William Arden: Hot Wheels

Pete raised his head. “My digital watch alarm. There’s a late-night show I like. I forgot to turn it off.”

“What time is it anyway, kid?”

“Almost twelve thirty,” Pete told them.

“Hey, let’s speed this up, then. We got that Jag over there now, and Tiburon’s gonna show with a bunch more anytime.”

“Gosh,” Pete said, “isn’t it late to bring in cars?” The other two laughed.

“Hey, the boss got to buy these lemon rejects when he got the chance, right?”

The two mechanics laughed harder. It was obvious to Jupiter and Ty that Pete had been told some big lie about what he was doing.

“Well,” Pete said across the distance, “we’re almost finished here. Maybe I should go and get the Jag.”

“Sure, kid, go ahead.”

Pete laid down his tools and wiped his hands on a rag. Then he walked to the Jaguar in the dark corner. He glanced back once to make sure that the other two were at work.

“Who’s here?” he said, leaning into the Jaguar as if testing something. “Where’s Kelly?”

He’d recognized the Jaguar, heard the signal, and put two and two together.

“Me and Ty,” Jupiter said. “Kelly’s with Bob. They should be outside waiting. They were supposed to follow us. What’s happening here?”

“It’s a chop-shop, all right,” Pete said. “They gave me a phony story about the cars all having something really wrong with them. That makes them cheap buys and worth more as parts. But Tiburon made it pretty clear what’s going on.”

“Are both those guys armed?” Ty asked.

“Only one of them, I think.”

“How come there’s only two working, and you?” Ty asked.

Pete pretended to work on the Jag’s front door. “Tiburon told me they were short because three mechanics were out sick. He laughed, so I think they’re really in jail. I figure the rest of the gang, the real car thieves, are out stealing the cars. We got lucky, guys.”

“Then let’s get them now and call the police before anyone else shows up,” Jupiter said.

Pete nodded and got into the front seat to drive the car. Jupiter and Ty slipped into the back and laid low. Pete started the car, driving it at a snail’s pace toward the two mechanics at the Maserati.

Suddenly there was a rumbling nose. The left wall of the long room opened as if the bricks were all sliding sideways!

“It’s a door!” Jupiter exclaimed softly. “In the rear wall of the elevator shaft! That’s how they get the cars into the shop!”

The guys saw that the large section of wall was made of fake bricks on a sliding door. It pushed in from the elevator side on steel hinges, then slid open sideways.

“We’re in the building on the next street,” Ty said. “And only half of it. It’s a whole secret room hidden from both sides! The cars drive in as hot wheels and go out as parts.”

“Guys!” Pete said, staring.

Jake Hatch and Max the gunman walked through the open wall out of the elevator. Bob and Kelly marched in front of them at gunpoint.

“He’s got Kelly,” Pete moaned. “We’ve got to rescue them, guys!”

Ty said, “We better jump them now, before any of the rest of the gang, or Tiburon and the Piranhas, show up.”

“But they’ve got guns,” Jupiter said in dismay.

Pete stopped the Jaguar, confused. What should they do? Jake Hatch and Max prodded Kelly and Bob toward the mechanics. Jake Hatch wore a grim expression.

“Caught them downstairs in the other building looking for a chop-shop,” he growled. “I guess they found one. Too bad they won’t get to tell anyone about it.”

“The other guys know where we are,” Bob said, bluffing. “Ty’ll bring the cops.”

“That’s the guy Tiburon got to drive that red Mercedes down from Oxnard,” Max the gunman said.

“The one who brought the cops around to Torres.”

“I told the bands not to steal cars on their own, the idiots,” Hatch snarled.

“Tiburon only done it three times, Boss,” Max said.

“That’s three times too many.” Jake Hatch shook his head. “Now we got to get rid of these two.” He looked around. “Where’s the new guy?”

“Over there getting the Jag,” a mechanic said. Pete said in a low voice, “They’re going to spot us, guys. Hang on.”

He drove the Jaguar slowly forward. Hatch glanced toward the car. “Jag?”

“Yeah,” the mechanic said. “Torres brought it half an hour ago. It’s a ‘present’ from Tiburon.”

“That jerk,” Hatch said, shaking his head again. “Well, it looks like a good one, anyway.” He turned back to Bob and Kelly. “Sorry about this, Andrews. You should’ve kept your nose out of my business.” Pete was getting closer. Hatch, Max the gunman, and the two mechanics stood in a group near the Maserati, facing Bob and Kelly. For a moment they had their backs to the Jaguar. Pete leaned out the window.

“Where do you want the Jag, Max?” he called out.

Jupiter and Ty saw the light glow in Bob’s and Kelly’s eyes as they recognized Pete’s voice. In the backseat they tensed as Pete’s foot eased down on the accelerator.

“What’s that kid doing here?” Joe Torres stood in the wide doorway of the elevator, pointing at Bob. “He’s the kid who just drove that Jag in for — ”

“Now, Pete!” Jupiter yelled.

Pete stomped hard on the gas pedal. The Jaguar leaped forward with a roar and a shriek of rubber straight toward the four men around the Maserati.

The Jaguar bore down on the four men. They stood frozen. They held their guns in a trance of terror, paralyzed by fear. Their horrified eyes stared at the car that rushed straight at them.

Then the instant broke, and they all dove wildly out of the car’s deadly path. They sprawled on the littered floor, clawing for safety.

Max the gunman landed hard on his gun arm, cursed in pain, and lost the pistol.

The two mechanics scrambled over each other in their frantic dive out of the path of the hurtling Jaguar. The pistol popped out of the armed mechanic’s pocket and skidded into the scattered parts of the dismantled Maserati.

Jake Hatch was the only one to keep his head. He rolled as he hit the floor, then came back up halfway with his pistol aimed straight at the Jaguar and Pete behind the wheel.

Bob pushed Kelly out of the path of the car and kicked the pistol out of Jake Hatch’s hand with a yoko-geri-keage snap side kick. The pistol skidded part-way across the room. Hatch lunged at Bob, who countered instantly with an elbow strike to the head that sent Jake sprawling.

The Jaguar screamed to a stop inches from the dismantled Maserati.

Pete flung himself out of the car and leaped on Jake Hatch as the chop-shop boss tried to get up once more.

Ty was out and running at Joe Torres, who still stood near the open wall, apart from the others, trying to pull his pistol from his pocket. The two went down in a flurry of arms and legs as Ty made a flying tackle on the bodega owner.

Jupiter ran toward Bob, who was battling Max. The powerful thug was back on his feet, lunging toward his pistol. Bob tried to reach the compact gunman with a tobi-yoko-geri jumping side kick, but Max held him off with a sweeping back arm block of his own. He bent to grab at his gun.

Jupiter slammed into the bent-over gunman, sending him down again. Swearing, Max bounced up and charged. This time Jupiter felled him with a hip throw, then dove on top of him. Bob piled on top of Jupe. The angry gunman cursed and swore but stayed down under the weight of both of them.

Untangled, the two mechanics started to get up, then stopped. They stared into the angry eyes and steady hands of Kelly Madigan. The cheerleader had picked up Jake Hatch’s big pistol. She held it now in both her small hands, aiming it at the two suddenly frozen mechanics.