Salvation

Callum tried not to grin at Henry’s expectant father routine. After all, it was an excited Henry who had originally found the bike on a specialist auction site eighteen months ago, just as Callum was appointed crew leader. They’d formed a syndicate, all of them chipping in for the privilege of riding the superb old machine at rallies and club meetings. Between them they could afford it. But as they’d soon found out, it wasn’t the initial cost that was the problem, but the maintenance. And as for the price of specially synthesized petrol…

Callum parked the Ducati and took his helmet off.

“So was that a good result?” Dokal asked with apparent innocence. She was sitting under the awning next to her girlfriend, Emillie, both of them with a can of beer.

“We need to have a handicap scheme for these club meetings,” Callum said gruffly. “Some of those bikes are more powerful than the Ducati. They’re a lot younger, too.”

“That’s the spirit, chief,” Raina said. She came out of the back of the Sprinter, zipping up her leathers. “I’m going to have a couple of practice laps before my race, okay?”

“All yours.” Callum dismounted, trying not to make old-man grunts as his legs protested. “Watch out for the tarmac at McLeans and Redgate. There’s a patch starting on Craner, too.”

“Thanks.” She swung her leg over the saddle and started the engine.

“Should you be racing on broken tarmac?” Emillie asked in a light French accent.

Callum shifted his gaze from a fabulous scarlet-and-black Yamaha YZF-10R on the other side of the paddock lane. “Huh? Oh, the track owners do their best. There’s only so much they can charge to hire Donnington for a day. We’re just enthusiasts, that’s all. It took three clubs combined to fund today.”

“Owners have a legal responsibility. They can get into all kinds of trouble with negligence; all the way up to corporate manslaughter.”

“Drivers sign a waiver before we go out.”

“I’m not sure that’s good enough.”

“Excuse my friend,” Dokal said. “You can take the girl out of the risk assessment department…”

“Just saying,” Emillie replied with a pout.

“Test of skill,” Callum told her. “I’m going to get these leathers off. Henry, how are we doing?”

“Fifteen minutes, and we’re eating.”

“Roger that. Where’s Katya?”

“Too tired,” Henry said. “But she sent her salmon quiche.” He pointed at the foil-wrapped flan on the camping table.

“Now you’re talking.” Callum went into the dark Sprinter and struggled out of his leathers, trying not to jab elbows into the racks of tools along one side.

“Not like you,” Dokal said. “Ninth place?”

He glanced over at her as she stood in the van’s open doorway. “I wasn’t concentrating,” he admitted.

“I can see that. Have you and Savi broken up?”

“No.” Callum shook his head. “Quite the opposite.” He started to explain.

Dokal’s hand covered her wide-open mouth. “Married?” she squeaked when he’d finished. “Seriously?”

“Deadly so.”

“That’s wonderful.” She came over and gave him a hug, smiling widely. “You old romantic. How long have you been going out? Two months?”

“When you know, you know.”

“Callum Hepburn, a married man. Who’d have thought it?”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to have a proper reception? Oh, please say yes. I love weddings! Her parents are quite old-style, aren’t they? What did they say?”

“There’s a few…formal issues we have to settle first. I wanted to talk them over with you.”

“Of course.”

“Human Resources, for a start.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, dropping right back into her corporate lawyer mode. “They’ll grumble, but don’t worry about them. They only have that notification procedure in case an injured party goes all hypersensitive and fires off a workplace sexual harassment suit. You two didn’t, quite the opposite: happy ever after ending.”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, pulling an awkward face. “But she’s in Security. They take it all a lot more seriously.”

Dokal grinned evilly. “My, oh my. You should have been vetted. What will they find?”

“I’m not bothered about being vetted. It’s the not telling them earlier when we should have bit that’s the problem. I don’t want a black mark on her file.”

“That’s easy. Companies aren’t allowed to do that anymore.”

“What?”

“It’s discriminatory. As an employee, you have the right to see your full file, including disciplinary entries—which you can challenge in tribunal if you think said remarks are having an undue negative impact on your career prospects. If the tribunal agrees they’re disproportionate, they can be wiped. And they can’t be handed on to a subsequent employer, either.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That’s why HR chiefs are always networking so hard with recruitment agency account managers. And why corporate treads but softly on their entertainment expenses. A lot of shit lists get passed over in bars.”

“Bloody hell! I didn’t know that.”

“You have a long way to go before you’re ready to sit behind a desk, don’t you?”

“So it would seem.”