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the damp, uneven surface.
    â€˜Nick, right?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Aidy Westlake. I hope Rags didn’t hurt you too much.’
    Ronson rubbed at his wrists where the tape had burned them. ‘I’ve had worse.’
    I pulled up next to his car. ‘Who sent you – Russell Townsend?’
    Ronson sneered at me. ‘Thanks for the ride, but that’s as far as my gratitude stretches.’
    He reached for the door and I hit the central locking button, locking us in.
    He whirled on me. ‘You want to take your shot at me? Give it a go and we’ll see how far you get.’
    I raised my hands in surrender. ‘I just want to know why you’re here. It doesn’t go any further.’
    I unlocked the doors. Ronson made no move to leave.
    â€˜You found Jason?’
    I nodded.
    â€˜Did you see who did it?’
    â€˜No, but I think I heard the killer running away.’
    â€˜Did Jason say anything to you?’
    â€˜Hey, I’m the one questioning you. Not the other way around. Now, who sent you?’
    â€˜No one sent me. I came on my own.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Why do you think? I want to know which one of you fuckers killed Jason.’
    â€˜You think one of us did it?’
    â€˜Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Jason was killed next to your transporter.’
    â€˜Yeah, but what was he doing hanging around our truck in the first place – spying, stealing?’
    â€˜Fuck you. Jason wasn’t like that. Not everyone is a cheat.’
    â€˜What’s that supposed to mean?’
    â€˜Take a look at your team. There’s something very wrong there.’ Ronson pointed at the Ragged Racing fleet of transporters and support vehicles heading towards the exit. ‘What’s wrong with that picture?’
    I shrugged.
    â€˜Sponsorship.’
    â€˜We’ve got sponsorship.’
    â€˜Not enough to explain the amount your team is spending.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    â€˜You lot have just rented Snetterton to yourself for the day and you do it all the time. Every square inch of your cars should be covered with sponsors’ logos to cover those running costs, so something bent is going on.’
    Ronson had a point. The surface of a racecar was advertising real estate. Some locations were better than others and to get into those good neighbourhoods, you had to pay. Getting your company’s name or product splashed down the side of the car cost more than it did on the back bumper.
    I watched Ragged’s transporters go by with the outline of the cars painted on the sides. Rags’ major sponsor was a men’s antiperspirant. Their sponsorship cash got them the rear door and quarter panel, boot lid and bumper.
Pit Lane
magazine had the front bumper and the Honda symbol covered the bonnet. I guessed that there was around a hundred thousand pounds in unused ad space on each car. Compared to the rest of the field, Ragged Racing looked like the poor relation. Ronson was right. The team shouldn’t have been in a position to be so lavish with its spending.
    â€˜But the team is factory backed now. Honda is giving us the cars for free and donating technical support, so the budget is low.’
    â€˜But Rags has been spending big money for years with no major sponsor underwriting him.’
    â€˜So what? He’s spending big. What has that got to do with anything?
    â€˜It’s a sign that Ragged Racing is bent.’
    â€˜Bent how?’
    Ronson was silent. I took that to mean he didn’t know.
    â€˜What did Jason suspect?’
    â€˜I don’t know. He never gave me any details, but he thought something wasn’t right. Our whole team does.’
    â€˜Because Honda switched support from you to us?’
    â€˜Hey, fuck you.’
    â€˜No, fuck you. You haven’t told me anything that doesn’t sound like petty, professional jealousy.’
    â€˜Yeah, believe what you want.’
    Ronson