Need for Speed Page 13

  But there was no immediate reply from Benny. Tobey radioed the same message again. Finally Benny’s voice came on.

  “I’m still on the ground, Beauty,” he reported to Tobey. “This Motown air is making my bird a little cranky.”

  Tobey could hear him urging the Cessna to turn over.

  “Come on, Nelly,” Benny was saying. “We got things to do.”

  But the engine just wouldn’t cooperate, and Benny told him so.

  This was not good and Tobey knew it. He called the Beast. Finn came on the line. He and Joe were also heading west on I-94.

  “Benny is grounded for the moment,” Tobey told them. “And that means we’re blind to the air bears. We might have to go to Plan B.”

  “Roger, Beauty,” Finn answered. “But be advised, Plan B adds at least an hour to the trip.”

  “We’ve got no choice,” Tobey told him. “We’ll just have to make up the time later.”

  “Roger that,” Finn said soberly.

  “Beauty will have to go bingo first,” Tobey said. “We need to hot fuel and top off.”

  “Understand, Beauty,” Finn replied. “Hot fuel and top off. See you at the bingo point.”

  Once again, Julia was looking at Tobey with her quizzical face.

  “What?” he asked her.

  “‘Hot fuel’?” she asked back. “‘Top off’? ‘Bingo’?”

  “We’re refueling without stopping,” he told her simply.

  “Really?” she replied. “That sounds rather . . . well, ‘inspired.’ But can’t you just say that?”

  Tobey actually considered her suggestion.

  She certainly likes the basics, he thought.

  * * *

  The Beast was flying down Route I-94, now about fifty miles west of Detroit.

  Joe Peck was still at the wheel of the ungainly truck; Finn was in the passenger’s seat. Somewhere on the highway behind it, but getting closer all the time, was the Shelby Mustang.

  Joe Peck checked their position via the truck’s GPS module and then said to Finn, “Get ready—it’s showtime.”

  Finn immediately unbuckled his seat belt. Then he took a deep breath, opened his door, and began climbing out of the truck—all as it was roaring down the highway at 70 mph.

  “Hot fuel coming up,” Joe Peck said into his iPhone.

  He looked in his rearview mirror to see the silver Mustang suddenly appear right in back of him.

  “On time,” Joe said. “And on the money.”

  Using great care and balance, Finn had climbed completely out of the door of the speeding truck and was now moving himself along its side panels. It took great effort, but he finally climbed over the panels and fell into the truck’s rear bed.

  Scrambling to the back corner, he dropped the tailgate to give himself more room to maneuver. There was a large gas tank back here with an extra long hose attached. The hose’s nozzle was a special design. It looked like the long needle nose of a mosquito.

  The Mustang moved up closer to the Beast, its powerful engine drowning out the noise being made by the rest of the traffic on the heavily traveled interstate.

  Tobey carefully maneuvered the Shelby so the supercar’s gas intake was right next to the Beast’s tailgate. Holding this parallel formation, the two vehicles roared along the highway, still going 70 mph.

  Military planes frequently took on fuel in flight, eliminating the need for them to land anytime they were low on gas. It took a lot of practice and training for the military pilots involved to get it right. The Marshall Motors crew was about to attempt the same thing, but while speeding along a highway. It was just as dangerous, though.

  Tobey brought the Mustang closer to the Beast; he was just inches away now. But even though Finn was leaning way out over the roadway, needle-nose hose in hand, he could not reach the Mustang’s gas tank cover.

  Tobey had no choice. He brought the Mustang in even closer to the supply and Finn tried again—but still, it was no good. Finn just couldn’t get close enough to flip the gas cover open.

  Julia was watching all this with a mixture of horror and fascination. She knew how dangerous it was, as well as all the attention they were attracting. She also knew there was a state police helicopter up there somewhere, and it wouldn’t take much for its pilots to spot these shenanigans from two thousand feet.

  She knew she had to do something.

  Suddenly she unbuckled her seat belt.

  “What are you doing?” Tobey yelled over to her.

  “Helping,” she yelled back. “Or trying to.”

  Without another word, she put one leg out the open window and straddled the door for a moment. Then she climbed out. The wind immediately caught her hair and clothes and started whipping them furiously. Tobey was very shocked. He had no idea she had a stunt like this in her.

  All the way out of the car now, Julia stretched as far as she could, and was just able to reach the Mustang’s gas tank cover. With admirable dexterity, she flipped it open.

  Throughout all this, Finn was looking at her like she was nuts. He reached out to hold her steady and prevent her from falling. With Finn’s support, she was able to twist the gas cap off.

  Finn immediately fit the needle nose into the fuel tank opening. Once it was connected, he hit the pump lever and the fuel started to flow from the Beast’s holding tank into the Mustang.

  Julia meanwhile reversed her direction and climbed back inside the Mustang. She was soon buckled back into her seat.

  Tobey was in total disbelief.

  “Wow,” he said to her. “The hits just keep coming with you, don’t they?”

  Julia just shrugged good-naturedly.

  “Don’t judge a girl by her Guccis,” she joked.

  “Her what?” Tobey asked innocently.

  She held up one of her expensive shoes.

  “‘High heels’,” she said, teasing him, then tossing the shoes behind the front seat. “Remember?”

  “Can’t you just say that?” Tobey teased her back.

  “Nice one,” she replied, with a slight bow of her head. “Touché.”

  Tobey quickly got back to business.

  “Beast, take the shoulder,” he radioed to Joe Peck. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Roger that,” Joe Peck replied.

  The Beast, with the Mustang still attached by the fuel hose, moved onto the shoulder of the highway’s slow lane. They passed an RV like it was standing still and then spotted a sign that read, “Parker Road South, Next Exit.”

  Julia was now watching the ongoing refueling operation out the window; she knew timing was an important element here. She gave Finn the “faster” sign, but he replied by holding up his hand, indicating her to wait.

  Finn was closely watching the gas pump’s gauge. He waited a few more seconds—it was crucial that the Mustang got every last drop of fuel he could give it. Then he finally flipped the lever to off. He yanked the needle-nose hose out of the fill spout and gave Julia the thumbs-up.

  She returned the gesture, then yelled over to Tobey, “We’re clear.”

  That’s all Tobey needed to hear. He upshifted, then punched the gas pedal, and the Mustang rocketed ahead as if it had afterburners.

  “You see,” he said to Julia. “That was easy.”

  “Yes, indeed,” she replied in her best Cockney accent. “And so is brain surgery.”

  It was here that the two vehicles split up. The Beast continued driving west on I-94. Tobey roared off the highway at the Parker Road South exit and down a secondary road.

  Tobey called the Beast. “Thanks, boys—Plan B is a go-ahead. Beauty is now a redneck.”

  “Roger,” Joe Peck replied. “Beast loves a redneck.”

  Julia figured this out quickly.

  “Redneck,” she said. “We’re heading south?
”

  “Impressive,” Tobey replied.

  She smiled. “It’s not a very tricky code, Tobey,” she told him. “Truth be told.”

  Back in the Beast, Finn had returned to the truck’s cab, reversing the same way he had gone out. He was wearing a huge smile.

  “That was more fun than I’ve had in a long time,” he told Joe.

  Joe took this as his cue to put the hammer down, upshift, and accelerate. Their on-the-fly refueling mission was done.

  “Welcome back,” he told Finn.

  A moment later, they both heard a roaring sound. Before either could react, the Michigan State Police helicopter went over the top of the Beast.

  Finn was quickly on the radio.

  “Liar One,” he called. “Are you airborne yet? Come in!”

  Finally Benny’s voice came through the speaker.

  “Just got up after spanking my engine for a while,” he reported. “I’m heading in your direction at top speed.”

  “Well, you can slow down, because you just missed all the drama,” Finn said. “We did the bingo right under the air bear’s nose.”

  Benny laughed. “I’m sorry I missed it,” he said. “But you have to admit, it was more fun that way, right?”

  “Maybe from where you’re sitting,” Finn told him. “Beauty is on Plan B, but we’d still like eyes on that air bear.”

  Benny scanned the horizon and soon picked up a set of lights about two miles away. It was the state police helicopter, but it was turning. As Benny watched, the copter did a long loop and headed east, back in the direction of Detroit.

  “I see your air bear,” Benny reported. “And he’s heading home to mama.”

  “Liar One, roger—that’s good news, Liar One,” Finn said, cracking up Joe in the process. “By the way, Liar One—what’s your twenty?”

  “Flat-hatting you, you bitch,” Benny replied quickly.

  In the next instant, the Cessna came out of nowhere and brutally buzzed the Beast, clearing it by just a few feet. Finn and Joe Peck ducked almost to the floorboards, it had happened so quick and so unexpectedly. They saw the bottom of the Cessna fill their windshield before it flew off again. It had been very close.

  Finn barked at Benny, “Jesus Christ, are you insane? You haven’t changed a bit, you fucking nimrod!”

  Benny came back at him immediately. “I don’t know who Nimrod is,” he said. “But just keep this in mind unless you want to piss your drawers again: My handle is Maverick!”

  Seventeen

  FINALLY OFF THE hustle and bustle of the interstate, the Mustang was rocketing down a two-lane back road, passing vast stretches of farmland filled with crops, watering holes, and farm equipment.

  Julia was beginning to get a handle on how to be a “right-seater.” She’d started following police communications with a laser jammer dialed in. Using this device, which was built into the dashboard of the Mustang, it was possible to jam signals emitting from a radar gun. In other words, under the right conditions, the Mustang could become as invisible as a stealth fighter.

  But she broke her focus on the high-tech anti-detection equipment when she felt Tobey staring at her.

  She locked eyes with him and realized something surprising just by the way he was looking at her. Tobey was smitten with her. She could see it all over his face.

  “What?” she asked him coyly. “Were you going to say something to me?”

  “Huh? No,” Tobey replied awkwardly. “Nothing important.”

  “C’mon,” she coaxed him. “It’s okay.”

  He thought a moment and then asked, “I guess I was wondering, you know, how did you get involved in all this? The cars? The glamour?”

  She laughed. “The glamour?”

  She spread out her hands to indicate the rural setting they were driving through.

  “I’m not sure the word ‘glamour’ applies at the moment,” she added. “But if you want to know how I got here from there, well, I’ll tell you—but try not to fall asleep at the wheel.”

  “I promise,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said, with a sigh. “I grew up in England, obviously. My parents were hippies. Damn, my bloody grandparents were hippies! They were all very artistic and crunchy and organic—or at least they thought there were. There was always sixties music playing in our house when I was a kid. I was named after John Lennon’s mother, you know. I was raised on granola and yogurt, and we only drank rainwater or melted snow. To this day I can’t stomach yogurt, and I think granola is revolting. It’s like chewing gravel, isn’t it?”

  “I hear you,” Tobey replied.

  She went on, “As you can imagine, I rebelled against all that as soon as I was old enough to realize that I could. I insisted that I go to a strict girls’ boarding school. My goal was to learn all about business and mathematics and numbers and then go to work for the biggest mega-corporation on the planet. All this, just to toss off my parents.

  “But then a strange thing happened. I started doodling in class one day—growing bored, you see—and that progressed to doing drawings and then I realized that I had some artistic talent in me, too. I had inherited it, quite to my surprise. But for some reason, I began drawing cars. Race cars. Bentleys. Lambos. I could see the artistic quality in their designs. By the time I left boarding school I was hooked.

  “I went to university, took half business courses and half art classes, and when I got out, I went into the world of expensive cars, evaluating them, putting a price tag on them, not just for their performance but also for their beauty. I did it because it’s what I loved, which is exactly why my parents and their parents did what they did. I had to grow up a bit to understand all that. Then, I met Ingram and . . .”

  She looked out the window of the speeding Mustang, studying the American landscape going by in a blur.

  “But just how I got here, to this point?” she asked herself. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

  Suddenly, the police radio began squawking. The police report was disturbing, though.

  “All units be advised,” the dispatcher said, “Ford Mustang, New York plate Alpha, Delta, Tango, four, six, one, niner, last seen headed west on I-94. Believed to be driven by one Tobey Marshall. Mike Alpha, Romeo, Sierra, Hotel, Alpha, Lima, Lima. Wanted on parole violation and possible grand theft auto. Spotted traveling with a blonde female, identity unknown.”

  “See what I mean?” she said. “‘Blonde female, identity unknown.’ I’m just one step away from being a wanted woman.”

  Tobey shook his head in disgust. “Well, they know who I am now,” he said. “But I guess that was just a matter of time.”

  “If it was, you sped it up with your little stunt back in Detroit,” Julia told him.

  “That had to be done,” Tobey replied.

  “Just to get Finn back in the fold?” she asked.

  “No, not just that,” he answered.

  They were approaching an intersection, traveling at 100 mph. Suddenly, Tobey ripped a hard right, and an instant later they were traveling on Highway 12 West.

  That’s when the Monarch chirp sounded inside the Mustang. This meant the Underground Racing show’s private streaming website was coming on live.

  Monarch’s voice crackled out of the speaker.

  “I am looking at footage of a car that’s not supposed to exist,” he began in his usual droll way. “The trolls are lighting up my inbox, people telling me that this is the car that Ford and Shelby were building when Carroll died. Just like him, it’s a ghost.”

  While he was saying this, Monarch began showing video of Tobey’s stunt in Detroit in front of Finn’s office building. The footage had been taken by Tobey’s POV camera, and included aerial shots from Benny’s helicopter escapade as well. Tobey and Benny had uploaded the footage practically as it was happening, and it eventually found its way to the
Underground Racing show.

  Monarch went on, “No one’s ever really seen this car. No one with a bank account under one hundred million, that is. But it’s gorgeous. Ford Motor Company birthed this baby and I’ll be damned if it’s not the finest Mustang I’ve ever seen. But here’s the real news flash: Tobey Marshall is driving this chariot of the gods. Yes, the same Tobey Marshall who was tearing it up around Mount Kisco two years ago. I bow to Ford and Shelby for conceiving such a car. And I salute Tobey Marshall for what he’s doing behind the wheel.”

  As Monarch spoke, he continued showing footage of Tobey’s antics in Detroit, including him rocketing away from Finn’s office with the Motor City police in hot pursuit.

  Julia smiled and nodded in Tobey’s direction. She understood now, and she had to give him his props—obviously he’d thought through every detail of his very bold plan.

  * * *

  On the other side of the country, Dino was listening to Monarch’s elevation of Tobey to one of the best drivers in America. And though he wasn’t showing it, he was furious.

  He was sitting inside the office of his company’s new customizing garage in California. The place was state-of-the-art and, of course, it was enormous. It had twelve lifts, banks of the latest diagnostic equipment, and top-of-the-line computers everywhere. The tools alone cost several hundred thousand dollars. Yet the floor was waxed and so clean you could eat off of it. The place looked more like his dealership’s showroom next door than a customizing shop. The sign above the door identified it as Dino Brewster Motors.

  The office itself was as well-organized as the workshop beyond, but with a lot more good taste. This was evidence that Anita had had a hand in its design.

  She was sitting across from Dino at the moment, watching the footage Monarch was displaying and following along on her laptop.

  The podcast host raged on, “My people, reigning De Leon champ Dino Brewster is on the line with us right now. Dino Dino Bambino—Fee Fi Fofino—you need to see what I’m seeing. It’s aerial footage, my man! I don’t know who’s shooting it, but Tobey Marshall is flying across the country right now, cops in tow, in a phantom Ford that would make your bowels loose.”