This is my world. It is all I have ever dreamed of, wanted, worked to have.

Metres away, he watched as a young woman was approached and embraced by a man.

Or is my world with my wife? Where is that world? Who am I within it? Where is Anya?

Suddenly, Jesper longed for a woman, for feminine tenderness and attention.

Just what is it that defines me? What is it that makes me feel whole? My bike? My woman?

He reflected on the irony that, as second in command in Système Vipère, he had privileges not afforded to the lesser riders. His own room. The company of his woman if he really required it.

And yet the domestiques sneak in pussy to their shared rooms and my wife has not made one appearance.

En route to the village for a quick cup of coffee, Ben was concerned to spy Didier LeDucq engrossed in furtive conversation behind a generator. Didier was in bad company. Jan van Loth wa a Flemish rider with a flagrant lack of respect for clean riding and a notorious ability to keep a step ahead of the dope controls.

Van Loth saw Ben before Didier and stealthed away in an instant. When Didier saw his doctor, he smiled and raised his hand in an atypical display of affection and hastily employed innocence. As Didier approached, Ben racked his conscience for how best to handle the situation. His job was to oversee the riders’ health and well being, his duty was to maintain their confidence and trust.

It is an exceptionally delicate balance and I’m holding fragile scales in hands which are unsteady.

But the only way for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

‘Bonjour, Ben,’ said Didier, all smiles, standing tall, the picture of innocence and a curse upon anyone who would dare think anything else of him.

‘Hullo, Didier,’ said Ben breezily instead, ‘lovely morning for it.’

Ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. What is he thinking of taking. And when.

‘A lovely morning,’ said Didier, still smiling easily, ‘indeed. I saw Luca being talked to by Jules Le Grand.’ He raised an eyebrow, a gesture which Ben returned.

And I saw you talking to Jan van Loth.

‘Didier,’ Ben said, ‘there are just five days of racing left now.’

The rider shrugged and nodded and retied his pony-tail.

‘My elbow’s sore,’ he told his doctor.

‘I can fix most things, Didier,’ Ben said, manipulating the rider’s elbow, ‘it is my job. Your health is in my hands.’

‘Merci,’ said Didier.

He watched the rider lope away and kicked himself for feeling so impotent. And then he caught sight of Rachel and knew at once how he could help Didier. She was leaning against a tree and, visible from some distance, was the sparkle she was bestowing on a man. Ben was amazed. Zucca MV and Système Vipère were all but entwined. It was so public. So scandalous. Key figures in the support staff of two rival teams flirting in full view. Should he leave them to it? She was his friend after all. He stopped and looked around him. No sign of Cat. Nor of Luca – what was it that Didier had said? Where is Didier? It was scandal overload on the morning of Stage 16 of the Tour de France and Ben felt enormously tired.