Chapter 18

FBI agent Finn Cosgrove and his three minions suited up and piled into a strike team van. Dawn had technically passed and there seemed no end to how fast the time flew them by. They were supposed to have picked up Killington half an hour ago but they hadn’t been able to find a judge to sign a warrant in the middle of the night. Now they were behind the eight ball. Much of the chatter they had collected on Killington and his men over the last three years had suggested that there were collaborators within the local police department and perhaps even the FBI, since their office sat in Killington’s home territory.

Cosgrove knew that if they were shopping for a judge to sign the warrant, someone may have already alerted Killington and minutes were slipping away far too quickly.

“Come on people! Time is ticking.”

Brockton appeared wide awake and ready to run with the big dogs. The caffeine pills he had washed down with very hot black coffee had pushed him into a startled state of awareness. He looked jittery, on edge.

Weaver had pulled a new mask over her sleepy one. This new face looked sharp and mean. Her eyes said that someone was going down. She hoped the mask would stay in place during the raid, she didn’t want to look or act sleep deprived at a bad moment. Unfortunately she had worn a skirt to work yesterday and now she had to go into a firefight wearing the same outfit. She resolved to bring an extra set of clothes to leave under her desk for similar events in the future. Thankfully she had found a pair of sneakers in her car to replace her heels.

Colliste appeared to have slept, though they knew that it would have been impossible. He seemed light-hearted about the operation and joked with the strike team as they prepared.

As Colliste made another joke that brought laughter among the team members, Cosgrove’s phone rang.

He said “Shut it,” before answering with “Tell me it’s good news.” 

Everyone in the van listened intently. All attention was focused on him when he cut the connection.

“We have the warrant,” he announced, “Two minutes to our positions, go.”

~~~

Silvia Thruwell was thrown to the floor. The force of her landing had taken her breath away, her heart hammered against her ribs so fast that the second half of a full beat was drowned out by the echo of the first half. Tears streamed down her cheeks from extreme fear. Her top was ripped exposing her black bra. She turned to look for her assailant in the darkness.

A large man with a pudgy face was just visible in the light from the room’s single fixture. He smiled as though he had just won the lottery. A second man stood in shadows with his gun drawn. He too expressed excitement.

Her guards had been pulled away late in the previous afternoon and had been replaced with these thugs. From the get go these two had seemed on edge. She hadn’t understood then what guard duty could provide that would be so exciting to these guys. All they did was watch her work at her computer station.

At this moment, lying on the floor, she understood why the guards had been changed out. Killington was going to cut her down several notches so she would be more compliant to do his bidding. She knew that he wouldn’t kill her, at least not until the job was done. But there were a lot of ways to torture a woman.

It occurred to her that she may have overdone it with her outbursts if this was his answer. These men had been sent to do whatever it took for her to become submissive. Everyone else was afraid of him and she had not shown enough fear, enough respect.

She knew that she possessed skills that Killington wanted. He wanted her to work for him for more than just this ‘operation’. She knew that he would not just let her go after her job was complete. He needed her, but he also needed her to bend to his will. His plan was obviously to violate her badly enough that she would be willing to do anything. Silvia had no idea what she could possibly do to prevent whatever the two ‘guards’ had in mind.

The man stood next to her. He grabbed her arm and dragged her under him. She cried out kicking and screaming. He leered at her and licked his lips. Silvia’s punched and kicked at every part of him that she could reach but it didn’t slow him down. He was so big and strong, her strikes had no effect at all.

Silvia knew her time was short and with renewed vigor attacked the giant. The other guard had put away his gun and had begun to salivate over the show before him. He knew that soon it would be his turn.

The hand that had been trying to constrain her arm went instead to her neck. Her body slackened. She no longer kicked at his body; instead she struggled against the hand around her neck, trying desperately to get air.

A door on the far side of the room exploded off its hinges. Smoke canisters came flying through. The canisters disgorged their chemicals. Agents rushed in as the chemicals began to dissipate, some of them were holding rifles and some had handguns. The guard who had been watching Silvia’s struggle quickly drew his gun. A second later a shot rang out and he was down.

Weaver stormed into the room and saw the man who was only seconds away from destroying the girl beneath him. She never shouted to announce their presence or to tell him to stop what he was doing. She fired three shots into the man. He fell over sideways, releasing Silvia as he fell.

Weaver ran up and made sure that there was no other danger to the shaking, coughing girl. She reached down to touch Silvia and ask if she was alright but Silvia flinched under her touch. She gasped over and over again to catch her breath but all she wanted right then was for no one to ever touch her again.

Angry at their late arrival, knowing that they could have arrived before this had happened Weaver turned towards the dead man and used her foot to roll him on his back.

Inside the FBI trike team van Silvia sat engulfed in a coat that had belonged to Cosgrove and with a blanket around her legs. In her hands she held a hot cup of coffee. She shook almost uncontrollably, shock had set in. Cosgrove wanted Weaver to she sit with the victim to see if she would have any better luck getting information from the small woman. So far Silvia had been unable to speak. Her eyes were glazed over as though someone had painted scary images on them and she couldn’t look away.

~~~

At the Best Western in Castle Rock, Colorado, Dillon and Kristin guarded the MIT racecar. They were completely camouflaged by the high hedges at the parking lot’s edge. Darkness was complete for anyone looking in but not for those who were looking out into the lighted parking area.

A guy that looked like he belonged to a motorcycle gang, complete with skull cap and leather jacket, walked across the parking lot carrying something bulky covered with what looked like one of the motel’s bath towels. When he approached the MIT car he slowly turned his head one way, then the other to see if anyone was watching him. He balanced his package on one arm and pulled the towel away, dropping it onto the ground. He pushed a button on the device and stepped closer to the car as if he were holding a bomb and the timer was ticking.

Dillon could tell immediately that it was a weapon from a racecar. Either a team had taken a weapon off their car to use or they had another handheld model for back up. Dillon stepped out of the bushes to confront the guy.

“Don’t even think it,” he said “Get away from the car.”

The other man’s face turned into a menacing snarl as he said “What are you going to do about it?”

Kristin stepped out next to Dillon holding the shotgun. “We could shoot you,” she said, and then in a reassuring voice she added, “I’m sure that the cleanup team can handle a bullet wound, we saw them clean up that accident. They might even be quick enough to save your life, depending on where the bullet hits.”

The man in the leather jacket glared at Dillon and Kristin before turning away, wondering how the MIT team had managed to arrange for protection for their car so far from home.

~~~

Back at the FBI office, Silvia had been given some clothes to wear, some sweat pants and a sweat shirt that were meant for someone much larger, and she now sat in Cosgrove’s office. Weaver sat in the chair next to her. Replenished cups of joe invigorated the sleepy agents and helped calm the small victim.

“Tell me,” Cosgrove asked. “How did you end up in that warehouse? Did they offer you a job…”

Weaver slapped the desk angrily. “She’s obviously the victim here!” She turned to Silvia. “But we need to know if he recruited you, hired you to do a job, or if he kidnapped you?”

Silvia shook her head. “It’s not what you think. I offered to do some computer work for him because I knew about a job that he had been hired to do. I had my reasons, and he had the resources to get it done. I told him at the beginning that I was only going to do that one job. But once he saw how good I was with a computer he made other plans. If you hadn’t found me when you did… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.”

Cosgrove and Weaver looked at each other. Cosgrove repositioned the microphone on his desk. “What was the job that he was hired to do? And why would you want to help him do it?”

Silvia took a sip of her warm coffee. “There’s this race. A race for cars, but about technology not speeds. They have all of these cars that are supposed to go from the east coast to the west coast to see which machine does it best. Killington was hired to get as many cars as he could disqualified, so that one of the cars would have a better chance of winning.”

“How do you know this?” Cosgrove asked. Her words had whetted his appetite for details that could be used in his report.

“Because,” Silvia said a little reluctantly, “I helped build one of the cars.

~~~

Katrina sat up suddenly when the alarm went off. Richard, right beside her, tried to use his arm to kill the alarm clock. He swatted the air and hammered his hand on the empty bedside table.

When he couldn’t find it, he shouted “Turn it off already, will ya!”

Katrina put her face in her hands so he wouldn’t see her laughing soundlessly. Katrina got out of her bed and crossed the room to turn it off. She had been the one who had decided that it would be better to have the clock far enough away so that they couldn’t reach the snooze button from the bed.

When she killed the irritating noise Richard turned over and immediately began to snore.

Katrina wondered how anyone could fall back to sleep that quickly. She walked over to his bed and grabbed the sheets. She pulled them away from him but he slept on. He continued to snore even as she dragged him to the bed’s edge, until he fell off and hit the floor.

“Get up. We have to get ready. Last day!” Katrina said, trying to sound more energetic than she felt.

“What did you do that for?” he asked. “I’m awake.”

Less than an hour later both Richard and Katrina sat in their racecar. They were both yawning as Richard pulled the car toward their lineup position. An individual in a bright green shirt was directing the order of the cars. The split car took its position as the leader, followed by the dune buggy car. Then two other cars fell into line. Katrina noted the similarities between the next two cars and assumed that they must have followed similar chassis ideas. The only telling difference between them was their weapon’s design. The car closest to them had a weapon on a trolley system. The other car’s weapon didn’t attach to the exterior of the car at all. They had used a much cheaper and easier method that was a simple weapon head on a stick, more portable maybe, but a lot less stable in a moving vehicle. Katrina felt that it was an indication of their design team’s lack of foresight. She wondered what else they cheaped out on.

Richard steered the MIT car to be the next in line. He didn’t pay any attention to the last car as it was coming up behind him but Katrina was very interested in what was left of their competition. That car had the same fuselage as the rest but their design had an extra component jutting out from the rear. It looked like a housing of sorts with a single trolley track that ran the entire perimeter of the vehicle starting and ending at the rear. The additional housing made the rear of the vehicle longer than the rest of the cars by about two feet. It didn’t take too much imagination to figure out that something ran around on the track, but the trolley system for a weapon should have required a tandem track design to keep it stable. One track didn’t make any sense. She was intrigued by the possible design of the weapon that could successfully use a single track system.

Cameramen hovered around the cars filming, waiting for the green flag. One came in close to Richard. He waved his hand in front of the lens to show that he didn’t want these pests so close by.

Grant Phyindress used his bullhorn to get everyone’s attention. A different busty bimbo than the ones they had seen on previous days jumped up and down with excitement. This one was dressed in a yellow spandex outfit that had black and white squares checkered diagonally across the middle. Many of the men appeared to have lost interest in the race in favor of watching her jump.

Katrina shook her head in shame at both genders. She decided to take that moment to power up their weapon. That was something to get excited about. When the device on the MIT roof finished its powering up sequence, it had everyone’s attention. The bouncing bimbo couldn’t compete with that kind of power. Some of the cameramen moved back a little out of fear.

Katrina was proud of her and Silvia’s design and was still sad that Silvia wasn’t with the team watching the race. Silvia’s anger at not being chosen to ride in the car as the weapon’s specialist still bothered Katrina. They had both worked hard on this weapon and she had never intended to take any of the accolades away from her team member.

Katrina wondered if her absence meant that she didn’t want any of the credit. Had she not wanted anyone to know that she had been involved with the race at all? If they did win the race Katrina wanted to include Silvia in any honors that they received. The awards wouldn’t be handed out in the desert around the finish ring. The whole team would be invited to attend a special dinner to honor all those who had made the race a success. It was supposed to be held in Las Vegas a week after the winning car went through the ring. Katrina hoped that Silvia wouldn’t still be too angry to show up for that.

Phyindress stopped shaking hands and walked to the parking lot’s exit. The bouncing bimbo had finally stopped jumping but she still shook with excitement. Her busty figure did what it was supposed to do, as long as she moved, some would be distracted by her, and many were watching.

Phyindress raised the bullhorn and began, “Welcome to the last day of the invisible technology race of the century. As it stands, there are only six contestants left to race. I have to say that our online viewers are very happy with how the race has unfolded so far. I’m sure today, the last day, will not disappoint.

“Rules. There are no more scheduled stops. It’s a straight shot to the finish ring now. The racers will keep going until the end. That means they will be driving around twenty hours, if my math is right.” He paused to allow laughter at his little joke. “They will be driving through the intense heat of the desert. Will the technology survive the heat? Big stakes are on the line.

“There are two teams that will require an electrical recharge somewhere along the way, two that will need hydrogen refills, which I must say, is not a quick process. We have one car that will have to find a natural gas outlet, and then there’s the MIT team, who claim that they have no need to stop for recharging.

“There are some who are laying their bets on the MIT team, but I know for a fact that their car has taken quite a beating. Will it go all the way? I think that the odds are pretty even across the board depending on what obstacles the day brings.

“Then there’s the finish line. Since these teams are made up of engineers, we made the end as interesting as the race. The finish line is a ring raised up on a dais. The teams must have a way to get their car up on the dais and through the ring to win. The dais is approximately three feet off the ground so the driver and passenger can’t just get together to lift their car onto it. Some of the cars have brought ramps with them throughout the race, others have plans that are as yet undisclosed. It’ll be interesting to see how this race ends.”

Much discussion broke out. Some pointed to two of the cars that had ramps strapped to their roofs. Phyindress smiled at the additional interest he had created.

Katrina turned to face her driver. “What does Phyindress mean by undisclosed? How else could you get the car through the hoop if you don’t have ramps?”

Richard just shook his head. He still looked groggy.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. We have ramps, so what does it matter? I just need him to wave the damn flag so we can get going.”

Katrina furrowed her brow at his surliness and sat back in her seat.

The weapon on the MIT roof followed her motion and arced from where Phyindress stood with his bullhorn towards the parking lot exit. People all around ducked, not sure of its intention. Everyone in attendance had some investment in the outcome of the race. They had all watched enough of the race to know what the weapon was capable of.

Phyindress handed the green flag to the busty bimbo. She began to jump up and down with excitement all over again. She waved it without waiting for the signal to do so and the first two cars sped off. The driver of the third car still had his attention focused on the woman holding the flag and didn’t move until someone in the car behind them laid on their horn, then the rest of the line moved out of the lot.

Richard never even glanced at the bouncing sex object as he drove by. Katrina looked though, trying to understand the other men’s reactions. Of course the weapon on the roof turned with Katrina’s head and pointed right at the girl. She stopped bouncing and moved quickly out of the way.

None of the other cars had moved to the side to let them pass this time. Richard thought it meant that there would be no more niceties. Or maybe the other driver’s had realized that their weapon had only been used defensively. Either way today was all about winning. He had waited four days for the intensity of the race to be about winning. Today was about hard driving. Today he was going to strut his stuff. He didn’t want to have to worry about other cars trying to disable their opponents. In twenty hours they would win, that was his goal and nothing was going to stop him.

Katrina opened a note that she had found on the seat before she had climbed into the car. “We have to go Denver to get our new tires. I’ll check the map, we need to go there first.”

Richard nodded, grinding his teeth in frustration. “We don’t really have a choice, do we? We don’t need any complications on the rest of the way to the finish line… er, ring.”

“We need those tires so we have to go to Denver.” Katrina started. “The Cadillac dealer we’re supposed to see is on Broadway.”

“How far out of the way is it?”

“Not bad. As long as it doesn’t take them long to swap them we should be fine.” Katrina added. She picked up the note again and read the rest of it. “Dr. Jenkins wants us to lose the box truck that’s following us so we’ll be completely off the grid. That won’t disqualify us will it?”

“He wouldn’t have told you to do it if it would cost us the race.”

They watched the rest of the drivers head towards Interstate 70 while they drove into the city instead. The only race related vehicle that followed them was their assigned box truck.

Richard could see that rush hour traffic was building all around them. They were heading into the heart of Denver at the moment. All he needed was an exit off the freeway soon and he could easily lose them.

“It shows that there is an exit not far ahead but it won’t take us into the city where we want to go, and it doesn’t really make sense to try to lose the truck until after we’ve swapped the tires.” Katrina said as she studied her map.

“Shouldn’t matter when we lose them, they don’t know where we’re stopping.” Richard countered.

Without waiting for a response, or an argument, he stomped on the accelerator. The car lurched forward throwing Katrina back into her seat. The racecar zoomed ahead causing each of them to sink deep in their seats.

Richard’s gaze went to his mirror. Their entourage fell back quickly. The box truck was trying to navigate around the cars to catch up but the clunky suspension of the truck was not built for racing.

“What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed while she hit him the arm over and over again.

“If you will stop hitting me, I’ll show you.” Richard exclaimed.

He switched lanes to be on the extreme left side of the highway. Richard looked over to the approaching exit Katrina had mentioned and counted down in his mind until the right moment. The white box truck was almost ten car lengths behind them now but it was getting closer.

Katrina only had a mystified expression on her face.

Richard finished his count down replacing zero with “Now.” He slammed on the breaks.

The MIT racecar slowed incredibly fast and the box truck flew past them. Richard stomped on the accelerator again and changed lanes towards the right, dodging several pickup trucks and two cars to make into the exit lane. He slowed to keep their speed in tune with the other traffic and watched the box truck continue on the highway. He was sure that they had not seen the racecar move toward the exit. All it would take was a few more seconds and they would be out of sight.

Katrina cleared the hair away from her face. “Are you trying to get me killed?” She hit him again.

Richard raised his hand and gesticulated towards the now missing box truck. “I got us off the grid, isn’t that you wanted?”

Katrina hit him again and again. “You’re not getting it! You have to tell me what you’re doing so I can…”

“So you can tell me what to do? This was an easy maneuver. I didn’t spin the car in the middle of the road this time.” Richard defended his actions as he raised his voice.

Katrina hit him again and again as they continued down the exit.

~~~

In a small interrogation room Brockton had his turn at Killington. Amazingly, even at this hour of the morning he was still wearing a suit. During such early morning raids it was customary to find the person being arrested still in bed or in some form of bed clothes as they tried to avoid capture, but not Mac Killington.

Killington was also stubborn, and his calm demeanor infuriated Brockton, whose caffeine high was wearing off. His sleep deprived stupor was easily supplanted by anger.

Brockton slammed his hand on the table in front of Killington. “I want a name. Who’s paying you?”

Killington didn’t say a word. His smile spoke volumes about his security within the justice system. He knew that all he had to do was wait for his lawyer to arrive and he would be released. A soft knock came from the two-way mirror. Brockton knew what it meant and rose immediately.

“Time to send in the next round, or is my lawyer here?” Killington asked. His smug smile did nothing to fix Brockton’s mood.

Brockton stormed out of the room.

Killington sat in smug confidence. He wore it on his face like an award, a reliable outcome based on years of bribes and payoffs.

Many minutes passed. Killington sat with the same expression knowing that someone on the other side of the glass was watching him.

Cosgrove opened the door and entered alone holding a file folder. Killington stood to greet him like an old friend. “Cosgrove, I wondered if you had a hand in this… misunderstanding.”

Cosgrove smiled but didn’t respond.

Killington added, “We could have met in a much less stressful environment. I’ve said time and time again that my booth at Charlie’s is always open to you.”

Cosgrove shook his head. “This is different Mac. I have you on some pretty serious stuff now.”

“Ah... What could you possibly have? My Lawyer will be here soon and I’ll be out of here within in an hour. You and I both know the drill. Why must we play these games?”

Cosgrove smiled. He leaned back in his chair as though he had all the time in the world. “An hour? Not this time. I have enough to hold you for a very long time.”

Killington followed Cosgrove’s move and cocked his head to the right. “I guess it’ll be up to the judge, then.”

The file folder opened before the FBI agent spoke again. “Tell me about this race that you’re involved in.

Killington just looked at him.

“We know that you were hired to disable as many cars as possible to hedge the bet for someone. And we know that as part of that process you murdered several people. What I want to know is where the race contestants are, and where they are headed. It might go better for you if talk to me before your Lawyer gets here.” Cosgrove leaned forward to emphasize his final point. “Because you will not be out of here anytime soon.”

Killington sat back in his chair to consider his situation then hitched up his smile again. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Okay, how about attempted rape?” Cosgrove said.

“Nope.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Nope.”

“Conspiracy to commit murder?”

“Nope.”

“How about racketeering?”

Killington’s smile broadened. “You have nothing.”

Both men chuckled. Cosgrove flipped another page in is file. “I believe I have enough evidence for all of those charges, and maybe a few more. In fact, the young girl we rescued from your men has given us plenty. Since we came in as your men were attempting to rape her, on your orders, I think our case is pretty solid.

“Silvia Thruwell says that you were keeping her against her will so that she would hack into the racecars and shut them down. Considering her background at MIT and the fact that she admitted to working on their racecar lends credence to her story. And I know for a fact that the thug who was trying to rape her works for you. So this jigsaw puzzle we’re working on is coming together nicely. Then there’s the murders you admitted to…”

This got Killington’s attention at once. He sat straighter. “I didn’t kill anyone. That little bitch can say whatever she wants but you can’t prove anything.”

“Silvia didn’t tell me anything about the murders.” Cosgrove said with a delicious smile on his face as Killington’s faltered. “You did. You admitted it on video.”

Killington’s mind went into overdrive searching his memories as to when he may have admitted to killing anyone, ever.

Cosgrove stood and closed his file. “When your lawyer gets here, you might want to tell him to do some research on preparing for a murder case as well as the civil racketeering charges. You’re not going anywhere.”

Weaver leaned in a hunched manner on the edge of a desk trying to keep sleep at bay. Colliste appeared to be in a drunken stupor, leaning partially to one side of the chair he sat in, and Brockton pressed on with caffeine pills and black coffee. He looked to be one most awake at the moment but the dark circles under his eyes suggested that he could fall asleep with his eyes open.

Cosgrove entered the viewing room with the two way mirror holding the file. Before he could utter an order, hopefully the one that would allow them some serious sleep, Brockton spoke in rapid fire, caffeine boosted words. “Boss, we have the location of the racecars. The state police in Colorado have reported picking up a very unusual car, a car that meets no factory specs. In itself that is not big news. But there were at least four other cars just like it on the same stretch of highway, heading towards interstate 70.”

Cosgrove looked at the floor, thinking. When he lifted his head, he too spoke in rapidly fired words. “Tell the pilot to be ready to go in thirty minutes. We need to get to the airport. Have a plane ready to fly when we get there. Call the bureau in Colorado, tell them were coming and to find those racecars. We’re stopping that race before anyone else gets killed. Get the rest of the team back in the office, we need logistics up and running before we leave. You guys can sleep on the plane.”

~~~

A car lift started to ascend in a busy bay of a Cadillac dealership. The sounds of impact wrenches filled the cavernous garage that held forty lifts. Most of the bays were already full, with the flat rate technicians tearing through their work. Echoes of ratchet clicks and hammers mingled among the sounds of the pneumatic tools. The one thing that seemed very absent was voices.

Katrina and Richard stood off to one side. Their race uniforms made them stand out against the drab uniforms of the technicians. The dealership’s owner and general manager both stood nearby overseeing the work. The owner was a burly man with thinning hair, wearing a worn grey suit. His big smile could have been a genuine reaction to the amount of money he was making on this job but his years as a salesman were obvious in the frozen expression.

The general manager had fewer years on him and sported a light blue oxford shirt with a pair of tan Khakis. His round face matched his round stomach. His hair appeared exceptionally thick for his age, but instead of making him look younger it made him look a little creepy somehow.

The dealership was getting paid well to strap on rims that were already mounted with rubber. It would be the easiest money they made all month but it was the custom-made car that the top guys were interested in. While Richard explained about the website where they could watch the race, and the need for discretion, Katrina inspected the underside of the car. She could see signs of where they had been and what had happened over the last few days. Dried grass stuck out at odd angles from where they had needed to drive over the lawn on the first day out of the gate. Then there was the damage to the undercarriage because Richard had driven over the cement abutment, which had caused them to lose a brake line.

Katrina could see burned rubber flecks all over the inner wheel wells from, from… She considered for a moment what had occurred to inflict such damage. She thought of so many possibilities that she couldn’t put her finger on any one particular moment. Hell they were here because of one of those moments yesterday! She ran her finger across the flecked rubber and it fell away at her touch.

“One more day of insanity,” she thought. “One more day.”

The tech who had been installing the tires cleared his throat. “I’m done, if you’re ready I can bring the lift down.”

Katrina nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. She began to walk out from beneath their racecar. The lever was moved, the pressure inside the hydraulics began to release, and the car slowly descended. That’s when Katrina noticed something she hadn’t thought of checking earlier.

“Stop, stop.” Katrina said loudly enough to rise above the cacophony of the shop. The lift stopped descending. Katrina didn’t wait for the technician to relock the lift for safety. She bolted under the car, her eyes focusing on one particular spot. Her finger went to the latch that held one of the ramps in place. Behind it an aluminum ramp wobbled under the touch of her finger.

She turned towards the other frame member where the second ramp was supposed to be store. Katrina put her finger on the latch and pulled it back to free that ramp, but all she could see was air. The ramp was missing. She turned to the tech that operated the lift and asked for his flashlight, hoping beyond all hope that the ramp had just slid more deeply into the frame so that she couldn’t see it. He gave up his light and she bore it down the tube. A crisp light beam lit the entire space. No ramp could be seen in the chamber.

Katrina turned away and threw the flashlight as hard as she could across the bay. She shouted at the top of her lungs, “Holy Fried Peanuts!”

Quickly and intensely her anger roared into being. All activity ceased just to see what had happened. Katrina felt like the Hulk roaring his displeasure, but from the outside she looked more like a skinny girl having a hissy fit. She ran to the pile of discarded tires that had just came off their car and kicked at them over and over again.

In the dealership’s service area waiting room pleasant music played over the intercom, music that was supposed to be soothing. Many of the customers were female, some were reading, others were trying to keep their children entertained.

One old man stood by the bay window watching his vehicle. The last time he had brought his car in they had charged him for an oil change but he had never seen his vehicle come into the shop. This time he was going to be sure his oil change was done. Suddenly a flashlight struck the wall next to the window. The loud noise startled everyone in the room.

Several other people in the waiting area stood to see what was going on. The service manager watched, dumbstruck, as the girl in the strange uniform began to kick at some tires as hard as she could. The manager and owner both hurried over to see what they could do to help. The service manager just turned away from the window and headed back to his office with a sigh. His expression said that he had seen it all, and that he needed a new career.

Richard took hold of Katrina’s shoulders and shook her before she could do any damage to the garage or to herself. Katrina suddenly realized that everyone had stopped working and was staring at her. Silence permeated the large room.

“What the hell is going on?” Richard shouted.

Katrina grabbed his arm and dragged him to the underside of the car. She pointed to the empty ramp slot.

Richard looked at the slot and shrugged his shoulders. “What?” he asked, not understand what he was looking at.

Katrina pushed him away and shouted, “Someone stole one of our ramps!”

Without stopping to think he asked, “What ramps?”

Katrina placed her hands on her ears and bowed her head. She might have to kill someone. She felt as if steam was radiating from her head.

“At the end of the race we need ramps to get on top of the dais to go through the finish ring. Do you understand what I’m saying? Is it getting through your thick head?! To get up high enough to drive through the finish ring we need those ramps!” She glared at Richard waiting for his thick head to catch up with what she had said.

Everyone watched Richard, waiting for his response, hoping that he would say something that made sense.

Richard’s mind filtered through the many things he had learned about the race. Somewhere the idea of ramps came back to him. Frodes had mentioned them. He had secured them under the car so that they couldn’t fall away. A light went on in his mind and he pictured the ramps being used to drive up onto a platform so they drive through the ring. Yes, he remembered, now.

Richard threw his arms out towards her and shouted. “Of course, the ramps! Why didn’t you just tell me one was missing?”

The expression on Katrina’s face fell. Infuriated beyond any ability to measure Richard’s stupidity, frustrated at the human race as a whole, exhaustion wearing her down to a point where the blackness of rage could take over her senses, she launched herself on him and took him to the floor. She had both her hands bunched up in his uniform pulling him up from the floor then forcing him back down again.

Richard’s head banged against the concrete. Exhibiting the completely opposite reaction to Katrina’s rage, he laughed uncontrollably, punctuated by a few words.

“You said, ‘Holy Fried Peanuts!’ How was I supposed to know what you were talking about?” He laughed all the harder.

The owner and general manager both ran forward and pulled Katrina off Richard. Richard hoisted himself up on his elbows, his laughter almost infectious in that out-of-control way. He pointed his forefinger at Katrina and said, “I’m so glad that I was made part of your team. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.”

Katrina screamed at the top of her lungs and pulled free from the owner’s arms before jumping on Richard again.

The patrons of the dealership’s service area were congregated around the viewing port into the bay. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Even the ones who had been eyeball deep into their iPads reading the news had now joined the mass of flesh around the single window. Children asked what they were all looking at but were hushed so their parents could try to hear through the double-paned glass.

They watched as Katrina was being restrained and as she broke free for another round. This time she didn’t try to smash his head on the floor, instead she pummeled him anywhere she could. The owner shouted to the other techs for help keeping the couple separated.

Many of the customers turned away now that the moment of excitement had passed. They had certainly not expected anything half so interesting to happen in the garage.

~~~

Weaver sat on the far side of the interrogation room while Killington and his lawyer whispered at the table. They were supposed to be in the air by now but the helicopter that was supposed to take them to the airport had a fuel issue and they were still waiting for it to be cleared. She yawned and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Killington’s lawyer turned to her, exasperated. “If you’re so tired why are you still here?”

She quickly brought her arm to her side where her pistol was located and had to resist the urge to pull it out and shoot him. She got up to leave the room, but Killington’s voice stopped her.

“That bitch that said I killed those men, she came to me and asked for my help.”

The lawyer turned back to his client. “Don’t say another word.”

Killington used his hand as if to wave the words away. “She didn’t like how I treated her and now she wants retribution. That bitch can say anything she wants but I killed no one and without bodies you have nothing.”

Weaver turned around to face Killington. “Silvia never said a word about you killing anyone. We have you on video.” She paused for dramatic effect and repeated the words, “You confessed. The fact that you keep bringing it up only strengthens our case. Every word in this room is recorded.

“What is most interesting to us right now is the race. Who hired you and what did you do to all of the drivers that you eliminated? The other charges are for the courts to work out now.”

Killington turned away. His lawyer was right. He should have shut up.

Weaver smiled and continued toward the door. She paused at the door on her way through. “That guy that you sent to rape Silvia? That was a mistake. You just ensured that she will testify against you.”

Weaver closed the door behind her and entered the observation room, where her yawning wouldn’t bother anyone.

~~~

Katrina sat on the floor, breathing hard. Richard sat up, remnants of his laughter still evident on his face. Katrina was close enough to kick him so she did.

“You know if we need another ramp, we’re right here, in a shop. Why can’t they make one?” Richard splayed one hand out towards all the techs standing around them.

She brightened as her eyes glazed over. She no longer saw anyone standing around her. Her eyes were searching the images in her mind. She stood up suddenly and reached over to help her driver up as though nothing had happened.

“That’s a brilliant idea.” Katrina said as she turned to the techs standing around her. “How much metal do you have here?”

The techs moved their shoulders up and down in a universal shrug. One of the techs, a big barrel of a man, stepped forward to answer. “We have very little metal unfortunately, not enough to make a ramp of any length.”

Katrina let her head drop, disappointed. She thought for a few seconds then said, “That’s it, were done. There’s no point going any further.”

Richard looked disappointed, not at the race being over, but because Katrina was giving up. “What are you talking about? You’re an engineer, you can make anything. Maybe we don’t need a ramp anyway. Maybe we need to put legs on the car or something. We only need to get, what, two feet in the air?”

Katrina corrected him. “Thirty-six inches.”

“Okay, three feet. There has to be another way to do it. We’re going to be driving fast, so maybe we only need a little ramp and speed will…” Richard stopped talking.

He was cut off by a single hand in the air from his partner. Her mouth fell open considering what her driver had just said. “Speed and a little ramp,” she said softly.

Turning towards the big bear of a man she said, “Go get someone from the parts department, quick.”

Almost three seconds later a parts associate came running in. Katrina didn’t wait for him to catch his breath before she asked her question. “Do you have any airbag deployment packs in inventory? To any car, it doesn’t matter.”

Without pretense or ambiguity, absolute in the truthfulness of his answer, he said “No airbag pack can be kept here in storage. They’re too volatile.”

Katrina turned away to think.

Richard stepped up. “What do you need an airbag pack for? Is one of ours bad?”

An epiphany struck Katrina. She looked at the racecar still on the lift.

All the techs in the bay all stood around watching Katrina. They stared at the girl wondering how any of her questions made sense.

The best looking tech tried to interrupt her thought process. “If you tell us what the problem is we might be able to help.”

Richard stepped up to explain before she could attack anyone else. “Our race is made for engineers. At the finish line the actual line to cross and finish the race is three feet off the ground on a platform.”

Katrina corrected him. “Dais.”

Richard ignored her. The techs all started to squeeze in to better hear his explanation.

“Anyway, there were two ramps beneath the car that we were supposed to use to get on the…” Richard turned to his weapons specialist and said “Dais” with emphasis before he continued. “Somewhere along the way someone stole one.

“Since it’s impossible to get up on the dais with four wheels and one ramp and you don’t have enough metal to make one we need to come up with something else. We were supposed to be on the road five minutes ago and today’s the last day.”

Katrina interrupted Richard. “I figured it all out. I just need to do a few more calculations.” She took a black sharpie out of the closest tech’s pocket and began to write on the floor. The owner began to protest but Katrina stated loudly that she needed to do the math and he backed away quietly, hands raised in surrender.

Figures poured out of Katrina’s brain through her hand. At a speed not ever seen in a classroom she sped through the complex calculations. The floor was the largest writing space she had ever used. It resembled the blank white canvas of a painter, images already etched in the artist’s mind just waiting for paint to fill the void.

Katrina poured her heart and mind upon the concrete. Whole ideas came to life mathematically.

Everyone in the room was transfixed, waiting to see what happened next.

Without warning Katrina stood. She turned, looking around the bay for the components needed to build a substitute ramp. She found welding equipment, a ladder, and tool boxes in every bay.

Katrina pointed to the ladder and began to shout orders. “We only have thirty minutes to make this work.” She pointed to a young tech. “You, get that ladder and disconnect the battery in our car.” She swung wildly to another tech and shouted to him. “You, get the torches over here and the welding equipment.” Katrina turned to the lead tech. “I need all the metal you have in-house right here.” To another tech she assigned the task of removing the other ramp so that they could take off the special clips that held it in place.

“I need a whole roll of electrical wire!” She commanded of the room not sure which tech could address this problem. “And I need a soldering gun, alligator clips, rope, and electrical tape, lots of it. Let’s go people we have less than thirty minutes!”

The owner came up behind her. “Now hold on one minute! My people are working on jobs for customers, some of whom are waiting in there watching, you can’t just take over the shop!”

Katrina turned on him and waved her finger in his face. “I’m sure we paid far too much for those tires. But if you want the time for your techs paid for, then put it on the same account. I’ll be out of your hair in less than thirty minutes.” She checked her watch. Twenty-nine minutes people!”

Dollar signs popped up in the owner’s eyes and he turned to his techs and took over for Katrina, shouting “Where is that roll of wire?”

Katrina was already deep into an explanation to two men under the car. The first was the welder. He put his gloves and helmet on as she spoke. The second was the bear of a man, the lead tech. He paid rapt attention as Katrina used her finger to point out specific spots on the underside of the racecar to help illustrate her needs.

When finished she turned to another man who was holding the wire and four rolls of tape. “After the air pack is removed, connect it here exactly, and run wire and rope anyway you can to the passenger side and tape the ends heavily. Make sure they are separated by at least two inches so static won’t…What?”

Richard had interrupted her explanation. “What do you want me to do?”

“Go and collect food and drinks to take with us. We won’t be stopping for anything for the rest of the race.”

Exactly thirty-one minutes after Katrina’s outburst they were driving out of the dealership.

~~~

Finn Cosgrove watched three of his staff members board a helicopter as he stood by the door. They looked terrible after having had no sleep for more than twenty-four hours. He felt just as tired as his people did, but he had to keep up the image of being the strongest of them all. Somehow he didn’t feel that way but he had to try.

The ride by helicopter would take them twenty minutes as opposed to driving two hours through rush hour traffic. He stepped up, the last in the line climb aboard. Could he stay awake for thirty more minutes before crashing on the airplane? Cosgrove closed the door behind him. When he turned around to sit, he found Weaver and Brocton already sleeping.

Weaver sat slightly at an angle, her head tipped onto her associate’s shoulder. Brocton appeared to have crashed the second he hit the seat. His head was kicked back and his mouth was hanging open. Cosgrove wondered if Brockton had taken the time to clip his seatbelt or if Weaver had done it for him before using him as a pillow. Colliste, the only one still awake, struggled with his seat belt, fatigue inhibiting his motor functions.

At least now he didn’t have to worry about falling asleep in front of his men, as long as he woke up before them on arrival. The helicopter rose into the air. The pilots knew they were running behind. Cosgrove hoped that they would get to Colorado early enough to catch up to the racecars. uJIDT3I�;~��Ӱ

Next Chapter: Chapter 19