want to be Orville Wright.
So he slows down but this asshole stays right on him.
Then he moves to pass.
Jack can't freaking believe it, but this asshole pulls right alongside him as the curve turns in.
Comes around and stays beside him.
The Caddy's in the wrong lane on a curve and doesn't pull back in.
'What the fuck are you doing?!' Jack yells, because there's a cliff wall on the inside and a two-hundred-foot drop on the outside and this is bad news.
Which is true, because now another car has come up behind him. A muscle car, a Charger, and now it's right up on his ass.
Which is bad, because now Jack has nowhere to go.
He can't even hit the brakes.
Then he sees the truck coming.
In his lane, straight at him.
He either crashes head-on into the trailer truck or he goes off the road.
Which is the plan.
Jimmy Dansky, he's sitting in the cab of the truck and the cars headed straight for him. The new guy is good, the new guy is doing just what he's supposed to. Trap the Mustang in place.
A game of chicken.
Which Jimmy figures he's going to win, because he knows it's psychologically impossible for a car to hang in. The driver sees a truck coming he'll hit the brakes and swerve — human nature. And when he swerves he loses it on that curve and he's over the edge.
Bye-bye.
He goes, and then the chase car can take the oncoming lane, and everyone gets home safe.
Except the Mustang.
It's in a crater at the bottom of the canyon.
A very tricky stunt, a real ball tightener, but it's going like a bomb.
So he bears down on the Mustang and waits for it to chicken out.
Jack doesn't swerve or hit the brakes. What he does is he steps on the gas. He pushes the 'Stang toward the trailer truck like she's going to take it out.
Kamikaze Mustang.
Ban-fucking-zai.
Jimmy Dansky can't believe it.
They told him this guy was hardcore, they didn't say he was crazy.
Or suicidal.
Turn, cocksucker, turn is what Jimmy Dansky is thinking.
What Jack is thinking is like, Fuck you, asshole.
You turn.
And all this is going on in like seconds and there's about to be a spectacular four-car crash on the Ortega and Jack lets one hand off the wheel and grabs Teddy's pistol with the other, shoots out the driver's window, then wings a shot at the Caddy, and that's when the Caddy driver chickens out. He swerves the Caddy inside toward the rock face.
Jack moves left into the now vacant space in the oncoming lane. The Charger tries to get out of the way, but it's too late.
Dansky's truck sheers the top off the Charger, taking the driver's upper body with it as it smashes through the guardrail and launches into the sky above the canyon.
Like, Uhh, Houston, we've got a problem.
Jimmy's up there with half a Charger and half a Charger driver jammed in his grill; the front of the truck is pointing toward the sun. For a second he fantasizes that the track has enough momentum to sail across the canyon and land on the other side, but then the laws of physics rule against Jimmy and the front of the truck takes a downward tilt.
And Jimmy without his parachute.
A few seconds later the truck smashes headfirst into the lower slope like some suicidal ski jumper, then it does two somersaults and comes to a rest.
But by that time Jimmy Dansky's neck has snapped in numerous locations.
Jack's not doing so great either.
He scrapes the wall, bounces off, plunges toward the edge of the cliff, jerks the wheel, heads for the wall again, pulls out, and goes into a spin.
He's doing three-sixties — wall, cliff, wall, cliff, wall, cliff — he's spinning toward the edge of the cliff and then skids to a stop.
With the front of the 'Stang hanging over the edge.
Jack's looking down at eternity.
He gets out — gently — his legs are weak and the world is spinning and the Caddy and Charger are long gone.
He checks out the 'Stang.
Major damage.
Front-left quarter panel banged in. Passenger-side door banged. Gashes and scrapes along the whole passenger side.
You're talking Bondo from here to eternity.
It's never going to be over, he thinks. You know too much, Letty knows too much, they won't let you just give up.
And face it, you won't let you just give up.
It won't be over until you've finished your job.
Your job is to not pay claims you don't owe. You don't pay people to burn their own houses down, and you don't pay them to kill their wives, and you don't let them rip off your company. You do the job you started to do.
And do it right this time.
So quit your whining and find Nicky's fucking furniture.
And how the hell are you going to do that?
It could be anywhere in the freaking world.
Nicky has apartment buildings, Nicky has condos, Nicky has Yeah.
Jack pats the back of the 'Stang.
'Goodbye, old paint.'
He puts his shoulder to it and pushes it off the edge.
Watches it somersault down the canyon and explode in a ball of flame at the bottom.
He starts walking west with his thumb out.
Into a great sunset.
112
Young waits for the sun to go down.
Has his troops assembled in the parking lot of the Ritz and they all have their assignments. He's edgy as a mother duck because if he pulls this off tonight it's the biggest organized crime roundup since the Appalachia raid. He has names, records, aliases, safe houses. He knows where the weapons are, what they are, who they belong to. He makes half these busts, he can start a ball rolling across the whole country. Start winding ROC up in Arizona, Texas, Kentucky, West Virginia, New York.
He's just waiting for dark.
