Jack Wilkinson terminated the call with shaking hands and closed his eyes, leaning tiredly against the wall.

 He felt as though he were being ripped apart, and was terrified of the consequences of both his actions and his inaction.

*****

Dean Grey sat at his desk, a briefcase open in front of him and a dazed expression on his face.

Another accident: Easton had broken his leg. The Committee would be down on him like a ton of bricks. He desperately needed to get things under control as he couldn’t bear to lose his job.

*****

Gil Milland stared at the passport in front of him. He had received it in the morning’s post, along with a demand. He had thought that the owner of the passport, one Alexis Drijka, was safely buried in his past. Apparently not.

He had his suspicions and he would get the bastard who was behind this, if was the last thing he did.

*****

Giacomo Biarritza eased past the other car, oblivious to the fact that his move had forced his opponent to go onto the grass. His whole being focussed on the chequered flag ahead.

He floored the accelerator, determined to win, and obsessed with the need to prove that he and his car were still the best. The instant he hit the finishing line, a flash of victorious adrenaline hit him, and he knew it wasn’t enough. He had to keep going, keep proving that he was the best on the track. He kept the accelerator down, forcing the car ever faster, looking for another rush of adrenaline, bigger and better than the last.

His vision blurred, and he shook his head, ignoring it. But still he did not let up. He knew this track like the back of his hand, and was expecting the right hand turn coming up. But he could not bring himself to slow down. At the last moment, as the track swung away from his trajectory, he braked. Too hard, and too late.

He got his last big adrenaline rush as the wall came careening at him, and was laughing wildly when both he and his car shattered.

*****

“Gentlemen,” Malone acknowledged Curtis and Keel as they entered his office. “What do you know about Detro Violorin 8?”

“Never heard of it,” shrugged Curtis, and Keel echoed him with a short shake of his head.

“Detro Violorin 8, also known as DV8.” Malone raised an eyebrow, daring either agent to make a facetious comment. When none was forthcoming, he continued. “DV8 is the newest of many such drugs that have been developed. It increases a person’s stamina and pain threshold, heightens awareness, and increases their determination to win."

“Just like any other drug that’s not supposed to be used in sports,” Curtis said cynically, “So why are we involved?”

“This particular drug, Mr Curtis, is extreme in its power to make a man do anything, and I mean anything, to accomplish his goal. If an individual is given enough, he will even keep going beyond that goal until he self-destructs. That is, unless they are given the antidote. In that case, they recover unimpaired but after some confusion. The potential military applications are quite frightening.”

“I can see that,” Keel nodded. “So you want us to trace the source?”

“We already have the scientist that created it,” Malone frowned at the interruption. “And no more will be made, but a rather large quantity is out there in the hands of a distributor. Unfortunately, the doctor was unable to tell us who the distributor is; he died of an overdose of his own drug.”

“What have we got to go on?” asked Sam.

“From notes retrieved from the doctor’s desk, we know that DV8 is being either tested, or demonstrated, using racing drivers. Drivers in Formula CX to be exact. There has been a massive increase in the number of accidents recently. You may have seen in the news that one of the top drivers, Giacomo Biarritza, was involved in a fatal crash at the weekend? DV8 was found in his blood. You will both be going undercover and joining the Black Arrows team. You Mr Keel, will be a driver and Mr Curtis will be an executive assistant to Mr Jack Wilkinson. Miss Backus is currently researching all the personnel, and will contact you later today.”

“Why do I feel a sense of déjà vu?” Sam wondered aloud, as Chris, who had been somewhat subdued, suddenly brightened up.

“Mr Keel, these cars are somewhat more expensive than the last one you drove, so please try to be careful.”

Chris couldn’t keep the wide grin from his face. “No problem, sir, when do we go?”

“The team are expecting you this afternoon. You both should be aware that you, Mr Keel, are replacing Giacomo Biarritza.”

“Nice,” grimaced Chris. “Nothing like stepping into dead men’s shoes.”

Malone continued, ignoring the interruption. “The team manager, Jack Wilkinson, and the track manager, Dean Grey, are the only ones who know who you both are, and why you are there; they had to be informed in order to get you in.

*****

“But I’ve worked my arse off for this drive!” Sonny Banks cried. “You promised!”

“I’m sorry, Sonny,” Jack tried to calm the outraged driver. “But it just isn’t your time, yet.”

“And I’m still playing second fiddle. It’s one thing to be crawling behind a damned good driver like Biarritza, Jack, but I’m not crawling to an unknown upstart with no time on the track.” Banks was bitter, and Wilkinson could not help but feel sympathy for the man.

“Sonny, if anything should happen to Keel, you’ll be in the hot seat, I promise.”

“Just like you promised that I’d replace Biarritza? Right.” Sonny stormed away, and Jack looked after the retreating back with some anger. Damn CI5.