Detour to Apocalypse: A Rot Rods Serial, Part Two by Michael Panush Page A

“We’ll do our best to be courteous and quiet during the time that we’re here.”
    “Sure,” the owner said. “And I can overlook your pet, ah, monkey, is it?”
    “An ape, actually, sir,” Felix . “He is very well-behaved.” Snowball urinated on the bristling fake grass as Betty and Angel helped carry in the suitcases. “And I will make sure that he does not bother your other guests.”
    The owner nodded. “Well, that’s just fine.” He paused and looked at the drivers. Roscoe walked over to stand next to the Captain and Felix. “So…What’re y’all here for? See the casinos, maybe?”
    “Yeah,” Roscoe said. “The casinos.”
    “I’ll fetch you the keys. Your rooms are right there on the first floor.” The owner tucked the envelope under his arm. “Let me know if you need anything. Name’s Otis, by the way. You just ask for anything and I’ll get it.” He hurried across the parking lot, seemingly eager to be out of the way.
    The Captain watched him go. Wooster, Angel, and Betty came to stand with him.
    “Seems like a charming little place,” Betty said. “Ice boxes are freshly stocked, at least.” She turned to the Captain and Roscoe. “But I don’t think we’re here to see the sights. What’s our plan, Captain? How do we find Townsend Mars and Dr. Bolton?”
    Wooster spat chewing tobacco onto the asphalt. The puddle spread, drying quickly in the warm sun. “Want my advice? We hit him hard, right now. We got the equipment. We got the artillery. It’ll be simple.”
    “I’d rather not, Wooster. I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves―and I’m sure our government employers wouldn’t want an armed incursion in a crowded casino.” The Captain stroked his gray moustache as he stared at the dust. “We need to accomplish this carefully, and I don’t want any civilians involved.”
    Roscoe leaned on the side of his car. “So we ask―we ask Fink to hand over Dr. Bolton. He’s a businessman and he doesn’t want any trouble. We explain to him the truth of what his friendship with Mars means, and he’ll do the rest.”
    “That’s a good idea,” the Captain said. “We can seek an audience with Finkelstein. Discuss matters. Perhaps we can convince him to give Bolton up without a fight.”
    “He’s a hood. He might need plenty of convincing.” Angel pulled a switchblade from his zoot suit’s pocket and flicked it open. “You want me and Roscoe to persuade him, boss?”
    Betty gave Angel a quick smile. “Maybe we should try politeness first.”
    “May I go?” Felix asked. “If you wish to show good intentions, perhaps I could come along? I could explain the situation to Mr. Finkelstein about why he needs to turn Dr. Bolton over to our custody. Perhaps that would be helpful?”
    “Bringing a nice kid like Felix would show that we’re not on the warpath,” Betty added.
    “Leave the Yeti here.” Roscoe squinted at the cloudless sky. “I’m going too.”
    “Very well.” The Captain nodded. “Roscoe, Betty―I’d like you with me. We’ll take the Rolls.” He glanced down at Felix. “Son, you may accompany us, but I want you on your best behavior. I don’t have to tell you the importance of this meeting.” He glanced at Wooster and Angel. “I’ll need you men to stay here and create a secure base of operations. Scan the surrounding area, prepare our equipment and weapons, and wait for us to return. Hopefully, it won’t take long.” He walked back to the Rolls, straightening his tie and vest as if preparing for a business meeting. Felix and Betty followed him.
    Angel grinned at Roscoe. “The old man likes your idea. I think he sees you handling yourself well, and he likes that too.”
    “What does that mean?” Roscoe asked.
    Wooster chuckled. “Means he might want to make you trail boss, Roscoe.”
    “A leader?” Roscoe shook his head. “No way. I’m some punk hitman. I’m a torpedo who knows a thing or two about cars. I’m