Joe Torres and his two henchmen, Nacio and Carlos, came out of the bodega and stared at the glistening Jaguar. Bob leaned out the window.
“Guy named Tiburon paid me a hundred dollars to drive his brother’s car down from Malibu. You his brother?”
Torres nodded. “That’s me. You delivered the car, you can take off now.”
“I need a ride downtown.”
“Call a cab,” Torres said. “You got paid, now get lost.”
Bob climbed out of the Jaguar and walked away into the night. In the trunk and under the blanket in the rear seat, Ty and Jupiter waited. They heard the foot-steps of the three men approach the car.
“Hey, there’s a blanket and cushions in back.”
Joe Torres’s voice laughed. “Some guy up in Malibu ain’t just out a car, he’s freezin’, too!”
The front door opened on the driver’s side.
“I’ll take it over right now,” Torres’s voice said. “The shop’s workin’, and a Jag don’t look right around here. At least Tib got this one delivered okay. Not two days late like last time.”
The driver’s door closed and the car started. It pulled away in a squeal of rubber and drove fast, with Jupiter hanging on in the trunk and Ty silent under the blanket.
*
Bob jumped into his bug.
“Is everything okay?” Kelly asked, anxious.
“Torres bought it,” Bob told her. “It looks like Jupe had it figured. Torres wasn’t surprised at all. What I said seemed to be the right words.”
Kelly pointed ahead. “There it goes! Dad’s Jaguar!”
“Hang on,” Bob said.
He turned the little red bug into the cross street behind the already distant Jaguar. The sleek import gave no sign of looking for or seeing a tail.
“Don’t lose 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 signaclass="underline" 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 to drive straight through the wall at the rear of the elevator shaft. Then it had rolled to the right in an enclosed area, and stopped. Torres and the other man had walked away. After that there had been another faint rumbling noise, then silence.
Now, suddenly, clanging and hammering sounds sounded outside. Jupiter tapped on the trunk wall.
“Ty?”
Ty’s voice came faintly through the wall. “You okay?”
“Yes. Where are we?”
“Let me look around.”
Inside the trunk Jupiter waited.
“We’re in what looks like another garage floor,” Jupe finally heard Ty say. “It’s not as big as the other floors. We’re parked way off in a corner, but three guys are working on a Maserati across the room. One of them looks like Pete!”
“Get me out of here,” Jupiter said.
He heard the faint sound of Ty moving, and then the key in the trunk lock. The lid lifted. Jupiter quickly rolled out, then crouched behind the sleek car with Ty.
Across the long, narrow room he saw three men working on what had once been a dark red Maserati. They were clearly taking it apart. They had almost everything off and spread around them. The chassis of the car sat like a skeleton with a bare engine block.
One of them was Pete.
“They put him to work pretty fast,” Ty said in a low voice.
“Tiburon said he was okay, and they probably needed an extra man quickly,” Jupiter said. “Look! He’s still wearing his bolo tie. His walkie-talkie is in the clip. We can signal him. I don’t think he’s too close to the others.”
The other two mechanics were working some distance from Pete. They talked low to each other and ignored their new co-worker. Both of them were short and skinny, with mean faces and sullen movements. Jupiter and Ty saw the butt of a pistol sticking out of the pocket of one of them.
“They’re not paying any attention to Pete anyway,” Ty said.
They were wrong. Jupiter activated the signal on his mini walkie-talkie. A small sound on Pete’s device would alert him that they were nearby. Pete showed no reaction. He went on working. But one of the other mechanics looked up. “What was that?”