Chapter Thirty Four – Bahrain Media Day #2
“Let’s have a question for one of the other panellists, please,” Richard said, reading the room. He called on another man near the front.
“Heidi, how are you managing sponsor retention after the contract terminations and stock crash?”
She answered with practised poise.
“If Obsidian is found to have systematically cheated, do you intend to stay with the team?”
Both drivers said they had no intention of leaving Obsidian.
The panel continued like this for some time and Richard allowed it to run quite a bit longer than most panels.
It was understandable that there would be so many questions.
Poor Callum Drake had to field questions about his results being put into perspective, and whether he’d been undermined. He was less media-ready than Aleks.
“Aleks, can you look the fans in the eye and say, without hesitation, that none of your success came from illegal advantage?”
Aleks looked like he wanted to lunge for the guy behind me who asked that. His eyes narrowed, his jaw twitched. Thankfully, Richard stepped in at that moment.
“I believe we’ve covered that subject, Dave. Let’s move on.”
I glanced down my list of questions again, crossing off any that were too similar to ones that had already been asked.
I knew I didn’t want to ask Aleks anything.
He was under the spotlight enough and I didn’t want to ask anything that would hurt him.
He was growing more and more uncomfortable with each question and he faced most of them.
I scribbled a star next to my preferred question and got ready to get Richard’s attention. But the next question caught me off guard.
“Aleks,” a woman near the door called out above the growing restlessness in the room. “You mentioned a ‘girlfriend’ in a recent statement. Has she advised you on how to manage this crisis?”
I pressed my lips together and focused on Aleks. He wiped his palm on his jeans before switching the mic to his other hand.
“She’s offered opinions, like most people.” He allowed a small smile and half the room laughed. “But mainly she’s offered support. Absolute, unwavering support and I’m incredibly grateful.”
“And do you want to put the entire internet out of its misery and tell us who this mystery woman is?” The woman by the door pressed with her follow up.
“Not at the current time, no.” Aleks looked deliberately away from me and I tried to keep my face still. “We’re enjoying our privacy.”
“One last question,” Richard said, his gaze landing on me. “Elena Archer?”
I sat up straighter and cleared my throat.
“I’m sure Mr Volkov is sick of being asked personal questions and I’m also sure that F1 fans have far more pressing concerns.
” My comments caused another ripple of laughter through the room.
I suppressed a smile and exchanged a risky glance with Aleks.
He didn’t look like he could manage a smile at that moment and I quickly focused.
“Valerie, given the scale of the sanctions and the timing of the leadership change, how can fans trust that Obsidian’s culture has truly changed — and that this isn't just damage control?”
“Nice,” whispered the journalist next to me.
I cast her a quick nod.
“Thank you Ms Archer,” Valerie replied, her voice crisp and clear.
“As you know, I’m a strategist. My background is in the sport, it’s in compliance with rules.
Without those rules, this sport would be exceedingly dangerous.
It used to be the case that a driver was fatally wounded once in every eight races.
Now, such incidents are almost unheard of.
We’ve come a long way thanks to rules and taking safety seriously.
I don’t take that lightly and I can assure all of the fans, and all our professional colleagues, rivals and peers, Obsidian is working hard to put this behind us and run a clean race, every race. ”
“Thank you, everyone,” Richard said, cutting off the clamour for a follow up question. “We’ll leave it there for today as we’ve already run over.” He got to his feet and the panellists began to gather themselves to leave. I leapt from my seat and hurried from the room ahead of the crush.
I’d read Aleks’s growing frustration throughout the panel and I had to get to him to offer comfort and encouragement.
My bag bounced against my hip as I navigated the crowded paddock outside the media centre. I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed a hasty message:
I’m outside the media centre. Where can I find you?
I watched the ticks turn blue. Then waited. The heat pressed down on me, even though the sun had set during that last panel session. Aleks’s reply came through a minute later.
Come to my hotel room. Going for debrief with team now. Will be there in an hour.
That would have to do, so I replied with a thumbsup and drew a steadying breath. I looked around at the bustling crowd and made out Caroline working her way towards me.
“Hell of a question,” she said as soon as she reached me.
“Thanks. You too. You weren’t pulling punches.”
“Go for the jugular, you know that. I expected you to grill Volkov some more. You went off brand.”
I shrugged. “I figured he’d had enough heat.”
“Sure. And you got that quote from him last week about his girlfriend how exactly?”
I glanced around, shaking my head slightly and fighting a laugh.
“Does that matter?”
“Given no one else could find him, yeah. What’s your secret? You train at the same gym as him or what?”
“I got lucky, that’s all.”
Caroline’s brows lifted and she crossed her arms. “Oh really?”
I realised what she’d inferred and instantly regretted my choice of words.
“You know, I’ve wondered for a few weeks if there was chemistry there. The little looks, that night in the club in Seoul when he danced with you. You’re hitting that, aren’t you? You’re the girlfriend.”
“What? I don’t even know how to respond to that.” I was doing a terrible job of covering myself and she knew it.
“That wasn’t a denial.” She turned to go.
I panicked and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to face me. “Caroline, no. There is nothing to report there. Please, don’t.”
“News is news, Elena.”
“This isn’t news. It’s trivia. Be a decent journalist and keep this one to yourself. Find a real story.”
She looked as if I’d slapped her. I released her arm, my cheeks burning.
“I owe you,” I said, desperation cutting in. “For giving me that on-air question for Ross. I owe you. What do you want instead of this?”
She jutted one hip out and looked me up and down, assessing me. She clucked her tongue when she landed on it.
“Get me an interview with him. On air. His side of the story.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. That was mine. If, and it was a big if, he agreed to do an interview it was going to be with me. “Anything else.”
“An interview. Or I tell the world that the woman who broke this story is fucking the driver who cheated his way to three world titles.”
It was my turn to look struck. I glared at her, my hands were shaking.
“What if he won’t do it?”
“I think he will, if you ask him. Tomorrow, we sit down with him and my crew. Make it happen.” She turned and stalked away, stomping all over our years of friendship with her black stilettos.
“Fuck,” I hissed in her wake. This was not the victory lap I’d imagined. I had no idea how I was going to pull this off.