Eye of the Cobra by Christopher Sherlock Page A

perfecting.
    Now he looked directly at Aito Shensu. ‘Sir. Does Mr de Villiers know we have built the car as well as the engine and gearbox?’
    ‘Not yet. It will be a pleasant surprise for him. I shall leave the revelation to Dr Dunstal - they are close friends.’
     
    Bruce de Villiers was in a dark mood, seething with anxiety. It was less than two months to the start of the season. He could see himself missing the first couple of races while the car was still in the development stages.
    At last Mickey Dunstal was free from his work in Japan and was here to see him. Mickey was the best there was - but two months was hardly enough time for him to develop a competitive car. The intercom on his desk sounded again, and he pushed the answer-button.
    ‘Yes, Debbie?’
    ‘Are you ready for Dr Dunstal?’
    ‘Tell him to come through.’
    Dr Mickey Dunstal came in through the door, a sinewy man with long blond hair which he wore in a pony-tail. He was wearing a Hawaian shirt in vivid colours, and tight-fitting jeans. He had a full beard, and his green eyes glittering with intensity.
    Bruce had known Mickey for years. He remembered the face before the beard had been grown - it was wide-jawed and strong. He’d worked with Mickey often: a bit of a wild man, and a difficult person to control, but a genius.
    ‘Top of the mornin’ to you. It’s been too long, Bruce.’
    He took the outstretched hand and the grip was hard. Mickey Dunstal was certainly tough. He had to be, thought Bruce, to stand the punishment he meted out to his body. This was a man who could work for forty-eight hours without a break, then go out on a drinking spree that would destroy most people. Bruce had often thought Mickey had a death-wish - but he was still one of the most gifted and innovative designers of Formula One cars in the world.
    The previous year he had just disappeared - gone out of circulation. There was talk that he might have returned to Lockheed.
    Bruce watched the designer as he sank down into one of the leather couches and contemplated his boots.
    ‘I was approached by Shensu,’ Mickey Dunstal said at last. ‘Long before he signed up with you and Phelps. I’d hate you to think I was imposin’, but they contracted me to do the design before you came along. Aito wanted me to tell you.’
    ‘You’ve made my day!’ Bruce’s face broke into a broad smile. This was better than he’d dreamed, a minor miracle.
    Dunstal sat up, beads of perspiration on his forehead. ‘Thank God, you’re pleased! I thought you might be upset. I know you like to be in on the development.’
    Bruce leaned back, a weight off his mind. He would have competitive machines for the first race of the season. The Irishman was the best. And he needed the best.
    ‘OK, Mickey. Let’s see what you’ve got.’
    Mickey wiped the perspiration off his forehead. ‘I want to tell you my thinkin’. The Shensu 3500 is a superb V12 engine.’ ‘But I’d heard it was a V8?’
    ‘Yes. That was the smokescreen Shensu deliberately put out. I’ve been in Japan for the last year, working with Professor Katana - he’s Shensu’s newly appointed head of engine design and research. He’s a clever little man, take it from me. Together we evolved the final design.’
    Bruce sat hunched forward. He was listening now. Aito Shensu was smart; he must have known he and Mickey were friends. That must be why Phelps had approached him rather than anyone else - to smooth the way for an equable working relationship.
    Mickey continued: ‘The engine produces far more power than previous designs, but the balance of the engine is awkward. In fact Katana told me they’ve found that strivin’ to produce balance alone actually detracts from the power output of the unit.’
    He unfolded his first plan on Bruce’s desk, and Bruce sucked in his breath. It was beautifully drawn.
    ‘This is what a conventional designer would have done. This was what I started off with. There are many flaws in