Perpetual Motion (25 page)

“What are we doing?”

“We’re checking the timing belt,” Cynical
said as he pulled into the bay.

As they slid into the dark garage, they both
saw the Chevy Nova parked in the next bay. With a shriek, Karen
jumped out of the slow moving car, and ran over to Michael’s car.
Disappearing behind the Nova’s raised hood, a scream of joy went up
as the magnet and steel engagement rings intertwined.

The reunion was well underway before the
Impala was completely inside the garage. Ed held up a hand for
Cynical to stop the car; then walked to the bay entrance and yanked
down on a chain causing the metal garage door to close behind them
with a loud clang.

Cynical got out of his car and looked to the
Nova parked next to him. Behind its open hood were the sounds of
excited whispering intermingling with soft kisses. The old mechanic
and the grizzled detective shared an awkward glance, both aware
they were ease-dropping on an intimate moment. When a phone rang in
his office, Ed looked relieved to go into the other room to answer
it.

A few moments later, the couple finally
emerged from behind the hood, holding hands and grinning from ear
to ear. Michael’s hair was longer and even more tussled; his hands
were dirty from grease work. Behind his smudged glasses, his eyes
still danced like blue flames. Despite his disheveled appearance,
he looked happy.

“If it isn’t the Roulette King,” Cynical
announced.

“Hey,” Michael said. “Thanks for getting my
girl here safe and sound.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Cynical said. “I
wasn’t sure you made it out of the Mirage.”

“Oh yeah,” Michael said, replaying the escape
in his head. “I hid in that girl’s room we met in the
elevator.”

“What girl?” Karen asked.

“Just some girl,” Michael answered
innocently.

“Haven’t you heard, ‘what happens in Vegas
stays in Vegas?’” Cynical offered, trying to be helpful.

“What happened?” Karen inquired.

“Nothing,” Michael insisted so naïvely it was
impossible not to believe him. “We played blackjack for a couple of
hours. I tried to teach her how to count cards.”

“So, how did you end up here?” Cynical
asked.

“When I left the hotel, I just started
driving. I was actually thinking about going to Mexico for a while.
But, I came across Ed and we hit it off. I do a little repair work
for room and board and I can work on my car in my spare time.” With
a nod, he acknowledged his new boss as he came back into the
garage.

“That was Martha at the diner,” Ed announced.
“She says there are some strangers in town asking a lot of
questions.”

“Yeah, we saw them,” Cynical confirmed. “They
are the same ones we ran into in Vegas.”

Instantly, Michael’s demeanor switched from
one of mellow contentment to deep concern. “Did they follow you or
something?”

“I told them we were meeting you in Borrego
Springs,” Karen admitted.

“After they tortured you,” Cynical
explained.

“What?!” Michael cried, looking back and
forth with a horrified expression.

“They kidnapped and electrocuted her,”
Cynical added.

The typically mild-mannered kid had turned
red, his hands clenched into balls.

“They killed Fernando too,” she said
softly.

“Fernando?” Michael repeated softly. At the
news of his friend, the color drained from his face as he staggered
backward, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had come. Dropping
into a little chair beside a radio and a bench full of tools, he
looked up, dazed and defeated. “Who are these people?” he asked as
if pleading for an answer.

“They’re a private security company called
Black Starr,” Cynical said. “We still don’t know who they work for.
It could be the government; it could be anyone.”

“Why?” Michael implored. “Why are they after
me?”

“You created something that is a threat to
some very powerful people,” Cynical said. “The good news is - once
you get this invention out to the public, these people shouldn’t
have a reason to keep coming after you anymore.”

“That’s what I want to do,” Michael blurted
out. “I’m sick of the corporate secrecy and the confidentiality
agreements. Everyone should know about it!”

“I think Mancuso can help you with that,”
Cynical said, repeating the pitch he’d practiced in his head. “He’s
got the wherewithal to protect you – and the capital and the
connections to turn this invention of yours into a real thing.”

All eyes in the garage turned to Michael who
seemed to be considering the possibilities. “I’ve been thinking
about it, and I know I owe Mr. Mancuso something.” Slowly, the
young inventor got to his feet and gestured for Cynical to come
closer. “I want to show you something.”

When Cynical stepped over to the front of the
71 Nova, Michael turned to the exposed engine like the proud father
of a newborn. “Meet MARI.”

“MARI” consisted of a heavy metal casing that
had been mounted to the top of the engine. A circular hole cut in
the hood would allow ‘MARI’ to stick through like a throwback to
the air intake system on the old muscle cars.

“See, it was a 307 with a Power Glide, but I
retro-fitted the block with magnetic pistons,” Michael said,
pointing into his crowning achievement. “I attached them to the
camshaft and mounted electro magnets in the engine heads. Cool
huh.”

Cynical nodded, trying to follow the kid’s
rig.

“There’s a laser sensor that detects the
rotational position of the throttle,” Michael went on. “You get
your torque from the reciprocal movement of the pistons, which are
fueled by just the electromagnetic force.”

“Does it work it?” was all Cynical could
think to ask.

“Yeah, it works.” Michael almost looked
insulted. “I had it with me in Vegas. I was going to offer it to
Mancuso then. I just needed a little more time to work out the
kinks.”

At that moment, they all heard the same
“ding.” It was the bell that signaled when someone had run over the
tubing by the pumps.

“I have a customer,” Ed said ominously.

Everyone looked at each other; everyone
thinking the same thing. Ed exchanged a knowing glance with Michael
before darting around the corner.

Without waiting for a confirmation on who was
outside, Cynical limped back over to his car and swung the
passenger door open. Rumbling around inside, he came back out with
his handgun.

Karen’s hands began to shake as Michael moved
closer to take hold of her. “It’s all right,” he said, trying to
sound confident. “We’re ready for them.”

Outside, Ed moved at a snail’s pace.
Seemingly without a care in the world, he whistled as he wandered
over to the black and chrome SUV idling at his fuel pump. As the
old mechanic approached, the driver’s side window descended.

“Fill ‘er up?” Ed asked the man in a dark
suit behind the wheel of the Escalade. Peering inside, he could see
the man sitting next to the driver wore a serious scowl accented by
a bandage across his nose. In the back, a woman sat perched in the
corner, her face turned away as she peered over her sunglasses at
the closed up garage.

“Yeah,” the driver said. “Let me ask you a
question first. Have you seen an Impala pass through here?”

“Yeah,” Ed said, sounding surprised by the
question. “One just pulled in with a busted timing belt. It’s in
the garage now. It’s a man and a girl and the man’s been shot. He’s
barely conscious. I was thinking I should call the Sheriff.” The
old man leaned into the car window. “Are y’all FBI or
something?”

“Something like that,” Amanda said, hardening
her stare at the garage before turning back to Ed. “What about
someone driving a Chevy Nova?” She tapped the shoulder of the
driver. “Show him the picture.”

The driver took out a picture from inside his
jacket and held it up. “Have you seen him?”

Taking one look at the headshot, Ed
exclaimed, “That’s my mechanic. Well, he’s just been helping me out
for a couple of days. I had no idea he was a wanted man. Look, I
don’t want no trouble,” he insisted, a quiver in his voice.

“We’ll take care of it,” Amanda said
reassuringly as she caught the name on his over-alls. “You can go
ahead and fill her up now Ed.”

The conversation over, the window butted up
against Ed’s elbow, causing him to jerk back as the tempered glass
slid up between them. Obediently, the mechanic moved to the back of
the vehicle to do his job. Sliding the pump into the gas tank, he
waited and watched the darkened windows of the SUV.

A few moments later, the two front doors
opened and the Driver and the Broken-Nose man climbed out wearing
headsets and holding large handguns. As they moved to the garage’s
office, one went to the left, the other to the right side of the
front door. Exchanging a quick glance, the operatives went
inside.

With their guns extended in front of them,
Broken Nose stepped in first, followed immediately by the Driver.
The small office was a disheveled mess; it was also empty. There
was only one closed door across the room, which led to the garage
area.

Gun still leveled straight ahead, Broken Nose
stepped around a chair with a carburetor sitting in it. For a brief
moment, he paused to consider what appeared to be thin reddish
wires wrapping around the metallic door to the garage.

The closer Broken Nose got to the strangely
decorated door, the more he felt a tug in his hand, as if drawing
him toward it. He also noticed a soft hum coming from the other
side of the door, or maybe, it was the door. Only inches away, his
gun suddenly lurched out of his hand, snapping sideways against the
copper-laced metal.

“Hey!” Broken Nose shouted, confounded by the
development.

The Driver ran over and grabbed at his
partner’s suspended gun with his free hand. As he took hold of the
caged door, an electrical charge jumped from the copper wiring into
his hand. As electricity traveled through his body, the gun in his
other hand clattered to the concrete floor. Dropping to his knees,
but still holding onto the wiring, the man continued to violently
shake as the currents poured through him.

Just then, the electric door opened inward,
pulling the Driver with him. Broken Nose stumbled forward too as he
wildly reached for his gun that was still plastered to the door.
From inside the garage, a fist flew out – connecting to the center
of his face - again.

With a yelp of pain, Broken Nose fell
backwards, sprawling into a pegboard of tools. The badly shaken
Driver had broken free from the door and was groping for the gun
he’d dropped during his electrocution.

A voice called out of the darkness of the
garage. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Through watery, slightly crossed eyes, the
Driver looked up. Coming into focus was Cynical on the other end of
a handgun. Beside him, Michael had a shotgun aimed at the mostly
incapacitated Broken Nose.

A few feet away, Karen crouched beside a
commercial battery charger. Two thick copper ropes coiled out of
the black box and fanned out into thinner lines that spread their
web over the surface of the door.

“Okay,” Cynical said to the Driver. “Get
up.”

Not without a struggle, the man found his
feet. With a wave of his gun, Cynical directed him into the garage.
Already in the garage, Broken Nose was staring incomprehensibly at
his gun hanging on the door.

“Just something I hooked up in case you guys
showed up,” Michael explained. “Did you know you can magnetize
steel by running an electrical current through it? You just have to
be careful not to touch the wires or you’ll get a bad shock.”

“Yeah,” Karen said coldly. “That would be a
real shame.”

“Alpha Two, Alpha Three?” Amanda whispered
hoarsely into her headset. “Report! What’s happening in there?”

Inside the back of the Esplanade, Alpha One
stared at Ed’s Garage. Her window was down and her gun was drawn,
ready to fire on anyone who tried to escape. But it was quiet
inside; no gunfire, no screams, no anything. That wasn’t good.

What was even worse was it had been seven
minutes since her men had gone inside and she hadn’t heard a word
from them. If nothing else, they were well-trained to follow orders
and report back. No news was definitely not good news.

A couple of minutes ago, she had thought she
heard faint voices come over the headset. Although she couldn’t
make it out clearly, one of the voices sounded like a fairly young
male, which meant it could have been Michael.

She would love to finish the job here and
now. And it shouldn’t be that difficult, especially if Cynical was
already wounded. She was almost certain she’d put at least one
bullet in him inside the storage tank. Confirming her suspicions,
she had found drops of blood down the refinery’s hallway.

That PI had proven to be a real fly in her
ointment. While she had to admit, he had been more effective in
locating Michael, he didn’t know when to back off. What kind of
private detective risks his life for his clients? These kids
weren’t even his clients.

It hadn’t taken her long to find and destroy
the transmitter he’d placed on her back bumper. At least she
assumed it was Cynical who had sloppily put it there. And now it
seemed like he was working with the FBI; just one more complication
courtesy of the so-called ‘x-detective.’ Hopefully, he would soon
be completely Xed out.

“Anybody there?” she asked one last time.

No reply.

She needed some intelligence. “Intelligence”
might be too much to hope for from her crew, but some kind of
information would be useful. Right now, she was operating
completely in the dark and she didn’t like it one bit.