Boosted (In The Fast Lane)

by Arya Cole

  When she got home that evening it dawned on her that it was Friday night. That is, it was exactly one week since she had first met Brody. To think, she hadn’t even wanted to go out that night. Now she couldn’t even imagine what her life would have been like if she had declined as she originally intended. It was even possible that she owed Julia a “thank you” for forcing her to go out that night. Serendipity was a powerful thing, just not powerful enough to overcome her locking herself in her apartment that night.

  She thought about what he might be doing at this very moment. He could be behind the wheel of a stolen car right now. She caught herself beginning to worry about him. She knew he could take care of himself. She knew this wasn’t the first risk he’d ever taken. In all likelihood whatever job it was would go off without a hitch, allowing them to be together without a specter hanging over their relationship. She just had to make it through the uncertainty of this weekend. Then, and only then, could she breathe a sigh of relief and make some attempt to convince to reform his life.

  It would not be an easy task. In fact, she wasn’t fully convinced that she even wanted him to reform. There was no denying that the thought of him doing something dangerous turned her on. Was this temporary excitement worth it? Could she really see herself living vicariously through his exploits for the foreseeable future? How much longer could he press his luck before he crashed and burned? She couldn’t live with herself if she encouraged him. She had to make her feelings known the next time she saw him.

  “I just have to make it through this weekend,” she said aloud to herself. She said it again and again as if it were an incantation that would magically solve all of her problems.

  “I just have to make it through this weekend.”

  It wasn’t helping. She knew it was a false hope to believe that everything would be solved, that it was only a matter of “one last job.” He had never promised that nor had he really even implied it. Still, she repeated her desperate refrain.

  “I just have to make it through this weekend.”

  Over and over again she said it. Evening became night. She tried to watch TV, tried to read, tried to do work. All the while she said it.

  “I just have to make it through this weekend.”

  Just this weekend.

  FITEEN

  The Crash

  Brody awoke at six and was in position by seven. He had found a nice spot to park his car a few blocks from the car wash. It was a twenty-four hour grocery store with a high turnover of cars where his car wasn’t likely to be noticed. He could probably leave it there all week if it came to that. As a precaution he still removed any trace of himself from the car. If the cops found the car they could still probably track him down. It wasn’t the police he was worried about. He could handle the police.

  From there he walked over to his lookout spot. He had found an old single screen movie theater, abandoned for over a decade, that stood as high as a three story building. It had become a ruin long before the days of ubiquitous alarms and security cameras. With no one up yet that early on a Saturday Brody was able to climb to the top with ease.

  A ladder had been attached to the side of the building so that some poor kid could adjust the floodlights on top for big opening nights during the summer. The floodlights were still there, perched over the cracked marquee, long ago burned out. They had become the home of birds, bugs, and dust in succession. Now they became a shield for Brody’s activities and a source of shade from the rising sun.

  From this place he had a view of the road down from the colonel’s mansion. There would be no need to follow him today. All he had to do was watch for him to descend into the town for his weekly appointment. He had brought a few supplies with him. A pair of binoculars, a mask, a pistol. A couple bottles of water to sustain him if the day became long. A few cigarettes to keep his nerves calm. He settled himself in and began his long vigil.

  The stakeouts of the previous week had done him well. He patiently waited as he had done every day before. The temptation to succumb to boredom was always there, of course. But the singularity of his purpose managed to sustain Brody’s focus. He hoped he would never have to do a job this intensive again. Stealing cars was one thing. Stealing a specific car from an Iranian warlord was another.

  The hours dragged by as the sun rose to its pinnacle. Brody’s shade disappeared. He began to sweat. His eyes stung. Shit, he thought. Should have brought sunglasses. He began to think about the consequences if he was wrong. If the car never came down the road. If the colonel’s line at the car was the week before had just been a figure of speech. There would be a number of problems. Sergei was foremost in his mind. He would not be happy.

  So far Brody had been able to remain on his good side. But he knew that if he came up empty there would be hell to pay. There were also Sergei’s connections to consider. Even if Sergei himself didn’t seek reparation for the slight, it was sure that his associates would. It was even possible that the clients in Iran would find out exactly who it was that had let them down. If these people thought stealing the colonel’s most prized possession was a joke, Brody would hate to see them when they were feeling serious.

  The sun now trekked further west. The day crawled along. Brody tried to remember what time it was when the BMW made its trip the previous week. He hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t bothered to make a note of it. Stupid. He knew he should have been more diligent. Now he was trapped up on a roof, spending what could be the last full day of his life baking in the fucking sun. Now if he failed he’d not only be frustrated and tired, but he’d be a big red burnt target for whoever wanted to punish him for it. And worst of all, he’d run out of fucking cigarettes.

  Just when he’d finally reached his boiling point, Brody received a glimmer of hope in the form of a boxy European car coming down from the mansions. Brody raised the binoculars to his eyes. Through his enhanced vision he could see that it was in fact his old friend the colonel. By the look of it he also seemed to be in the car alone. It was perfect. Exactly as Brody had wanted it. Perfect, that is, until Brody spotted something else. Behind the BMW was a black town car, the kind that he had often seen the bodyguards at the mansion using. Holy shit. This was not what he needed. Not today.

  Better get moving. It was now or never. He packed up his things except for the gun, which he tucked into the back of his pants, and the mask which he held in his hand. He descended the ladder quickly. Best lessen the risk of someone accidentally peeking through their window and catching a glimpse of him. He jumped off a few rungs from the bottom and landed unevenly on the broken pavement below. He reprimanded himself quietly. It was another stupid move. He wouldn’t be able to pull this off with a twisted ankle. He was taking enough chances already without creating new ones as he went along.

  He walked the block that separated him from the car wash, easily beating the approaching cars. The BMW pulled into the entrance to the car wash while the town car pulled around to the exit. Good. At the very least they had left him a window of opportunity. He didn’t know why the tail car was there and it didn’t much matter. He was still going to go for it. He hid around a corner across the street while the BMW pulled onto the conveyor. He watched the colonel get out, take his ticket from the attendant, and go inside. The car inched forward through the mouth of the tunnel. He waited until it was fully inside to make his move.

  Brody put on the mask. He removed the gun from his back pocket. It was now armed robbery. So be it. He breathed in and out quickly to hype himself up, get the adrenaline flowing. Then he stepped out from around the corner.

  He jogged across the street and raised the gun. All the sudden it seemed so far away. He was sure that he would be intercepted at any moment.

  “Hey!” The shout was directed at the attendant. When the attendant turned his head Brody raised the gun. He brought the index finger of his other hand up to his mouth in a shushing motion. He then waved the gun to signal that the attendant should get on the ground. After the shock
of having a gun in his face began to wear off the attendant complied. Brody hurried past him toward the mouth of the car wash. He tucked the gun into his pants. Now came the fun part.

  Brody ran into the inner working of the car wash along the side of the conveyor. Almost instantly he was soaked with hot water. He closed his eyes and pushed forward through the flaps that were covered in soap suds. He was now passing by the window where the customers could see their cars passing by. He reached his hands ahead until he found the back end of the BMW. He made his way forward along the side of it blindly as best he could, running his hands all over the door until he found the handle.

  The car was entering the rinse face when Brody managed the open the door. He was hit hard by the jets of water that pelted the car, temporarily closing the door again. Brody fought through and opened the door again. He climbed inside just as the car was reaching the drying phase. Daylight was beginning to shine through at the terminus of the tunnel. He closed the door to the car and got ready to move. He cleared his eyes, made sure the keys were still in the ignition, and braced for what was the come next. He had no idea what would be waiting for him on the other end. It was possible that the colonel had seen him on the other side of the window. Brody could only imagine the look of shock on his face if that was true.

  The car came through the last of the drying flaps. As they swiped over the windshield Brody began to see what lay on the other end. The colonel had just come outside and was taking his place by the attendants. It appeared that he hadn’t noticed him. It was also clear that the petrified attendant out front hadn’t yet sounded the alarm. That was nice of him. The end of the conveyor was in sound. The army of attendants stood ready, rags in hand, to dry off the car. Not today, boys.

  Brody turned on the ignition. The German engine’s roar echoed through the tunnel. Before anyone outside knew what was going on, Brody shifted the car into gear and stomped down on the gas pedal. The attendants scattered in front of him. As he passed by the colonel, Brody saw out of the corner of his eye the robbed man’s face contorting into a grotesque mask of astonishment. He even thought that he saw him jumping up into the air.

  Brody steered the car over the curb right behind the town car and sped off down the road as fast as the almost thirty year old could take him. In the rearview mirror he saw the colonel running to the car. Brody only had a few seconds before they would be after him. He tore off the mask. If he had made a clean getaway he would have taken the highway. Unfortunately, that did not look like it was going to be the case. It would have to be the surface streets. Hopefully he could evade them within the first few miles. The lack of pickup on the car certainly added an extra degree of difficulty to that goal.

  He snaked around turns slowing down slightly with each one. He didn’t need a cop chasing him in addition to his other problems. Stashing the car was now out of the question. They’d be too close behind and were probably calling for backup already. He had to make the run. He just had to hope it went as smoothly as possible. It did for the first sixty seconds or so. He had good luck with the traffic lights and hadn’t yet run into an impediments.

  He heard the town car before he saw it. It screeched around a corner a block behind him. Fuck. They must have seen him as they were coming down the street perpendicular to him. They gained on him quick and Brody was forced to once again push the car to its limit. Still the town car gained. The one fucking time I wish I was in a Ferrari, Brody thought to himself. The town car was almost level to him now. He’d having to do something desperate.

  Brody slammed on the brakes. The town car shot past him. He jerked the wheel of the BMW and u-turned into the opposite lane, narrowly avoiding a collision with an oncoming car. He then took an immediate right hand turn and floored the gas pedal. He wasn’t sure if the colonel was willing to damage his car with, say, bullet holes and he didn’t want to find out. He couldn’t afford to let them get that close again.

  They were around the corner a few seconds after him, before he’d even had the opportunity to make another turn. Whoever the colonel had hired to do the driving was earning his money today. Brody zigzagged through the streets. Straight-aways weren’t going to be his friend. The little jackrabbit of a BMW may not have been as fast, but it handled better than the bulky town car. He could at least keep some separation by turning as much as possible. He couldn’t go on like this forever though. Eventually he would have to lose them or they would simply follow him all the way to the garage.

  He knew he was going to have to do something drastic soon. They couldn’t go on like this much longer without attracting police attention. Obviously they were well over the speed limit and they had already run several red lights as well. He began to go over the map of the routes he had scouted in his head. He had largely abandoned them out of desperation at this point. He navigated back to the nearest one so that he would at least have familiarity on his side. Once he was back on course he didn’t have to think about the actual driving. He was free to plot how to get the colonel off his tail.

  The BMW raced along a wide boulevard, weaving in and out of cars. Traffic was getting heavier. This was a benefit to him for the time being but full-on gridlock would be deadly. At the next red light a wall of cars awaited him. Brody shifted over to the far right lane, hopped over the sidewalk, and made the right turn. Luckily, this brought him onto his secondary surface street route (which was Plan C in the grand scheme of things). It wasn’t long, however, before the town car was back on his tail and once again gaining ground on him.

  He wasn’t going to be able to lose them. That was becoming clearer by the second. The BMW was too old and the town car driver was too skilled. He would have to do it the hard way. So be it. He hadn’t wanted anyone to get hurt. But better them than him. Using the gun probably wasn’t a good idea, not against experienced opposition like this. It would have to be something else. He needed them to crash.

  The engine was getting dangerously close to the red. Obviously a car like this wasn’t used to being pushed so hard. He would have to make his move now. There was a one-way street up ahead. Perfect. Brody took an abrupt left and went the wrong way down the one-way, dodging the stream of oncoming cars. The town car followed and did the same. They made their way down the block in reckless fashion, narrowly avoiding head-on collisions all along the way. The next major intersection was coming up. There was no traffic light, no way to tell what was coming. It was a blind leap of faith.

  Brody reached the intersection without slowing down. He saw on his left there was an oncoming tractor trailer. There was no way either one of them would be able to stop in time. Brody gunned it. He eked past the skidding truck and made it to the other side, where he still had to deal with oncoming traffic. The town car disappeared behind the tractor trailer and for a moment Brody thought he was home free. But then he saw the town car snaking its way through the quickly escalating traffic pileup and following him once again.

  Motherfucker. Brody couldn’t believe it. What was it going to take to get rid of him? For the first time he lost his confidence. What if he just wasn’t good enough to get himself out of this jam? He had always been able to drive himself out of any problem. Today was no time for that streak to end. He’d take this fucker, no matter what the cost.

  As soon as he found an opening in the traffic coming from the opposite direction, Brody slammed down on the brakes while turning the wheel all the way around. The car spun. Once it had completed its one-eighty Brody corrected and stepped on the gas once again. He was now heading straight for the town car. This was it. A showdown of nerves. A game of chicken with everything on the line. Who would blink first? Was the colonel really willing to destroy the car (and perhaps himself) in order for it not to be stolen?

  They headed straight for each other. There was about a hundred yards of space between them at the start and it diminished rapidly. Brody’s head was clear. He had made peace with his decision. If they wanted to hit him head on then it would at least be a quick, clea
n ending.

  The other car swerved slightly. Uh uh. Not today, buddy boy. We’re doing this right here, right now. You’re not getting off that easy. Brody swerved along with him so that they were head to head again. The distance had closed dramatically. They were only seconds away from impact. Now it just came down to who would blink first. Brody could see all three men in the town car. The two bodyguards up front and the colonel in the back leaning forward between them. Brody stared them down as he rushed forward. In another moment they would reach the point of impact.

  That moment never came. Brody saw it all happen from his first row seat. With only a second to spare, the colonel reached up, took hold of the wheel, and swerved the car wildly out of the way.

  Brody, never altering his course, sped past. In the rearview mirror he witnessed the aftermath. The car had hopped up on the curb at full speed. The passenger side corner clipped the wall. As the driver tried to over correct the car turned over on its opposite side and nearly end up upside down. They wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

  Now free to go at a sane and sensible pace, Brody made his way to the garage without any further trouble. He doubted that the colonel would go to the police for help. Within half an hour he had arrived at the waterfront and was making his way through the labyrinth of the docks. He arrived at the garage and was relieved to find Sergei’s goon manning the door. He was only seconds away from delivery when he could collect his money and finally wash his hands of the whole affair.

  Sergei was there waiting for him with a big smile on his face. He looked like a proud father whose son had just hit a home run during a little league game. Sergei probably didn’t even know what baseball was, so maybe it wasn’t the best analogy. Still, Brody felt like he could hug him in that moment. He hopped out of the car and presented it with a flourish.