He looked thoughtful, nudging his chopsticks in the bowl.
“There’s always someone. The trick is knowing why. Favouritism. Fatigue. Pressure from above.” He tapped the table with two fingers. “Most people assume the FIA is one big rulebook on legs, but it’s still made up of humans. And humans make deals. Or mistakes.”
“Anything I should be looking at in particular?” I asked. “Patterns? Certain circuits? Certain officials?”
Jimmy sighed and pushed his bowl aside. “If something fishy’s happening under parc fermé, your best bet is to follow the chain of supervision. Not the big bosses—they’re too public. Look for mid-level staff with access and just enough authority to be useful. People who blend in.”
“Any names?”
He hesitated. Then, “If I were digging into this—which I’m not—I’d start by looking at who logs the seal reports. And who’sresponsible for verifying them. That’s where the wiggle room lives.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “That helps.”
Jimmy gave me a pointed look. “You didn’t hear it from me. I like my job.”
“Your secret’s safe.”
He stood and stretched, slinging his lanyard over his shoulder. “Careful, Archer. Dig too deep, and you’ll find dirt under your fingernails you can’t wash off.”
“Journalism’s messy,” I said. “But I’ve got good soap.”
He gave me one last look, like he was trying to decide if I was brave or stupid.
Then he walked away.
I stayed seated after Jimmy left, pretending to scroll through my notes. The other tables emptied around me as staff filtered back to their posts. Conversations faded. The clatter of cutlery dulled. Just long enough for the hum of anxiety to crawl back in.
I glanced around the seating area casually—too casually, probably.
And there she was.
The same blonde woman. Now seated a few tables away. She wasn’t staring directly at me. She was eating and talking quietly with someone else in a white FIA shirt. But her body was angled just enough that I couldn’t help noticing the line of her gaze drift my way every few seconds. Not obvious. Just… deliberate.
I turned back to my phone, fingers hovering over the screen without moving.
What was it Graham always said?
When in doubt, assume they’re watching.
I packed up slowly, trying not to rush, trying not to let my imagination spiral. She could’ve just been a comms officer.A paddock regular with resting espionage face. Or she could’ve been waiting for someone else entirely.
But as I walked away, I didn’t look back.
Because I already knew she was still watching me.
I left the paddock with the thought that I was getting far too close to the truth.
Chapter Twenty Four – Seoul Friday Night
Aleks Volkov – Seoul Nightclub
I didn’t have many genuine friends on the grid. I never had. I wasn’t popular. Too many wins. Too few words. I didn’t do warmth or charm. I was no Luca Moretti, out to make friends and influence people everywhere I went.
Which was why the few friends I had were sometimes able to persuade me to do things I would never normally do. Most people didn’t understand my friendship with Jax. We were so different. For every stoic silence on my part, he had a dozen loud jokes. But we balanced each other out. On our good days, at least. I hated the sponsorship events, the dinners and galas. All greasing palms and saying the right thing. But the thing I hated even more was the loud, un-curated chaos of clubbing.
But when Jax told me a bunch of people from the grid were heading to Seoul’s hottest nightspot and insisted I tag along, I relented. Against my better judgement, I joined him, Callum,Ren, a bunch of the guys from Nova Dynamics and Falcon Edge and some of the Triton team.
The club was throbbing with young people dancing to the latest K-Pop hits. Coloured lights pulsed to the music and smoke filled the air. It was a vast and open club, with hundreds of people on display.
