Half-Inched

By Simon Wood

Christmas has gone sideways for racecar driver, Aidy Westlake. Aidy’s grandfather, Steve, was just putting the finishing touches on a classic Ford GT40 he was restoring for a British millionaire when it was stolen from his workshop. They quickly establish that the supercar was stolen to order and is now in Moldova in the hands of the notorious gangster, Lupul. There’s a wrinkle. The police in Moldova don’t care. The theft of a rich man’s toy doesn’t rank high on their priorities. The client’s ultimatum is simple—cover his one million pound loss or recover the car by Christmas Day. With the threat of financial ruin hanging over his grandfather’s head, Aidy’s crew has only one option—steal the car back.

This story takes place between the novels DID NOT FINISH and HOT SEAT.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Wood
• Release date: Apr 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463323342

Simon Wood

USA Today bestselling author Simon Wood is a transplant from England who now lives in California. He’s a former competitive race-car driver, a licensed pilot, an endurance cyclist, an animal rescuer, and an occasional PI. He shares his world with his wife, Julie; a longhaired dachshund; and a multitude of cats and chickens. He’s the Anthony Award–winning author of Deceptive Practices, Working Stiffs, Accidents Waiting to Happen, the Aidy Westlake series, and The One That Got Away, which has been optioned for film. Saving Grace is his second novel in the Fleetwood and Sheils series, following Paying the Piper. He also writes horror under the pen name Simon Janus. Curious people can learn more at www.simonwood.net.

Book preview

HALF-INCHED

An Aidy Westlake Novella

By Simon Wood

This book is comprised of works of fiction.  All names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are factiously used.  Any semblance to actual persons, living or dead, real events or locales is entirely coincidental.

© 2018 Simon Wood.  All rights reserved.

About the Author:

Simon Wood is a California transplant from England. He's a former competitive racecar driver, a licensed pilot, an endurance cyclist and an occasional PI. He shares his world with his American wife, Julie. Their lives are dominated by a menagerie of rescue animals. He's the Anthony Award winning author of Accidents Waiting to Happen, Paying the Piper, Terminated, The One That Got Away, Deceptive Practices and the Aidy Westlake series. His latest thriller is Saving Grace. He also writes horror under the pen name of Simon Janus. Curious people can learn more at: http://www.simonwood.net.

HALF-INCHED

Christmas has gone sideways for racecar driver, Aidy Westlake.  Aidy’s grandfather, Steve, was just putting the finishing touches on a classic Ford GT40 he was restoring for a British millionaire when it was stolen from his workshop.  They quickly establish that the supercar was stolen to order and is in now in Moldova in the hands of the notorious gangster, Lupul.  There’s a wrinkle.  The police in Moldova don’t care.  The theft of a rich man’s toy doesn’t rank high on their priorities.  The client’s ultimatum is simple—cover his one million pound loss or recover the car by Christmas Day.  With the threat of financial ruin hanging over his grandfather’s head, Aidy’s crew has only one option—steal the car back.

This story takes place between the novels DID NOT FINISH and HOT SEAT.

Author Note:

Half-inched is cockney rhyming slang for pinched as in to steal something.

Lap One

The run up to this Christmas was a little different for me than usual.  Last month, I secured my first professional drive by winning a shootout for young racing drivers.  That meant I’d soon be competing in the European Saloon Car Championship.  Winning the drive put me at a crossroads.  I could truly follow in my late father’s footsteps and give motor racing my all, or be sensible by keeping my 9 to 5 job and racing on the side.  It was a tossup between passion and pragmatism.  Motorsport was a multi-generational thing for our family and passion won out.  I left my day job at the end of November. 

I was making ends meet before the new season by working with my grandfather, Steve, at Archway Restoration.  It was hardly a chore.  What petrol-head didn’t want to spend his day working on classic sports and racing cars?  Archway was my home away from home.  Actually, it was my home.  I’d grown up here at Steve’s racecar restoration business located under the arches of Windsor railway station.  It was where I played, learned about cars and learned about the family business—motorsport.

Steve had been a grand prix mechanic in the 60’s and 70’s.  Now he restored sports cars and racecars from that era.  Steve served as my adviser and pit crew chief, overseeing my fledging motor racing career.  In return, I helped him at Archway on my days off, and I had a lot of those at the moment.  We were on our way there right now.

Steve turned onto the gravel service road behind the Goswell Arches. My stomach clenched as soon as he made the turn.  Archway’s service bay doors were hanging wide open.  I looked over at Steve.  The colour had drained from his face, and the sparkle in his grey eyes was gone. 

Steve slowed to a dead crawl, as if to delay the inevitable truth. He stopped the van and I jumped out and ran to the doorway.  At first glance, nothing looked to have been taken.  Thousands of pounds worth of tools and equipment were still as we’d left them the night before.  My Formula Ford racecar sat on its stands, seemingly untouched.  All of the winning wreaths my dad had earned throughout his racing career still hung from the walls.  Only one thing was missing from the workshop—and it was the most expensive—the Ford GT40 we were restoring.  Over the last five months, Steve had returned a pretty shabby example of the breed back to its former glory.  The restoration was complete.  Steve was giving everything one last spanner check and polish before handing it over to Pete Kutheis, the car’s owner.  Kutheis had picked up the distressed GT40 for four hundred and fifty grand.  After Steve had finished with it, it was worth over a million.

Steve brushed by me to enter the workshop.  Twenty-five years and I’ve never had as much as a screwdriver nicked from here.

It would have been cruel to have hit him with an ‘I told you so’.  At times, Steve could have several million pounds worth of cars in the shop.  OK, most people wouldn’t be able to start the average racecar, which was security in itself, but Steve still should have had some defence that extended beyond padlocks and deadbolts.

It was easy to be complacent.  Steve and Archway held some notoriety.  In fact, our family did.  Steve had worked for Lotus F1 in their heyday, my father had made it all the way to F1, and I’d just completed my first season of racing.  People often dropped in to see what projects Steve was working on, and locals looked out for us, including the police.  It appeared as if we’d all been caught napping. 

Time to throw myself on my sword, Steve said.

I’ll call the police, I replied.

I followed Steve through the workshop to the upstairs office we called the crow's-nest.  Either out of force of habit or reverence, both of us sidestepped the empty space where the GT40 had been sitting for the last six months.

I put the call into the cops, which was the easy part.  Now for the tough part—calling Pete Kutheis. No one wanted to tell someone their rare car had been stolen.

Kutheis owned Second To None Automotive.  In the 80’s, he'd carved out a niche for himself as a supplier of pattern car parts, everything from headlights to engine blocks.  When carmakers stopped making parts for long out of production models, Kutheis stepped in to take over the manufacture.  What wasn’t economically viable for the car giants was big business for Kutheis and he'd managed to take a fledgling business and turn it into an eight figure one in the last thirty years, making himself into a multimillionaire in the process.  As his fortune grew, so did his collection of rare sports cars.

Steve sat at his desk with Kutheis’ number in front of him.  I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so dejected.  The theft had hit him hard.  He'd let down a