The 16mm Caper

Chapter 46

"I just thought I should call, Mrs. B. The light flashed for Mr. B's radio and I answered but there's no response. I can hear voices over the mike though."

"Who is it? What are they saying?"

"Hang on a sec, we record all calls; I'll play it back." Catlin fidgeted from foot to foot until Willy came back on the line. "It's Dylan's voice, and he said the name, Peyton. Mrs. Peyton. Sounded surprised. Mrs. B.? You there?"

Catlin was yelling out loud to herself as she dialled Peter's number and when he answered she fairly blew the words right through his ear.

"Jesus, Catlin, take it easy! What was that about Peyton?" He listened carefully as she told him what had happened, and he immediately told her he would take care of it; she was not to worry. Peter hung up on her protests and called Dylan's company.

"Willy? Peter Rabb. Don't talk, just listen and do what I say. Dylan has GPS remotes on his vehicles, right? Right? Willy, you can answer me for Christ's sake."

"Yes, he does."

"Locate Dylan's limo right now and tell me where it is and where you think it's headed." Peter tapped his cheek with his thumb and waited, silently urging Willy to speed it up. "What's that?" He said when Willy spoke. "The expressway and now turning off toward the airport? Okay, thanks, Willy." His next call was to Harv, giving him the short, sharp version of events.

"Clever broad. I'm on it, Peter. I've got a pal does airport security; I can get him to watch for Dylan's limo. Meanwhile you be outside on the street and ready to jump into a moving car; I'm comin' by."

******

Peter had driven with Harv before but his run to the airport made Steve McQueen's, Bullet look like a kid's pedal car ride. The big car slid seamlessly through traffic, prompting a few pursuers, who soon learned the hard way that going up against Harv was at the very least, suicidal.

Peter gripped his seat belt strap with steel fingers, and he closed his eyes, opening them only to respond to Willy on Harv's cell phone.

"He says they've gone into the lane for Terminal Three parking. I had no idea that GPS could be so accu-holy shit, Harv!" The big car tilted on the soft springs as Harv wrestled it into a ninety-degree turn and Peter made a siren wail matching the squeal of rubber as it bounced precariously over a speed bump and down into the underground parking garage.

The ticket machine loomed up beside Harv and he hastily tore one off, barely waiting for the gate to rise before squealing past and into the central parking area where he slowed to a steady crawl.

The man that stepped from behind the large pillar was almost the same size and the sharply pressed uniform with the badges and belts made him look bigger still. Peter glanced at Harv who braked to a halt and climbed out, waving to Peter to follow.

"Hey Terence, how they hangin? This is my pal, Peter Rabb. Peter, my security pal, Terence Dolly."

Terence took Peter's hand and ground it to dust. "Pleasure, man. You gonna get me canned, comin' into the garage like that, Harv."

"Worry later. Where's the limo?"

"Down one level back in the corner. Two people still inside."

"What are we doing?" Peter asked as they ran on toes across the concrete floor to a stairwell. He felt silly, as if anyone could hear them through several feet of cement.

"Rescuing, Dylan." Harv panted, hopping down the stairs three at a time.

"Yeah, but how?" Peter felt the hot breath of Terence on his neck and he tried copying Harv's three-step descent.