sidewayz glory (11 page)

“Have him bring it here,” Kennin said.

“Are you crazy?” Tito gasped.

go up to the fifth level,” Kennin said, “and make sure he parks between two cars.”

Tito's jaw dropped. “I get it! With all the cars in this place, it'll take the cops forever to work their way up!”

Kennin pointed at the phone. “He's running out of time.”

Tito pressed the phone to his ear. “Raoul? Bring the car to the Babylon. The parking garage. Go up to the fifth level and park between some cars.”

Tito was just about to disconnect when Kennin thought of something else. “Ask him if he's wearing his driving gloves.”

“Huh?” Tito scowled at him.

“Just do it,” Kennin urged.

“You wearing gloves?” Tito asked into the phone. “No?”

“Okay, just tell him to get here fast,” Kennin said.

A moment later Tito flipped the phone closed.

“Let's go,” Kennin said as he tossed some chammies into a bucket and headed for the stairs.

“We're gonna wash the car?” Tito asked, confused.

“No, we're gonna wipe the prints. Your cousin's been in jail, remember? It's not enough to just ditch the car. We have to get rid of the evidence, too.”

“We gotta run up five floors?” Tito asked.

“You know a better way to get up there?” Kennin asked back.

“Yeah, the elevator,” Tito said.

“We're not allowed in the casino without permission,” Kennin said. “Mr. Mercado wouldn't want to hear that his two car washers were in the elevators on their way upstairs to wipe a stolen car.”

“Dude, can I ask you a question?” Tito huffed and panted as they climbed the stairs. “How do you know about all this stuff? Like wiping cars and crap. What were you back in Pasadena, a professional car thief?”

“We've still got three floors to go,” Kennin answered. “Better save your breath.”

The fifth floor was only half-filled with cars. There were plenty of open spaces for Raoul to stick the vehicle he'd stolen.

“I have to hand it to you, Kennin,” Tito said as he caught his breath from climbing the stairs. “This is frickin' brilliant. LoJack may be good horizontally, but it don't work
so good vertically. The cops are gonna have to go through four floors' worth of cars before they get here.”

“Unless they decide to start at the top and work their way down,” Kennin reminded him.

Tito's eyes bulged. “Oh, crap, that's right!”

They could hear the sound of screeching tires in the distance, gradually growing louder.

“So what happened to Cousin Raoul's gardening business?” Kennin asked.

Tito shrugged. “Guess it was too much work for not enough money. The last time I saw him, he complained that he was clearing eight hundred a week busting his hump in the sun all day. He said boosting cars he could make the same amount in a couple of hours.”

The screech of skidding tires and the wail of police sirens were growing louder.

“Crime pays well until you get caught,” Kennin said.

“You speaking from experience?” Tito asked.

There was a loud skidding squeal below them as a car raced into the parking garage. They listened to the engine rev as it climbed the ramps toward the top level. Kennin reached into the bucket and tossed Tito a chammie. “You take the outside. Door handles, window frames, trunk, anything you think Raoul might have touched. I'll get the inside.”

Tito started to look excited. “What do you think it'll be, huh? Another GTO? Or a 'vette? Maybe a Benz or a Beemer?”

From the sound of the exhaust, Kennin already knew it was Japanese and a four-cylinder. A second later a red Camry swung around the corner and sped up toward them.

“A Camry?” Tito sounded disgusted.

As soon as Kennin saw the car, he knew Raoul was working for a professional ring. Tito's cousin wasn't out for a joyride this time. Camrys were stolen for one reason: to sell to chop shops, where they could be dismantled and the parts sold for considerably more than the car was worth.

Kennin waved at Raoul to park between a Benz and a Volvo. Tito's cousin screeched the car to a stop and jumped out. Raoul was an older guy with short-cropped brown hair. His eyebrows, ears, and lip were pierced, and both arms were almost entirely covered with dark sleeves of tattoos. “Guys, I don't know how to thank you!”

The sound of more squealing tires came from below as the cops arrived.

“Figure it out someplace else,” Kennin said. “Right now, just get the hell out of here.”

Raoul bolted for the exit. Meanwhile, things had grown quiet below. Kennin had a feeling the cops were hatching a plan.

“Raoul!” Kennin hissed just as Tito's cousin reached the door to the stairs. “Don't take the stairs! Take the elevator down to the casino. Go play blackjack for a couple of hours.”

“Gotcha.” Raoul disappeared through the exit. Tito started wiping down the outside of the car. Kennin got in and wiped the steering wheel, the shifter, and anything else Raoul might have touched.

Suddenly Tito straightened up. He grabbed the car door and pulled it open. “I hear voices,” he whispered. “They're close!”

“Time to bounce,” Kennin whispered back, getting out of the Camry and wiping away any trail of prints he might have left in the process.

“Come on!” Tito hissed nervously.

Kennin pressed a finger against his lips, and they headed for the doorway that led to the stairs. Kennin quietly opened the door, but stopped.

“What's wrong?” Tito whispered.

“Footsteps coming up the stairs.” Kennin slowly let the door close again.

Tito quickly looked around and got jumpy. “What're we gonna do?” he gasped. “We can't go down and we can't stay here or we'll get caught.”

“This way,” Kennin whispered, and started to jog up the ramp.

“But that just leads to the top level,” Tito said. “If the cops find the car and not the driver, they're gonna think he went up here.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Crap!” Tito muttered.

They ran up to the roof level. The December night air
was cold. Except for half a dozen cars, the top level was empty. Just concrete and yellow lined spaces. Under the vast starlit sky above, they quickly looked around for a place to hide. “There!” Tito pointed at the square concrete elevator housing.

“No!” Kennin said. “That's exactly where they'd expect us to hide.”

“Then where?” Tito asked.

Kennin looked around and pointed.

Tito frowned. “There's nothing but a wall.”

Kennin knew that. He also knew that the cops were going to be there in less than a minute.

They reached the wall and Kennin looked over the side. Except for a row of stubby cell phone antennas bolted to the outside wall about two feet below the ledge, it was six stories straight down to the street.

“Come on,” Kennin said, and started to shimmy over the ledge.

Tito froze. “Are you insane?”

“You want to get nailed?” Kennin asked.

Tito didn't answer. With wide eyes he watched as Kennin slid over the ledge and carefully lowered himself onto a cell phone antenna, straddling it as if it was a tree branch. When it didn't break off under Kennin's weight, Tito decided to give it a try, carefully inching over the ledge and letting himself down onto the antenna next to Kennin's.

Now they were both perched six stories up on the outside
wall of the parking garage, straddling cell phone antennas, their feet hanging in the air. Cars passed on the street below and couples strolled along the sidewalk. One slip and it was six stories straight down. Tito held the cell phone antenna so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I don't like this,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Relax,” Kennin whispered back. More cars passed on the streets below, and some kind of bird glided past above, lit from beneath by the thousands of watts of neon and incandescent lights.

“Relax? Are you out of your frickin' mind?” Tito raised his voice. “How am I supposed to relax?”

“Shut it!” Kennin hissed. “Enjoy the view.”

“The things I frickin' let you talk me into,” Tito muttered.

“Don't thank me, thank Cousin Raoul.”

“If I knew I was gonna wind up risking my life for that idiot,” Tito said, “I would have let the cops get him.”

Suspended on the outside wall, Kennin couldn't hear what was happening with the cops. It was impossible to even know if they'd gotten up to the roof level yet. He heard a loud roar approaching and looked up as a jet passed overhead, the dark underside appearing a lot closer than it would have at street level.

“How long we gonna have to stay here?” Tito whispered after the jet passed.

“Till they leave,” Kennin whispered back.

“How're we gonna know when that is?” Tito asked.

Just then a deep male voice came from the other side of the wall: “Let's try up here.”

Tito's eyes went wide. He and Kennin could hear footsteps on the roof level.

“Look on top of the elevator,” someone said.

“And under those cars, too.”

On the other side of the wall, Tito and Kennin stared at each other for a while. Then Kennin tilted his head back till it touched the wall, and closed his eyes. A slight breeze fluttered his hair, and he felt a shiver. The night air was cold and they weren't wearing jackets. There was nothing to do but “hang around” and wait.

They heard footsteps and grunts as cops got down on their knees and looked under cars. Now and then the beam of a flashlight would swing over the ledge above them. Then Kennin heard a loud scrape just a few feet away on the other side of the wall, and a voice said, “I'm going to look over here.”

cell phone antenna, Kennin stared at Tito. The kid's eyes were bugging out of his head, and his mouth hung open, his lower lip quivering. Kennin quickly shook his head. A flashlight beam swung right over them.

Kennin heard heavy breathing. Tito's mouth was agape and he was staring straight down. The kid was freaking. Kennin let go of the antenna with one hand and reached over, placing it on Tito's shoulder to steady him. Tito quickly swiveled his head toward Kennin. His face was pale and speckled with sweat.

Kennin mouthed the words, “Don't look down.” Tito took a deep breath and nodded.

A minute later a voice above them said, “No sign of anyone.”

“He must've gone into the casino,” said someone else. “Maybe took the elevator down.”

“If he's in the casino, at least we know the perp must be eighteen.”

“Or he looks eighteen.”

Footsteps began to move away. Perhaps twenty seconds passed, and then Tito started to stretch up as if to look over the edge. Once again Kennin grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head. It was too soon. A favorite trick of the cops was to pretend to leave and then see who popped up.

So they stayed where they were. Kennin heard chattering teeth. They were Tito's. At least once a minute the guy would whisper, “Now?” and Kennin would shake his head. The longer they waited the better. Finally, when even Kennin couldn't stand waiting anymore, they climbed back over the ledge.