“Business looks good,” noted Archer in a friendly tone. He really did not want to have to try his luck with the aluminum knuckles against a man the size of this one. He doubted he could reach Lester’s chin to see if, despite his size, it was made of glass.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Lester was the only one to smile at his little joke, and it was a weak, grim effort.
In a separate room behind another set of locked slider doors was a vehicle draped with a brown canvas tarp. Lester flicked on a light and glanced at Howells, who nodded.
Archer stood next to Callahan, who had reached out and clutched his arm, as though what was about to be revealed was a wild animal instead of something you drove on the road.
Lester grabbed one end of the tarp and with one tug pulled it free of what was underneath.
“Damn,” Archer and Callahan said collectively.
Howells stepped forward and rubbed the silver trim on the side of the bloodred car, which also had a red convertible top that was now set in the down position.
“Folks, feast your eyes on a 1939 Delahaye Model One Sixty-Five, Figoni and Falaschi convertible cabriolet.”
Callahan gushed, “It…it looks like it’s floating on air.”
Archer eyed the long hood, which ended in a shiny grille that ran from top to bottom on the front of the vehicle like a knight’s metal vestments. Its front and rear fenders looked like waves crashing on a beach and enormous teardrop-shaped pearls, respectively. There were slashes of chrome trim on the sides and running along the bottom of the chassis. It rode so low that he could see only the bare bottoms of the whitewall tires.
“It looks…more like a dream than a car,” said Archer quietly.
Lester said, “It ain’t no dream, buddy. This baby weighs three thousand pounds, has a twelve-cylinder all-aluminum, four-point-five-liter engine, triple overhead cam, three downdraft Solex carburetors, and a four-speed transmission, with a top speed of around a hundred and fifteen miles an hour.”
“Holy hell,” said Callahan. “Just the car you want if you’re robbing a bank.”
This comment made Howells and Archer exchange a startled look.
“Figoni and Falaschi?” said Archer.
Lester replied, “Figoni and Falaschi were the designers of the car. Delahaye was an engineer and he didn’t have an in-house body shop. He built the mechanics of the car and left the body design to coachbuilders, like Figoni and Falaschi. They make really pretty cars. They’re I-talians.”
Howells said, “So what say you, Archer?”
Archer pointed at the front seat. “Well, for starters, the steering wheel’s on the wrong side.”
“No, the steering wheel is on the right side for the simple fact that it was built for an Englishman, and that is where a steering wheel is located over there,” said Howells.
“I’m not English,” said Archer. “And I’m over here, not there.”
“So do you want it or not?” said Howells.
“I can’t decide on buying a car I haven’t driven.”
“Fair enough. Lester, the key?”
Lester slipped a key off a hook on the wall and held it out to Archer. “You ever driven anything like this?”
“Hell, I’ve never seen anything like this, pal. What a sheltered life I’ve led.”
“You want me to drive it out of the garage for you, so you won’t bang nothing up?”
Archer reached out and took the key from him. “I got it.”
Lester held his hand up without the key for longer than was necessary. For a moment, Archer thought the hand would change to a fist and be swung at him. With his free hand he felt for the aluminum knuckles in his pocket. He would have preferred a howitzer.
But Lester shrugged, lowered his arm, and said, “You break it you bought it, mister.”
“Let’s go, Liberty,” said Archer.
“What, me?”
“I don’t see anybody else named Liberty hanging around.”
They climbed into the car, and Lester pushed the other door open, providing a wide space for the Delahaye to roll through.
Archer put the key in the ignition and turned it. Then he hit the starter button, and the car purred to life with suppressed power.
“Sounds like a lion yawning,” said Callahan.
Howells grinned. “This beast hasn’t been out of its cage. It needs to run free.”
Archer worked the clutch and put the car in gear using the tiny gearshift that was mounted on the steering column. The steering wheel was the same color as the car. It was like he was holding a circle of fire in his hands. He was relieved that there was no grinding sound as he geared up, and they pulled through the opening. They passed the other humbled cars, which seemed to bow to the Delahaye like a pride to its king. As they rolled through the double doors, Archer turned on the headlights; they overcame the darkness with stunning visibility.
Howells and Lester followed them out.
“Which way should we go?” Archer asked.
“Well, first things first. Move over, gal,” said Howells to Callahan.
“What?” said Callahan, staring up wide-eyed at the old man.
“You think I’m going to let you ride off into the night all by your lonesome in the most beautiful car ever built before giving me a dime for it?”
“I’m no car thief,” said Archer.
“Glad you think so. I’m not convinced myself.”
“I can ride with them,” said Lester.
“Hell, Lester,” said Howells. “I don’t think you would fit in there if it was just you.”
Callahan slid over tight to Archer, and Howells climbed into the car, crowding the other two. “Now go west, young man,” he said pointing to the left. “That way.”
Archer pulled onto the road and pressed down the gas.
Howells pursed his lips. “Come on, Archer. Let it rip.”
Archer mashed the pedal down.
The acceleration was immediate, popping their heads back and exhilaratingly so.
“My goodness,” exclaimed Callahan. “If this car was a man, I think I’d propose.”
Chapter 8
SO HOW MUCH ARE YOU ASKING FOR IT?” Archer said as they spun around a tight curve in the road before reaching a long straightaway.
Howells scratched his cheek and then smoothed down both ends of his white mustache. “Like I said, there’s only five known One Sixty-Fives around. And a fellow in Beverly Hills, California, just bought one for $12,000.”
“Christ Almighty,” yelled Callahan.
In her agitation she hit Archer’s arm, and he nearly drove the car off the road and into some cacti. Archer quickly righted the vehicle and slowed. He looked down at his hands holding the wheel of a $12,000 car. That amount of money was unimaginable to someone like him. It was far more than a house cost. To his mind, it was far more than anything should cost.
“I don’t have $12,000, Bobby H. And I don’t know anyone who does besides Rockefeller, and I don’t know him.”
“Well, I didn’t say that’s what I was asking for it. I was just conveying some information to lend you some perspective.”
“Well, you’d have to lend me the twelve grand too.”
“You said your gambling debts were $1,850,” Callahan reminded him.
“Well, yes, but I can’t let it go for just that. I’m many things, but an idiot is not one of them.”
“Then I’m not your man.”
“Now hold on, Archer, I’m in a bit of a dilemma, obviously, so let’s just have a discussion on what might be possible.”
“Well, $12,000 will never be possible.”
Callahan said, “Let’s hear the man out.”
“Okay, but that’s going to have to wait,” said Archer as he glanced in the mirror.
“Why?” asked Callahan.
“Because we have company and they’re coming fast.”
Both Howells and Callahan shot looks behind them to see a pair of headlights coming with alarmin
g velocity toward them.
“Hold on to whatever you need to,” said Archer calmly. Then he asked for everything the Delahaye had to give by pushing the pedal all the way to the floor. And the loveliest car in the world responded with the heart of a champion.
They shot far ahead of the chase vehicle, which Archer had seen in the moonlight was a big-butted, two-tone Buick with a long hood and whitewall tires. It wasn’t the Buick that had been parked in front of Lester’s place, so Archer doubted it was the giant back there. The car receded so fast into the darkness that for a moment Archer imagined he might be on a plane about to take off.
Yet no car or plane could outrun a bullet.
Archer cut the wheel to the right and then the left as shots flew past them.
Callahan shrieked and fell sideways onto Archer’s lap as Howells dove to the floorboard.
Archer draped one hand over the doorframe and used that as a fulcrum to keep himself rigidly in place as he continued to steer the car in evasive maneuvers. The Delahaye executed every one of these movements with surprising agility for such a heavy car.
“Aren’t you scared?” said Callahan, lifting her head and looking up at him as he nimbly whipped the car through a hail of bullets.
“Sure I am. But I got used to people shooting at me in the war, Liberty,” he said. “And if you get so scared you can’t do something about it, then you probably deserve to die.”
A bullet glanced off the metal post supporting the windscreen, dinging it.
“Son of a bitch!” screamed Howells, rising up and looking back at the Buick. “They put a mark on this car. That’s…that’s like wiping varnish over the Mona Lisa. It’s…it’s blasphemy is what it is.”
“If you say so,” replied Archer. “And while it rides nice, it’s a little heavy in the turns, Bobby H. You might want to check the front alignment.”
“That’s crap, Archer,” roared Howells. “You’re a Philistine who doesn’t know how to dance with a queen.”
Archer cut the wheel to the right, slid into a turn, and said when they came back out on the straightaway, “So, really, how much do you want for this thing?”
“You want to negotiate now!” screamed Callahan as the Buick appeared behind them and commenced firing again.
“Well, unless Bobby H has enemies other than the ones he owes the gambling debts to, then I’m thinking that’s them back there. That means they know he has the car now. So how much?”
Howells said sharply, “I can see you’re looking to exploit my current situation with your newfound leverage.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“What’d you say you could afford again?”
“I didn’t. But if you were to ask I’d say the amount of your debt, eighteen fifty.”
“I told you I couldn’t take anything close to that.”
“But that would pay off the boys back there,” pointed out Callahan, who had now risen and sat with her head below the seat top, her long legs bent, her shoes off, and her feet pressed against the dashboard. This position had allowed her dress to float all the way up to the very tops of her stockinged thighs. And under any other conditions Archer would have been mesmerized by the view. But not now.
“I need to do better than that,” said Howells, shaking his head. “As I intimated earlier, I’m probably going to be back in debt soon. I need a cushion to allow for that. You can see that, surely.”
“And you also said you wanted to have a discussion on what might be possible,” noted Archer. “Only I haven’t seen that discussion yet and I’m thinking time is running short, unless the Delahaye has wings.”
Before Howells could respond, Archer downshifted, slammed into a tight turn, and came out high on the curve, then upshifted and laid the pedal to the floor. The Delahaye wound up like a rocket. The landscape was going by so fast that everything was a blur. If another car was up ahead, they were all dead.
“Lester was wrong,” said Archer.
“How so?” asked Howells.
In answer Archer pointed to the speed gauge on the red metal dashboard. “We’re doing a hundred and twenty-one.”
Callahan closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross.
“So about those discussions?” prompted Archer.
Howells took a look behind him, swallowed nervously, clutched the edge of the windscreen tightly, and said, “I can take the eighteen fifty as a start, but there’s got to be more down the road.”
“How exactly does that work?” asked Archer.
“When you get to where you’re going, and get yourself all set up, you send me a hundred dollars a month.”
Archer shook his head. “That’s steep. I might not even make that much.”
“Well, I’m a betting man, Archer, as you know, and I’m betting on you to do just fine out there in California.”
“But for how long do I make the monthly payments?”
“Oh, let’s say six years, and I like you so I’m not even going to charge you interest over that time.”
“Well, I’m starting to like you, too, so let’s say one year and I’ll allow you to continue not charging me interest.”
Howells said, “Three years, Archer. It’s still quite a steal for you. You’ll be driving this car as an old man.”
“Two years for a total of $4,250, and if I can pay it all off early, I will. You have my word.”
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” screamed Callahan as more bullets whizzed by them.
“Okay, that’s a deal,” said Howells.
Archer eyed the mirror. “Great. Liberty, take your gun out of your purse.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to make it useful out here.” There was a sense of urgency in his voice that compelled Callahan to do just as he asked.
She held out the Smith & Wesson. “Now what? Do you want me to start shooting?”
“No. I need you to take the wheel.”
“What! How?”
“Put your hands on the wheel. I’ll slide under you and you go over me. I’ll keep my foot on the gas as long as I can. Soon as you’re in place, you mash it to the floor.”
“Archer, I don’t think I can do this.”
“I wouldn’t be asking unless I knew you could. And Bobby H can’t drive.”
“Oh, Lord help me.”
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” interjected Howells in a knowing manner.
“Oh shut up, you old fool. You got us into this. And I doubt very seriously you of all people know anything about the Lord.”
Archer said, “Go up. Now.”
Callahan put her hands on the wheel, took a deep breath, then arched her back and slid to the right while Archer sunk low and edged to the left. A moment later Archer dropped into the middle of the seat and she into the driver’s. “Floor it,” he called out as he gripped the .38, turned around in the seat so he was facing backward, and lined up his shot through the revolver’s iron sights.
Archer turned to Callahan. “On the count of three start to ease off the gas until you get it down to around sixty.”
“But you said—”
“Just do it, Liberty!”
She gave him a sulky look and waited.
“One…two…three.”
The Delahaye slowed to a hundred and then eighty, and then stuck at sixty as Callahan eyed the speed gauge.
“We’re there,” she said.
The Buick was now catching up fast.
Archer aimed but didn’t fire.
Wait for it, wait for it…
He placed two quick shots into the grill and followed those with one each in the front tires. When he pulled the trigger again, the hammer banged empty. He was out of bullets. But he didn’t need any more.
Steam immediately started pouring out of the Buick’s radiator, covering the windshield in a thick fog. The blown-out front tires wobbled madly, and finally rubber separated from the metal rims, and the treads went spinning off into the darkness.
The
Buick ended up crashed in a ditch while the Delahaye roared triumphantly on.
“Nice shooting there, Archer,” complimented Howells.
Archer sat forward in his seat and looked at Callahan. “You okay to drive?”
“Yes. But I’m sure as hell not going as fast as you did.”
“Okay, the three of us are staying together until the government building opens and we can get the title to the car transferred all official.”
“I got a room,” said Bobby H.
“And I’m sure those boys back there know it, too,” replied Archer. “So that’s out.”
“We can stay at my place,” said Callahan, drawing surprised looks from both men. “Well, it’s got two rooms. One of you can sleep on the couch, the other the floor. I’ll be in the bedroom.”
Howells looked at Archer with a pained expression. “I got me a real bad back, son. Real bad.”
“Of course you do,” said Archer as the Delahaye roared on.
Chapter 9
THEY HAD TO GO UP THE FIRE ESCAPE to Callahan’s place because the landlady was, in Callahan’s words, “an old battle-ax determined not to let young women have any fun.” And that obviously included no men staying the night.
They had parked the car in a lean-to attached to a garage behind Callahan’s building. Archer had found a cover in the trunk and thrown that over the Delahaye.
As she led them into her room via the fire escape and then a window she said, looking at Howells, “Now, she probably wouldn’t mind you. But Archer is definitely a no-no.”
Howells seemed to swell up with indignity. “I may not be as young as I once was, and who among us is, but I’m still a man who can appreciate female beauty when it is so obviously presented to me.”
“Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess,” responded Callahan, giving Archer a funny look.
Howells took the couch, which was lumpy but serviceable. He took off his hat and coat and shoes, revealing toeless socks, and then promptly fell asleep, his soft snores settling over Archer and Callahan as they watched him.
“Exciting times must have exhausted him,” noted Archer, holding his hat and peering down at the man.
A Gambling Man Page 5