Free Asking For Trouble by Simon Wood Page A

in the run-down part of the neighborhood. Todd pulled up in front of a whitewashed building that was in desperate need of a fresh coat. The building had an address, but no sign.
    Todd got out of the Jag and banged on the roll-up door. While he was still banging, the door retracted. He hopped back into the Jag and drove the car in.
    The warehouse’s interior was in marginally better condition than the exterior, but was well lit. The place was barren, except for a scattered collection of Snap-On tool chests and half a dozen car lifts. Cars Todd couldn’t dream of owning occupied the lifts. Ignoring the others, theMaserati and Lamborghini alone cost more than he’d earn in the next decade. The small man stood in the middle of the warehouse floor with the familiar linebackers and a few new friends. Todd parked and got out.
    “Christ! What the hell have you been up to?” The small man examined the busted headlight and scarred paintwork. “Do you do this to all the cars around you, or just mine?”
    The roll-up door closed with a bang. The noise echoed off the walls.
    “It wasn’t easy getting the car out. You didn’t say anything about stealing it.”
    “I didn’t say anything about smashing it up either. Or were you just trying to impress me?”
    “Sorry.” Todd didn’t know what else to say.
    The small man waved the issue aside. “Don’t worry, I just wanted the car back. The condition is unimportant.”
    “Are we even now? Can I go?” Todd sounded tired, more tired than he felt.
    “Not yet.” The small man patted Todd on the shoulder. “You’re close. There’s just one more thing before we’re squared away. Reuben, give him the keys.”
    The Hispanic linebacker tossed a set of keys to Todd, and he caught them.
    “Those fit that Lexus over there. Which I want you to drive to Dallas.”
    “Texas?”
    “The one and only. Don’t look so worried. This job is a lot easier than the last one. All you have to do is drop it off at Ruskin’s, a dealership. Then you’re done and our business is concluded.”
    “That’s a good two-day drive. I can’t just drop everything. I have a job.”
    The small man’s irritation evaporated his grin. He yanked out a gun and jammed it in Todd’s face. “You drive or you die. Your choice. You’ve cost me a lot of money and aggravation, and I think I’ve been damn charitable giving you this chance to redeem yourself. So what’s it going to be?” He snapped the safety off the pistol.
    “Drive,” Todd managed.
    A minute later, he was on the road, Texas bound. The small man had really screwed him this time, telling him he had to leave immediately—no time to pack any clothes or leave a message for his boss. He couldn’t blame the small man too much. If he’d done the right thing in the first place, he wouldn’t be on I-580 now.
    “You’re a dumb, dumb man, Todd,” he said to himself and turned the radio up.
    At the Arizona state line, he pulled over and slept in the car. Deep into New Mexico, as evening descended, his funk finally got to him. He could taste his stale breath, and his BO was ripe. He’d washed up as best he could in a gas station restroom, but his clothes were rancid with dried sweat. He pulled off at the next town and raided the first Walmart for a change of undershorts and a couple of T-shirts. He changed into his fresh clothes in a restroom, dumping the dirty ones in the trash. He crossed the Texas state line in good spirits and smelling fresh, although his stink seemed to have impregnated the Lexus’s interior.
    “Damn it,” he groaned.
    He hadn’t seen them, not that he’d been keeping an eye out. He thought he’d been playing it safe, keeping to the speed limit and using his turn signals. But the red and blue light bathing the Lexus’s interior said otherwise. He eased the sedan off I-40 and onto the shoulder.
    The state troopers wandered up behind him, but only one came up to Todd. The other lagged at the rear of the Lexus,