Hot Wheels (6 page)

When Bob returned to HQ after his date with Gracie, Ty and Jupiter were waiting. They told him what they had found.

“The Lemon Tree? Yeah, it’s a roadhouse club in the woods out in Topanga Canyon. It’s pretty big for the Piranhas. We can’t get in there, Jupe.”

“What if you’re with me?” Ty said.

“Maybe. Depends on how much they’ve been raided.”

“We’ll take a chance,” Jupiter decided.

The three of them piled into the yard pickup and headed up the Coast Highway. At Topanga Canyon they turned onto a dark two-lane road into the mountains. The Lemon Tree Lounge was five or so miles from the highway. It was a rustic building standing under tall oak and eucalyptus trees, without a lemon tree in sight. Cars were parked in an open field around it, and the music already rocked out into the night.

The place was jammed. No one seemed to be watching the door. The guys found an unobtrusive corner in the mobbed room. The customers were talking, laughing, and drinking. They weren’t paying much attention to El Tiburon and the Piranhas, who were already pounding away. In front, Tiburon gyrated in his white suit, belting out the words. “La bamba… bamba… bamba…!”

“Is that him?” Jupiter pointed at the bandstand. Ty studied the showman.

“I still don’t know for sure, guys,” he admitted. “He looks awful different up there, singing and dancing around. I mean, he sort of looks like the guy I met, but I’m really not too good at remembering faces, you know?”

“Maybe if you watch him for a while,” Bob suggested.

So they watched the smiling Latino do his act with the four Piranhas pounding behind him. The same four girls sat at a table by the dance floor. Couples were slamming and rocking and doing Latino steps the guys had never seen.

They weren’t worried about having to order drinks and being carded by a waitress — there were no waitresses. Ty went to the long bar and got a beer and a couple of Cokes, just so no one would hassle them about not drinking at all.

The first set ended with Ty still not sure if he recognized Tiburon. After the second set, they followed Tiburon and the Piranhas out into the parking area, where the band took their break.

“I’m pretty sure, but I’m just never going to be dead sure,” Ty said finally.

Through the third set the mob gave no sign of thinning, not even after Tiburon finished the last song with an extra flourish. He ended up in a complete split out on the dance floor, the sweat glistening on his flushed face. The Investigators had seen nothing that connected to stolen cars.

“They sure don’t act like car thieves,” Ty said.

“You can’t swipe cars from a bandstand,” Bob added, discouraged.

“We’ll follow them,” Jupiter said. “Maybe they steal the cars after their gigs.”

Outside, the moon had risen. The two Investigators and Ty waited under the tall trees and listened to the whisper of the wind. Almost no one left the club, even though the music had ended. Music wasn’t the main attraction at the Lemon Tree, which probably explained why Tiburon and the Piranhas had gotten the gig — The moonlight cast long shadows on the mountains all around. A few cars passed on the road through the twisting canyon. They heard a dog bark in the distance. But mostly the only sound was the steady rumble of voices from the open tavern doors.

Tiburon and the Piranhas finally came out with their equipment and instruments. Their graffitied low-riders and an instrument van were parked in a far corner of the field. The band loaded the van and got into their cars. There were more than five cars this time. The girls who always came with them were obviously driving their own.

“It sure doesn’t look like they’re going off to steal anything,” Bob whispered.

Jupiter stared at the colorful cars. They stood like painted ghosts in the moonlight of the mountain canyon.

“Guys! Come on. We have to get closer.”

“You don’t want them to spot us,” warned Ty.

Jupiter kept on moving among the parked cars. The guys stayed in the shadows as they crept closer to the exit lane. Tiburon, the Piranhas, and their girlfriends were starting their motors to roll slowly out of the parking field.

“They’re not in lowrider position,” Bob said.

“They wouldn’t be, Bob,” Ty said. “They have to drive this mountain road and then the highway to get back to Rocky Beach.”

The shoelace on Jupiter’s sneaker had come untied. He crouched down to retie it, keeping one eye on the approaching lowriders. Suddenly he fell to the ground.

“Jupe?” Bob was alarmed.

“Jupiter!” Ty exclaimed.

“I spotted something,” Jupiter whispered. “Get down and look under those cars.”

The three guys lay on the ground as the lowriders passed. In the high position, with their hydraulics pumped up, they rode like normal cars.

“They look like any other cars now,” Bob said. “Except for all those painted messages on them.”

“Yes,” Jupiter said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Too much like any other cars! Guys, look underneath. Look at what’s missing!”

Ty and Bob stared under the cars as they rolled out of the lot. The cars rode slowly over the bumps and ruts of the dirt field.

“They look pretty ordinary to me,” Bob said.

“Yeah,” Ty said, and then he became excited. “No! They don’t have any bump plates underneath, front or rear! They’re not lowriders in the up position. They’re just ordinary cars!”

“Ordinary cars all graffitied to look exactly like the lowriders the band does drive,” Jupiter said. “And what kind of cars? Look really close.”

Bob stared. “That’s a Mercedes! And two Volvos!”

“There’s a BMW and another Mercedes!” Ty said.

“That’s what I spotted in the dark, guys — the shapes of Mercedes and Volvos!” Jupiter said. “The cars we saw at The Shack were completely different makes. I’ll bet the band doesn’t steal these cars. They just drive them to Rocky Beach. No one looks closely at them under that graffitti. It’s just a rock band with their painted cars returning from a gig.”

He jumped up as the last car turned out of the field toward the ocean. “Hurry, guys, we’ve got to see where they take the cars!”

They ran back to the pickup and bumped and swayed across the dirt out onto the road. Since Tiburon and the band weren’t in their lowriders, they could drive a lot faster. But Ty gunned along the narrow, twisting road while Bob and Jupe hung on. Soon, they caught up with the rear car in the procession of phony lowriders.

“If those are stolen cars,” Bob said, “how did they get into the parking lot. And where are the real cars the band drives?”

“My guess is that the cars were stolen earlier, graffitied, and parked by other members of the ring,” Jupiter said.

“Yeah, stealing cars right takes experience,” Ty said. “Lots of cars are swiped by joy-riding kids, and they get caught fast if they don’t dump the car after a quick spin. But pros spot the car they want and pick the safest time to grab it and get off the road pronto. I’d say Jupe’s right — the real thieves grab them, paint them, and park them. Then the band drives them home.”

“But how does the band get here?” asked Bob.

Ty shrugged. “Somebody drives them! Maybe in the van. Or maybe the band picks up the stolen cars someplace nearby and shows up at the gig in them.”

“Okay, if pros steal the cars,” said Bob, “why do they need Tiburon and the Piranhas? Why don’t the pros drive them to the chop-shop themselves?”

“Because the big risk in any caper like this is the cops’re sure to know the pros,” Ty said. “They’re the first guys to be picked up. If a car gets reported stolen, every cop in the area looks for known thieves. And stool pigeons are always ready to talk.”

“Most arrests are made on tips against known crooks,” Jupiter pointed out.

“It’s a smart gimmick to have pros steal them, and get someone the cops don’t suspect to drive them to the shop,” Ty said.

“Whatever the reason,” Jupiter said, “it looks like Tiburon’s job isn’t to steal the cars but to deliver them. So if we follow him, we should find the gang’s headquarters. ”

“What about the car Tiburon got Ty to drive down to Rocky Beach?” Bob asked. “How does that fit in? It wasn’t even graffitied.”

“No.” Jupiter thought. “My guess is that it was an extra car Tiburon stole for himself, maybe after his gig that night.”

Ty said, “He sure took a gamble by getting some guy like me to ferry it down. I’ll bet the bossman was hopping mad.”

“Since the band wasn’t going to drive it,” Jupiter added, “he wouldn’t graffiti it.”

“Jupe!” Bob stared ahead.

A large trailer truck pulled out of a side road and made a wide turn onto the canyon road. It blocked both lanes. Ty had to stop until the big eighteen-wheeler straightened out and moved ahead. Drivers from the other direction now passed in a stream, but Ty was stuck behind the big, slow-moving rig.

Finally they reached a straight stretch of road long enough for Ty to pull around the truck. He raced ahead in pursuit of the fake lowriders. But there was no sign of them. On the Coast Highway, Ty opened up to full speed. He drove fast in the light traffic of the late hour, but they reached Rocky Beach without finding a trace of Tiburon and the Piranhas.

“Swing by that car wash, and the garage,” said Jupe.

Ty did. But the lowriders had disappeared.

“What do we do now?” Ty asked.

“Nothing,” Jupiter replied. “Not tonight. But tomorrow we figure out how to catch the thieves red-handed with the stolen cars.”

Pete, in a ragged bloom county T-shirt, and Bob, in a striped rugby shirt, were outside the gates when Jupiter and Ty arrived at the yard the next morning. Inside HQ they sat around to talk.

Jupiter was at the desk. “I’m sure now that Jake Hatch is boss of the stolen car ring. Proving it is going to be something else.”

They were silent as they thought about how to stop the gang of car thieves.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, guys,” Ty said slowly, “but this is an organized gang. They can be real dangerous. Maybe we better take what we have to the police. There’s a lot of money in this, and money means violence.”

“You think we have enough for the police to act on?” Jupiter said.

“Or even believe us?” Pete added.

Ty shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do.”

“Then we go on until we have it,” Jupiter said. “Am I right, guys?”

“Right,” Bob said.

“We go on,” Pete said.

“So,” Jupiter said, “we’re sure Tiburon and the Piranhas are transporting the stolen cars in the disguise of lowriders. And we’re pretty sure the Freeway Garage is where they take them. But we can’t jump Tiburon and his gang on the road, and we’ve already been to the garage and found nothing.”

Ty said, “If there’s a chop-shop hidden in that garage, they’re sure to have it set up so they can escape if the police break in.”

“Which means we can’t do much from outside,” Bob said.

“So we’ll have to get inside,” Pete said.

“That’s what I was thinking all night,” Jupiter said, nodding. “One of us must get inside the gang.”

There was another silence in the trailer. Bob frowned and looked worried.

“I don’t know, Jupe,” he said. “They’ve seen us a lot by now.”

Ty said, “They don’t know me that well. I can grow a mustache, use some disguise, and — ”

“Both Torres and Tiburon got a good look at you, Ty,” Jupiter broke in. “No, I think I’m the one.”

“Come on, Jupe.” Pete snorted. “You flattened Torres, and gave Tiburon a hard time at The Shack. They’ll remember you. No, the only one they haven’t gotten close to is me. It’s my job to get inside.”

The other three looked at one another.

“He’s right, Jupe,” Bob said.

Ty nodded.

“All right,” Jupiter agreed. “How do we go about getting you infiltrated?”

“Infiltrated?” Bob laughed. “Is that a word, Jupe?”

“It is now.” Jupiter grinned. Then he became serious again. “How do we get Pete into the gang?”

“I could apply for a mechanic’s job at that garage,” Pete suggested.

“Too risky and wouldn’t work,” Ty said. “If they are a chop-shop, they’ll only take on someone sent by someone they know.”

“A parking attendant’s job?” Jupiter suggested.

“Sounds like they only use that gunman,” Ty said, “and he’d probably get suspicious too.”

“What about the car wash?” said Bob. “That’s where Tiburon and his gang hang out. And car washes always need people to do the hand finishing with the rags. Pete could get close to Tiburon there and maybe work his way into the garage.”

“Yeah,” Ty agreed. “He could talk a lot about wanting to be a mechanic and needing big money. Then maybe show Tiburon how good he is with cars.”

“It could take forever,” Jupiter objected. “Unless… what if we sabotage Tiburon’s car in such a way that it’s really easy to fix but hard to see what’s wrong unless you know? Then Pete could fix it like magic and impress Tiburon.”

“I can pull a couple of wires underneath they’d never spot,” Ty said. “It might work.”

“I think it’s our best chance,” Bob agreed.

“We’d have to be sure Tiburon brought his car to the car wash,” Pete said.

“That won’t be a problem if it’s their steady hangout,” Jupiter said. “But infiltration could still take too long. We need a backup plan.”

“Like what, Jupe?” Bob asked.

“One of us rents a parking space in the garage for a week and hides in the car to watch what’s going on. It’s not as good as infiltrating, but we might spot enough to tell us where the chop-shop is.”

Ty said. “Who parks?”

“I’m busy all day with Sax,” Bob said, “and maybe with that beach party with the girls. I kind of promised them, and I’ve busted the promise twice already. Hey, Jupe, Ruthie really wants you to come.”

“Ty might lead the police to the garage and scare off the crooks,” Jupiter said hastily. “That leaves me, so I can’t go to a beach party. I’ll go and pick up my new car right now.”

“Wait a minute,” Pete said. “What if Torres and that guy with the gun are at the garage? They know you, Jupe.”

“If Torres is there I’ll have to get away fast,” Jupiter admitted. “I don’t think that Max guy really saw me. Anyway, there’s no one else. You’ll be taking a risk at the car wash, Pete.”

Pete gulped. “I guess we’re all taking some risk. Okay, I’ll head for the car wash and sign up to polish cars.”

“I’ll borrow a pickup and drive Jupe to his car,” Ty said. “And then I’ll watch Pete at the car wash from that Taco Bell you told me about. If the cops tail me, they won’t see me do anything except eat a couple of tacos.”

Jupiter reached into a desk drawer and took out money to pay for the parking. Then he stepped out to his workshop. He returned a moment later with mini walkie-talkies for the three of them.

“Pete had better put on a work shirt for the job and wear a bolo tie with the walkie-talkie in the slide. The range isn’t far, but Pete can talk to Ty. And I can report to anyone right outside the garage.”

They drove out of the salvage yard at the same time. Bob to Sax Sendler’s office. Pete to get a shirt and his bolo tie and go to the car wash. Ty and Jupiter to pick up Jupe’s new Honda.

“Meet you later at HQ,” Jupe told Ty after claiming his car.

Ty smiled. “Drive carefully now.”

Jupiter grinned like a kid with a new toy as he drove off on his first mission on the new wheels. The little car handled beautifully, cornering and holding the road and slipping in and out of small spaces like a snake. He drove the long way to the Freeway Garage just to enjoy his new car.

When he got to the garage, he honked in front of the doors.

Nothing happened.

After a few minutes he honked again.

A man stepped out through the small door inside the larger doors. It was the burly gunman, Max!

“Yeah?”

Jupiter swallowed hard to hide his panic, but the gunman showed no hint of recognition. Max really hadn’t seen him clearly the day before yesterday in the gloom of the garage parking floor. Jupe breathed deeply and smiled his best arrogant smile.

“I need parking for a week,” he announced.

Max turned away. “Got no openings.”

“Mostly I’ll be leaving the car here,” Jupiter went on as if he hadn’t heard. “But I will have to go in and out sometimes. Can that be accommodated?”

The man turned and looked back at him. “Get lost, jerk.”

The gunman went back inside. Jupiter sat in his new Honda and tried to think what to do. He had to admit finally he was stumped. If they wouldn’t rent him a space, there was nothing he could do about it. Glumly he drove back to the salvage yard. He hoped that Pete had done better.

No one was in the workshop or trailer. Jupiter munched guiltily on a chocolate bar from his secret stash as he waited. Then he decided that the grapefruit and cottage cheese diet just wasn’t right for him. He’d find a new diet. That made him feel a lot better. He went out to admire his car again. The telephone rang in the trailer.

“Jupe!” It was Ty. “Two guys just quit the car wash. They shoved rags in Pete’s hand, told him to start drying and shining!”

“What about Tiburon and the Piranhas?”

“Not here yet. I’ll stay and watch for them. How’d you do?”

“I didn’t,” Jupiter said gloomily. He told Ty about Max the gunman.

Ty snorted at the other end. “I don’t believe him. That guy just wants some money in his hand. Pick me up, we’ll both go back.”

“You mean he wants a bribe?”

“Sure, guys like that always expect a little ‘tip’ to give you a space. The guy who greases their palm the most gets the best spot. I’ll be right there.”

Jupe jumped back into his new Honda and drove quickly to the Taco Bell next to the car wash. Ty came out.

“Shouldn’t you stay and watch?” Jupe asked.

“Nothing’s happening, and this won’t take long.”

“All right, but you drive,” Jupiter said. “I’ll hide in back. When you leave, I’ll stay behind. Let’s go.”

Ty drove off with Jupiter on the floor in back and Jupe’s money in his pocket. He’d gone five blocks when he swore.

“It’s the cops again. A blue Aries this time, but I can spot them anywhere.” Jupiter heard him laugh. Then he began to talk to the police car. “Okay, boys, if that’s the way you want it. Hang on, Jupe.”

The car seemed to shoot off like a rocket. Jupiter clung to the bottom of the backseat. Ty drove like a cannonball. The car made screeching turns that flung Jupiter like a sack around on the floor of the hatch-back. But he wasn’t worried about himself.

“My car!” Jupiter wailed. “You’ll wreck it!”

Ty laughed. “Nah. It’s a tough little baby!”

Bruised and battered, Jupe listened to the little car creak and groan in violent turns and wild speed-ups. It bounced and rattled over bone-jarring bumps and ruts as if Ty were driving over plowed fields and railroad ties. Then it slowed down and stopped bouncing.

Ty laughed again. “Lost ’em. You okay?”

“I think so.” Jupiter groaned. “Is the car okay?”

“Perfect.” Ty chuckled. “We’re almost at the garage. Stay way down.”

Jupiter lay rigid as the car came to a stop. Ty honked.

Max the gunman came out again. “Yeah?”

“Need parking for a week,” Ty said.

“No openings.”

“You look like a guy knows how to be treated right. What’s the week in advance?”

There was a silence. Then, “Fifty bucks.”

“Hey, that’s only half what I figured. Let’s say a hundred. Got it right here. Cash.”

There was a silence, then Max spoke.

“I guess we can squeeze you in.”

The doors opened, and the Honda drove into the dim garage. It parked in a row toward the back.

“Okay, you’re in,” Ty said.

Jupiter groaned. “That hundred was all we had in the treasury.”

“It was the only way, Jupe. I’ll hitch back to the car wash and see what I can do to help Pete. Be back for you around five.”

Then Jupiter was alone in the gloom of the silent garage.