Hot Wheels

Hot Wheels by William Arden Page A

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Authors: William Arden
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him, Bob!” Kelly pleaded.
    “I’m doing the best I can,” Bob said as he floored the gas pedal in pursuit of the Jaguar.
    But the silver sedan moved steadily farther ahead as Bob tried desperately to keep up.
    *
    In the trunk Jupiter held tight to keep from rolling and making noise as the Jaguar sped along. He was braced so tight that when the car suddenly screeched to a stop he almost slammed into the trunk wall. But he managed to make no noise. He heard Torres honk the signal: one long, two shorts, a long, and a short.
    He heard a padlock being unlocked and heavy garage doors open. The Jaguar drove in.
    “One of Tiburon’s little extras,” Torres’s voice said. “The boss ain’t gonna be happy. That Mercedes got us into enough trouble.”
    It was the voice of Max the gunman! The passenger door opened and someone got in. The car started again. In the dark, Jupiter sensed the Jag moving and turning slowly. Then it hesitated, bumped over something raised, and stopped.
    There was a rattling sound. The slatted wooden gates of the car elevator were closing! The elevator lurched upward. Jupiter tried to gauge how far up it went, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
    The elevator stopped. Jupiter heard a faint rumbling sound. The Jaguar started, then drove slowly off — in the wrong direction!
    *
    “We’ve lost it, Bob!” Kelly wailed.
    “It turned at that corner up there,” Bob said grimly. “Maybe we can pick it up again.”
    Bob sped down the street in the commercial area, started to turn — and drove straight on past the cross street.
    The Jaguar had been stopped in front of a three-story red-brick building a block up the street they just passed.
    “You think he saw us?” Kelly asked. “We’re just another car. Torres never saw my bug.” Bob made a U-turn, drove back, and parked short of the corner. They ran to the corner and peered around. The Jaguar was gone. They moved along the dark and deserted street to the double doors where the Jag had gone in. There was a smaller door inside the large double doors.
    Both doors were locked.
    “What do we do?” Kelly whispered in despair. “Hope that nobody shot the deadbolt home after Jupe left earlier,” said Bob.
    He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a plastic ID card. He slid the card into the crack between the smaller door and its frame, next to the lock. After a moment, he managed to slip the latch. Seconds later they stood inside in the dimness of the Freeway Garage.
    Bob and Kelly studied the rows and rows of parked cars.
    “This must be where Jupe parked his Honda to watch,” Bob said. “Look for your dad’s Jag.”
    They moved through the vast, dim, silent room of parked cars. Finally they stood near the caged shaft of an automobile elevator. Its platform was somewhere above in the gloom. They listened for any sound, but heard nothing. No sounds, and no Jaguar.
    “It’s not here!” Kelly said, her voice rising.
    “Shhhhh!” Bob hissed.
    There was a sudden slamming noise, a rattle of wooden slats, and the car elevator began to descend!
    “Quick!” Bob whispered.
    He grabbed Kelly and dragged her behind the nearest row of cars. They crouched out of sight as the elevator reached the ground floor. Joe Torres stepped off alone and walked through the enormous room and out the front door.
    Bob and Kelly stepped out to the elevator.
    “My dad’s car has to be somewhere up there,” Kelly said, looking up the elevator shaft.
    “Jupiter said he’s sure the chop-shop is hidden in the building,” Bob agreed. “Only where is it?” A voice spoke from behind them.
    “It’s a real shame you know about the chop-shop, Andrews. You should have stuck to music.”
    Jake Hatch stood behind them, an ugly pistol in his thick hand. The burly man who stood on the other side of Bob and Kelly held an even bigger gun.
     

15
Walled In!
    In the Jaguar trunk Jupiter listened. He heard nothing. He had heard nothing for some time.
    The Jaguar had seemed

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