F40 didn’t come with a stereo system because when the car was in full flight you couldn’t hear anything above the jet engine whistle of the turbos and the whir of pumps and motors that fed the 2,936 cc of greedy piston space. The Pirelli P Zero tyres gripped the road like a limpet as he cornered, and as he entered Old Peak Road he saw the rear lights of her Jaguar about a hundred yards ahead. In its early climb up the Peak the road was a respectable size, but after it intersected with Tregunter Path it became treacherously narrow so Chung pushed his foot down on the accelerator and moved the tall, thin gear lever quickly through the kink in the gate from first to second, a manoeuvre which had taken quite a bit of getting used to. The Ferrari kicked and the turbines whistled and he hit seventy mph, still in second gear. The car seemed to hug the ground even tighter as it followed the curves and bends of the road, passing the Ladies’ Recreation Club on his left, and he smiled as he saw how quickly he was gaining on her. He wasn’t surprised; the F40 was a racing car made street legal while the XJS was a luxury executive car, albeit a stylish one. It was like putting an Olympic sprinter up against a weekend jogger.
He eased off the accelerator but he still gained on Debbie and he had to brake sharply to avoid hitting her rear bumper. She accelerated and for a second it looked as if she were going to lose control as the back wheels slid to the left but then they gripped and she increased the gap between them. Chung had wanted to make more of a race of it, but he realised that she wasn’t a particularly good driver and if he pushed her too hard it would end in disaster. He could see that she wasn’t even wearing her seat-belt whereas he was firmly strapped into his bucket seat by the Ferrari’s six-point racing harness. He decided to end it as quickly as possible.
He nudged the F40 to within ten feet of the back of the Jaguar, checked that there was nothing coming in the opposite direction, then flicked the car to the side and forward, feeling the end slide, corrected for it and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The Jaguar dissolved into a blur on his left and then disappeared behind him. The road narrowed and bent to the left and right and he flicked the steering wheel to stay in his lane. A yellow and cream-coloured minibus flashed towards him and then was gone, leaving an image in his mind of an old driver, mouth wide open and chin forward as the Ferrari zipped by, missing it by inches.
He eased back on the accelerator and went into third gear, hearing the guttural roar of the eight cylinders relax as the speedometer touched ninety mph. He was nowhere near testing the car’s performance, and he knew it. The F40 could do nought to ninety mph in less than seven seconds on a straight run and its top speed was close to 200 mph. Put wings on it and it’d fly. He wanted to get so far ahead of Debbie that she’d give up and drive home at a sensible speed. He kept looking at the rearview mirror but he was alone on the road. The Ferrari flashed over the tunnel where the Peak tram clawed its way to the top of the highest point of Hong Kong Island and on to Barker Road, the lights of Kowloon away to his left. He put the Ferrari into a tight turn and swung into Findlay Road, scanning the numbers as they whizzed by until he saw the Fielding residence. He began braking but the F40 was still more than 200 feet past it when it came to rest. He turned the car round and stopped in front of the gates to the Fielding house, keeping the engine running at a high rpm to stop the plugs from fouling while he waited for Debbie.
It was a full thirty seconds before she turned into Findlay Road. Her brakes squealed as she stopped the XJS in front of Chung’s car. He got out and walked over, putting his hand on the roof of the Jaguar and leaning down as she lowered the window.
“Congratulations,” she said. She was smiling, but there
He eased off the accelerator but he still gained on Debbie and he had to brake sharply to avoid hitting her rear bumper. She accelerated and for a second it looked as if she were going to lose control as the back wheels slid to the left but then they gripped and she increased the gap between them. Chung had wanted to make more of a race of it, but he realised that she wasn’t a particularly good driver and if he pushed her too hard it would end in disaster. He could see that she wasn’t even wearing her seat-belt whereas he was firmly strapped into his bucket seat by the Ferrari’s six-point racing harness. He decided to end it as quickly as possible.
He nudged the F40 to within ten feet of the back of the Jaguar, checked that there was nothing coming in the opposite direction, then flicked the car to the side and forward, feeling the end slide, corrected for it and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The Jaguar dissolved into a blur on his left and then disappeared behind him. The road narrowed and bent to the left and right and he flicked the steering wheel to stay in his lane. A yellow and cream-coloured minibus flashed towards him and then was gone, leaving an image in his mind of an old driver, mouth wide open and chin forward as the Ferrari zipped by, missing it by inches.
He eased back on the accelerator and went into third gear, hearing the guttural roar of the eight cylinders relax as the speedometer touched ninety mph. He was nowhere near testing the car’s performance, and he knew it. The F40 could do nought to ninety mph in less than seven seconds on a straight run and its top speed was close to 200 mph. Put wings on it and it’d fly. He wanted to get so far ahead of Debbie that she’d give up and drive home at a sensible speed. He kept looking at the rearview mirror but he was alone on the road. The Ferrari flashed over the tunnel where the Peak tram clawed its way to the top of the highest point of Hong Kong Island and on to Barker Road, the lights of Kowloon away to his left. He put the Ferrari into a tight turn and swung into Findlay Road, scanning the numbers as they whizzed by until he saw the Fielding residence. He began braking but the F40 was still more than 200 feet past it when it came to rest. He turned the car round and stopped in front of the gates to the Fielding house, keeping the engine running at a high rpm to stop the plugs from fouling while he waited for Debbie.
It was a full thirty seconds before she turned into Findlay Road. Her brakes squealed as she stopped the XJS in front of Chung’s car. He got out and walked over, putting his hand on the roof of the Jaguar and leaning down as she lowered the window.
“Congratulations,” she said. She was smiling, but there
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