Free Hot Wheels by William Arden Page B

“The cars we saw at The Shack were completely different makes. I’ll bet the band doesn’t steal these cars. They just drive them to Rocky Beach. No one looks closely at them under that graffitti. It’s just a rock band with their painted cars returning from a gig.”
    He jumped up as the last car turned out of the field toward the ocean. “Hurry, guys, we’ve got to see where they take the cars!”
    They ran back to the pickup and bumped and swayed across the dirt out onto the road. Since Tiburon and the band weren’t in their lowriders, they could drive a lot faster. But Ty gunned along the narrow, twisting road while Bob and Jupe hung on. Soon, they caught up with the rear car in the procession of phony lowriders.
    “If those are stolen cars,” Bob said, “how did they get into the parking lot. And where are the real cars the band drives?”
    “My guess is that the cars were stolen earlier, graffitied, and parked by other members of the ring,” Jupiter said.
    “Yeah, stealing cars right takes experience,” Ty said. “Lots of cars are swiped by joy-riding kids, and they get caught fast if they don’t dump the car after a quick spin. But pros spot the car they want and pick the safest time to grab it and get off the road pronto. I’d say Jupe’s right — the real thieves grab them, paint them, and park them. Then the band drives them home.”
    “But how does the band get here?” asked Bob.
    Ty shrugged. “Somebody drives them! Maybe in the van. Or maybe the band picks up the stolen cars someplace nearby and shows up at the gig in them.”
    “Okay, if pros steal the cars,” said Bob, “why do they need Tiburon and the Piranhas? Why don’t the pros drive them to the chop-shop themselves?”
    “Because the big risk in any caper like this is the cops’re sure to know the pros,” Ty said. “They’re the first guys to be picked up. If a car gets reported stolen, every cop in the area looks for known thieves. And stool pigeons are always ready to talk.”
    “Most arrests are made on tips against known crooks,” Jupiter pointed out.
    “It’s a smart gimmick to have pros steal them, and get someone the cops don’t suspect to drive them to the shop,” Ty said.
    “Whatever the reason,” Jupiter said, “it looks like Tiburon’s job isn’t to steal the cars but to deliver them. So if we follow him, we should find the gang’s headquarters. ”
    “What about the car Tiburon got Ty to drive down to Rocky Beach?” Bob asked. “How does that fit in? It wasn’t even graffitied.”
    “No.” Jupiter thought. “My guess is that it was an extra car Tiburon stole for himself, maybe after his gig that night.”
    Ty said, “He sure took a gamble by getting some guy like me to ferry it down. I’ll bet the bossman was hopping mad.”
    “Since the band wasn’t going to drive it,” Jupiter added, “he wouldn’t graffiti it.”
    “Jupe!” Bob stared ahead.
    A large trailer truck pulled out of a side road and made a wide turn onto the canyon road. It blocked both lanes. Ty had to stop until the big eighteen-wheeler straightened out and moved ahead. Drivers from the other direction now passed in a stream, but Ty was stuck behind the big, slow-moving rig.
    Finally they reached a straight stretch of road long enough for Ty to pull around the truck. He raced ahead in pursuit of the fake lowriders. But there was no sign of them. On the Coast Highway, Ty opened up to full speed. He drove fast in the light traffic of the late hour, but they reached Rocky Beach without finding a trace of Tiburon and the Piranhas.
    “Swing by that car wash, and the garage,” said Jupe.
    Ty did. But the lowriders had disappeared.
    “What do we do now?” Ty asked.
    “Nothing,” Jupiter replied. “Not tonight. But tomorrow we figure out how to catch the thieves red-handed with the stolen cars.”
     

12
Inside Jobs
    Pete, in a ragged bloom county T-shirt, and Bob, in a striped rugby shirt, were outside the gates when