Eye of the Cobra by Christopher Sherlock

Calibre-Shensu for what was probably the highest price ever paid for a driver - a cost that made Bruce shudder. But then he had realised: he wasn’t working to a budget. There was only one objective - to win.
    The phone rang. He snatched it up to hear his old employer, McCabe, on the other end of the line.
    ‘You’re a bastard, Bruce. Just listen to me. I’ll give you your old job back and you’ll have another year of winning. What’s your answer?’
    ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’
    ‘After all our years together, you treacherous bastard.’
    ‘Don’t speak to me like that, man.’
    ‘We had a contract. You broke it. I’ll make your name dirt with FOCA and FISA.’
    ‘I think you should concentrate on looking for a new manager,’ Bruce said very softly.
    ‘Go fuck yourself, de Villiers.’
    The phone went dead.
     
    Aito Shensu looked up from his desk as his personal assistant came into the office.
    ‘Professor Katana wishes to speak with you.’
    ‘He was not supposed to speak to me until Friday.’
    ‘He said it was very important - that you would want to know about it.’
    ‘Send him in, in five minutes.’
    ‘Very good, sir.’
    Aito waited until the door was closed, then got up to go to the dressing-room situated next to the bathroom suite at the side of his office. He rumpled his hair slightly, and replaced his couturier suit with the official Shensu one. Shensu’s corporate colours were black and white. Every Shensu factory worker wore a black and white overall, as did every member of the research team.
    Katana’s appointment to Shensu had been the result of an elaborate head-hunting exercise. Then professor of mechanical engineering at Tokyo University, Katana had been wooed to the company with the offer of developing a Formula One racing engine.
    Aito adjusted his heavy, black-framed spectacles and then took his place behind his desk. A few moments later there was a knock at the door.
    ‘Come in.’
    Professor Katana bustled in through the door, a sheaf of papers stuffed under his left arm. A short, lean man who radiated energy, he was smiling from ear to ear.
    They both bowed. Katana’s sharp eyes, set in an ascetic face with perfectly proportioned features, probed Aito’s face fearfully.
    ‘Mr Shensu. I know we had a meeting scheduled for later in the week - but I had to see you.’
    ‘It is always good to meet with you, professor. What is it?’
    ‘First, the latest test results from the engine.’ He handed Aito a sheet of printed figures. ‘Just read this.’
    Katana waited as Aito pored over the figures.
    ‘You are sure they are correct?’ Aito asked.
    ‘I had them double-checked by three other engineers before I came to you, sir. I would not take up your time unless I thought it was of vital importance.’
    He studied the figures more closely now - and felt his pulse racing. This was without doubt the finest racing engine ever to come out of Japan.
    He stretched out his hand to Professor Katana. ‘Well done. How is Dr Dunstal’s project proceeding?’
    ‘That is what I came to tell you about. He is already ahead of schedule.’
    ‘Very good. It is time to begin testing in England.’
    Professor Katana felt his spirits soar. Two years before, he had reduced his responsibilities at the university with some reluctance, in order to take on the Shensu project. At the time he had thought he might be making a big mistake: Mr Shensu’s reputation for pushing people to the limit was legendary even in Japan, where most people lived to work.
    Now all this was forgotten. The engine he had just developed would also be detuned and used in a road-going machine - a Japanese high-performance car that would usurp the great marques like Porsche and Ferrari.
    He had enjoyed working with the mad Irishman, Dr Dunstal, whom Aito Shensu had brought out from Europe the year before under a veil of secrecy. Dr Dunstal had developed a chassis to match the engine and gearbox Katana had been