Page 36 of Dirty Air
“Who is this?” Fritz asks, searching the pit wall. He can’t see well through the battering rain, but he can tell there are no bald heads. “Where is Henry?”
“Craig thought it might be best if you two were separated for the remainder of the race.”
“I’m not doing that. Go get Henry.”
“The team has decided?—”
“I do not give one fuck what the team has decided. These conditions are too dangerous to change my fucking race engineer midway. If this was last week, sure, let us mess around a little, but I cannot see and I am about to drive very fast. Give me my race engineer before I forfeit the race.”
“I’m not apologizing.”
There he is. Fritz can’t see him, so Henry must be in the garage somewhere.
“Then I am not overtaking on turn twelve.”
“It’d be stupid if you did, since you struggle there too. The data says you’d have a better chance of sticking the landing if you wait ‘til sixteen.”
Sixteen is a good corner for late brakers. Lucas is too smooth of a driver to expect a stupid idea like that. Henry kept working on strategy, even after their fight. “Copy.”
“Good.”
He sounds like he does on the phone and Fritz immediately shuts down whatever emotion threatens to bubble up to the surface. He has a raceto win.
Due to the weather, it’s a rolling restart. Even though Fritz is second, he can only barely see the flashing lights of the safety car ahead.
He keeps his head down and tries to focus on Lucas in front and the Ferraro in his mirrors. After the altercation with Henry, it would be extra stupid to lose his position on the restart.
Fritz manages to hold second after Lucas punches the throttle, but he struggles to keep the Ferraro contained behind him.
Lucas slows to keep Fritz in tow, and it helps tremendously on the corners. Unfortunately, the Ferraro is also benefitting. Not just from the grip, but also visibility. Since Fritz isn’t kicking up as much water spray, the red car isn’t as blinded.
“Point nine ahead, point three behind.”
Henry’s losing patience, Fritz can tell, but he keeps his tone steady over the radio. He’s probably trying not to stress Fritz out, but it doesn’t help if he can see right through it.
“Lap times?”
“They’re both faster, though it’s hard to tell by how much.”
Because of him. Because Fritz slows the Ferraro down with his defense and Lucas is trying to hold them all together.
Fritz is frustrated with himself, but he focuses on what he can control—blocking the Ferraro out of turn seven and focusing on the grip of his tires.
“You can apologize to me whenever you want,” Fritz says when he spots an opening.
Fritz tries to memorize Lucas’s laps—he tries to find more weak points the data might not have found. There are only four more laps to go, four more tries.
Henry scoffs. “You’re the one who needs to apologize.”
“When would you like it?”
“The last lap.”
“Copy.”
A last-lap maneuver means that if Fritz fails, he’s done. No do-overs.
Then again, even if he fails with three more laps to go, he doubts Lucas would hang around long enough to let him try again.
