Need for Speed (12 page)

“Romeo, stand by,” it said.

“Standing by,” Benny said, with some uncertainty.

He had moved the copter's traffic cam off the roadways and onto a hot-looking female running along the waterfront park. Just for kicks, he zoomed in.

As it turned out, the strange voice was coming from the Channel 4 newsroom.

He heard it again. It said: “We go live to Romeo in the Channel 4 traffic chopper. How are we looking, Romeo?”

Benny replied in a typical TV announcer voice.

“We're looking good, Beth,” he said. “Real good.”

But then a producer's voice interrupted, “Is that Romeo in that helicopter? What's going on?”

At that moment, the copter cam pulled into an extremely tight shot of the jogger's derriere.

Immediately, the producer started screaming, “Commercial! Go to a commercial!”

Benny just laughed.

“Hey, Motown, gotta lighten up,” he said.

* * *

As all this was going on, Tobey found himself hurtling toward a huge bridge.

“Eyes on the road,” he told himself aloud.

Benny saw the long span at the same time.

“Whoa, I think that's the Ambassador Bridge,” he yelled. “And it's filled with the bumper-to-bumper.”

He pulled back on the copter's controls, putting the machine into a near-hover.

“Tobey, brother,” he called down to the Mustang. “It's going to take a three-lane grasshopper to disappear. Do you copy?”

Tobey was quick to reply: “I copy.”

“Okay,” Benny said. “On my count, then . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .”

The Mustang hit the I-375 on-ramp at tremendous speed. This despite lots of traffic everywhere—and a cop car, siren wailing, right behind it.

Julia took her usual crash position, and braced for impact.

“What's a grasshopper?” she yelled over at Tobey.

Tobey did not have time to answer. He jerked the speeding car into the on-ramp's fast lane. Up ahead, but getting closer very quickly, there was a huge embankment just before the entrance to the bridge itself.

“You might want to close your eyes,” Tobey warned her.

Julia held on tighter, if that was possible.

“Oh my god,” she screamed. “Is it worse than ‘bus
bus bus'?”

Benny's voice came over the radio. “Aim for that light pole,” he told Tobey. “Then spread your wings . . .”

At those words, Tobey jerked the car out of the fast lane and up the embankment toward the light pole. He put the gas pedal to the floor . . . and suddenly, they were airborne.

Julia's eyes nearly fell out of her head. They were flying over three lanes of traffic, the Mustang's tires nearly clipping the roofs of the cars below. But before she had a chance to scream again or say anything else, they were suddenly back down, landing with a resounding
thump!
on the slope of a church parking lot. Without missing a beat, Tobey drifted violently across the grass, across the lot, and onto another street.

He straightened out the Mustang and downshifted for more RPMs.

Then he turned to look at Julia, expecting her to be in a state of shock or worse. But she was completely opposite of how Tobey thought she'd be.

She wasn't hurt or stunned or nauseous. Instead, she was laughing hysterically.

“We're
alive
!” she screamed with pure joy. “Amazing! You are
amazing
!”

Tobey almost started laughing himself—her laugh was sweet and funny and nearly contagious.

“It's what I do,” he said in a perfect deadpan.

The Mustang roared down the street at an extremely high speed, heading away from Motor City.

High above, Benny had been looking down on the display of incredible extreme driving and admiring Tobey's out-of-this-world talent.

But now he had to go.

“Time's up in this bird,” he radioed down to Tobey. “Talk soon, bro.”

But Detroit wasn't giving up so easily.

One of the pursuing cops was especially pissed off. His patrol car had been involved in the accident that Tobey's wild driving had caused, and that made him mad.

He was now burning up his radio.

“All units be advised,” the cop said. “Heavily modified silver Ford Mustang last seen on I-375 heading westbound. Contact state police for air support.”

Sixteen

DETROIT REGIONAL AIRPORT
was a very busy place this morning.

Many commuter planes were taking off and landing—some small airliners, too. The airport's helicopter section was especially humming. Private helicopters as well as TV news choppers were coming and going with great frequency. Support personnel and ground crews were dashing about, servicing the flock of whirlybirds.

It was in the middle of this hubbub that Benny managed to land the Channel 4 news copter. He came down hard, the chopper's rotors crying loudly until he mercifully cut the engines. Then he jumped out of the copter and sprinted away unscathed.

It took him only a minute to get back to his Cessna, which was parked nearby. He climbed in, did his prep-sheet, and then went to turn the engine over. But it misfired—two loud bangs, and then nothing.

He tried again, with the same result.

“Goddamn,” he cursed, not wanting to attract any more attention to himself. “Why are you being cranky now?”

Meanwhile, out of his sight behind him, a state police helicopter was taking off.

It quickly went up to two thousand feet, beginning its routine traffic patrol. But suddenly its radio came to life.

“All air units be advised,” the dispatcher said. “Be on the lookout for a silver Mustang with New York plates: Alpha, Delta, Tango, four, six, one, niner, heading west on I-94. Repeat, silver Mustang, heading west on I-94 . . .”

The pilots acknowledged the call and then turned south, pointing the copter's nose toward the interstate.

* * *

At the same moment, Tobey was roaring down Route I-94, free of pursuing authorities. But he was getting an uneasy feeling.

He hit upload on his iPad and tried to call Benny.

“Liar One? I've got the feeling we're going to have an air bear sniffing our tail soon,” he said. “Are you tracking anything like that heading toward I-94? If he spots me then the game is over.”

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!”