Jeddah – Two Days Before the Race
The Jeddah Corniche Circuit looked like a jewel under the Arabian sun. Slick with new rubber, armored with corporate banners and shimmering in glassy refractions of the Red Sea nearby. Fast, narrow, and unforgiving.
But to Harinder, it looked like a kill box.
He stood just beyond the paddock zone, watching from the shade of an equipment truck with mirrored sunglasses and a modified comm-link fitted snugly beneath his hoodie.
He hadn't slept in 24 hours. Vienna's cold had followed him like a ghost, but here in Saudi heat, the stakes burned hotter.
> "Don't trust anyone in orange this week. Especially not the ones who talk less and smile more,"
he muttered into his encrypted mic, voice nearly breathless.
He wasn't talking to himself.
Back in India, in Vaayu GP's locked-down comms center, Raghav sat alone, wired into a secure monitor, watching the video feed Harinder had uploaded en route.
They were working together now — one in the open, the other in the dark.
---
Vaayu GP Garage – First Day of Setup
Sukhman arrived earlier than usual.
After Mumbai, after Lusail, after Harinder's disappearance, he didn't trust his own car anymore — not fully. He didn't trust the team around it either.
He ran his palm along the chassis, then opened the access panels himself.
> "You sure you wanna get your hands greasy?" joked Siddharth, rolling over in a mechanic's creeper.
> "I'd rather trust my own fingers than someone else's software," Sukhman replied.
Nandini walked in with a tablet in hand. She paused, watching the two men in near silence.
> "You've changed... a lot," she said simply.
Sukhman didn't look up.
> "I had to. Harinder was trying to tell me something. I didn't listen. I won't make that mistake again."
---
Harinder – Stalking the Edges
Harinder's new identity, forged with the help of the Monza informant, got him registered as a freelance diagnostic consultant for a third-party tire vendor.
It got him access.
He moved through the logistics lanes with purpose. Not rushed. Not lurking. Just there — the kind of presence security overlooks when it's tired, and everyone else is prepping engines.
And in a corner of the telemetry bay, inside Rip Jaw Racing's tent, he found what he needed:
A portable signal router.
Same brand he'd seen at Helix Logistics.
Same signal signature — 56.5 GHz, narrowed band.
This wasn't just being reused.
This was the system.
And it wasn't sitting idle.
It was active.
> A script labeled: MID-RACE_REACT.PROTO Trigger window: Lap 21-27
---
Encryption Protocol – Z-Alpha's True Purpose
Back in India, Raghav cracked the final layers of Z-Alpha.
It wasn't just telemetry manipulation. It wasn't sabotage in the traditional sense.
It was real-time driver override.
A puppet string in digital form.
With enough precision, it could cause minor performance dips, or even total system collapse… and make it look like a freak failure or driver error.
No wonder Diego's brakes seized and Charlotte's throttle cut.
Z-Alpha was meant to tip the race — just enough to influence points, podiums, sponsors, and the betting markets.
And in Jeddah, it would be deployed again.
But this time, with Harinder inside the circuit.
---
Jeddah – Drivers' Press Briefing
The world was watching again.
Callum Graves sat with his usual arrogance, chewing invisible gum, his sunglasses not hiding the scorn in his eyes. Erik Holtz sat beside him, stone-faced, as reporters peppered questions like missiles.
> "Mr. Holtz, there's been renewed discussion about the Brasilia incident. Any comment?"
> "Only that it shouldn't have happened. And that Diego deserves justice."
A rare hint of sincerity. Erik's voice trembled, just a little.
Then came the dig:
> "And you, Mr. Graves? Any thoughts on recent claims about data tampering in the circuit?"
Callum leaned in.
> "Yeah. If someone's tampering, it's the ones who stopped winning. You don't blame the game if you're still scoring goals."
Sukhman, seated at the far end, clenched his fist.
He is no longer racing to win.
He is racing to survive.
---
The Signal Trap
That night, Harinder made his final move.
He slipped into SBA Motorsport's maintenance bay during the 3 AM shift change.
Under the cover of darkness and silence, he planted a traceback signal worm — coded to act like a telemetry handshake, harmless until activated.
Then he opened a ghost port from his burner laptop, syncing it with the satellite relay bouncing over the Indian Ocean.
> "Come on. Show me who you are."
And someone answered.
The script lit up.
Transmitting Location: Zurich
Account Name: BLACK PATH INTERGRATED — Node 6
He had a name now. A city. A physical node.
It ks bigger than racing. These aren't just saboteurs. This is organized, layered manipulation across races and teams — funded, protected, and executed with military-grade precision.
> "Raghav sir…" Harinder whispered into his mic.
"We need to blow the whistle. Not after the race. Now."
---
The Silence Before the Race
Sukhman stood by the track edge as the sun dipped over Jeddah, casting long shadows between the barriers.
The noise of the world faded.
His hands closed around the gloves Harinder had given him months ago — the pair with reinforced knuckles and memory-foam grip. They were a little worn now, just like him.
> "Whatever happens," he whispered to the wind,
"I'll finish this race. For you. For all of them."
Behind him, Raghav walked up quietly.
> "We caught a mole. Meenal's being dealt with. Quietly. She has been tampering our systems."
> "I know," Sukhman said, nodding. "But that doesn't stop them, does it?"
> "No. But now they know we know."
They shared a brief look. No more words. Just resolve.
---
Lap Zero – The Interference Begins
The race started clean.
Callum took the early lead, Erik close behind. Sukhman fought for P3, sparring with Jia Tan.
But Harinder isn't watching the track.
He is staring at the data waterfall.
And there it was—Lap 7. A soft pulse. The same signal.
Then again — Lap 9. Stronger.
The backup module on Sukhman's car flickered briefly. Just a dip in battery draw, nothing the public would notice.
But Harinder did.
He activated the worm.
A detonation script tried to fire on Lap 12 — aimed at Erik Holtz's car.
Instead, it looped back into the origin.
Server overload. Router corruption. Emergency lockdown triggered.
The sabotage backfired.
Holtz kept racing.
So did Sukhman.
In the control room, officials stared at their screens in confusion.
> "Telemetry errors. Glitch in Red Devil Cars' systems…"
---
Final Laps – The True Race
Lap 22: Callum's tire pressure sensor begins fluctuating.
Lap 23: Sukhman overtakes Jia with a perfect apex cut.
Lap 24: Holtz pushes ahead, nearly matching Graves's pace.
The crowd is on fire. Reporters scream.
Lap 26: Graves' engine stutters — momentary lag. His pit crew goes frantic.
Sukhman and Erik seize the chance.
Lap 27: It's three-wide.
Jeddah explodes in cheers as they roar down the final straight.
Lap 28: Sukhman pulls ahead by inches. Callum follows. Erik's grip slips.
---
Chequered Flag
Winner: Sukhman Singh
P2: Callum Graves
P3: Erik Holtz
Sukhman doesn't celebrate.
He slams the brake, rips off the helmet, and looks to the crowd.
Somewhere, he knows, Harinder is watching.
---
Broadcast Delay – Then Chaos
Just as the trophies are brought out, the screens in the circuit glitch.
The IRC's secure feed is hacked.
A video begins playing.
> Harinder, standing in a dark room. Voice clear.
He plays the detonation protocol. The ghost signals. The Z-Alpha trail.
He names those.
BlackPath. Digital Escrow. Helix. SBA. Rip Jay Racing. Red Devil Cars.
> "This isn't about racing anymore. It's about manipulation. Lives were lost. But not anymore. Today, we will fight back."
---
One Hour Later – The World Erupts
"Global Racing Conspiracy Exposed – Leaked Video Names Multiple Firms"
"IRC Issues Emergency Audit – Race Results Under Scrutiny"
"Charlotte's Death Now Investigated as Foul Play"
"Vaayu GP's Sukhman Singh Declines Podium Celebration, Dedicates Win to Justice"
---
Harinder – On the Move
He watches it all from a cheap hotel in Jeddah, still in disguise.
He smiles — finally.
But he knows it's not over.
A message pings his device.
> "They'll come for you now."
He replies:
> "Let them be."