Need for Speed (11 page)

Thirteen

THE RESTAURANT WAS
one of the most expensive in the country.

In one corner, at the best table in the place, were Dino, Anita, and a man and wife. The man was a multimillionaire and, even better for Dino, he was an investor. This meant he was a mark for Dino. A person from whom he could siphon money. A sucker.

That was the underlying reason for the dinner. Doing her part as Dino's arm candy was Anita, who looked stunning.

“Believe me,” the investor was telling Dino, “I'm not trying to be an asshole.”

“You don't have to try that hard,” his wife interjected in a perfect deadpan, sipping her drink.

“It's just that the idea of a guy called ‘Monarch,'” the investor went on, a bit uncertain, “and that he hosts a secret race and all? Well, it's just a bit hard to believe.”

Dino nodded sympathetically. “He's supposedly from a blue-blood, wealthy family,” he said. “Real old money. People who made their fortunes during the industrial revolution.”

“And no one knows who he is?” the investor asked.

Dino shook his head. “No one,” he said.

“Well, Dino does,” Anita said, suddenly interrupting.

Dino looked at her. He was both surprised and amused.

“Oh, I do?” he asked.

“It's just a feeling I get,” she said.

“You calling me a liar?” Dino asked her.

“Sometimes I think you're not telling the whole story,” she replied.

Dino waved her quiet, then turned back to his dinner companions.

“Monarch has sponsored Formula 1 race teams,” Dino told them. “Always under other names. But
that
I know about him for sure.”

“Really an underground type,” the man's wife said.

“With a bad ticker,” Dino said. “Word is, he used to drive in big races, but he could drop dead at any moment, so he quit the hands-on racing business.”

Dino knew the mark was warming up, though it might have been the alcohol.

“I'd love to see his podcast,” he said.

“Monarch's site is private,” Anita told him. “It's by invite only.”

Dino took a long swig of his scotch.
Wonder when she'll shut up,
he thought.

“What's the prize for the De Leon?” the mark asked.

“Big rewards come with big risks,” Dino answered. “Any car that's in the race and loses automatically belongs to the winner. I won it last year and left with more than six million dollars in cars. And one of them was a new Pagani.”

“Sounds like a good day's work,” the man said with a laugh.

“Yes, it was,” Dino replied, turning mock serious. “But listen, I'm not trying to push you—however, I've got another interested party. Now, I'm not a hundred percent sure about them. You know that feeling?”

“I know it well,” the mark replied. “And I liked what I saw at your garage. That's quite a dealership you've got going there. The problem I have is you haven't shown a hard profit yet, at least not in cash.”

Dino shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Frustration was starting to show around the edges of his face.

“Let me be blunt,” he said. “What do I have to do to get a real commitment from you?”

“I'll be blunt right back,” the investor replied. “What do you consider a ‘real commitment'?”

“Five million,” Dino said. “With that kind of money, we can be one of the biggest high-end car dealerships in the country.”

“Win this ‘secret' De Leon again, then,” the investor said.

“You mean, if I win this year's De Leon,” Dino said, “you're in for five million?”

The man reached over the table and shook Dino's hand. “Yes, I am,” he said.

“Can I get that in writing?” Dino asked him.

“Just send me a contract,” the man replied.

* * *

The couple was gone a few minutes later. Once they were out of sight, Dino collapsed back into his chair. He sucked down what was left of his scotch and then tossed the glass back on the table.

“I
need
that guy,” he said worriedly. “I
need
that deal.”

Anita was surprised to hear this.

“What do you mean?” she asked him. “You told me your dealership made a big profit last year.”

“It's paper profit,” Dino told her dismissively. “I need some fresh cash to survive.”

He looked away from her, his features turning dark. Anita continued staring at him, though.

At that point, she really didn't know what to think.

Fourteen

NIGHT HAD FALLEN
on Ohio.

The Shelby Mustang roared down the highway, relentlessly heading west, traveling more than twice the speed of those few cars and trucks sharing the dark road with it.

Tobey was driving in silence—at 120 mph. Julia was asleep. It was almost midnight. He punched a number into his iPhone.

Joe Peck's voice came on immediately. “Checking in,” he said.

“Mile marker four seventeen,” Tobey replied. “We're on schedule.”

Joe Peck was driving alone in a vehicle they all called the Beast. It was the team's support truck. Big and boxy, it looked like a combination tow truck and delivery van. It was full of spare tires, parts, water, batteries, oil, and transmission fluid—everything they might need during the high-speed cross-country dash. But it also carried the most important thing of all: fuel.

“It's a miracle that we're still on schedule,” Joe told Tobey. “Maybe we have an outside chance of actually pulling this thing off. I was just sitting here thinking, ‘Pete would have loved this trip.'”

The words hit Tobey right in the gut. “Yeah,” he replied sadly. “He loved the impossible.”

“Dino should be in jail for what he did to Pete that day,” Joe said.

“I'll never forget what I saw when I found him,” Tobey replied. “I still have nightmares about it . . .”

“
He
wrecked him, Tobey,” Joe went on. “
He
picked him and flipped him. Let me ask you . . . what if you get behind Dino's back bumper? What if you end up back there in the race? What will
you
do?”

Tobey thought deeply about what Joe was asking him—and not for the first time. But he didn't reply. His silence said it all.

“That's what I thought,” Joe said. “Okay, brother, I'll see you in Detroit. Beast out.”

Still mulling over his conversation with Joe, Tobey glanced at Julia. He expected to find her still sleeping.

But he got a surprise. She was wide awake and looking right at him.

“I'm sorry about Pete,” she told him. “I only met him those two times. Remember? At the exhibit hall in Manhattan and then the next day at the Shepperton Racetrack. But I could tell what kind of person he was just by his smile. He reminded me of my own little brother. Always in motion. Always smiling—a real pest, he is. But I love him to death.”

“Dino just left him there,” Tobey said angrily. “That's what I can't forgive. The trial, the prison, everything that happened. None of that would even matter to me if Pete were still alive. I realize what we do isn't pretty, but there is one unwritten rule: You
always
go back.”

“That's what this is really all about?” Julia asked him. “To somehow avenge Pete's death?”

Tobey didn't reply. He didn't want to. He just fixed his gaze back on the road and kept on driving.

Fifteen

IT WAS FRIDAY,
nearly 8:00 a.m., and heavy morning traffic was clogging the streets of downtown Detroit, as usual.

Inside one of the many buildings in the downtown area, one office was particularly busy. Phones were ringing, mail was being delivered to people working in endless rows of cubicles. This fourth-floor office was full of hustle and bustle.

Finn was sitting in one of these cubicles, feeling not unlike a rat in a maze. He was dressed in business attire, a far cry from his grease-monkey days back at Marshall Motors.

His iPhone suddenly rang. He looked at the caller's number, shook his head, and let it go to voice mail. But then the iPhone rang again. This time, he picked it up.

It was Joe Peck.

“We've already had this conversation,” Finn told him plainly.

“Just go to the window,” Joe replied.

“No,” Finn said. “Why would I do that?”

“Just go, now,” Joe insisted.

Finn just shook his head again. Then he got up and walked to the window.

He looked down to the street below and was surprised to see the Shelby Mustang idling loudly on the curb right outside his office building. Even in a place called Motor City, the car stood out, a stark contrast to the fuel-efficient, home-by-five cars making up most of the morning rush hour around it.

The Mustang's engine started to rev higher. It was incredibly loud—so much so, it could be heard four stories up. Half the people in Finn's office immediately rushed to the windows to see what was making the racket.

Down inside the supercar, Julia was mystified, as always.

“What are you doing?” she asked Tobey as he continued revving the engine with earsplitting results.

“Just keeping the engine hot,” he replied.

She looked around them—the crowded streets, the crowded sidewalks. Everyone was looking at them.

“Do you really want to be attracting so much attention?” she asked him. “You are on the run from the law, you know.”

Tobey didn't reply. He just smiled mischievously.

A moment later a Detroit police cruiser pulled up next to the Mustang.

The officer inside rolled down his window and yelled over to Tobey.

“This your car, son?” the officer asked.

“Are you crazy?” Tobey yelled back to him. “This is a one-of-a-kind car. Do you know how expensive it is?”

The cop straightened up in his seat. He didn't need this so early in the morning. He immediately tagged Tobey as being a problem.

“Why don't you pull it around the corner,” he told Tobey. “We can have a talk.”

But Tobey ignored his request.

Instead he yelled back. “Did you see how fast I was going?” he asked the cop. “It was like 160 miles per hour on that off-ramp back there. Insane! You gotta drive this car.”

While all this was happening, Tobey was secretly taping himself and Julia on his iPad.

“I'm sorry, officer,” Julia yelled over to the cop. “I think my boyfriend is just showing off to impress me.”

The cop was growing increasingly exasperated. “Just pull it around the corner,” he yelled back.

Tobey rolled up the window.

“‘Boyfriend'?” he said to Julia.

“I'm just trying to keep us out of jail,” she replied seriously.

“If it's getting too hot for you,” he told her, “you should probably get out now.”

“Are you kidding?” she exclaimed. “This is my car!”

“It's
Ingram's
car,” Tobey corrected her. “And, by the way, you may want to fix your hair.”

“For my mug shot, you mean?” she asked.

Tobey tapped the iPad, switching the POV to film what was happening through the windshield.

“No,” he finally replied. “But I
am
about to make you famous.”

Finn was watching all this from his fourth-floor office window, wondering what the hell was going on. It was almost magical to see the Shelby Mustang again. And he had no doubt who was behind the wheel—but what was Tobey up to? Joe was still on the phone with him.

“That's not exactly the part I wanted you to see,” Joe told him. “But just watch how the car leans when it pulls away from the cop.”

Not a moment later the Mustang screamed away from the curb. It took off with so much force, it was going sideways. There was a storm of smoke and dust—and lots of earsplitting DBs.

The lights on top of the police car came to life. With siren wailing, it was instantly off in pursuit of the Mustang.

And suddenly, Finn was enjoying the little drama four stories below.

“Wow, that Mustang is loose, man,” he said to Joe Peck. He was seeing what the Shelby could do for the first time.

“I know,” Joe replied. “And if Tobey runs that setup at De Leon, well—”

“He's in the race, you mean?” Finn interrupted.

“He's about to be,” Joe replied, a little mysteriously.

“What the hell does that mean?” Finn wanted to know.

“It means he's about to be,” Joe said again.

Finn's phone clicked. “Gotta go,” he told Joe. “Tobey's calling.”

Finn clicked over to answer Tobey's call. While Tobey was, at that moment, driving the Mustang around in a loud, noisy circle, cop car behind him, siren screaming, trying to chase him, he was still somehow able to talk.

“I need you, buddy,” Tobey yelled to Finn over all the commotion.

But Finn stayed silent as he watched the cop car chase the Mustang round and round.

Tobey continued. “Finn . . . brother?” he said. “I know you're there . . . Okay, I'll do the talking. I get why you left. It got nuts. It got nuts for all of us. But right now we're doing something really stupid, and we really need you. It's not Marshall Motors without you.”

Finn took a deep breath and thought long and hard about what Tobey was telling him.

Finally, he hung up the phone and said to himself, “This is a big mistake . . .”

Then he walked to the elevator, pushed the down button—and began taking off his clothes.

People in the cubicles nearby stood to watch him. First Finn removed his shirt and folded it neatly, revealing his bony, bare chest. More people in his office took notice. Then he took off his pants and folded them along with the shirt. Then came the boxers—and just like that, except for his socks, Finn was naked.

He waited calmly for the elevator. It arrived with a loud
ding!

That's when he turned back to his coworkers and said, “Have a nice day.”

The door elevator opened to reveal the car was crowded. Somehow, Finn managed to squeeze in.

The passengers were horrified, but no one said a word. Finn found himself standing next to an older, smaller woman.

“My friend is running the fastest Mustang in the world at the De Leon race on Sunday,” he told her.

The woman smiled at him and said, “I'm in accounting.”

“But don't you feel like you're dying inside?” Finn asked her.

She didn't stop smiling. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes, I do.”

She glanced down at his nether regions and frowned. A frightened turtle came to mind.

Finn was immediately defensive.

“Hey, it's cold in here,” he said.

A moment later, the elevator door opened into the lobby. Joe Peck was waiting there. He saw Finn walk out of the elevator, nude except for his socks.

Joe couldn't believe it. “No freaking way!” he ex-claimed.

“Where's the Beast?” Finn asked him nonchalantly.

“On the street,” Joe replied. “C'mon, we gotta roll.”

Joe hustled Finn through the lobby. Many eyes were falling on them—though mostly on Finn. One woman took out her phone and made a hasty call. A guy in a suit applauded and started snapping pictures.

“Why did you nude it up?” Joe asked his friend.

Finn just shrugged. “I figured if I got balls-out naked in front of all my coworkers, I'd be too embarrassed to ever go back.”

“So, you just left your clothes up there?” Joe asked him.

“Yeah,” Finn replied. “Along with my dignity.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Tobey was driving very hard and fast and no longer going around in circles.

He was screaming through the crowded streets of Detroit, making a lot of noise and getting a lot of attention. Luckily he was at his best in these kinds of situations. Checking mirrors. Effortlessly shifting up and down. Laying on the gas, using the brakes only when absolutely necessary.

A second police car had joined the chase. But this only added to the excitement. Then came some positive news from Joe Peck.

“I've got the package,” Tobey heard Joe say over the iPhone. “And we're out the back door.”

“That's great news!” Tobey replied. “But we've only got twenty-eight hours to get to Cali.”

That's when Julia spotted something above them. It was a helicopter with “WLTV Channel 4” emblazoned on its side. It went right over the top of the speeding Mustang.

“I'm afraid we've got company,” she said.

Tobey's phone rang an instant later. He answered it to hear an unexpected, but familiar, voice.

“WLTV Channel 4 News with a question for Tobey Marshall,” the voice crackled. “On a scale of one to ten, how crazy hot is your passenger?”

Tobey and Julia looked over at the helicopter, which was now flying almost level with the Mustang.

To their surprise, they saw Benny saluting them from the cockpit.

“Like my new ride?” Benny asked. “Bitchin', right?”

Tobey couldn't believe it—and neither could Julia.

“What happened to the Cessna?” Tobey asked him.

“They have flight restrictions over the city, bro,” Benny replied. “So I had to borrow my buddy's little whirly bird.”

Tobey expertly drifted the Mustang into a right-hand turn and zoomed into an alleyway. The cops were still right on his tail, lights flashing, sirens blaring, but they knew they had their hands full with a driver like him.

So their plan was to trap him. One cop car followed him into the alley, while the other entered from the opposite end. Tobey immediately slammed on the brakes and began backing up.

“Oh boy,” Tobey said, flooring the Mustang in reverse. “This might get interesting.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Finn was inside the Beast pulling on some of Joe's extra clothes. Suddenly Benny's voice came blasting through the supply truck's two-way radio.

“Listen up, guys,” Benny began. “I almost borrowed an Apache chopper from the Great Lakes Air Base—but Colonel Gatins was sweating me hard.”

Joe Peck just rolled his eyes.

“Here we go again,” he said.

Finn yelled into the microphone. “Enough with the Apache helicopter bullshit. Give it a fucking rest!”

“I'm not talking to you, Finn-ski,” Benny yelled back.

“Roger that, Liar One,” Finn retorted.

Benny's voice went up a notch.

“Finn, you've been back in the crew for ten minutes and you're already up my skirt, talking shit,” the pilot scolded him. “You're going to rue the day you started calling me that.”

Finn laughed. “‘Rue the day'?” he asked. “What, did you go to college all of a sudden?”

“That's an ignorant thing to say,” Benny shot back. “God, are you ignorant!”

Tobey and Julia were listening to the chatter between the crewmates, all while the Mustang was furiously going down the alley—in reverse.

Julia couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Are you kidding me?” she said to Tobey. “Are these guys still in elementary school?”

Tobey smiled as he finally backed out of the alley at 70 mph and headed up another street—in the wrong direction, of course.

“Is it going to be like this the whole way?” Julia asked him.

Tobey just shrugged as he upshifted and laid on the accelerator.

“We've all known each other for a very long time,” he told her.

“That's a ‘yes,' then,” she huffed.

Benny's voice interrupted them.

“Beauty—this is Maverick,” he began. “The Motown Mounties really want to speak with you. Come back.”

Tobey was maneuvering fiercely now, swerving around the oncoming traffic, while noticing that a third police cruiser had joined the chase. Just as he was about to hit one civilian car head-on, he downshifted and hit the brakes and the gas, all at the same time. The result was a perfect reverse 270-degree turn.

When the smoke cleared, he found himself facing the right way down Michigan Avenue. He laid down the hammer again, taking off like a rocket. This caused the first cruiser to collide with the second one, putting both out of action. The third one, though, kept up the pursuit.

Tobey did another hard drift and wound up in the city's waterfront district.

He was now topping 100 mph, but the third police car was gaining on him.

Up in the news copter, Benny heard another voice come on his radio. It was distinctly female.