Le Tour (Edwin Strong Book 2)

In the colourful world of the Tour de France, the stakes are high and danger lurks around every corner. While private detective and cycling fan Edwin Strong is excited to meet his heroes, unfortunately the only reason he’s there is to investigate them, along with their biggest rivals. Under cover as a journalist and rapidly out of his depth with two conflicting engagements, he becomes increasingly aware of the murky involvement of big pharma in global sport, while finding fellow journalists hard to read, unlike the race commentators.

His relationship with his girlfriend is under stress and he's never quite sure how reliable his colleague is. What would be the best way to cope with the pressure he’s under? And why can’t he manage to do that?

In an era of rigorous testing for banned substances in sport, how would you cheat your way to the top?

No. No. No! No-no-no-no-no! Noooooo!! My speed is absurd. A judder under my hands as I hit a spot of rougher tarmac. I compress my lips and grip the bars tighter. I pass the rough spot safely. I’m glad I bought those cycling sunglasses. A fly in my eye at this speed doesn’t bear thinking about. Now a long, sinuous, sweeping left-hand bend, the downward gradient increasing slightly. The wind rushing past is all I can hear and my speed is now faster than absurd. I’ll check out exactly how much faster on the Garmin when I get home.

In search of aerodynamic efficiency, emulating a move I’ve watched my cycling heroes make, I ease myself forwards off the saddle and down onto the crossbar. The position feels solid, my weight holding my hands firmly against the handlebars, though my knees are bent at an extremely tight angle. My speed is still increasing as I shift my position slightly on the carbon fibre tube. The padded shorts were a very good investment.

But now, trying to get back into my normal position, the shorts snag on the nose of the saddle. I try pushing harder, with no success. Trying not to panic, I slide forward and then push up again – and this time regain my seat.

Yes. Yes. Yes! Yesssss!! Though I say it myself, I’m becoming a very skilful cyclist. I reach behind to check that my shorts haven’t ripped, and it’s as I do this, holding the bars with only one hand, that I hit the pothole.