Chapter 9

Wendy waved the paper in front of my eyes. It was between me and my coffee cup so I scowled but read it. She had the attention getter underlined in red so it was easy to find.

The ad, hidden in the back pages of the Match, read, For sale: Toyota Celica Twincam Group B, wrecked. Cheap. There was a Paris phone number and nothing else

I knew the engine; 128 cubic inches, twin cam, 8 valve, turbo, factory rated at 385 horsepower ... and we all know how low factory horsepower ratings are.

Otherwise I knew it was a rear wheel drive that competed against 4 wheel drive cars in group B. And that was pretty much it.

What I didn't know I was going to find out ... because I called. The listed number was a switchboard. The owner was some kind of Saudi prince and he was home ... in Saudi. But the operator connected the two of us. British upper class English.

He told me the car was in a garage in Pussy and I had no idea.

So he told me; It's close to Geneva, he said, Pussy is a small village in the commune of La Léchère in the Savoie département of France. It is situated on the eastern slope of Mont Bellachat above the left bank of the Isère, 9 km northwest of Moûtiers.

And, naturally I wanted to know how it got there and he informed me that it was more or less right where he had wrecked it.

"The Monte Carlo doesn't race there," I said.

"My co got lost and I got mad," he explained.

"How much?" I asked. "Pig in a poke."

"You need to look at it," he said.

"Nope," I said.

"As is, where is?" he asked.

"Yup," I said.

"Hundred French Francs. You have 'til the end of the month to move it."

That's 20 days, I thought.

"Twenty days," he said.

"Bank transfer, Okay?"

He spouted off some numbers, I stole Wendy's pen, wrote them down and hung up.

I called Daddy.

"Heippa son, What?"

"We have a bank in Uusikaupunki," I asked.

"Yah, Säästöpankeilla on Suomessa yli 100," he said.

"One hundred years?"

"Yah," he said.

"Do I have an account?" I asked.

"Yah," he laughed.

"Any money in it?"

"Two million," he was really laughing now.

So I told him to send 100 French francs to the number I got from the prince.

"Done," he said. "What did you buy?"

"Toyota Celica Twincam Group B," I said.

"The francs earnest money?"

"Nope ... the whole car."

There was a minor explosion in Russian in my ear. When he calmed down, I said ... wrecked.

Second spate of Russian ... some of the words I recognized from the Rally. Usually, when the Russian team crashed, I heard words polite people don't acknowledge. I'm not saying they don't know the words, they know them but use them in private.

He mumbled.

I waited.

"The prince accepted," Dal said. "The title is with the home owner."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, "Need anything from Paris?"

"You couldn't bring her ... it ... with you."

"Come on, Wendy."

"Where are we going?"

"Pussy."

I got a hefty hit on the left arm.

"Ow!"