Page 110 of Double Apex

I tell myself I have a slight psychological advantage, as Powell already has the title locked up, and I’m ravenous for my first win and riding high on the euphoria of Phaedra’s return and our effortless teamwork.

On lap 36, Powell lengthens his lead a touch just before turn 8, but I’m well within range of DRS—which opens a flap on the rear wing, thus reducing drag—as we shoot into the area between turns 8 and 9.

It’s not enough.

As we wend our way through the marina section, Phaedra speaks up. “Plan C, plan C.”

An added rush of adrenaline jets through me.This could be it.

We’re pivoting to a two-stop strategy. It’s a massive risk, but if everything lines up precisely right, it could mean victory.

First, we need the pit stop to be faultlessly quick. The outcome rests partly in the hands of my crew—the briefest delay could spell disaster. In this sport, one second may as well be an eternity.

Next, we need to gain at least one second per lap for the remainder of the race.

Every. Single. Lap.

The average full time expenditure of pitting—from entry to exit, not merely the span where the car is at rest—is just under twenty-two seconds at this track. There are twenty-two laps to go, and I’ll have to work my way back up to where Powell is.

If I go in for fresh medium tyres, it may be too late for him to do the same. If he chooses to pit on the next lap, he most likely drops behind my position. He’ll probably stay the course and take a gamble that I won’t be able to gain a second per lap.

I slot into the pit box and, o Doamne, it’s the best stop I’ve had all season at 2.1 seconds. I shoot away down the pit lane, riding the precise speed limit.

Her voice is there again.

“You should come out ahead of traffic in P6, Cos. Clear road ahead,” she says calmly.

“Copy.”

I glide back onto the track precisely as predicted. The tyres are still a bit cool, but the next lap should be phenomenal. I overtake Akio Ono at turn 5 and open up DRS on the straight, where I also pass Mateo Ortiz.

Owen in his Team Easton car and Anders Olsson stand between me and second place. Once there, I need only focus on plucking those precious seconds one at a time like ripe fruit.

I can feel how deliciously fast the car is by the time I’m halfway through lap 37—it wouldn’t surprise me to hear I’ve gained three seconds. As if reading my mind, Phaedra is there again, and the way she says it—a cool and matter-of-fact, “Keep it up; this pace is good”—tells me I’m right. I’ve grabbed this race by the throat.

At the end of lap 38, she gives me the words I long to hear.

“Cosmin, you are the fastest man on track.”

Her smooth voice all but vibrates with a timbre of profound-yet-calm elation, and the moment between us is as intense as sex. It feelsirrefutable. So right, so real.

Fucking hell!I’ve set fastest lap for the race.

“Fastestdriver, I mean,” she amends with an amiable note of laughter. It’s the first time she’s been on the pit wall since Sage took over a seat at Harrier.

Owen gives me a good fight on lap 48 before I get past him at turn 9. At lap 51, Olsson is having some sort of struggle—his car is slowing—and I whip past him. I’m all but praying he won’t end up in a spot requiring the safety car to come out. Moments later, Phaedra tells me he managed to limp into the pits, and I breathe a metaphoric sigh of relief.

This is it.A handful of laps to go, and I’m within striking distance.

Closer and closer each time around. Powell’s tyres are nearly spent, but his ART09 is a faster car, were all other factors equal. Allonby took an aerodynamic risk this year and it paid off.

My E-19 is good, Emerald’s strategy is strong, and my drive today has been potent. Still, without getting within a second of Powell by turn 8 of the final lap, there’s little hope. I need DRS to give me the necessary boost, combined with my better tyres.

Even if circumstances line up perfectly, I likely only get one shot.

I just make it between turns 6 and 7, and we bunch up. The moment we hit the straight, I attack.

He blocks once, but a second defensive move would be weaving, and as I overtake him and see the gorgeous sight of clear track ahead of me, the crowd is in my head again, but this time it’s all cheering.

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