Three of the Piranhas had driven up in a lowrider, raised now for highway driving. They went into the bodega.

“They could be buying groceries,” Pete said.

But when the three came out half an hour later, they carried no groceries.

“It sure looks like Torres and the Piranhas are in something together,” Pete said.

“It could be just neighborhood stuff,” Jupiter cautioned, but his voice was more excited now.

Another two hours passed.

Then a bright orange Cadillac appeared and parked in front of the bodega. The driver hurried inside. Seconds later Joe Torres came out and got into the Cadillac.

“Come on!” Jupiter cried.

They ran from the doorway to Pete’s Fiero and scrambled in. Pete started the motor just as the orange Caddy passed them at the corner. Pete pulled away and turned into the cross street to follow.

The orange Caddy was two blocks ahead and driving slowly. Pete hung as far back as he could. Torres had seen the Fiero yesterday, before Jupiter had thrown him.

After leaving the barrio, the Caddy turned left and entered a maze of dusty streets behind the freeway. There it drove among construction material yards, warehouses, automobile body shops, and other commercial buildings. Pete followed, hanging even farther back, now that there were few cars on the narrow streets.

Up ahead, the Caddy turned right. Pete reached the corner just in time to see the Caddy stop in front of a large three-story red-brick building down the block. It was almost under the freeway and was close to a better section of office buildings.

“We’d better park,” Jupiter said, “and walk.”

Pete turned the corner and slid into a parking spot. They heard the Cadillac honk. It was an odd honking: one long, two short, a long, and a short. They saw large doors swing open, and the Caddy drove into the building.

The guys approached warily. The building was the last of a row of buildings on the block. It had no windows on the ground floor, and the windows on the next two floors had been painted over. There were the large double garage doors the Caddy had driven through and a smaller regular-size door set in one of the large doors.

A large sign over the garage doors read:

Freeway Garage Body Shop, Painting, Full Service

A smaller sign said:

Parking By The Week, Month, Or Year

Pete and Jupe walked around the building along the side street to the next block. Another row of brick buildings stood backed up right against those on the first block. The building directly behind and touching the garage seemed to be three floors of small offices with a single main entrance. There was no other entrance to the garage building, and all the side windows were painted over too.

“Well,” Pete said, “at least Torres can’t see us out here.”

“And we can’t see him in there. We’ll have to go inside.” Pete hesitated. “I don’t know, Jupe. We don’t know what’s in there. We could walk into a mess.”

“You have any better idea how to look inside?”

Pete shrugged. “No, but I don’t like it.”

“We’ll be as careful as possible,” Jupiter said as they walked back to the front of the garage. “You go in first and look around before we go any farther.”

“Oh, great,” Pete said.

“We can’t both go through that small door at the same time,” Jupiter said. “And Torres never saw you. He’d recognize me at once.”

Pete groaned. “How come logic always says I go first?”

“Gee,” Jupiter said innocently, “I don’t know. But I’ll tell you what. You go in first. I’ll be right behind you. We’ll look everything over before we move a foot from the door. How’s that?”

“Better,” Pete said. “Let’s go.”

He took a deep breath, pushed the small door open, jumped over the raised sill, and flattened himself against the right of the door. Jupiter came in behind him and flattened left.

In the dark there was nothing but silence.

8

Vanishing Act

Slowly their eyes became accustomed to the dim light.

They were in an enormous room with thick pillars and a few feeble lights-shining down from the ceiling. Rows of cars stood parked among the pillars. At the right a wide ramp led up to the second floor. Up against the rear wall was a large automobile elevator. Its shaft was enclosed on the sides by wiremesh and in front by slatted wooden gates.

There were doors at the far right side of the room, next to the ramp. At the left were half-glass doors leading to offices. There were no lights behind the office doors, and no sign of Torres or anyone else.

Nothing moved anywhere.

“You think they’re all stolen?” Pete whispered as he looked at the rows of cars.

Jupiter shook his head. “This seems to be a regular parking garage. See, the pillars and wall sections are all numbered.”

“So where’s the parking attendant? And the service shop and body work?”

“Good question.”

In the dimness, among the rows of ghostly cars, they listened. After a moment, they heard small sounds somewhere above.

“It doesn’t sound like much,” Pete said.

“It’s an old building,” Jupiter replied. “The walls and floors are thick enough to absorb sounds. Someone is definitely upstairs.”

“If we’re going up there,” Pete said, “I sure hope that elevator and the car ramp aren’t the only ways up.

“There must be stairs. Let’s try that door at the foot of the ramp.”

They walked over to the unmarked door and Pete pulled it open. Inside was a dusty stairway. The sounds from above were clearer in the dimly lit, echoing stairwell. But the guys couldn’t hear any footsteps or voices. Cautiously they crept up the steel stairs to the second floor. Jupe opened the door on the landing and the guys peered out.

Here the cavernous space among the pillars was better lighted. The room contained cars in various stages of repair. Most of them were standing there like forgotten skeletons. Three had electronic instruments attached, to analyze cylinder compression, fuel injection, spark-plug operation, and other electrical functions. The instruments were bleeping and flashing, but no one was in sight.

“The mechanics must have gone somewhere in a hurry,” Pete said. “They left those instruments still working.”

“Well, they didn’t go down. No one passed us as we came in.”

“So where did they go?” Pete said. “And where’s Torres and that orange Cadillac?”

“Must be on the third floor.”

They continued silently up the stairs.

This time the large open area was even better lighted, with cars scattered all through the spaces between the pillars. There were more cars here than on the second floor, but still far fewer than on the first. Here the cars were having bodywork and painting done.

But no one was in sight on this floor either!

Вы читаете Hot Wheels
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату