1953 Hudson Hornet

Rocky wanted to ask Victor about the device he’d picked up in Bread, but at the same time he didn’t.  The big man had directed him off the freeway, then to a decidedly out-of-the-way rendezvous with an equally big guy driving an obviously rented Town Car, and Victor had come away from the ten-second meeting with something that looked like a second cell phone.  An earpiece now plugged into his ear, Victor had nodded and they’d gone on.

They made a quick fuel stop outside of Reychelle; Rocky checked the Hornet’s vital fluids quickly, noticed that they were low on brake fluid and topped it off.  There didn’t seem to be any leaks, so he put it out of his mind.  Victor stood by the back of the car and watched the area, as he always did.  The guy seemed to be a bodyguard even when he wasn’t technically being one, it was just ingrained.

“I think that’s Dick,” Victor said, pointing at the distinctive curved white roof of  Porsche 911 buzzing past on the freeway.

“You sure?”

Victor nodded.  “Looks like he washed his car.  You think you can catch him?”

Rocky slammed the hood.  “Bearshit in the woods,” he said, and they jumped back into the car. 

The Hornet mounted the freeway quickly, about half a mile behind the Porsche, and they began bulling quickly through traffic.  Dick was moving quickly, and they were almost twenty miles out of the city before they finally caught up.  Rocky pulled alongside and waved.  Dick glanced and grinned back.  The two-lane freeway ahead of them was empty, and as if commanded by a single mind, the two cars accelerated at the same time. 

Rocky stayed with Dick up past 110, but the longer-legged Porsche kept accelerating at that point.  He guessed that the Hornet had a bit more in her, but the valves were starting to float and his car was twenty years older and almost twice as heavy, so he backed off and let Dick go.  Rather than slowing down so that they could keep pace, the Porsche kept pulling away from them.  By the time they reached Fountainhead, it was out of sight.

“Well, that wasn’t very friendly, was it?”

Victor didn’t seem to have heard him.  “We need to exit the freeway.  There’s a riot, and Dobie might be in the middle of it.”

“Excuse me?  You want to get off the highway on the west side of Fountainhead?  Are you crazy?”  Fountainhead was a tough town.  It wasn’t as though the Hornet had hubcaps to steal, but there wasn’t any point in risking disaster.

“Take the next exit,” Victor said.  His tone brooked no argument.

“How do you know they’re down there?”  A high concrete wall separated the freeway from the city on both sides.  “That thing’s a police scanner, isn’t it?”  A nod was the reply.  “Okay, then.  I don’t mind riding to the rescue, all you had to do was say so.”