Novac's Race

By Mike Downs

Jack Novac, Indy 500 winner, plans a new assault for the 1934 Championship with his two fabulous Miller front drive race cars. Then the rules change and his Millers are not eligible. When a retired army general offers to sponsor Jack on a barnstorming tour of Europe, Jack is unwillingly drawn into the intrigues brewing in pre-war Europe. The General sees Jack's show as a perfect cover for gaining access to manufacturing plants in Italy and Germany.
Jack breaks Europe's speed records, drawing record crowds. But murder and espionage seem to follow him around and everyone but Jack seems to think he's a spy. When a high-ranking Nazi official's wife disappears, Jack becomes his target for revenge. Jack thrills the crowds while racing to stay one step ahead of dying.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Downs
• Release date: Aug 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476492322

Mike Downs

Mike Downs is the author of more than thirty children’s books. He lives in Florida.

Book preview

Chapter 1

New York City 1934

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Jack Novac jerks awake in a strange bed. The entire room shakes from a violent pounding on the door.

Jack lifts his head from the pillow and looks around the room trying to get a bearing on where he is. The pounding intensifies. Jack sits up and rubs his eyes to clear his head. The incessant pounding starts to grate on his nerves. He throws back the covers and swings his legs out of bed.

All right, all right. Stop beating on the door. Whatta you want?

This is the Bureau of Investigation, Novac. Get this door open!

I’ll open up as soon as I get some clothes on.

Get the door open now, Novac, or I’ll break it down.

Then break it down you idiot, it’s not my door. You can pay the hotel for the damage.

Get the door open, hero boy. The BI don’t wait for nobody.

Jack puts his pants and shirt on and opens the door to his room. Two men in rumpled suits are standing in the hall with badges held out in front of them. The bulk of the man in front almost hides the man behind him. His barrel chest fills the doorway. Arms, with huge hands, seem to dangle to his knees. The man’s acne scarred face is skewed ugly with barely constrained anger. The second G-man is rail thin, and looks to be a foot shorter than his partner. Heavy eyebrows offset his hooked nose. He wears his hat cocked back on his head to give him height.

The ape-man pushes Jack back into his room and tells him to put on his shoes.

You’re coming with us boy, and I mean now!

Really, for what?

Because I say so, that’s all you need to know pretty boy.

Okay, I’ve had enough Mr. BI. What do you want? And when you call me pretty boy, put a smile on your ugly kisser.

The large BI man looks at his partner with a grin. Oh boy, we’ve got ourselves a real comic Don. I love comics.

I’ll bet that’s probably all you read, or do you just look at the pictures?

One more crack like that and I’ll break your head Novac.

The big BI man steps up to Jack’s face and Jack clinches his fists. This is just what the man was waiting for.

Before Jack can raise his arm, the BI man brings up a sap and hits Jack under his right ear. Jack goes down like a ton of bricks.

Damn, Bill, what’d you do that for? The boss said he just wanted to talk to him. He’s not a criminal.

I hate these glamour boys. He’s the big race car hero. He comes into town like he owns it. The guy’s got plenty of dough, women flock to him like a magnet.

Well, I hope you didn’t kill him, you hit him hard enough. If the boss is pissed, you’re on your own.

That’s just the way I like it. Now give me a hand with this bum.

Jack thinks he is drowning. Someone is holding his head under water. He struggles against the hands on his shoulders. Jack, bracing his hands on the side of the bathtub, pushes with all the strength he has left.

Hey, hey, the funny man comes back to life.

Jack, coughing up water, tries to catch his breath. The ape-like agent pushes him roughly to the floor of the bathroom. The back of his shirt, soaked with water, smacks the tiled floor.

Get yourself dried off, hero. We’re taking you to the BI office. And if you ever try to pull a gun on me again, I’ll kill you.

Pull a gun? Jack sputters. Is that gonna’ to be your story? For a guy that only looks at comic book pictures, that’s a good one.

Novac, you give me any more trouble and you won’t make it to the office. You get me, hero?

I got it, bud. Let’s go. I’m anxious to see what this is all about. I hope it’s not too far, you smell like a wet dog.

Bill, don’t hit him again. I won’t back your story if you rough him up any more.

Okay, Don. I’ve had enough of this bum. You get him to the car.

Don loads Jack into the back seat of the 1932 Chevrolet sedan.

Look Novac keep your mouth shut. The boss just wants to question you, he ain’t gonna take any back talk. Got it?

On arriving at the BI office, the men pull Jack out of the car.

Handcuffed, he is frog marched to the chief’s office.

The men roughly deposit Jack on a hard wooden bench with his hands still cuffed behind his back. A short while later, the two men come out of the chief’s office and bring Jack into the office.

Pictures and framed gold sealed certificates cover every wall of the office. A large ornate desk, set on a platform, raised several inches above the floor, dominates the room. A polished brass plaque on the desk reads Marion Martin Chief of the New York office of the Bureau of Investigation.

A short, balding, round man with a large ugly nose stands by the desk looking down on Jack.

Novac, you have made a great deal of trouble for yourself. I ordered my men to bring you to this office so that I could have a friendly chat with you. However, you, being mister big cheese, have to assault a BI agent and pull a gun. Very dumb, Novac.

Jack smirks. Big cheese? Buddy, you’re the one that’s dumb if you believe that bunch of crap. If I pulled a gun on these two idiots you tell me where it is.

Bill, sit Mister Novac down in the chair and handcuff his hands to it. You two can leave, I’ll call if I need you. Now Novac, any more smart mouth from you and I’m going to send you to Federal lock up. You won’t see the light of day for months.

The chief steps from his raised dais. Jack tries to keep a smirk off his face as the little man swaggers to Novac’s chair.

I’ve been asked by the Director to talk to you about your trip to Europe. I want you to report to us on the German and Italian factories that you visit. I want to know what kind of military capabilities they have and what kind of build up they’re doing over there. I’ll be willing to over look your stupidity on this assault matter if you’ll play ball with us.

You must be nuts. I’m no spy. Do you really think you can railroad me into doing your dirty work?

Novac, I’m the head of the New York office of the BI and as such, I am one of the most powerful men in the country. I can do whatever I think is necessary to protect the interests of this country. I can make you disappear or I can send you on your way. If you won’t cooperate, the first thing I’m going to do is pull your passport. You won’t be going anywhere. I will cancel your big deal trip to Europe as of now. Can you get that through your thick head?

Man, you seriously over rate yourself, buddy. You really must be nuts. Do you have any idea of the kind of people that have put this tour together?

You have no one to concern me, Novac. You don’t understand who you are dealing with.

At that moment, the chief’s secretary comes in the room to tell him that the director in Washington is on the phone for him. The chief nods to acknowledge, waves the secretary away, and picks up the telephone receiver.

"Hello director, how are you today? Yes sir we just brought him in, I have him in my office now. He is quite the problem boy, sir.

Well sir, he assaulted one of my agents I ordered to bring him in sir. Yes sir, I have him in handcuffs sitting in my office. I have told him he must cooperate with us on his European trip. I told him…ah, you want to speak with him sir? Ah, yes sir, I can hear you just fine, sir. I’ll have the handcuffs removed sir.

The chief scrambles from his perch to get the handcuffs removed from Jack’s hands. He motions for Jack to sit at his desk to talk with the director on his phone.

Jack steps up to the desk and picks up the phone.

"Hello, this is Jack Novac. Yes, Mister Hoover I know who you are. The assault? Well let me tell you my side of the story and you can decide which one you like better.

"I woke up to a pounding on my hotel room door. Your men demanded that I open the door immediately because the BI waits for nobody. I get the door opened and your man shoves me back in my room and saps me. Then he tries to drown me in the bathtub. I get dragged down to this place and the chief here tells me if I don’t cooperate he can make me disappear.

"Then your chief says he is one of the most powerful men in the country and he can do whatever he wants.

"So you tell me, which story do you like better? Me, disrespectful? Buddy, this is America. You show me some respect and I’ll return the favor. But let’s cut this short, I’m due to leave on my tour in two days.

"I’m pretty sure you know the people involved with this tour. You must know that they are good friends of the President. You have no right to hold me. You let me go, and I won’t mention this to the President’s friends.

"No, Mister Hoover, I won’t cooperate with you. I’m no spy. I don’t like your bully boys, or your way of doing business. You don’t scare me.

"You can make things difficult for me? Boy you better believe I can do the same for you. The newspapers will have a field day with this. I understand the President does not see you in the best light anyway. You may want to rethink this whole mess. Do I leave here or are you going to hold me?

Sir, if you know I’m here so do my friends. How long do you think it’s going to be before you get a call from President Roosevelt?

Jack holds the phone out. Chief, Mister Hoover wants to talk to you.

Marion Martin looks at Jack with wide eyes, and scrabbles around the desk. Jack hands the phone to the chief.

Yes sir, oh yes, sir. I’ll have an agent take Mister Novac back to his hotel now sir. You want me to come to Washington sir? I’ll be on the next train sir, yes sir. The chief puts down the phone.

Novac, you just made a big mistake. I will not forget this.

Well, Chief almighty, you may not be in a position to live up to that threat after your trip to D.C.

Get out of here Novac. You can find your own way back to your hotel.

Hey, Chief, don’t push your luck. You want me to call Mister Hoover back?

The chief goes to the door of his office and throws it open. He yells for an agent to drive Mister Novac to his hotel.

Get out of my office Novac.

Novac stops at the door, he turns to face the chief with a wide grin and says, Bye Mary, have a good trip.

Chapter 2

Jack Novac is 33 years old. He is, as the papers of the day say, movie star handsome. Jack has a full head of jet black hair combed straight back. He sports a Clark Gable-like mustache and a small rogue’s scar (very dashing) on his forehead. At 5’10, he is a slim, cocky figure of pure energy.

Jack Novac came up the hard way. His parents moved to the West Coast before Jack was born. His father, a sculptor, could not find the work that he thought would be plentiful on the golden West Coast. For years his father toiled at making headstones; his mother took in laundry and sewing to make ends meet.

Jack’s father was adamant that Jack further his education.

Son, I want you to go on to college. I’ll put in some extra hours and we can get you into a good school. You don’t want to end up without a good education. In this country you can be a rich man.

Pop, I don’t want to see you and Ma have to work any harder. I’ve got other plans.

Jack got a job with a local garage. The owner of the garage raced a dirt jalopy on the Southern California dirt tracks. After watching his boss race, it did not take long for the racing bug to bite Jack.

When Jack graduated from high school, he spent all his time at the garage. He worked on the boss’s car at night, and dreamed of winning Indianapolis during the day. The boss could see the boy’s hunger.

One day at the garage, the boss spots Jack leaning on a workbench staring out into space. Look kid I’ll give you a hand buildin’ a car. I know every trick there is to these sleds. Just remember we’ve gotta work on the customer cars during the day. Now quit day dreamin’ and get to work.

Jack was a natural; from the first race he drove, he was fast. After a few early races, he was diving under cars, pitching the car hard into the turns. Throwing up huge rooster tails of dirt, he was making the car work for him, and winning races. Jack was fast and he knew it.

He would tear the car to pieces getting to the front of the pack. If the car lasted, he usually won. He was the Southern Pacific Jalopy Dirt Car champion his first year of racing. He found that he could make a living if he won enough races at the local level.

Jack wanted more. He started going to Harry Miller’s Los Angeles shop and watching the finest craftsmen in the business build racing cars. Miller’s cars were the finest examples of racecars in the world. They were also the most expensive. Jack, when he was not racing, read books on engine design and hung around the Miller shop soaking up all the knowledge he could. If you were a serious racer in the 20’s and 30’s, a Miller racecar was your dream.

Miller could see that Jack had talent and he liked the tough skinny kid. What impressed Harry Miller more was the knowledge Jack was getting on his own from reading.

Engine development was relatively new, and dramatic changes were coming almost overnight. Learned men from places like Cal Tech and Berkeley were writing papers on what they envisioned would be improvements on current engines. The professors issued new designs on everything from cam timing to crankshaft design and metal heat treatments.

Jack read all he could find written by these men. He absorbed the information he found on the latest developments from Europe. Miller, impressed with the boy’s passion, let Jack help in the dynamometer room testing engines.

Jack seemed to inhale the lessons learned from the dyno testing. He could recall facets from all the different tests that made a difference in performance. Jack loved engine testing and finding ways to increase engine performance.

Seasons later when the new 91.5 engine formula was established, Jack became an innovator. He experimented with alcohol fuels in the supercharged engines he raced. Jack discovered the more alcohol he used, the more power the engine made. The down side was the broken engines he patched together. Sometimes pistons melted. When he fixed the piston problem, the connecting rods would break. The control panel for the dyno was in the same room with the engine. More than once Jack ducked as tortured metal flew through the engine cases.

Months of hard work went into finding a perfect combination of all the different elements of the engine for it to deliver enough power to satisfy him.

Jack gained a reputation as one of the fastest racing drivers ever to hit the track. His flaw as a racing driver continued to be that he ran to win or broke the car trying. Jack’s greatest triumphs came with his Miller front drive car.

This fabulous gem of a car was the fastest racer made. However, some parts of the car were frail. Miller made his futuristic designs fine art. The front drive gearbox, another Miller breakthrough, was designed for speedway driving and not for shifting gears. Jack’s long time mechanic, Carl Sanders, cautioned Jack many times about the slow careful use of the gearbox to make it live.

I’ll tell ya Jack, I don’t mind fixin’ the stuff if I have time, but you know you could break an anvil without half trying, chided Carl.

Beyond the mechanical aspects, the thing that stirred Jack was racing, the competition, the race craft. He had a sharp mind, one that set him apart from many drivers of his day.

Jack would think of a strategy to get by other cars. He would dive on the inside of a car going into a turn. When that driver would turn in to cut him off, Jack jumped around the outside in the next corner and passed the same car. He studied his competition closely. He would find where the men were slow or where they would make a mistake. He knew how to rattle some drivers into making mistakes.

Some of the races he was winning were the preliminary races to the main event for the Champ cars. This was where the big-time car owners could watch the new guys. One of the men watching was a Mr. Lenore, who had grown wealthy hauling garbage in L.A. Lenore was having Miller build a car for him.

E. Lenore was a tough businessman that racketeers had run out of his hauling business in New York. The racketeers in New York were not used to someone that would stand up to them. They eventually killed the business by bombing Lenore’s shop with all his trucks and equipment in it. Mister E, as he was called (he said no one could pronounce his name), moved west and started over. He was hauling refuse from the businesses in L.A. and from the docks in Long Beach.

Once Mister E had money rolling in, he wanted to be in with the racing crowd. These were tough men, but men who would laugh, drink, fight, and be the best friend a man could have.

Mister E goes to the Miller plant to buy a racecar. Harry Miller shows him around the plant. Men are bending, grinding, hammering, and machining metals into the gem that would be a Miller racecar. They step into Harry’s office out of the shop’s noise to finalize the deal.

Now that I’m an owner I need a good driver. You know anyone who don’t got a ride?

Harry Miller tilts his chair back with his hands behind his head. I’ve got a man here that can do the job. I don’t know that I want to lose him though.

Can he win? Mr. E asks.

Yeah I think so, but he’ll tear up some equipment ‘till he gets some seat time in a Champ car. He wins the local stuff now, or breaks the car trying. If you can afford him, he’ll win some races for you.

That’s just the man for me, says Mister E. I like’em rough and tumble. Can he fix what he breaks?

"He’s good with engines. I have him help me in the dyno room.

He might need some help with keeping the car together. You need a good mechanic anyway if you’re going to make the big races."

When Harry introduced him to Mister E, Jack could not believe his luck. He was going to get a brand new Miller racecar. Guys he knew would kill for the chance to race one of these master pieces.

For the 1924 season, Jack Novac would begin his career in big- time racing with the best equipment available. Jack brought in his friend Carl Sanders, an excellent mechanic, to help with the car.

Carl started racing bicycles as a boy and progressed to motorcycles in his late teens. A hard crash, and a poorly set fractured leg, left the short blond haired Carl with a permanent limp. A small stature and a big grin, mark his usual good nature.

Jack is fast that first season. He does get one big win and he does tear up a lot of equipment.

Mister E is willing to let Jack