William Arden: Hot Wheels

“Easy, little lady.”

“We ain’t gonna move, girl. You just hold that thing easy.”

The two held out their hands toward Kelly as if to ward off the bullets her nervous trigger finger might let loose. It was obvious they weren’t even going to try to get up.

“That’s good thinking, guys,” Kelly said, waving the gun a little. “You just sit right there.”

Pete chopped Jake Hatch with a sharp nukite sword hand strike to the solar plexus, which knocked all the wind out of the boss of the gang. Hatch lay on the littered floor and groaned, holding his chest.

Ty knocked the out-of-shape Torres out cold, took his gun, and put it into his belt. He crossed the room to Kelly and took the gun from her hands.

Bob and Jupiter found a length of wire and tied Max’s hands and ankles. He lay swearing and struggling, but helpless.

Grinning, Bob stood up. “Well, I guess that takes care of the stolen-car gang.”

“We’ve got them!” Pete cried.

“And the evidence,” Jupiter added, nodding at the stripped Maserati.

“Better tie them all and pick up the guns,” Ty said. “I’ll hold this gun on them.”

Pete and Jupiter found some rope in a corner, then tied up the two mechanics and Torres. Bob retrieved the mechanic’s gun from among the car parts and picked up Max’s pistol from the floor. Pete and Jupiter turned to tie up Jake Hatch. He was still groaning and holding his bruised ribs as if he’d never recover.

But before they could take care of the agent, they heard feet pounding, and a gang of men poured into the room from an alcove beyond the Maserati.

“Hey, we got six nice hot wheels waitin’ for the elevator down on the first floor,” El Tiburon said as he strode in through some door the guys hadn’t seen. He stopped and stared. “Ay chihuahua! Look at this, hey?”

The four Piranhas and some hangers-on stood behind the handsome Latino bandleader, who still wore his white stage suit.

Jupiter stepped out to face them. “It’s over, Tiburon. We’ve got your boss, his gunmen, Joe Torres, and the stolen car. You all better give yourselves up.”

“Yeah?” Tiburon said. He looked around. He looked at the guns in Ty’s and Bob’s hands. He looked at the four Piranhas and the others behind him. Then he said to Jupe, “Hey, man, I don’t know, you know? I mean, there’s a lot more of us, right?”

Jake Hatch sat up on the floor, suddenly recovered. “Take care of these kids, Tiburon! Jump them!”

Tiburon shrugged. “I don’ know, bossman. They got guns, you know? You guys ain’t gonna be a lotta help.”

“They’re just stupid kids! They don’t even know how to use the guns. You can take them.”

“Maybe, hey?” the smiling Latino said. “But I been figuring it’s maybe time me and the band was getting raises, you know?”

“I pay you too much now!” Hatch raged. “Get these kids. You and your dumb extra cars got us into this, you stupid pachuco”

Tiburon stared at Hatch. Behind him the Piranhas muttered angrily. Tiburon seemed to listen to the rumble of anger in their voices.

Jupiter saw the change. He moved quickly and talked straight to Tiburon.

“He’s been using you, Tiburon. Using all of you. He hasn’t any respect for you. You and the Piranhas are just useful jerks to him.”

Tiburon didn’t appear to hear Jupiter. He was too busy staring at Jake Hatch. “Hey, you want help from a gang of dumb pachucos, bossman? Hey, you don’ know one from the other, right? They all look the same, them dumb pachucos, right?”

Hatch turned purple where he sat on the floor. “Get us out of here or you’re finished, you hear! Take care of these kids, you brainless cholo, or you’ll never work for me again, you hear?”

Tiburon shook his head. “Hey, what can a bunch of dumb pachucos do? Cholos estupidos? Hey, they’re all lazy an’ greasy, right? Fat greasers.” He smiled at Hatch, then looked at Jupiter. “Hey, fat Anglo, we tell you all about this smart bossman an’ his big-time operation. You tell the cops they should go nice an’ easy on Tiburon and the Piranhas, okay?”

“You know we can’t tell the cops what to do, Tiburon,” Ty said, still holding Hatch’s gun and watching the Piranhas.

“But we’ll do everything we can,” Jupiter added quickly. “We know you mostly only delivered the cars here. Other guys stole them for Hatch, professional crooks. The gang’s mechanics chopped them up, not you guys.”

Tiburon nodded. “You pretty smart for a young guy. Yeah, they give us the cars all painted up to look like our regular wheels, and we drive ’em to the gigs an’ back here. Or maybe they take us to the gig, and we only drive ’em back.”

“What about that red Mercedes?” Ty asked grimly. “The one you stole in Oxnard.”

Tiburon shrugged. “Okay, so I steal a couple cars myself when they don’t got no cars ready for us. It was dumb. I louse it up anyway.”

Jupiter said, “If you turn state’s evidence and testify in court against Hatch and his gang, the judge will give you a break for sure.”

“Don’t listen to them!” Jake Hatch cried, pulling away from Pete and lunging toward Tiburon. “I’ll give you a raise. All of you. You’ll be the richest wetbacks in town.”

Tiburon looked at Hatch, at Jupiter and Ty, then at the Piranhas behind him. He shrugged.

“Okay, smart Anglo, let’s go talk to the cops.”

Ty lowered his gun. Pete grinned. Bob and Jupiter breathed more easily. Kelly ran to Pete and threw her arms around him. Pete blushed bright red. Kelly laughed, kissed Pete, and stepped back.

Jake Hatch suddenly jumped and grabbed Kelly. He held her in front of him, twisted her arm behind her, and backed toward the elevator. Anybody who tried to shoot him would hit the girl.

“Everyone stay right where they are! Anyone comes near me, this little lady gets hurt. You got that?”

No one moved as Hatch backed into the elevator with his hostage. The wall slowly closed on him and the terrified Kelly.

In the chop-shop there was a shocked silence. Pete ran to the closed wall.

“How do you open this? Quick!”

He stared at Tiburon, who shrugged. “I don’ know, man. Someone always open it for us.”

Joe Torres laughed. “Figure it out yourself, hot-shot. ”

“The boss is too smart for you punks,” Max the gunman sneered.

The two mechanics shook their heads. They didn’t know how to open the hidden door. Jupiter whirled to face Tiburon.

“How did you get in here?”

“The office over there,” Tiburon said. “Same way we always go out.”

“Office? Where?” Pete said. “Show me. Hurry!”

“Sure, man, only the stairs down come out on the wrong street, you know? I mean, you gotta go all around to the front to get in the garage.”

“Show me!” Pete cried.

“I’ll go with you,” Ty said, tucking one pistol into his belt and handing the other one to Bob. “They’re tied up good, but keep an eye on them.”

Tiburon took Ty and Pete to the alcove in the far corner of the room, opposite the wall with the elevator. The door to the office was out of sight around the alcove’s corner.

“You gotta know the trick,” Tiburon said. He pulled a small fire extinguisher on the wall. The office door opened.

Pete and Ty raced through a small business office and down the stairs into the night. A moon had come up, lighting their way in silvery blue. They ran around the building, past Pete’s Fiero parked on the side street, to the front of the garage.

The double doors were still closed and locked!

“He’s got to be inside!” Pete said.

“Unless there’s another way out we don’t know,” Ty said. “Be careful, Pete. He’s got Kelly.”