Hover Car Racer by Matthew Reilly Page A

about the Black Prince and Barnaby’s backroom thuggery (which Martha didn’t like at all and wanted to inform the authorities about, but to Jason’s relief Henry Chaser stopped her by saying, ‘No, dear, this is a battle for the boys to fight’), and about Scott Syracuse’s relentless class schedule that didn’t seem to be replicated by any of the other teachers at the School.
    He also told them about Race 25, the race that he and the Bug had to win if they were to get a start in Saturday’s all-important tournament.
    ‘First of all, son,’ Henry Chaser said gently, ‘let me just say this about your teacher, Mr Syracuse. Never ever worry about having the “hard” teacher. Trust me, the hard teachers are always the best teachers.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because the hard teachers want you to learn . This Syracuse guy isn’t here to be your best friend, Jason. He isn’t here to have a fun old time. He’s here to teach . And it sounds to me like he’s teaching as hard as he damn well can. What about you: are you learning as hard as you can?’
    Jason frowned at that. ‘But he never says “well done” or “good job.”’
    ‘Ah-ha. So that’s it,’ Henry Chaser said. ‘You want to get some positive feedback out of him. Want to know how to get that?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Henry Chaser smiled enigmatically. ‘Jason. When you start learning as hard as you can, I guarantee he’ll start treating you differently.’
    Jason sighed, bowed his head.
    His father clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay, son. You’re only 14. You’ve got to learn these things sometime. Now. To more important matters. Tell me again about this race on Thursday that you have to win at any cost.’
    Unfortunately the afternoon had to end, and as dusk descended, the Chasers packed up their stuff and started the drive back to the Race School.
    On the way back, with the Bug fast asleep beside him, Jason gazed idly out the window of their car, watching the landscape whistle by.
    As such, he wasn’t really paying attention when Henry pulled over abruptly - to help a biker on the side of the road.
    Jason watched as his father, illuminated by the headlights of their car, walked over to the young man crouched beside his bike.
    Jason couldn’t see the biker’s face, but he noticed that the man’s hover motorcycle - a nice Kawasaki XT-700 trail rider - was completely covered in a strange grey powder.
    ‘Need a hand, partner?’ Henry Chaser said into the darkness. ‘Or a ride?’
    The biker waved him off. His riding leathers were also, Jason noticed, totally covered in the grey powder.
    ‘Nah. Just fixed it,’ the biker called. ‘Got some dust in the mag switches.’
    Sure enough, he had fixed the problem. The young man’s bike hummed to life and he straddled the hover bike, reaching for his helmet.
    And in that instant, Jason saw the young man’s face.
    Then the hover bike raced off into the night, and Henry Chaser returned to the car, shrugging.
    Jason, however, sat frozen in his seat.
    He had recognised the biker.
    It was Wernold Smythe, the clerk from the Race School’s Parts and Equipment Department.
    ‘Sounds like it’ll be a tough race,’ Henry Chaser said as he dropped Jason and Bug off at the Race School. Henry and Martha were going to stay at a caravan park in Hobart for a few days and watch Thursday’s big race.
    Henry said, ‘Eight hours means a lot of pit stops - your Mech Chief is in for a long day. And stay away from those demon lights. Run over some of those and your race is over. And watch out for other drivers ramming you onto them. Oh, and Jason…’
    ‘Yes, Dad?’
    ‘Always remember the Bradbury Principle.’
    ‘Yes, Dad,’ Jason sighed. His father always said that. It was Henry Chaser’s contribution to sport: the Bradbury Principle. Jason ignored it and got serious: ‘What do you think about cutting the heel?’
    ‘Wouldn’t touch it,’ Henry said. ‘The pros rarely cut the heel in the Italian Run and