Triple Digits

Maddison Birchson

Maddison didn't want to explain how she knew how to hotwire a vehicle, or break into one to begin with, but with Officer Strickland beside her as they crept along the edges of the Dock to where the Devland Importers freight boat was now being anchored, she debated if she would have to use her set of skills.
Having Strickland show up in her room, begging her to sneak out and help him save Claire from imminent death, had been... Shocking. Maddy had not even been made aware that she was missing, much less in danger of losing her life.
He'd filled her in on the ride over, and holy shit, Claire-Bear was going to need some serious therapy after this. Maddison had nearly been killed, just like Jaivon and Veronica. Only luck had saved her.
She'd assumed the carjack failing had been bad luck. To hear that it was an intentional attack made her feel queasy.
At least Corey seemed as torn up about it as she now felt. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. She didn't need to make sure he would take care of her bestfriend, not if he was losing his mind trying to get her back.
The cold air bit into the hospital gown she wore, and the jacket Strickland had given her did little to keep the goosebumps from rising. She felt like she needed to lie down, but she could do this. For Claire. Her bestfriend.
The Devland boat was up ahead. They were lucky. It was three in the morning, and the boat was anchored on the opposite side to the warehouse where Claire was being kept, or else Maddison might have found herself busting in the door to the warehouse and trying to break her out like some kind of Assassin from the novels she liked to read.
The boat rocked in the waves, workers ambling back and forth between the pier and the upper deck of the boat, where cars were lined up in rows, kept in place with wheel locks.
"Damien's favourite car will be on board this boat, according to the ledgers his father gave us," Strickland whispered as they crouched behind a shipping container, lifting a photo of said ledgers on a police-issue phone.
He had taken the photo in the car with Dunfield before being brought over to the hospital, the Commissioner entirely unaware that they were here, and doing something reckless.
"So that's the car you think Eclipse will drive in the next race? An X-Class Scorpion?"
She peered around the side of the container at the rows of cars. She couldn't see the Scorpion on the top deck, but it was more likely to be kept on one of the lower levels, shielded from the sun and sea spray during their trip across the ocean.
Strickland nodded, his face pinched. The Docks were lit up like a holiday tree, with security guards patrolling the perimetre. It was a miracle they'd made it this far.
"You need to tamper with the car as subtly as possible. The killer has an intimate knowledge of engines. If he notices anything is amiss, he'll choose a different car."
"I can do subtle," she reassured, only to bite her lip, "I don't have any tools with me." Considering Strickland was only carrying a phone, notebook and pen, she doubted he had any hidden on him.
"I'm hoping they keep some on the boat."
They might. It was a ship designed to import cars to Mid-City, and not just low-end H-Classes. A toolkit could be kept on board to make repairs to any damaged engines during the trip, so they arrived in top condition.
Maddison added it to the list of things she needed to find tonight.
"This really is a hastily made plan, isn't it?" She teased to try and lighten the mood, Strickland nodding briskly, finding no humour in the situation.
Gods, he looked like a haunted man.
Reaching over, she laid her hand on his shoulder, promising, "I'll do everything I can. I promise." He looked to her gratefully, whispering, "I just want her back."
So did she. Maddison wondered who longed for Claire's return more between the two of them, or if their love for her was equal, albeit different.
They waited, hunched in the mud and shivering in silence, until one-by-one, the lights around the Docks began to go out. All the cars on the boat were accounted for, and the workers were going home until their next shift, leaving only the security guards.
Strickland poked his head out, searching for any sign of them, and motioned with a hand, urging quietly, "Go!"
They sprinted for the boat, and the ramp that led up to it. Their shoes rung hollow against the metal, and Maddy gripped the railing, hauling herself onto the top deck. The boat rolled under her feet, Strickland steadying her with a hand while they hurried through, searching for a way down to the next level. A bell rung out with the movement of the boat, the sound rhythmic, nearly lulling Maddison to sleep when Strickland left her on a bench to find a door.
There were no security guards on the boat, thankfully.
When he returned, he was carrying a tool kit, and had a triumphant smile on his face.
"I found the Scorpion," he whispered, leading her down a set of winding stairs and onto the next level of the boat. Only six cars sat in solemn silence.
The Scorpion was one of them.
Gripping the tool box, she turned to Strickland, ordering, "Give me your wallet."
He looked astounded by the request, but handed it over, watching curiously as she pulled out his debit card, sliding it into the crack between the door and the frame of the car. When it popped open, his eyes widened, and she took a seat in the driver's seat.
In a matter of hours, the killer would be in this car, staring out the same windshield. Reaching under the dashboard, she hotwired the vehicle in seconds, its engine starting up with a low rumble that she prayed could not be heard from beyond this level on the boat, and flicked the switch to open the hood with a 'KER-CLUNK!'. She studied the engine within, before looking to Corey.
"You want me to find a way to subtly stop the killer?"
He nodded.
"Mid-race, if possible."
Then, setting the tool box at her feet, she got to work...