Carrying too much speed, Sebi Orsi skids his Maserati too deeply in the Barrböjen curve. With few good options, he must now shift down hard to hold on and avoid a spin out as the car slides left at the very edge of control. Both Norway's famed Volcán and Denmark's Diederik Olsen slide smoothly into perfect position in the chicane ready to overtake the hapless Italian.Along pit row, Vitez Rychly pulls in and leaps out of his Bugatti to help speed his mechanics as they jack the car up for repairs. Meanwhile, Pedro Gomes of Portugal slows, apparently intending to take a pit and repair the damage from the previous collision.
Rocketing past, Belgium, Germany and Britain shoot down the straight in a bid to catch the lead group. Monaco's famous strategist, Louis de Montignac, who was the Épreuve winner in Algeria, wisely slipstreams off of the yellow Duesenberg of Belgium. He leaves Petrus de Salvion Bernardus in the dust.
Meanwhile, at the hairpin of Hårnålskurva, Finland's Tavho Myrsky skids through in the big Chrysler Special. The roar of its 8 cylinder engine is deafening. Yet the Finn is closely pursued by the Scot, Alastair MacDougall, in the blue and white Amilcar C6, which pulls in directly behind, inches from the rear exhaust pipe, very nearly in a collision. As usual, the Scot shows a marked aggressive streak – he throws his head back and laughs.
The French driver, Aristide La Fontaine, fumbles his gears and falls short of the hairpin. The big blue Salmson racer complains bitterly as the Frenchman falls back into the melee, trapped among trailing pack. Now, he will race the Swede and the Swiss driver for last place – what a travesty for the winner of the GP Nice to now fall so short at this critical juncture in the lap!
In the pits, Vitez Rychly frantically jacks the little Bugatti up so his mechanic can get to the damaged oil pan. Suddenly, a shiver runs up his spine. Rychly freezes. Still squatting, he looks up and across the track. Amidst the crowd of onlookers standing behind the Swiss pit, for a moment, he sees her.... A flash of disbelief hits him. No, it cannot be. Yet, he is sure. It was her.... VV was there, watching intently, her eyes burning into his heart.
More importantly, he had felt her presence – it was unmistakable. In an instant, his mind flashed back to recall the first time he had met her – how it was when she had walked into the room. A sudden hush had fallen over the others there, such was her overpowering nature. A woman like VV could not hide.
Yet what of this now? Where had she gone? Hadn't she perished in the conflagration at the GP Nice? He questioned himself – perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he had seen a ghost? He had seen the bodies himself. Yet there, in an instant, she had disappeared into the crush of people leaning over the back pit rail cheering as the other racers flew past at high speeds. He stood and looked across the track. She was gone.
No, he must have been mistaken. He looked down at his car. Then, suddenly the wind carried the scent of her perfume, so strong even over the smell of exhaust and car tires. His eyes narrowed and he knew now with certainty – she was alive. The shouts of his mechanic broke his trance. What was going on, he wondered....
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