DEADLY DRIVER Read online

  ProForce was the team that had just won the Formula One Championship with Tony Bishop at the wheel. The move immediately stunned the racing world. Based on Werner’s signing Bishop most thought Bryce was retiring, win or lose, at the end of this past season. Now, in a three-year deal, the former F1 champ was back. And he’d be driving for the team that had just won the title. It was racing’s version of musical chairs. Bryce had enjoyed every second of delivering the news in such dramatic fashion. After all, this was how he’d learned he was out of a ride just two months earlier.

  *

  The cheers that reverberated within the walls at Werner’s HQ were met with a chair thrown by him at the flat screen TV in response. Werner was furious that his former friend had refused to extend his contract only now to sign with Werner’s biggest competitor. Even worse, he was enraged that any of his employees would cheer for Bryce’s news, especially with him and their new driver sitting just overhead in the executive offices.

  Within minutes, he’d sent an email to every employee stating that anyone attending Winters’ Holiday Party, he refused to call it Christmas, would be violating their confidentiality contract with their employer and be terminated and left unable to work for two years in the industry. The email also reminded them of the date, time, and location of the Werner Holiday Party and his expectation that everyone attend.

  Bishop voiced his concern, telling Werner he thought it a mistake. But Werner’s expression, and the last words he spoke to Bishop before storming out of the office, was clear. “I pay you to drive. I don’t pay you to do anything else.”

  *

  The Toby Carvery in Stonebridge was always a special stop for Bryce whenever he was in the area. There was nothing like it anywhere else he’d traveled. The classic British pub & family restaurant’s design was warm and inviting, but the main attraction was the hand-carved buffet.

  For a reasonable fee, patrons could load as much hand-carved turkey, beef, or ham along with all the fixings – three types of potatoes, four types of veggies – all roasted, and then take a return trip for a piece of pie. He didn’t do much with the meats, but the stuffing, potatoes, and veggies alone would fill him for a week.

  He sat quietly in the rear of the restaurant, surrounded by ProForce’s media manager and her assistants. They had some planning, a lot of planning, to do before Bryce headed out in the morning for the U.S. He stopped listening to them for a short time to take in the atmosphere – especially the aroma of the feel-good food. He wouldn’t be back in England until the Autosport International trade show at the NEC, just up the road at Birmingham airport, until early January. After that he would be off until pre-season testing began in Spain in mid-February.

  There was much to be done. Fitted for the cars, new custom fitted fire-resistant driving suits to be acquired, and media photos to be shot in them, and on and on. His day, and night, had been busy and fulfilling. His only frustration was the cancellation of his Christmas Party. He’d received enough calls and texts from former co-workers that pressure had been applied that he sent a message to all saying he understood.

  He did two things right after that before heading to dinner. First, he organized three buses to transport people from one of the homeless shelters in the area to the venue so they could eat to their heart’s content. He closed the bar, but the night went on very well and was much appreciated by the church he’d contacted to make it all happen. Second, he arranged for the gift cards he would have handed out in person at the party to be sent via courier to the home addresses of every employee at Werner. The gifts were significant in value and came with a personal note thanking them and wishing them the best. The next morning, he was back on a jet, high over the Atlantic, headed home.

  This was the first Christmas Bryce had spent at his home in Park City, ever. In recent years he’d either been sitting on a barstool alongside Jack Madigan somewhere in the Keys or standing before a roaring fire at a ski lodge in Zermatt with Max Werner. He was at odds with them both now and, without suggestions or an invitation from either of them, he opted to go it alone and embrace his solitude. He reflected on all that had happened in recent months, and all he expected might come.

  Days before, he had invited a dozen local athletes and two coaches he had met at the Olympic training center to come to his home for a buffet-style dinner of southern specialties of fried chicken, ribs, corn on the cob, corn bread, baked beans, pecan pie, and soft drinks. To keep the coaches happy, he’d added something green to the menu at the last minute and laughed afterward when he noticed the green beans hadn’t been touched.

  The food didn’t come for free, though. Bryce had made a deal with them. “Help me decorate my first tree, and I’ll lay out more food than you can imagine.” Now, at just past ten on Christmas Eve, Bryce’s phone vibrated in his jeans’ pocket. He didn’t recognize the number, but as the hours had drawn closer to midnight, Bryce discovered how truly alone he felt. A caller, any caller, might do.

  “Bryce Winters?” an unfamiliar voice said, “Billy Myers here – Joan’s husband.”

  Bryce was shocked to hear the name and equally surprised that Billy, of all people, was reaching out to him.

  “Hi, Billy. This must be a very difficult time of the year for you. What can I do for you?” Bryce waited but didn’t hear a response. “Billy?”

  “I’m out by your front gate. Can you let me in?”

  Bryce spun to look at the monitor on the iPad on an end table. Security cameras covered every inch of the exterior of the residence, even where the floodlights that remained on from dusk to dawn he had coverage. Night vision cameras kept an eye on any movement in unlit areas. Bryce had always been amazed at the number of animals who wandered through. Moose mostly, but the occasional mountain lion always received extra attention.

  There was Billy, standing at the entry gate, a light snow dusting his shoulders. Bryce stared at the image. You’ve been a bad boy Bryce Winters, he thought, maybe this is a ghost of Christmas past coming to collect.

  Bryce considered his options and pushed the button to open the gate as he ended the call. After taking a quick walk through the great room and kitchen, Bryce headed to the door and invited Myers in. The two men stood quietly looking at each other until Bryce offered to take his guest’s coat and offered him a drink.

  “Just coffee if you have it, thanks.” Myers followed Bryce’s lead into the kitchen and stood quietly taking it all in. The floor plan was an open one, allowing a full view of the kitchen, dining room off to the left, great room with the massive tree and trophy display to the right. Myers pulled a high stool from the island and returned his focus to his host.

  “That’s where she sat, the last time she was here,” Bryce told him.

  Myers blinked, as if the words had knocked the wind out of him. After a moment, he said in a soft tone, looking at Bryce through sad eyes. “Is this where you fucked her?”

  Bryce leaned back against the counter and shook his head no and paused to let his response sink in. “Billy, we had a working relationship and that was it. I never touched her.” He waited for a response but when none came he turned, poured a mug of coffee and slid it across the island to his guest.

  “Well, she was fucking someone. I found enough in the notes and things she left behind. Stupid shit. A CIA agent, and she left evidence behind to let the guy she lived with discover there was someone else.”

  Bryce was shocked and related where they had met and that she had only come there to prepare him to meet her new boss.

  “We worked for the same boss. That was all. You know that I can’t discuss any of the details other than to assure you that it was just that. Nothing more.”

  Myers drank down the hot coffee and stood up. His posture seemed, at first, threatening, but as he turned toward the tree in the great room Bryce watched as the man’s shoulders fell.

  “Do you know who she was with?” Myers asked, his back still to Bryce.

  Race drivers are known for quick re
flexes and millisecond decision-making. Bryce knew what he would say he just waited to deliver the news.

  “No, Billy, I don’t. She traveled the world for the CIA. I wasn’t her only assignment.” Myers shook his head.

  “I still don’t understand why they chose you to pass messages to foreign dignitaries. Thought the state department did that shit.” Bryce shrugged his shoulders as if in agreement.

  Myers turned to face him. “She spent more weekends away than weekdays, and she spent more time at auto races than anywhere else. I may not be the sharpest tool in the box, but all indications are to racers.”

  Bryce shook his head in agreement. “Racing is a magnet, Billy. It feeds on money, hype, fans, competition, and excitement, but it also sends a lot of lonely people to bars and beds. If she was with anyone else, anywhere else, it could have been at a race but it wasn’t with anyone I know.” He paused. “This might hurt but you need to know this, Billy. Until that day you turned up at the airport, I never even knew she was married. Never even noticed a ring.” He watched as Myers stepped further into the great room, staring up at the vaulted ceiling and then to the fireplace before approaching the far wall, covered with winners trophies claimed across the United States and around the world.

  “I believe you, Bryce,” Myers began. “I believe you didn’t fuck my wife but I’m not sure about the rest of it.” Well, I rarely saw her at races so there’s that, Bryce thought and saw this as a chance to shove the spotlight, an unwanted one, off of racing and onto something else. “Have you considered she might have been with someone she worked with at the CIA? Everything they do is so secretive, so need-to-know. Maybe she had a fling with someone she spent a lot of work hours with. If I were you, I’d look there. Go back East, go back to Langley and see what you can find out there.”

  Bryce walked to his guest and stood directly in front of him.

  “Or, you can realize you and Joan had a good thing for a time. And, like life, shit happens. You can spend a lot of time banging your head on a wall and trying to catch someone and make them pay for what they did. But if it was an affair, she would have been a willing participant. Have you considered you might have played a part in that – maybe working too many hours yourself or taking things for granted?”

  Myers was listening. Bryce could see that he had planted the suggestions well. Maybe it was time for the widower to pursue self-awareness instead of revenge.

  “You’re a smart man,” Myers told him. “Is that why you aren’t married?” he said with a laugh.

  Bryce stepped closer. “The only woman I ever loved was killed in a car crash, years ago, back home in Vermont. For me, falling in love again would hurt too bad. Dealing with that loss felt as though I had been in a violent car crash of my own and needed years to physically and emotionally recover. No, sir, not interested in ever getting that banged up again.” Bryce saw a change in Myers eyes.

  “Makes for a lonely life though doesn’t it?” he asked.

  Bryce nodded. “Well, look around. Kind of quiet isn’t it?”

  The two men just stood there, silent in their grief. Talking about Christy had been a gut punch even after all these years. Christmas had been their favorite holiday and none of them had been very joyous ever since she died. He wondered where Myers would head next. Bars in town would be closing early. Did he have a hotel room? Was he going to just drive away?

  “You have somewhere to go now, Billy?” Bryce asked.

  “Yeah, I have a room in town,” he answered as he walked past Bryce back into the kitchen. He stood by the stool his wife had sat on and put his hand on the back of it. Without saying another word, Myers walked to the door, took his coat down off an ornamental gold hook that looked much like an antler, and left.

  Bryce walked back to the iPad and released the front gate, watching Myers pass through it and then get into a car parked twenty feet down the hill. As the car drove off, Bryce walked back into the kitchen and opened one of the dozen drawers under the island. He stared down at the Sig .45 caliber gun, one of five he kept in various spots throughout the house.

  He’d had enough unwanted visitors show up at all times of the day and night; overzealous fans, crazy ones, and then there was always the paparazzi. For him, the 45 was the ideal gun for dealing with a pissed off moose or a fence jumper with bad intentions. Whenever he traveled, he’d lock his weapons away in the gun safe behind a fake wall in a walk-in closet just off the master bedroom. There, with a bullet-proof vest, night vision goggles, ammo, stacks of cash, and another half-dozen weapons of all shapes and sizes, “Something for every occasion,” he’d joke.

  He looked to the coffee pot and then the clock above the doorway. It was getting late but he poured a mug, added a healthy shot of Bailey’s and took a seat on one of the brown cloth sofas facing the fireplace. The smell of the sweet Irish cream liqueur made him smile, and he looked forward to every drop.

  “I miss anything?” a raspy sounding voice asked as the footfalls in the hallway came closer and closer.

  “Nope, Uncle Pete, all quiet here. Grab some grub. I was starting to think you were going to sleep all night. You want to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, Ford versus Ferrari – again, or Full Metal Jacket?”

  Pete shuffled around in the kitchen for a time, dropping a knife and then a spoon that Bryce heard but ignored. Pete plopped down across from him with a huge plate of food and a bottle of beer.

  “Nope my ass,” he stated as he picked at a piece of leftover chicken and then locked eyes with his nephew. “That guy comes anywhere near you again, and he’ll be with his wife under six feet of dirt.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  New York truly is the city that never sleeps. It has something on offer any time of the day or night. The excitement, the electricity generated by tourists from all around the world who flock to Times Square, is a perfect complement to the neon lights and huge billboards touting everything from Jennifer Lopez’s next album to Calvin Klein underwear.

  Bryce looked forward to his visits there, taking in a play on Broadway, dining at one of hundreds of great restaurants, riding the boat out to the Statue of Liberty, or watching a group of school kids standing in awe of the Tyrannosaurus rex during a field trip to the Museum of Natural History. So far today, he’d spent an hour at the Sirius studios being interviewed by Howard Stern then boarded a taxi to visit with Kelly Ripa on her live TV show before he could take a break and grab some lunch.

  His trademark blue jeans, gray sport coat, blue dress shirt, and Merrill shoes assured him of total comfort and a good look. Bryce didn’t spend much time on fancy or expensive clothes and jewelry. He waved off inquiries from any company wanting to pay him a ridiculous amount of money to wear their goods. He wore the same TAG watch his uncle had given him years before after he won his first NASCAR race, passing on the offers from every high-end watchmaker in Europe. Media tours like this were a necessary evil, but Bryce had the luxury of picking and choosing who he spent time with. Today, it didn’t feel much like work and he’d laughed the entire morning.

  He had one more stop on his schedule, but of everything on his itinerary, next on the list would be the icing on the cake. Despite his best efforts not to he hadn’t stopped thinking of her since they first met. When their schedules finally synched he’d invited her to come along to watch him tape an appearance on the Tonight Show at NBC in Rockefeller Center. It wasn’t meant to impress Kyoto. He simply wanted her to enjoy their long-awaited rendezvous to the max, a memorable first date.

  The taping went as he’d hoped. The video Jimmy Fallon played of himself and Bryce racing go-karts at one of the indoor fun centers in the area was a big hit. Finally, after reuniting out on 49th street they walked to a spot Bryce had told Kyoto had sentimental value to him. It was December, though, and despite the chilly temps and occasional wind gusts funneling through the streets they talked and laughed during the brisk walk to Sardi’s.

  She looked stunning in her tailored gray suit, heels, and red
and black scarf, and he told her so. After grabbing a table he explained the place’s significance and proudly pointed to the spot on the wall where they had placed his caricature after he had won the F1 championship. He introduced her to Joe the bartender who had told him years earlier, “Maybe someday you can be on one of these walls.”

  Kyoto was just as beautiful and intellectually engaging as he had remembered from their flight to LA a few months earlier. They had hit it off from the start and talked nearly the entire trip, save for watching a movie during dinner. She related how thrilled her father had been when she showed him their photo. Over the next hour Bryce got to learn more and more about this intriguing woman until she dropped a bomb.

  “You know, Bryce, I really like you. But trying to have any sort of relationship with you would be impossible with me living in Tokyo and you in Utah or Monte Carlo and racing around the world.”

  Bryce looked at her, an expression of disappointment replacing the permanent grin he’d felt until this moment. Bedding a beauty like her might have been all he had been interested in during his younger years. He’d had no interest whatsoever in falling in love, lust and plenty of it had been okay then. But since that first meeting on the plane, he had thought about Kyoto, her brain, her beauty, and their connection more than he had thought about anyone in years – since Christy, his first love. Now this.

  “So,” she continued, “not that you had anything to do with my decision, because you didn’t, but I’ve taken a transfer to my employer’s headquarters in Washington. My brother has worked there for years. With things changing at home, the move makes sense. The job will require a lot less travel, and I’ll be closer to my brother now. He helped me pick out a condo overlooking the Potomac. Do you know DC at all?”

  He was thrilled at her news. If there were going to be anything between them this could help it along, despite her choice of venue. Bryce would love to have shared his thoughts on the area, in addition to the truth about the intelligence service that had him bent over a barrel. Instead, he went along.