Chapter Six

It was disappointing that the best Kaylee could come up with was another list of names of people who might be interested in the artifacts.  Some hints about a person who’d been gloating about something, or perhaps just expressing a great deal of interest in these disks or the museum and suddenly going quiet about it, would have been nice.

Alex and Harold were driving back to the loft, mostly in silence.  There was some other traffic on the road with them, but not much.  He was driving about ten miles per hour over the speed limit, trying not to tempt any passing highway patrol officers, and it felt like they were barely moving. 

I hope we didn’t go all the way out to the middle of freaking nowhere for coffee for nothing, Alex thought.  If we have to waste our time, we could have at least wasted it doing something fun.

    Speaking of wasting time, Alex realized he was going to have to put a good amount of effort into contacting more people who probably weren’t going to have any more info.  He was really more of an action guy, and that kind of work seemed an awful lot like a dull office job.  And he had to put up with Harold on top of it.

Harold, Alex thought.  That’s it.  I can let him do the calling, and find something more entertaining to do while he’s at it.

Alex suddenly felt much better about things.  He was, after all, supposed to be working with Harold, so he might as well share the work. 

“Say, Harold,” Alex said.  “How would you feel about getting in touch with the folks on the list Kaylee gave us?”

“I would be happy to, Mr. Minor,” Harold said.  “Anything I can do to help.”

“Excellent,” Alex said.

Problem solved, he thought.

Alex had not even had a chance to start daydreaming about what he could do with his time while Harold was busy making phone calls, when a car passed in the left lane.  It was a bright blue and looked kind of like a rally car, with a ridiculous spoiler on the back.  Alex guessed it was a Subaru.   He wouldn’t have thought anything of it, if the passing car hadn’t cut sharply in front of Alex, barely missing his fender and forcing him to brake hard.  Harold and Alex were pitched forward against their seatbelts.

The blue car continued moving to the right, past Alex’s car, through the right hand lane, and up an exit ramp.

“Wow, what was that about?” Alex said.  His heart was pounding, and he was glad he’d seen the other driver in time to hit the brakes. 

Harold didn’t seem particularly concerned by the close call.  He’d just taken a breath to answer Alex when another car, this one an orange hatchback of some sort, did nearly the same thing, coming from the right this time. 

“What the hell?” Alex said, perhaps a little more forcefully than he needed to. 

The orange hatchback did not continue in to the left lane, but stayed directly in front of Alex’s Mustang.  And slammed on the brakes.

“Holy buckets!” Alex said, and slammed on his own brakes.  There wasn’t enough room between them, and the Mustang ran into the back of the orange car with a shockingly loud bang.  Alex and Harold were both thrown against their seatbelts, again. 

“What the hell was that?” Alex said.  “Why did they brake like that? Did you see anything ahead of them?”

 Harold was just saying that no, he hadn’t seen anything, when the orange car accelerated hard away from them again.  Alex watched, dumb-founded, as the other car continued down the road, still accelerating.  He’d never heard of a hit and run where the car that got hit was the one to run from the scene.

“I guess we should probably get off the road and inspect the damage,” Alex said.

Harold said nothing.

Alex started accelerating, slowly in case anything important had been damaged.  He was going about forty five miles per hour and moving from the center lane to the right when he noticed the headlights in his rear view mirror were awfully bright and awfully close.

He was still surprised when the car behind them rammed into the back left corner of the Mustang.  The force of the impact caused the Mustang to swerve a bit, and Alex felt like they were right on the edge of fishtailing for a couple of seconds.  As he wrestled the car back under control, they drifted on to the shoulder of the freeway.  Alex was dimly aware that the car that had rear ended them was passing by on the left, accelerating hard.  Whatever it was, it was big, and dark colored.

Alex brought the Mustang to a stop there on the shoulder.

“Are you OK?” Alex asked Harold.

“Yes, I’m quite all right.  How are you, Mr. Minor?” Harold said.  He sounded entirely calm, even disinterested.

He sounds like I’d lightly bumped into him while walking by, Alex thought.  Does this guy ever get riled up? 

Alex wondered how it was that all of his co-workers seemed to be entirely cool and in control in intense situations that left him in a sweat with his heart pounding. 

“Fine, I’m fine,” Alex said.  “God damn it, what the hell is going on?  There’s no way that was a coincidence.”

“No, I would say not,” Harold said. 

“Have you pissed someone off?” Alex asked Harold.

Harold looked blankly back at him.

“Lighten up, Harold.  I’m just trying to make a joke,” Alex said.  He swung the door open, and got out to see how badly bent the Mustang was.

Alex went to the front of the car first.  It was looking pretty mashed in, but it didn’t seem to be leaking any important liquids.  He figured he’d be able to get away with driving it a ways further. 

The back left corner of the bumper was also looking pretty beat up.  The bumper had a big, ugly dent in it, and the tail light was smashed.

The car was definitely worse for wear, but seemed like it was still completely drivable.

Alex got back in the car.  He said to Harold, “Do you think we should call the Police and report the accident?”

“Do you think that will actually help the situation, Mr. Minor?” Harold asked. 

“I don’t know.  It might help with the insurance claim.  Did you managed to get any of their license plates?” Alex said.

“Of course I did, Mr. Minor.  I’m surprised you didn’t, but I suppose your attention was focused on driving the car,” Harold said.  “Are you planning to actually file an insurance claim?”

Alex thought about it for a minute.  He’d just been in two hit and run accidents in short succession, and he himself had clearly rear-ended someone.  The Mustang was so powerful it was barely street-legal, and the insurance on it was already criminally expensive. He suspected that his insurance rates were going to get a big hike if he filed a claim.  It would probably be easier, and less expensive in the long run, to just get the car fixed himself.

Mr. Darcy probably knew someone who could do it, too.

“No, I don’t think I will.  You’re right.  And I suppose the police aren’t going to be much help in tracking down the people behind this,” Alex said.  He sighed, then said, “Come on, let’s roll back to the loft and figure out our next move.”

Alex was already pretty sure that the best move they could make next would be to make themselves a couple of strong drinks.  The Mustang started immediately when Alex turned the key, and the rest of the drive was uneventful.

In the fluorescent light of the parking garage, the damage to the Mustang was that much easier to see.  It was pretty ugly.  Alex felt a spark of anger looking at it.  He knew that risk and danger were part of the job, but he also knew that the Mustang was his favorite thing, and there were at least three assholes out there responsible for its current state.

He grimaced as he looked at the front end again, then said to Harold, “Let’s head up and make ourselves some strong drinks, Harold.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Minor,” Harold said.

Back in the loft, Alex’s first order of business was to get into some more comfortable clothes.  After an evening like the one he’d just had, the only appropriate attire was sweatpants, slippers and a t-shirt.

Once he had changed, Alex went back into the kitchen, only to find Harold had already made him a Martini, and was working on making one for himself.

Alex took his drink and said, “Thanks Harold.  Here’s to excitement and adventure.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Minor,” Harold said.  “And here’s to a fruitful day.”

Alex nearly choked on his drink.  “Fruitful?”

“Indeed.  We have a list of contacts to investigate, and someone is apparently interested enough in what we’re doing to try to intimidate us.  We’ve got the license plates of the three cars involved in the little escapade earlier.  Those may or may not lead us to some more interesting information.  I would say we’ve done pretty well for not doing much more than a coffee run this evening,” Harold said.

“Fair enough,” Alex said.  “Though I wish we could have gotten all this information without having to sacrifice the Mustang.  It seems like kind of a steep price to pay.”

“I think that’s just part of the cost of being in this business, Mr.  Minor,” Harold said.

Alex gave him a noncommittal grunt, and wandered over to his desk carrying his drink.  He turned on the computer, and opened his email client.  It was more out of habit and boredom than anything.  He was mostly concerned with getting the Mustang repaired, so a distraction was welcome.  He was pleased and surprised, then, to see there was a new email waiting for him.

It was from Kaylee, and the subject line said, “You may find this interesting.”