Torque (24 page)

“Sorry.”

He got back to his knees and finished
snugging up her seatbelt.

“Mariah should be able to outrun them,” he
replied. “Just do what I tell you to do.”

== == ==

From the cliff top, Fenn had a panoramic
view of the action. The flat black Pontiac was making haste up the
road and the funeral home employees were running for their
vehicles. Jenner and the car wash dude got into the limo and headed
for the exit. They left via the driveway’s north end as two police
vehicles, lights flashing and sirens blaring, came in on the south
side.

The cruisers blocked the exits and within
minutes the officers managed to corral those that hadn’t already
made it to the road. The dogs had given up on Fenn and gone back to
chewing on the torn coveralls. An officer got one of the employees
to call them over.
Uzi
and
Magnum
. How cute.

Two more police cars, unmarked with blue
strobe lights on the dash, brought additional law enforcement.
These guys looked more like detectives. Considering the time frame,
Fenn noted the police were well represented for a fire alarm call.
Only now could a fire truck be heard coming up Walker’s Line.

With Tony and Kim well on their way, there
was no reason for Fenn to stick around. If the opportunity
presented itself Tony would circle back to try and find him. If
not, then he knew Tony would head for the barn. He turned his back
on the lookout and started to thread his way through the trees on
the plateau. Not far off there was a trail that exited onto Guelph
Line. From there he would try to hitch a ride to Kilbride.

== == ==

Kim held the wheel in a tight grip and kept
her foot down. The police presence at the funeral home would
guarantee her safety but to make a turn on this narrow road, and
then get past the limousine, seemed riskier than to race away and
hope to shake the pursuit. Tony was kneeling at her shoulder.

“Just ahead, the road curves left and then
back to the right. After that it runs straight for a ways. Take it
easy on the bend and then we’re gonna light it up and leave these
guys in our dust.”

Light it up? What did that mean?

They passed a yellow warning sign with a
black squiggly line and she backed off the gas. The speedometer
needle dropped back to 80. This was a sixties car with sixties
gauges. 80 meant 80 mph. After doing 100 mph, which translated to
160 kmh, the lower speed seemed slower than it actually was.

“Back off a bit more, Kim.”

The curve came on quickly and the car felt
heavy on the wheel. She fought to follow the turn then threw the
wheel the other way as the road went to the right. Tony spread his
knees and struggled to stay upright. They came out of the curve
partly in the opposing lane. An oncoming vehicle swerved to the
shoulder in avoidance. It was another police car.

The cruiser shot past and into the curve.
Tony turned to look through the rear window. Kim applied the gas
and the road ran from under the trunk at ever increasing speed.
After only a few seconds, however, the limo emerged from the bend
on a perfect line. The driver had some skill. Tony turned his
attention forward. It was time to play their trump card.

Kim sat ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on
the road ahead. The seat was too far back for comfort and she had
to point her toe to keep the pedal to the floor. It was cramping
her calf. Tony reached alongside her and flicked a toggle switch on
the dash. There was a red button next to it.

“Okay, Kim. It’s time to lose these creeps.”
He checked behind once more. The limo hadn’t gained any ground but
hadn’t fallen back much, either.

“You are about to get a speed boost. It’s
important to hold the wheel steady and keep your foot down. When I
tell you to, push that button with your thumb and hold it there.
Are you ready?”

Kim put her thumb on the button and
nodded.

“Right. Hit it!”

At a 100 mph, the additional burst of power
from the injection of nitrous oxide into the cylinders wasn’t
enough to throw them back, but the car did respond as if it had
fresh legs.

110 / 120 / 130 mph.

The limo receded rapidly in the mirror.

135 mph.

Now it was just a small black object with
little detail.

140 mph.

“Okay, Kim. You can let go.”

She removed her thumb. Utility poles, sixty
metres apart, were flashing past in rapid succession. The GTO
actually handled well at this speed. Which was still
increasing.

145 mph

“Let off the button, Kim!”

“I did!”

Tony crawled forward and stabbed at the
button. The engine continued to race. Ahead in their lane, another
car was rapidly growing larger. He flicked the toggle switch. No
change. The speedometer needle had reached its limit of 150
mph.

“We’ve got to slow down or the motor will
blow. Use your brakes but GENTLY!”

Kim put both feet on the brake pedal and
applied as much pressure as she dared. The car began to lose speed
but the big motor growled louder as if protesting the
restraint.

130 \ 120 \ 110

Within the engine, the pistons pounded away
with rising pressure. They began to clatter as the oil flow
faltered. Channels that delivered the lubricant hadn’t been flushed
in a generation and were not up to the extreme demand. A piston
rubbed against a cylinder wall. Then another. The friction caused a
vibration that began to shake the motor. A heartbeat later it set
off a catastrophic reaction that sounded like lightning trapped in
an oil drum.

A valve jammed, then the camshaft broke,
stopping the engine cycle. The transmission, overridden by the
forward motion of the car, transferred all of that energy back into
the motor. Out of synch and thrust against each other, parts bent
and broke and welded themselves in place. Everything locked up yet
the car’s momentum forced the wheels to turn. The right rear axle
became the last weak link in the chain. It twisted and snapped, and
the back wheel came out of the wheelwell.

No longer drivable, The Black Mariah swerved
to the right and headed for the ditch.

CHAPTER
33

With the drivetrain seized and power assists
gone the brake pedal was a rock beneath Kim’s foot and the steering
wheel just something to hang on to. The GTO entered the ditch at 75
mph. The front corner dug in and, as if flung by a giant child, the
car rolled on its axis for two complete turns. It came to rest in
the adjacent field, right side up, facing the road.

The first roll had weakened the roof pillars.
On the second roll the corkscrew effect had flung Tony hip first
through the rear window. He’d landed ten metres away, broken and
unconscious, at the edge of a small pond.

The lap belt had held Kim in her seat but
without a shoulder strap her upper body came into hard contact with
the steering wheel and side window. Rag doll limp, eyes half open,
she waited though wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. There was
an odd smell and she couldn’t fathom what she was supposed to do
about that, either. Perhaps a nap would help. Just a short one. The
seat was comfortable, and all was quiet. It was a good thought and
she closed her eyes. A nap would give everything time to sort
itself out.

== == ==

Jenner saw the Pontiac pulling away and
slammed his hand on the wheel. He knew the road would soon fork in
three directions and with the lead his quarry had it would be hard
to see which way they went. He kept the speed up. The funeral home
was crawling with cops and it wouldn’t be long before they put out
an APB on the limousine. Time and distance was of the essence. He
passed his cell phone to his companion.

“Here, Tad. Try to contact Harrowport. Find
out what he wants us to do.” Jenner peered ahead. A sudden puff of
white smoke had caught his eye. The GTO seemed to be having
trouble.

“Holy Cow!” He nudged Tad and pointed. “Did
you see that?”

Skid marks curved off the road. Jenner pulled
onto the shoulder and stopped beside the ditch, across from the
smouldering car. Battered, and smeared with mud, it looked like
third place in a demolition derby. Tad and Jenner left the
limousine with the engine idling and went to examine the wreck.
Kim, still semi-conscious in her seat, was unaware of their
presence.

Tad spotted Tony, by the pond. “That guy
doesn’t look too good.”

“Forget him. Help me with Blondie, here.”

A horn tap got their attention. The white van
had caught up and stopped beside the limo. Jenner waved at the
driver to keep going and the van sped away.

Kim woke up as they pulled her from behind
the wheel. At first she let them carry her then as Jenner’s face
came into focus she began to struggle. It wasn’t much of a contest
but with no rope or tape to restrain her Jenner knew she’d be a
problem in the car.

“Tad. Open the trunk. And hurry.”

From the direction they’d just come Jenner
could see flashing lights. The cop they’d passed on the bend had
probably put two and two together and turned around. Jenner gave
his captive a quick jab below the ribs to quell the last of her
resistance. The trunk lid slammed shut. Certain the cop would stop
when he got to the GTO, Jenner raced away with Tad looking
nervously to the rear. He snapped his fingers to get Tad’s
attention.

“Get on the phone,” he said. “It’s time to
ask the boss for a raise.”

== == ==

Fenn emerged from the wood and walked the
short distance to Guelph Line. He figured it was about 10 a.m. His
watch told him he was five minutes off. At the road he stuck out
his thumb and tried to not look like a reprobate on the lam. Cars
approached and passed him by. Across the way was a family
restaurant where he’d occasionally eat between lessons. Decent
food—nothing special. A meal would certainly restore his energy and
perhaps he could bum a ride from one of the patrons. Country folk
in coffee shops were generally more open to that sort of thing than
the city folk that flew by in steel cocoons.

He shook the dirt from his denim jacket and
swiped the paw prints from his jeans. Inside the diner three tables
were occupied by an elderly couple, a guy in a sports coat reading
a newspaper, and a chap who likely drove the tanker truck parked at
the side of the building. Fenn went straight to the Men’s room to
clean up. The mirror reflected scratches on his cheek and neck, and
a welt high on his forehead. He pushed his hair across to cover
it.

The diner’s manager brought a menu and filled
Fenn’s cup with coffee. He noticed the abrasions.

“Get your girlfriend mad at you, this
morning?” He handed Fenn a napkin and indicated his cheek.

Fenn grinned. “Naw. I was just out
bushwackin’ across the road, there.”

“Looks like the bushes did most of the
whackin’. What can I get you?”

Fenn ordered a full breakfast with extra
toast and dug in with more appetite than he’d been aware of. The
adrenaline had worn off and his hands shook a little until the food
and familiar environment restored a sense of normalcy. Gradually,
the realization that he and Tony had made a raid on the funeral
home and rescued Kim began to sink in. He felt a sudden urge to
laugh. They’d pulled it off! Reis and Jenner could go screw
themselves.

A taxi pulled up to the door and the driver
came in carrying an empty travel mug. Fenn drained his coffee and
took his bill up to the counter. Five minutes later he was in the
cab, heading for the barn.

“Heard there was some excitement at that
fancy funeral home, this morning,” the driver was saying.

“Oh, really?” Fenn said. “What did you
hear?”

“That there was lots of cops, and people
taking off. One of ‘em crashed.”

Fenn felt his coffee making a comeback.
“Probably zombies, again,” he said with false humour.

The driver laughed, signaled, and turned off
the road. “Could be. Well, here’s your stop.”

Fenn overtipped for the short ride and went
into the barn. There was no sign of Tony, Kim, or the Black Mariah.
They ought to be here by now. Unless they'd gone to Kim’s house. Or
to the police.

Or …

Or
was unthinkable yet had to be
considered. He needed to find a phone. He scribbled a note that
he’d return at 5 p.m. and tacked it to the door. Opening a locker
where he kept the bulk of his climbing stuff, he transferred a
knapsack, rope, and a blanket roll to the Challenger’s trunk. He
may not need it but it was best to be prepared. From the portable
firesafe he also took some cash and the compact disc.

If Fenn was superstitious he’d believe the
disc was cursed. Some people had died and others were willing to
kill for it. His native ancestors would have called it bad medicine
and had ceremonies to ward off the harm it might bring. Fenn flexed
it between his fingers. He could snap it in two, and destroy the
power it held, but until he knew that Kim was safe he would have to
be its keeper.

He reached in a pocket for car keys and found
the amulet, instead. The jury was still out on the luck associated
with that charm.

The country road was lightly travelled. He
rallied through the curves and passed cars two or three at a time
on the straightaways until he turned the Challenger onto Highview
Drive. Kim’s house was as he had left it and the Golden Retriever
followed Fenn down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Here, Jess. Go outside.” Fenn opened the
back door and the big dog, who really didn’t want to go out, ambled
obediently into the backyard.

The voice on the phone was emotionless.
“Directory Assistance.”

“Put me through to Baltzer’s Towing in
Burlington, please.”

“One moment.”

He heard rings then a click as the other end
picked up.