that way on top of the sensations he was experiencing.
He felt like he'd spill out of his skin, that he'd come apart, and he'd never been in that position. He didn't want Merlin to see that. Not yet.
“Look at me, Arthur,” Merlin said, before pressing into him, a hand behind his neck.
Arthur turned his head.
Merlin touched his lips to his face in a pattern that led him to Arthur's mouth. The first press was chaste, but the second wasn't. Merlin's hand tightened on Arthur’s jaw, holding him as he drew Arthur's tongue into his mouth.
Eyes open, gaze unbroken, they went at each other's mouths, Merlin sucking on his tongue.
Merlin pressed himself against Arthur's body and Arthur trembled at the feel of Merlin's fat prick sliding against his skin, leaving trails of pre-come in its wake.
Dropping a hand from Merlin's shoulder to his waist, Arthur hooked Merlin closer, grinding against him. His breath hitched loudly, and he was making these little noises he'd never been aware of making before. He silenced then against Merlin's lips. Against his flesh, closing his teeth on Merlin's neck, fitting them together.
Arthur worked his hands up Merlin's back, stopping at the shoulder blades.
Merlin was nipping at Arthur’s jaw and that, too, was perfect.
Legs falling open, Arthur tugged Merlin closer between his thighs.
Arthur's face burned. He didn't ask. Couldn't ask. He hoped that the shift of his hips told Merlin everything he needed to know about what Arthur wanted.
Merlin seemed to read Arthur's meaning right, for he braced myself above him, the tendons in his arms sticking out.
Arthur pulled one knee up and hooked it over Merlin's shoulder. He'd be lying through his teeth if he didn't admit to shaking hard. In the last two days he hadn't left Merlin's flat for one moment. He'd been basking in Merlin nonstop. If he stopped and thought about it, it was a lot. It was a bit of a game changer. But he didn't want to think about how this wasn't as casual as the relationships he usually had in-season.
He wanted to have more Merlin, all the time. Full stop.
Merlin's eyes went to the space between their bodies.
Arthur's throat worked and his brows drew together.
Merlin lined up with him, reached down and guided himself in, entering him slowly. Arthur sucked in a quick breath and grabbed Merlin's biceps. He was being pressed into the bed, but even so he moved up so as to spur Merlin on. And woah. That was what he'd been hunkering after. Just that. This close.
Sliding an arm beneath Merlin's shoulder, Arthur forced a pace, causing Merlin to move. For a few blissful moments it was all about the skin on skin feeling, about enjoying the slow momentum. Their breaths fusing, Arthur's body thrumming.
Arthur was tracing patterns down Merlin's back, falling back into Merlin's rhythm, when Merlin looked at him, soft and happy, and lowered his mouth to find Arthur's. The kiss was like a punch, delivered with a softness that hurt even more than savage passion would.
In counterpoint, Merlin angled his hips and began gyrating them. It was getting so good Arthur made a little noise that was muffled by Merlin's seeking lips.
It was getting so good. Arthur was of a mind to curse or shout his feelings from the rooftops, the mere idea embarrassing.
It was getting so good Arthur was so close to working himself up to an orgasm prompted by nothing more than Merlin fucking him, his own cock untouched.
But then the doorbell rang.
Merlin stopped moving, his mouth releasing Arthur's. “Is that?”
Arthur's fingers dug into Merlin's skin. “Yes, it was and, no, you're not.”
“What if it's urgent?” Merlin asked. His eyes were dark with lust and his body was tightly wound. But he still looked sheepish at the thought of doing something wrong, keeping someone out.
Arthur sneaked a glance at his fattened cock. “This is urgent too.”
Merlin stifled a laugh in Arthur's neck and Arthur was sure he'd persuaded him to give up on finding out who the bothersome visitor was when the doorbell went again.
“I think it might just be important,” said Merlin. “Maybe they want you back at the factory?”
“Ha, ha,” said Arthur, erection wilting as Merlin pulled out. “I have two free days before Silverstone and they have no way of knowing I'm here.”
“Then they must be wanting me,” said Merlin, pulling on a pair of rather ratty joggers. “I promise if it's some stupid neighbour about some stupid thing I'll turn them out. Okay?”
Arthur folded his arms but nodded.
“I'll be back in a thrice.” Merlin was out of bedroom pretty quickly.
Arthur stayed in bed, eyes on the ceiling, nose in the pillow, which smelt of Merlin and of him too. It made him smile. And the smile remained on his lips till he heard a voice he knew well coming from the next room.
“Really, Merlin, it's a minor catastrophe,” Vivian said. “My flat's flooded. Flooded. I've lost all my furniture and the walls are getting mouldy already. I need a place to crash at for a few nights. Can't go back home.”
Hearing that prompted Arthur to rise from bed. He put on Merlin's bathrobe because his own clothes had a two day stench about them and marched out of the room.
Merlin was saying, “Well, yes, I see, but--”
“You're not in for it because you've got your hot boy here, I see,” Vivian said, her eyes sweeping over Arthur from head to toe.
“No, I--” Merlin turned around to see Arthur there. “Yes, he's here.”
“And you want to have lots of monkey sex so you're turning me out, I see,” said Vivian in a tiny voice Arthur suspected was laid on thick.
Merlin put both his hands out. “No, it's not like that.”
Privately, Arthur thought it was just like that. In normal circumstances he'd be the first to urge Merlin to do the chivalrous thing and put Vivian up for the night. But after having been denied an almost assured orgasm he was feeling somewhat petty. “I hope it's a little bit like that.”
Vivian picked up her suitcase. “I completely understand. I'll go through my contacts list hoping to find someone who'll take me.”
Arthur knew it would happen. Merlin dashed for her arm and stopped her. “No, no, stay. I have a room for you and everything. Give me an hour and I'll de-clutter the guest room. Oh and you'll be on your own over the weekend because, well--”
“Silverstone.” Vivian's lips turned up. She put her case down and rushed into Merlin's arms. “Thank you for having me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was right. You smell like sex. Go have a shower, please.”
Arthur retreated to Merlin's bedroom and released a sigh. So much for spending his last free days before tests in a bed with Merlin.
****
Merlin was so proud of Arthur. Though he hadn't done well in the Silverstone qualifying session - a slide into the barriers that scared Merlin shitless lost him so much time - he recovered well enough during the race. So much so that, despite having started from the bottom, he ended third.
The race offered a lot of other breathtaking moments as well. Arthur survived a first-lap collision with de Ganis, and a second one with a track-side marker board, only to force his way back in - and pass Mercia's Velany for the final podium spot. And that with four laps of the race remaining.
After Silverstone, Arthur was trailing Valiant by five points and a lot of races of the season were still ripe for the taking. Newspapers were dubbing Arthur the luckiest person in Formula One. Most were also predicting his victory of the overall championship.
Arthur even released an interview in which he declared himself to be, “On cloud nine.”
Things were so perfect Merlin was expecting a set back or two. That would just be normal. Sometimes cars malfunctioned or the weather was adverse. He was ready for that. What he hadn't been expecting was Western doing suddenly so well as to pose a problem.
At Nürburring Valiant thrust himself into the race like a madman, winning it, while Arthur finished third.
Two weeks later, in Budapest, it was more of the same. After a manic opening lap, Valiant got three places ahead, passing Arthur, de Ganis, and then Lancelot too. Arthur tried a heart-in-the-mouth move around the outside of turn nine, but the race settled against him, Valiant pulling away. And winning, sadly.
Two weeks later luck was against them once again. Lancelot did well, but Arthur was involved in a an horrific crash involving two other pilots; the first of whom ended up losing his steering and colliding with Arthur and sending him of the track. This saw Arthur shearing through the back of his car before weaselling his way out of the cockpit. The accident had been caused by one of Valiant's crazy attempts at overtaking.
This caused a twitter feud between Arthur and Valiant with Arthur calling Valiant out on his desperate driving as well as speculation as to Arthur's future in F1. Newspapers featured articles predicting a possible switch to other (minor) teams or the absolute end of Arthur's career.
The truth was that Arthur was only 35 points behind. And since each first place was worth 25 points Arthur only needed a couple more podiums to climb back to the top of the WDC.
Obviously though the goings on didn't fail to worry the execs, and Mr Taliesin called a meeting designed to discuss new strategies.
“As you know things haven't being going well,” Mr Taliesin said, the answer to his words being a general murmur and nod. “We are here to decide on new tactics. We must find the reason why Western is outperforming us lately.”
“Bad luck,” said Elyan, as one of the team's head aereodynamics experts. “We didn't do anything different and last week was sheer happen-stance.”
“Yes,” said Elena. As a mechanic her point of view counted with the big wigs. “They haven't made any changes to the car that weren't mere set up ones. They've used up their eight engine season allowance when Arthur was winning like crazy, so they can't have used a ninth. This means that, since things are as they were before, we just ran into some bad luck.”
“No,” the team's managing director said. “That's too facile an explanation. Maybe we put too much faith in our new CD and his designs. Maybe Mr Emrys' design doesn't stand repeated testing over the long term.”
Merlin felt his face heat. He was ready to defend his design. He thought it was the best he could come up with given FIA regulations and the restrictions imposed by the technology itself. “The engine is a good one,” he said, calling up a series of charts on his lap top that were now being shown on the main screen looming behind the table they were assembled at. “The data shows examples of reliability...”
“It not breaking down isn't good news,” the managing director said, “reliability is all well and good but not if we're under-performing.”
Merlin had no objections to make to that. Perhaps these people were right. He was the least experienced of them all and while in good conscience he'd run all sorts of test to make sure the EX-26 would be the best possible car, he might have made mistakes. He'd made it safe. He'd made it fast though at this point it seemed he hadn't made it fast enough. They could make tweaks to the engine. Try new set-ups. “We can run more tests.”
“Or perhaps,” the managing director said, pushing his glasses to the top of his nose, “we should find a new CD.”
Merlin's face heated. His ears rang. He knew he'd been given a big chance with this job and now it was like a Merlin shaped chasm was opening under his feat. Part of him wanted to fight and explain why his design was worth a shot. He wanted to make his point. Part of him wanted to shut up and disappear. Take the boot and be done with it.
He hadn't come to a decision as to which course to take when Arthur spoke up. “It's not the car. The whole engineering team is supporting him and proud of his design.”
“And yet,” the managing director said, flipping the pages of a bound report, “I have it on paper that you asked for him to be removed from his position should the team under-perform as a consequence of the CD switch.”
Arthur rose to his feet, sending the papers around him flying. “Wait, wait, I never really meant it. Or rather I meant it before I knew him.” Arthur pointed to Merlin. “He's worked harder than anyone I know to ensure we give the best performances.”
Lancelot nodded his head. “I agree. Merlin's given us a car I feel safe in. One I can push a little bit harder without danger. It's been three grand prix that we've done less well at. There's more and it's not as if we didn't finish or finished badly at all.”
“The sponsors won't be happy,” said Mr Taliesin.
The managing director picked up on that. “No, they won't be. And we must protect ourselves by ensuring a winning streak. I suggest we put Mr Emrys' laying off to the vote.”
Merlin's mouth just fell open. “I'm sorry, but I do have a contract here!”
“We'll reach a settlement.”
That meant nothing to him. He'd sold them the rights to his patent and being sacked after a few months of employment would be like a black mark on his CV. Professionally speaking this was pretty bad. “I-“
Arthur's eyes flashed. “If you terminate Merlin's contract I can assure you you're losing me too.”
“Now, now,” said the managing director, “that's blackmail.”
“And that's unlawful termination,” said Arthur.
“I was talking about a settlement.”
“Oh, yes, because screwing him over under the pretence of a settlement is just fine,” said Arthur, taking a step away from the table.
Lancelot looked like he wanted to do the same and Elena announced, “I support Merlin.”
Like Arthur, Merlin rose to his feet. He cleared his throat and said, “I still stand by my design and I will go if you prove to me that the losing trend is due to flaws in it.”
Mr Taliesin was nodding but the managing director was tapping his fingers in annoyance. “Objection noted, Mr Emrys,” he said stiffly, “but I still want to put my motion to the vote. For that reason, I'm going to ask you to wait outside. You have made friends here and your presence could sway the vote.”
Merlin picked up his laptop and his papers and said, “Very well.”
As soon as he was out Merlin heard the clamour of voices, Arthur's, generally pretty calm being the loudest. He definitely heard the words, “This is absurd and preposterous!” and that was when he decided to move away. It was bad enough to get his job snatched from him just when he was so happy about it - not to mention the humiliation of it - but hearing Arthur try to defend him was a little too much.
It knotted his throat up. Arthur was sometimes sarcastic and Merlin hadn't often seen him ruffled. That he would lose that composure on Merlin's behalf was a little bit touching even though Merlin meant to tell him he'd be able to stand on his own legs about it.
So as not to be able to overhear more, Merlin made his way down the corridor. When he found that the buzz coming from the other room had died down he stopped. As he waited for the meeting to be over, he leant against the window and looked out at the courtyard.
He was so lost in thought that he startled when Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Meeting's over.”
Merlin tried to read the outcome in Arthur's eyes and when he couldn't he found himself forced to ask. “So am I out?”
“Not as yet.” Arthur's face was so pinched Merlin was sure that wasn't good news. “If we don't get a podium in the next grand prix you are.”
Merlin couldn't bear to see the intensity in Arthur's eyes so he dropped his gaze. “They can cut their charade short. I'm ready to do better but if they don't want me...”
Arthur's hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. “No, no way. They're not walking away with your patent. Not like that. I'm going to win Monza for you. I swear.”
Merlin let the breath gust out of him. “You don't owe me that. You don't have to.”
Arthur dropped his hand from Merlin's shoulder, trailed it down his arm to end up brushing Merlin's fingers with his. “I don't want you to be treated that way. It's not right.” Arthur took a step forward and a soft smile creased his face. “I want to work with you because I--”
The doors of the meeting room spilled open and Arthur stepped back.
Elena, Elyan and Lancelot came over to them.
“You have all my support,” Elena said, crossing her arms under her breasts. “And if you're going I'm going with you.”
Elyan clapped Merlin's back. “You have mine too. I tried to explain the hard facts to them from an aerodynamics point of view, but they're more interested in victories and sponsorships.”
Lancelot's eyes were earnest when he said, “I'll do my best to ensure a double win for us.”
Merlin had tears in his eyes. Here were so many people he was ready to love offering care and support. Losing this job would mean losing them too and that was worse than the blot on his CV and the lost pay. “Thank you so much, really, I-- Thank you.”
Merlin was group hugged.
****
Arthur didn't see Merlin for days because all Merlin did was work. Not that Arthur didn't - he put in punishing hours - but Merlin was beating him fairly and squarely in that regard.
He didn't need to be at the factory twenty-four seven, seven days a week, but he made it there all the same. And almost never resurfaced. Not unless he looked and sounded like a zombie unable to do anything else but sleep.
Between testing and Merlin's increased devotion to working late hours, Arthur only heard from Merlin on the phone. Arthur was used to toiling for long stretches of time; championship season was taxing for a driver. Every two weeks or so you had to give your best, engage both body and mind to the limits, focus almost entirely on the task in hand.
But what Merlin was doing here was different. It was positively unhealthy. Arthur had tried to tell him but Merlin could be stubborn and self-sacrificial when he wanted to be. So Arthur had to do his best by him in another way.
He'd already promised he'd win the next race for him but that wasn't enough. He needed to make the bosses happy so that they wouldn't sack Merlin.
That was the reason why he accepted a photo shoot for Energy Buzz. If the bosses were satisfied things weren't changing in terms of sponsorship deals, they'd be less inclined to get alarmed about a few single race results and more accepting towards Merlin. If that were the case they wouldn't sack him.
For that very reason Arthur found himself sitting on a stool holding a can of Energy Buzz - Orange Flavour. His shirt was open, all the buttons undone, and he was told to set his shoulders wide and pose 'sexily'.
Arthur felt like a mighty idiot but he thought of Merlin, gritted his teeth, and did it.
An hour into the photo-shoot, Gwaine ambled on set and came up to him. “So, having fun?”
“Not my idea of fun, no,” Arthur told him, even as he was told to shift so he was giving the photographer his profile.
“Oh come on, showing off for the camera must be great,” said Gwaine, fake posing too. “Great confidence booster.”
Arthur grunted. “I'd eagerly trade places.”
Gwaine smirked. “Oddly enough I believe you would. But it's not a good idea.”
“I know.”
“Especially not now,” said Gwaine, frowning at his nails. “Not with the new contract Valiant has signed. It's even bigger than we thought.”
That got Arthur's attention. “What do you mean?”
“What could I possibly mean?” said Gwaine, leaning closer while adopting a conspiratorial voice. “The obvious. The current winning streak's allowed Western to get a better contract with our rival. And there's money in it for Valiant too because he's the Man of the Hour.” Gwaine made air quotes.
Normally, Arthur wouldn't grudge anyone the fruits of their victory but Valiant getting rewarded for basically driving as dangerously as he could didn't sit well with him. It was worse when he considered that his actions might put Merlin in an even more difficult position. “Can I ask you something?”
Gwaine looked happy to be involved at all. “Yeah, sure, fire away.”
“How many people know about Western's new and improved contract?” Arthur gave a look at the photographer, hoping he was still busy fiddling with his equipment. This was a question he wanted answered and fuck if he didn't get what he needed because of a silly torso shot.
“The news is not public,” Gwaine told him. His eyebrow climbed upwards. “But if you're interested and have got the right connections you might find out about it.”
Arthur understood how that might work. Big companies had an eye out for what their rivals did. Excalibur had an eye on Mercia and Western as its strongest competitors. It stood to reason to think that Energy Buzz would be aware of what its own rivals did. “Can I ask you a favour?”
Gwaine lifted both his shoulders in a half shrug. “Tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I'm down with it.”
“Don't tell my bosses yet.”
Gwaine coughed into his fist. “They'll learn about it sooner or later.”
Arthur fixed Gwaine with an earnest stare. “I'm asking you to keep it hushed only until the new grand prix. After Monza...” Arthur couldn't explain the ins and out of Excalibur's internal policy but he could hint. “It's for Merlin, please.”
Gwaine's lips turned up. “For Merlin this and more,” Gwaine said with a flourish Arthur was learning was typical of him. “He's a good bloke.”
Since the photographer was done priming the shot, Gwaine made to strut off the set, but Arthur stopped him with a hand around his arm. “Thank you for that. I-- I misjudged you.”
“Nah,” Gwaine said, eyebrows waggling. “It was just your feelings talking, mate. But I'm glad my lovability record is unbroken.”
Arthur watched him go with a little scoff but he couldn't say Gwaine had it completely wrong. He had been just a little bit jealous and less than friendly towards Gwaine.
The rest of the shoot seemed a little bit more bearable, if only because he had achieved something that seemed more useful than having a few pictures of him guzzling fizzy drinks taken. They told him they'd send him test batches so he could have a say in the choice of promotional material. His PR agent would get the same negatives too. Arthur couldn't care less. If they chose the worst photo of the bunch it was still fine by him.
Once the photographer pronounced himself satisfied Arthur left the premises.
He had Monza to think about. He had to do well. He had to win. He'd do anything to win. For Merlin.
That Thursday he flew out to Italy. He spent most of the day with the team, checking that his car was working at its best and devising a strategy for the weekend. Taliesin called the shots and Merlin supplied schematic variations nonstop. Arthur wanted to tell him to unwind; that he was about to explode and that that would help no one. But he changed his mind when Merlin started shouting at Elena's well-intentioned advice, suggesting Merlin take a break. “I can't, all right! I need to tweak this.”
Arthur who'd been making for him, changed course and moved over to Lancelot, Lancelot's look stressing how he, too, had understood the reason behind Arthur's deviation.
Later that evening, before the press conference and autograph session the Excalibur drivers had been booked for, Arthur made a point of going to look for Merlin in the paddock. Precise as clockwork, Arthur found him there. Merlin was pacing to and fro between a blackboard and an installation displaying two engines.
His shoulders were so tense they seemed to be wanting to climb around his neck. He was muttering to himself, his hair on end and generally appearing like a man at the end of his tether.
Arthur wished he could ease his discomfort with a stroke of his hands, hold him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. He couldn't. Not without everybody knowing about them and drawing the wrong conclusions about why Arthur thought Merlin deserved to stay on the Excalibur team.
Arthur went up to Merlin and stopped him pacing by placing both hands on his shoulders.
“Merlin,” he said. He smiled because that seemed the best option to calm Merlin down. Arthur did it, despite probably looking stupid and while realising it would annoy Merlin. Merlin had no patience for anyone these days. Arthur added, “You know, everything's going to turn out fine.” He flicked his fingers against Merlin's forehead. “There's so many ideas floating in here, granted some of them are silly--” He let his smile stretch - “that we're going to be okay. You're going to do great.”
Merlin breathed a long inhale. “But I've got to decide. Do we change engines or not? We're allowed one more change. A fresh engine would be better. But is that strategic? Shouldn't we wait for Western's to go through its normal wear?”
Arthur knew Merlin was trying to exercise some control over his frazzled nerves, but he wasn't succeeding well so he just said, “Merlin, you're magic at what you do. You'll make the best decision yet.”
Merlin looked at him as if Arthur was spouting nonsense so Arthur just got him into a headlock, however childish that might look, and made him laugh.
Unfortunately, Arthur had to go attend his press conference but he didn't take his eyes off Merlin, who went back to gazing at a complex array of diagrams, until he was out of the compound.
He wished no conferences had been slotted for that day so that he could stay by Merlin's side.
Since the team had signed up for the extra two-hour test session, practice started very early on the following morning. Arthur had got up at dawn and spent an hour at the gym, then rejoined his team.
On trend, Merlin was already there and Arthur suspected he hadn't slept that much at all.
The pattern continued.
On Saturday Arthur didn't win the pole, but things didn't go bad in that he placed nicely all the same. If there was something that Arthur knew how to do, it was how to push ahead and get a lead. He was confident, the more so since Lancelot was meant to fall just one place behind him on the grid.
Despite the good results, Merlin was still acting like a crazed ant.
Sunday Arthur's attention was all geared towards the race. He owed it to Merlin to win.
The green light flashed on the starting gantry, indicating the warm up lap was about to start. Arthur knew that what he did now was going to matter later. To make a good start, he had to ensure he got enough heat into his brakes and, in particular, his tyres.
He did more burn outs than normal just to be sure.
“I think you've got enough grip,” Elena told him over the radio. “Good luck, Arthur.”
Arthur hoped his luck would indeed hold. During warm-up he and Valiant took turns setting the fastest time. Arthur's were promising. He made a point of thinking of nothing but the race. His performance was what counted the most.
With the warm up lap drawing to a close the race proper was about to start. The noise of the engines tore upwards as the red light came on, the racket growing higher as the green flashed. Arthur was off as soon as allowed.
Right at the start of the race Arthur had to fend off a flying start from De Ganis, who had already jumped Valiant, and by the time the following lap was over he had to stop Valiant's thrust for a first place.
Valiant was once again driving like he had the devil at his heels and didn't care one jot if he caused accidents.
He was reckless, his tactic causing others to back off when Valiant simply wouldn't. It was either that or courting death and no driver was mad enough to risk their lives. Valiant's crazy shtick worked in that no one was as reckless as him. You'd just back off rather than crash.
Arthur tried to run his own race and mind his own business, strategically falling back and away from Valiant, only to recoup into the fifteenth lap. It was then that Arthur managed to get past Velany and to climb up the placement ladder.
On the next back straight he was careening down fast but had to come to a halt as he approached the most dangerous curve in the circuit.
“Take it easy, Arthur,” came Mr Taliesin's voice, cautioning him. “Western has one more pit stop to go.”
Arthur had to bank on that. He waited for Valiant to go refuel and then pressed his advantage. He never let de Ganis out of his cross-hairs and closed the gap to the point that he could almost get a good sniff of the Mercia’s rear exhaust. He had a chance to overtake. The perfect chance. De Ganis, a radio comm told him, was only six seconds further up the road.
Arthur was already speeding up enough to follow on his plan to gain first place when he saw a blue blur coming at him. He had to blink to be able to see what it was. “Fuck, Valiant.”
Back from the pit lane, Valiant was coming at him, battling for the corner.
Arthur was already ahead and Valiant should have given way. Knowing Valiant that was a 'when pigs fly' situation, perhaps. The fact remained, Valiant was trying to push Arthur instead of passing the first Mercia car around the outside at the corner. Valiant barrelled outwards, seemingly aiming right for him. Arthur steered, vying for space to avoid a crash. Valiant most certainly was inviting one. He kept on gunning for Arthur, cornering him again, even though Arthur was giving way in so far as he could without ceding his place.
He and Valiant battled it out, Arthur steering to avoid a collision. He needed a little bit of space, just a little bit, and then he could leave Valiant behind.
“Arthur, he's under-braking,” said Taliesin agitatedly. “Leave it.”
Arthur had only one thought, making it for Merlin. “Can't, sorry.”
He didn't brake as much as he could have in the circumstances. His stats would be readable in the pit.
“Arthur, please, let it go,” Merlin said. “Please.”
All it took was one moment, Valiant trying to push him all the way to the outside, and then Arthur collided with him, his teeth rattling into his skull. In the blink of an eye he was spinning out the race track, upcoming cars avoiding him as the Ex turned and turned before coming to a halt.
He was helped out the car by race officials. Thwacking his helmet against the car's broadside, he spat, “That fucker!”
****
Watching the Grand Prix free trials from his own armchair was definitely weird. Before landing a job with Excalibur Merlin wouldn't have set his alarm so as to be able to see the outcomes. He'd have slept through it and not even cared about the results. He'd have read them in the papers and be content with that. Even oblivious.
Now here he was trying to catch a glimpse of what Arthur was doing via a telly screen. It was a little bit sad.
He hadn't even turned on the lights. So, yeah, he was feeling sorry for himself and missing Arthur - even though he'd seen him two days before - and the rest of the team as well. Him and most of the team had become friends. Merlin knew their habits and idiosyncrasies. He knew about their little routines. For example, he was sure that Elyan would be double checking everything right now and then he'd be going through another check before Sunday just because thoroughness was important to him. Elena would be ready to spring into action every time the cars were back for a pit stop. She'd be both primed for action and wearing a smile as she prepared herself for the big moments.
Lancelot would always support Arthur and do his best by team and team-mate. Arthur would do even more than that. He'd be brilliant.
Merlin sighed and rubbed his eyes. Moping after his lost job and Arthur's absence wouldn't help him one bit in the long run. He'd have to find another job and be content with being with Arthur when Excalibur's crazy schedules allowed.
For now though he could enjoy the action on his TV screen.
Merlin had just taken in the latest development in the free trials, when the doorbell rang. At four in the morning. Merlin squinted at his door. Who the hell could it be? It couldn't be Will because he loved his weekend lie-ins. And he couldn't think of anyone else with the guts to turn up on his doorstep so late it was actually morning.
He padded over to the door, making sure to have a look through the peep-hole. Even through its distorting lenses he recognised Vivian's face.
Merlin opened the door. Vivian was sloppily dressed; she had joggers on and a denim shirt knotted at the waist. Her hair was arranged in a messy top bun, strands of hair flying out of it in all directions. She didn't look like the Vivian he thought he knew, always perfectly turned out and stylish. “Hey, what's happened? Flat flooded again?”
Vivian was wringing her hands and giving him a desperate look. “No, no. I need to talk to you.” She looked behind him and into the flat. “Please?”
Merlin invited her in. He turned the telly off and invited her to take a seat in the armchair opposite his. He himself sat down on the edge of his seat, leaning forwards. Vivian was communicating her anxiety to him so he was eager to learn what she had to tell. “Vivian, has something happened?”
Her eyes were preternaturally large and blue. “I have a confession to make.”
Even though he had no idea what she was talking about, Merlin nodded. “Okay, all right. Go ahead.”
Vivian moved off the armchair and took his hands in hers. She went on her knees to do so. “Promise me you won't be furious.”
Her eyes were filled with tears and that alone would have made him prone to reassure her, but he didn't like her opener. “Vivian, you're making me nervous now.”
She bobbed her head up and down in agreement, her grip on Merlin's hands more punishing. “There's a reason we met,” she said, her voice much lower than her usual chirpy registers.
“Arthur got you into that club,” said Merlin, remembering. “And then you rang me up and wanted to date me but I said--”
Vivian's grip on Merlin's hands became tighter still. “No,” Vivian said, her eyes boring into him. “There was a plan. I was meant to date Arthur. But then I caught a glimpse of you and I saw a better opportunity.”
Merlin scowled, lost and confused. What the hell was she going on about? “I'm not sure I get you.”
“You'll have to understand, I was threatened,” Vivian said. She had this deer in the headlights look that made a sense of unease work through Merlin, especially when she mentioned the word 'threatened'. “I just... It was one thing leading to the next.”
“You'll have to begin from the beginning if you want me to understand,” Merlin said, returning the pressure of Vivian's hands.
“All right.” Vivian bowed her head. “I told you I was going out with Valiant before meeting Arthur, didn't I?”
“Yeah,” said Merlin, not seeing what this was leading to. “You did, but what...”
Vivian's tone got a bit less frantic and more sad and anecdotal. “I dated Valiant for some three months before understanding he was a self-centred bully. He got drunk often, though obviously not when he had a race. He was violent too. Not to me but others.” She gave a small sigh. “The number of times he'd come home from a bar brawl was staggering. I decided to call it quits. I'd been stupid. I was reeled in by the fame and the glitter and when I saw who he really was...”
“You dumped him...”
Vivian put her head on his knees. “That wasn't so linear. See, I had fun with him. We did more than hang out. I had so much 'fun' I did things I would never have done if not spurred by him. Some of them aren't very kosher. And Valiant's got proof. Proof that would break my daddy's heart.”
Merlin felt his stomach hollowing out. “You're being blackmailed?”
“Yes,” said Vivian hollowly, wringing her hands. “I never talk about my dad but I love him so much and he's old. I can't break his heart. I can't let Valiant tell dad.”
Merlin's eyes widened. “Vivian, what are you trying to tell me?”
Vivian looked up. “It wasn't by chance that I met you. I was sent to do some espionage, get to know someone from Excalibur. That would offer me a prime opportunity to lay my hands on your secrets. At first Arthur seemed like the perfect pick. He had insider knowledge and was known to date lots of paddock girls. He seemed like the natural choice. Western helped me worm my way in. They knew how. They belonged to that world. But then you were there. Their new CD. You had to know more than Arthur. In spades. It was just perfect.”
Merlin felt his sweat go cold on his skin. “Two months ago. When you stayed...”
“I took a few dossiers from your computer.”
“How?” Merlin asked, standing abruptly and causing Vivian to lean away. “My laptop's password protected!”
“I'm not an idiot,” said Vivian. “I was actually studying Information Technology before I met Valiant.”
“That's...” Merlin balled his fists. He didn't want to shout at a girl he'd once thought of as a friend. But he'd lost his job. Arthur was losing face and might have to end up on another team once his contract with Excalibur ran out. Valiant had got away with nothing but a fine and Western was poised to win both the WDC and the constructors' championship. And not on merit. It was so unfair, it didn't bear thinking about. “Why would you even think that was an all right thing to do?”
Vivian uncoiled and stood, whip quick. “Because I love my dad. Because he's old and his heart's frail. And this is just bloody Formula 1. Who cares which team wins! There's so much money involved in the behind the scenes, it's not going to make a difference to anyone.”
Merlin wanted to pull at his hair but didn't. He could see where she was coming from. Real lives mattered more than championships. Championships were games for rich people. Winning and losing would only impact the lives of the big players, who could stand not having their way for one year. But he was still angry with her.
He wished he could punch a hole in the wall so he could release the frustration he felt. He'd lost a patent, a job he loved and the chance to continue at it with the new friends he'd been making. Besides, this wasn't only affecting him. Arthur had a right to that shot at his dream. He'd worked hard for it. It was sad to think he was losing for reasons that were beyond his powers to control.
Yet, winning a championship wasn't that important in the grand scheme of things. He could see that. There had been a time he wouldn't have cared either. He'd have marvelled at the engines and not given a shit about who was getting points. “Okay, all right. Let's say I understand that,” Merlin said, hands on his hips. “Why on earth are you telling me now?”
“Because in good conscience I can't let what's happening go on.”
Merlin stalked forwards, grabbing Vivian by the forearms. “What do you mean? Is there more?”
Vivian lowered hear head. “I talked with Valiant and his boss. They said they didn't need me anymore. They stole your engine blueprints, but that wasn't enough to get Arthur consistently off the podium. They told me I was done. I got suspicious. Why would I be done if they still needed to do more. So I--” She took a big breath. “Bugged one of Western's offices. They think because I'm a blonde who's been a paddock girl I must be stupid. But I have it all on tape. They mean to tamper with Arthur's car.”
Merlin wanted to vomit. Faulty mechanics at those speeds meant... Merlin launched himself at the phone, dialling as fast as he could without punching in the wrong numbers. “I'm calling Elena. Then I'm getting the police,” he said, as the dial tone sounded.” He pointed at his i-pad. “I want you to book us a flight out to Singapore.”
*****
Arthur slid into the cockpit, the mechanics surrounding him fussing around each minor detail. He was ready for the afternoon part of the qualifying sessions and so was all the team, even though the air was still tense in the paddocks, with people still missing Merlin and mostly direction-less since no new CD had been appointed yet.
Elyan was acting as substitute, holding onto a clipboard and marking items off his list. However good he was, he wasn't the chief designer and was doing what he could at a job not his.
Arthur was trying to smile so as to give the team a sense of purpose and belonging. Help them get to the end of the season. After all, they still all wanted to win. Since for contract reasons Arthur hadn't been able to back out when Merlin was sacked, he owed it to the others to still do his best.
And he would. He held a grudge against their managing director and a lesser one against Mr Taliesin, who should have fought on Merlin's behalf, but he couldn't disappoint those team members who had nothing to do with Merlin's unjust dismissal.
The car was hooked up on the dollies connected to the starter mechanisms. They were a moment away from firing the twenty-four volts needed to turn the engine on, when Elena came running over to them. “Stop it all; we need to take the car apart.”
Arthur took off his helmet without climbing out of the cockpit. “What do you mean we need to take the car apart? Qualifying is about to start.” He didn't have to point at the monitors showing images of the track to make his point.
Elena waved her hands frantically. “Merlin called. He says someone tampered with the car. You can't drive it. It's not safe.”
Mr Taliesin stepped in. “Merlin? As in Merlin Emrys? Are we sure he's not just sore about the loss of his job?”
“Merlin would never play such a trick,” said Arthur. “If he says someone's tampered with the car then someone has.”
Elena nodded. “I want to take the car apart.”
“But where's the evidence?” asked Mr Taliesin. “Our team has been hovering around this car ever since Thursday night. When would someone have tampered with it? But let's assume they had. Why has nobody noticed? There are hundreds of mechanical geniuses on this team. Are you telling me nobody realised there was an anomaly?”
“I think we should go through the car with a fine tooth comb,” Elena said, grabbing the clipboard from Elyan. “I think we should test the engine under stress conditions. Take the chassis apart.”
Elyan glowered at the clipboard snatching but he did say, “I agree with Elena. We can't risk Arthur.”
Arthur climbed out of the cockpit. “I'm not driving this car.”
He didn't want to join the ranks of dead F1 pilots.
“But what proof does Merlin have?” Mr Taliesin asked, looking from Arthur to Elyan to Elena.
“I can give him a ring so you can talk to him for the full story,” Elena said, while circling the car with a frown. She was clearly looking for the best approach angle to take the car apart. “Though details aren't important now.”
“No,” Elyan agreed. “We should contact the police and race authorities.”
Mr Taliesin lowered his head, hands on his hips. “You're right, of course. We're not racing today. We're taking this up to FIA and to the stewards.”
Arthur watched as the mechanics took the car apart, as race officials inspected the paddocks and as finally a FIA representative arrived. The case was put to them. There was a lot of nodding and humming, high words spoken when one of the race representatives refused to cancel the qualifying session without proof of actual tampering. More harried hand gestures took place as they all waited for the team to find the evidence needed to support their claim.
The clock ticking, Arthur sat down, helmet still in hand.
The engine was in pieces; the chassis had been lifted off. Computer scans were being run on each single component to reveal proof of sabotage.
Elyan walked up to Arthur. “If they don't find proof, we're going to be in lots and lots of trouble.”
Arthur's jaw locked so tight his teeth hurt. He believed Merlin. He believed somebody had tried to take his life. The fact that Western might end up winning even though Arthur's car was out of the race so provoking it put Arthur on edge. Thinking they'd failed to kill him by a thread was even more infuriating. “Call Merlin,” he said. “He designed the car, if there's anyone who can guess which part was tampered with so that it wouldn't show immediately, it's him.”
Elyan looked to Mr Taliesin but the latter was busy arguing with the FIA official. “I shouldn't be doing this considering that Merlin is no longer part of the team but I'll get him on the phone.”
A couple of minutes later Elyan came back wielding his mobile. He pressed a key and set up the loudspeaker mode. “Elyan,” Merlin said on his end. “I'm about to board a plane to get to you.”
“That's great Merlin,” Elyan said, shooting Arthur a meaningful glance. “But listen, we can't find proof of meddling. We need to or we're in trouble... Legal, rules-wise, every sort of trouble you can think of and we're in it.”
“Oh shit,” said Merlin. Arthur could hear him thumping up what sounded like metal stairs. “What can I do?”
“If you had to tamper with the 26...” Elyan asked in a voice sharp as a blade, “if you had to slow it down or make it unresponsive and yet guarantee that nobody finds proof of it, what would you do?”
Arthur heard Merlin hum.
“There's tons of things you could do,” Merlin said. The rustling of paperwork being handed back and forth made itself heard. A polite feminine voice sounded in the background. Arthur assumed it was the flight attendant. “Have you got charts?”
“Heaps,” said Elyan, looking at the print outs that were being produced for the techs' benefit. “We need help narrowing it down.”
Merlin said, “Oh, God, how do I guess without access to the raw data?”
“I could mail it to you but you're about to take off, I gather.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said, huffing and puffing as he, Arthur guessed, went down the plane's aisle. “Yeah.”
“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said barging in on the conversation, “I know you can figure it out. You know I...” Arthur paused, eyes sliding to Elyan for a brief moment. He filled his lungs with air then, as he let it out, he said, “You know I trust you.”
Merlin was so silent on his end Arthur feared the line had been cut off, but then Merlin said, “I'd either create fatigue cracks in the steering column so that it would fail at some point or damage the rear-drive shaft. Cause some extra wear.”
“I'll go tell Elena to check,” said Elyan, giving the phone to Arthur. “Take care.”
Before hanging up, Arthur said, “I want you here like nothing else.”
“I'm coming,” Merlin said, the promise clear.
Arthur grinned and switched off the loudspeaker function. “You bet,” he said, choosing to misinterpret Merlin's words.
Merlin broke into uncontrollable laughter. “You big knob, I sort of love you, you know. I'm glad you're safe.”
“I didn't even make it on the track. I'm okay. ” Arthur's heart expanded in his chest. “Thanks to you. Just... Just get your tiny arse over here, all right? There's a job waiting for you, I suspect. They owe it to you to take you back.”
The line went dead for real this time, Merlin probably having had to switch his phone off, but Arthur didn't mind. That only meant Merlin was one step closer to getting there. Arthur would see him again. He was looking forward to it.
One man from the group of mechanics and experts gathered around the EX-26 said, “It's the steering column. There are hairline cracks! Look.”
*****
Part IV