Chapter 15: Car Chase 2!

At the door, the man with the striped coat watched Frank wander back to the car, not taking his eyes off him until he’d gotten in the car.  Then, the man wandered down a long hallway until he came to a room at the back of the house.  I guess you’d call it a living room, but it was furnished like a study.  There were no doors, just arches, and a staircase ran up one side of it going to the second floor.  The carpet was maple, the bookshelves were mahogany, and the curtains were magenta.  A desk stood along one wall—the occupant of this had his back turned to the entry.

“Hey, boss!” striped coat said.  “You’ll never believe who was just at the door!”

“Who was it, Dooley?”

“Frank Anderson!”

The chair swiveled, revealing a tall figure with a long face, topped by a buzz cut and ending in a square jaw.  There was no makeup covering the scar at the moment!  Vince stared back at Dooley, the picture of shock.

“Anderson?  Here?  What’d he want?”

“He said he got a call from here last night,” Dooley said.  “Around 9:27!  That’s when Mugs and the rest—”

“I know what time that was,” Vince chewed his lip.  “That punk’s got some nerve, showing up here after our attack.  I wonder how he found out about us.”

“Do you think he got a call?”

Vince laughed.  “Dooley, that’s the most absurd story I’ve ever heard.  No, he did not get a call.  It was his excuse to come case the joint.”

“He looked awful interested in the girl’s car—”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Vince thought a second.  “How did he get here?”

“I saw him getting in a red Chevy Bel Air, ‘50’s style—”

“Hot rod, huh?  That’ll be easy to follow.”  Vince pulled a pen out of his pocket and pointed at Dooley.

“Go find out where they went.  I’ll call Mugs and have them follow.  They’re probably on their way back to Norman, and once they get home, it’ll be too risky to do anything.  If you can catch them before they reach their house, though…well, you know what to do.”

Dooley nodded.  “You want me to fix ‘em up, boss?”

“Fix ‘em up real good, Dooley.  Good enough to get them off the case!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought that’s what it was when I was staring at the sheet,” Zach said.  “I guess great minds think alike.”

“Either that, or we’re both wrong, but I don’t think so,” Frank commented.  “That car could very well be Brittany’s.”

“Ooh, Braum’s!” said Susan.  “I want an ice cream cone!”

“Not in this car, Susan!” Nancy scolded.  “You’ll make a mess!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want a cone in here…” Zach snuck a glance into the backseat.  “However, if we got a shake, that would have a lid!  Want something, Susan?”

“A milkshake?!  That sounds delicious!”

“Milkshake it is, then,” said Zach, turning into the parking lot.  “Anyone else want anything, you just let me know.”

The door of the Braum’s was just opening, and an elderly couple was strolling out.  The woman pointed at Zach’s vehicle.

“That’s what my first car looked like!” she told her husband.  He might have heard her—he might not have—anyway, he was entranced in the vehicle.

Zach pulled up to the speaker.  “Good afternoon,” he said.  “Can I get five milkshakes?”  He proceeded to list out the flavors.  Somehow, the clerk got them all right.

“If you’ll pull up to the window, we’ll have them ready for you in a moment,” her voice came through the speaker.  “Nice car!”

“Thanks!”  Zach obligingly drove up, behind the line of cars in front (only two).

Susan looked confused.  “How can they see your car over the radio?”

“They have a camera, Susan,” Frank explained.

“Hey, sweet ride!” a guy carrying two ice cream cones yelled over from the parking lot.  Zach nodded at him.

Two minutes passed, and then, it was the kids’ turn in line.  Zach pulled up at the window, where the clerk handed out the shakes.  Frank took them from the driver and passed them to the backseat.  “Could we have some extra napkins?” Zach asked.  He glanced back at the upholstery.  “I’d hate for anyone to spill anything.”

The clerk obliged with a small stack.  “How fast does it go?” she asked him.

“Don’t know,” remarked Zach.  “I’ve never had the opportunity to test it.  Thanks!”

“Everybody got the right flavors?” Nancy asked, as they pulled out.

“There’s something wrong with mine,” said Susan.  “It’s blue!”

“Well, sure it is!” said Louis.  “You ordered Party Cake, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but have you ever eaten a blue birthday cake?” his sister replied.

Louis laughed.  “Susan, that’s just the color of the ice cream flavor.”

Zach pulled up to the edge of the road and waited for a gap.  “Nobody coming,” he said, glancing around.  “Soon as this Sonata passes, I’ll be able to go.”

He was referring to a battered blue Hyundai sedan rolling his way.  The little car slowed as it neared the Braum’s, and Zach waited for it to turn into the driveway.  The driveway was its target, but it didn’t turn—instead, it pulled across the front and came to a dead stop.

“What are they doing?” Zach asked, tapping his horn.  “Of all the places to have car trouble—”

Frank gasped.  “It’s not car trouble!” he said, pointing at the vehicle.  “Look at the driver!  Mugs Barnette!”

It was indeed the gangster—along with two other mugs.  Barnette held a gun, and his partner was unbuckling his seatbelt.  He put a hand on the door and was just about to get out when—

CRASH!!!

Apparently, the driver of the Braum’s tractor-trailer turning into the lot hadn’t noticed that there was a car there.  Barnette noticed just in time to accelerate, which meant that the truck didn’t hit the gangsters dead center.  Instead, it merely brushed the left bumper.  That, however, was enough to send the car careening into a spin down N. MacArthur Boulevard.

Taking full advantage of the distraction, Zach hit the gas pedal and swung a hard right out of the parking lot.  Speeding past the crooks, he started south along MacArthur as fast as he could go.

“Looks like we’re going to find out just how fast this car goes!” he said.  “Hold on, everybody!”

“Are they out of it?” Frank asked.

Nancy glanced back.  “No, they’ve got the car under control.  They’re coming after us!”

“They’re gaining!” yelled Louis.  “Go faster!”

“I can’t speed up too much more!” called Zach.  “Besides, there’s a traffic light coming up!”

“Is it red?” Susan asked.

“Green,” said Frank—“no, yellow!”

“I’m not sure if I can make it,” said Zach.  He glanced in the rearview mirror.  “Then again, that guy has a gun.  Alright, kids—don’t try this at home!”

He did make it—just barely.

The crooks didn’t—that is, they didn’t beat the red light.  They did run it, however, getting through before the other cars had started going.

“They’re still following us!” Louis yelled.

“Are they, now?” asked Zach.  “Well, we’ll give them a run for their money!”  He swung a hard right onto Gaelic Glen Drive.

“Um, Zach, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Nancy asked.  “This is a housing development—it looks kind of like a dead end—”

“We’ve got friends who live on this street,” Zach said.  “It’ll work.  Trust me!”

Some cars were parked along the curbs, but the lane was wide enough Zach had no trouble getting through.  His move hadn’t fooled the crooks, who took the same turn and continued on the hot rod’s tail.  However, they couldn’t go quite as fast as Zach, who navigated each twist and turn with the skill of a Nascar driver.

“This’ll put us out at 122^nd,” he said.  “If I’m fast enough, I think I can lose them!”

Down the street they sped, the speedometer climbing in the Bel Air.  Thirty-forty-fifty—certainly faster than any expert would recommend for such a narrow road.

“Isn’t this speeding?” Susan asked.

“I wish a cop would pull us over,” Nancy said.  “Then we’d have someone to protect us.”

“We’re bound to meet one sooner or later,” Frank commented.  “Oklahoma City has a few.”

“None seem to be around at the moment,” observed Louis.

Twisting his way through the streets, Zach brought them back to 122^nd.  “Anyone coming?” he asked.  Without waiting for an answer, he swerved out into the street.

An astonished tanker driver quickly applied the brakes.  His cargo swayed, shook, shivered—but did not fall over, coming neatly to a stop along with his truck.  Eyes wide, the driver watched as Zach swerved out into the street, cut over to the right, and disappeared onto another side street.

“My rebuild!” he exclaimed.  “My first rebuild!  What a beautiful car!”

Remembering the good ‘ol days of nuts, bolts, and oil stains, he didn’t see the Sonata pull out into traffic, then take the turn down the same road that Zach took.

“Aw, nuts!” exclaimed Louis.  “They’re still on us!”

“Are they?” said Zach.  “Well, at least they’re not shooting.”

Bam!  Bam!  Bam!

“Can I take that back?” Zach asked.

“Certainly,” said Frank, “but I think you’d better go faster.”

“Not a bad idea.”  Zach zoomed down Olde Warwick Drive, then spun left on Woodridge—tires squealing.  He barely had time to check for oncoming traffic, and he was pretty sure the Sonata didn’t, as it followed.

“That guy’s driving like a maniac,” said Zach, “and if he doesn’t pay attention, then that’s how we’ll lose him.”

Reaching McArthur, he hooked left again—this time, heading north.

“Watch out for that school bus!” Nancy shouted.

“I see it!”  Zach barely got in the lane ahead of it, as the bus driver honked angrily.  “Any of those bullets hit us?”

“Not yet,” said Frank, “but we might want to stick to busier roads.  They didn’t shoot at us until that side street.”

“Well, we’re going to have to get on another one,” said Zach.  “It’s our best chance to lose them.”

“Can we?” Susan asked.

“You’ll see in a minute.”

The light for 122^nd was red, but Zach made a right turn, speeding past the NW Oklahoma City Library.  This building was marked by its oil derrick architecture, but the occupants of the Hyundai Sonata didn’t notice that as they skittered around the corner.  Barnette had an evil grin over his face as he pursued the car.

“Let’s put ‘em out of commission for good,” he said.  “These kids are making me sick.”

“But Mugs!” exclaimed one.  “What would the boss think?”

“Who cares what the boss’d think?  He’s never met me.  We can always tell Vince to tell him it was an accident—”

“They’re going down another side street,” the thug in the backseat pointed out.

“Are they?” Mugs smiled.  “Excellent.  Prepare to open fire on them again!”

Once they rounded the corner, they found that the Bel Air was much farther away than they’d expected.  Sixty-seventy-eighty-ninety-

“Glad these lights are all green!” said Zach.  “Alright, hold onto your seats!  I can’t keep this up much longer!”

“They’re not dropping back!” gasped Nancy.  “They must be going ninety too!”

Bam!  Bam!  Bam!

More shots flew through the air, barely missing the car.  Zach swerved a bit, quickly straightening out.

“How could you miss, Sal?”  Barnette glared at his passenger.  “Let Fred give it a try.  Hand him the pistol.”

“Watch those taillights,” Fred snarled.  “I’ll light ‘em up so fast, they’ll—”

All at once, the taillights lit up—so fast, the crooks almost didn’t realize what they were seeing.  The Bel Air skidded several feet down the road—perfectly straight—gradually losing speed until its momentum had dropped to twenty-five.  Suddenly, it hooked to the right, onto a cross street.  Barnette started to do the same—

“They’re coming back!” yelled Fred.  He fired, but his first shot was too early—his second too late.  The Bel Air sped across the intersection and disappeared, heading east.  Barnette was crossed up—he didn’t do anything for a minute, just held the wheel.

And that proved to be his mistake…because Meridian had run out!

The Sonata skidded off the road, then bounced down a hill until it came to Lake Hefner Drive.  Barnette fought with the wheel, but the front tires had come off the ground, rendering his steering useless.  Plunging through the barrier at the other side, the Sonata flew through the air—

Then splashed magnificently into Lake Hefner!

As it did its best submarine imitation, sinking to the bottom of the glassy blue lake, three suddenly-waterlogged crooks threw off their seatbelts and struggled to get out.

“It worked!” Nancy yelled.  “They’re in the lake!”

Zach held up his right hand, and Frank gave him a high five.  “Their aim wasn’t very good,” the oldest Anderson celebrated.  “Not even a scratch.”

“It’s hard to hit a moving target,” Zach agreed.  “What I’m concerned about are the seats.  You all didn’t spill anything back there, did you?”

“We’ve just been shot at, and you’re worried about our milkshakes?  Oh, Zach!” Nancy groaned.

Louis winked at the driver.  “Everything’s A-OK.”

“That’s good.”  Zach checked the rearview mirror once again.  “Huh, no police on our tails!  I guess they didn’t realize I was going ninety.  Oh, well.”  As he turned onto Highway 74 South, he smiled.  “That car will be so waterlogged, we won’t need to worry about any more—”

“Hey!” a voice yelled, as a motor rumbled up next to the car.  Zach looked up in time to see a big-wheeled GMC drive up in the left lane.  The window was rolled down, and a man leaned out, waving his arms at the vehicle.

“Awesome car, man!” the guy yelled.  “Awesome!”

A sigh of relief escaped Zach, and he nodded back at the guy.  Braking a bit, he allowed the truck to pass.  Then, he pulled into the lane behind it and remained there until it was time to get on I-240 West.

They didn’t have any other trouble on the way back to Norman.