Collision Course (13 page)

Frank swore softly under his breath. Too late, he remembered the extra fifteen seconds it had taken McCoy to get out of his car on the day of the crash. And now he's caught me off guard, Frank realized. Right out in the open.

He couldn't make out the driver's identity — his face, from the nose down, was blocked by the lip of the cockpit. But Frank could see his steel gray eyes. They were locked on him, staring through him.

As Frank heard the powerful engine rev up, he knew that the man behind the wheel of the race car was going to try to smash through the wooden barrier and take the narrow outer shoulder around the van. He was willing to risk his life for his freedom—and he wouldn't hesitate to run Frank over if he was in the way.

The driver popped the clutch and the car jumped forward. Frank dove for the side of the van. He looked up to see the race car angling toward the barrier, still not going too fast. Then he heard a familiar rumbling sound. Another car was coming through the tunnel!

The second car slowed and came out of the tunnel to smash into the left rear side of the first one, twisting it sideways on the road. As the back end of the lead car swung around from the impact, the driver bashed his head on the side of the cockpit. The man inside slumped forward, and the engine sputtered and died.

The engine of the other race car revved to a high-pitched whine in triumph. Then it settled back down to a low rumble before the driver switched off the ignition. He climbed out, took off his crash helmet, and ran his hand through his blond hair.

It was Joe. He glanced inside the other car, and then he looked at his brother and smiled. "Looks like a TKD to me. Does that mean I win?"

They pulled Angus McCoy from the cockpit and laid him down gently next to the race car.

Frank reached into the car Joe had been driving and flipped the radio talk-back switch. "You better get an ambulance up here. It looks like the reports of Angus McCoy's death were greatly exaggerated."

A police cruiser escorted the ambulance to the scene. Officer Con Riley got out of the police car, followed by Scott Lavin and Reinhart Voss. "Looks like I was wrong about you boys after all," Riley scowled. "You are a couple of car thieves."

Joe shrugged. "I figured it was only fair to chase down McCoy in a car that belonged to him."

Voss looked over the Formula One machine. "There's no real damage," he concluded. "It's still in pretty good driving condition."

"What's all this about McCoy still being alive?" Riley demanded.

"See for yourself." Frank jerked his thumb towar his shoulder.

A paramedic from the ambulance was helping slightly shaken but unmistakable Angus McCoy to his feet. Joe winked. "Looks like the real McCoy to me."

"Well, I'll be!" Riley exclaimed, pushing his patrolman's hat back on his forehead.

"Before you take him away, we'd like to ask him a few questions," Frank said. "You don't mind, do you, Con?"

Riley frowned. "I don't even know what to charge him with. Impersonating a dead man?"

"Stick around," Joe said. "You might learn something."

McCoy seemed calm and relaxed, almost resigned. But his eyes still radiated a sense of confidence as they locked on Frank. "I should have known you were going to be trouble from the moment I saw you nosing around the crash site."

"You saw us?" Joe asked.

"Sure," Frank said. "He had to be hiding inside the tunnel, watching everything. He had to wait until we all left before he could make his getaway."

"Then what did he do?" Callie wanted to know. "Walk back to town?"

"Well, part of the way," Frank replied. "We found footprints up on the ridge, but he probably had the Lotus hidden in the woods farther down the access road.

"He was going to leave town," Frank continued, "but he got nervous after he saw me pick up that piece of the remote control device. There's probably more evidence around here, too."

Frank turned to McCoy. "My guess is you loosened the bolts on the guardrail to make sure the car went over the edge. Right?"

McCoy shrugged. "You're doing just fine all by yourself. You don't need my help."

"You're right," Frank said. "I don't. McCoy started following us around. When Joe and I split up, he stuck with me since I was the one who found the device in the first place. He followed me to Phil Cohen's house and then back to Scott's garage."

"Right," Joe agreed. "Then he knocked Frank out and tried to make it look like an accident. When he realized Frank wasn't carrying the gizmo, he doubled back to Phil's place, sucker-punched Phil, grabbed the device, and set the fire to cover his tracks."

McCoy frowned slightly. "I'm sorry about your friend. But you forced my hand."

"But that wasn't enough." Frank picked up the story. "McCoy wanted to wipe the slate clean. So he broke into Arno's office, looking for the videotape of the crash, but he couldn't find it. So he tried to throw us off the track again by sabotaging Scott's car, making it look like someone who wanted to win the race was behind the whole thing."

"And when that didn't work," Joe said, "McCoy decided to use us for target practice, but he hit Arno by mistake."

McCoy chuckled softly. "I don't hit people I'm not aiming at."

Frank and Joe exchanged a puzzled glance.

McCoy smiled thinly. "It looks like you boys don't know everything. Arno knew I was up to something. He found out about the Clarco Industries scam I was using to stash my money."

"The canceled checks!" Joe burst out.

McCoy nodded. "Sooner or later Arno would have figured out the whole thing."

"I think he may have caught on a lot quicker than you think," Joe said. "He took out a million-dollar life insurance policy on you!"

"It figures." McCoy sighed. "That two-bit hustler was always trying to cash in on my sweat and blood."

Frank looked at the world champion driver. "You seem to be taking all this pretty well."

McCoy shrugged. "A race car has ten thousand parts. Even if it's 99.9 perfect, there are still ten things that can go wrongBut there's no sense getting mad at the car. My plan wasn't perfect. You won. I lost. No hard feelings."

Con Riley slapped a pair of handcuffs on McCoy and led him away. Joe turned to Scott Lavin and said, "I'm sorry about the way things worked out. This should have been your big day, but now you don't even have a car."

"Oh, but I do!" Scott smiled. He patted Reinhart Voss on the back. "Reinhart made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"It is nothing, really," the German driver said. "I told Scott he could drive my car. As I said before, this race is not that important for me. But for Scott it could mean much. So I said to myself, why not? And with Angus gone, who is there to say no?

"What could be more simple?" Voss went on. "Until you came along and took off in my race car like some crazy person! Lucky for you, the car is all right, and Scott will have his chance after all."

"You mean, after all this, there's still going to be a race?" Callie asked in disbelief.

Joe grinned from ear to ear and clapped Frank on the shoulder. "A Grand Prix race is like the Hardy brothers — nothing stops us!"

The End.