Motor Mouth

it was Horse and Baldy’s responsibility to clean up after themselves. Then he said there was a billion dollars’ worth of trouble that had to be shipped out, and Huevo wanted to make sure it got to Mexico.
    “Horse said arrangements were complete. He said the item was in the hauler, and the drivers had instructions to take the hauler to Mexico.”
    I was an engineer, and a spotter for a race team. I’d toyed with the idea of being James Bond for a moment back there, but the moment had passed and I didn’t really want be involved in this…whatever it was.
    “I think we should turn this hauler over to the police,” I said. “Let them go through it and solve the mystery.”
    “Don’t they need to have a reason to do a search?” Gobbles asked. “Do you think they’d have enough cause to search it from what I’d tell them?”
    Hooker and I looked at each other and shrugged. We didn’t know.
    “I watch
CSI: Miami
all the time,” Hooker said, “but they haven’t covered this.”
    “They’re going to hunt me down and kill me,” Gobbles said. “My kids won’t have a daddy. They’ll be left with my money-grabbing ex-wife. And she’ll get married to some asshole who knows all about the stupid man in the freakin’ stupid boat, and he’ll probably have a lot of money and take them all to DisneyWorld. And my kids will forget all about me.”
    Hooker looked at me. Confused. “Man in the boat?”
    “It’s complicated,” I said.
    “I was thinking while I was locked up,” Gobbles said. “We could search the hauler, and we could find the billion-dollar thing. Then maybe we can go to the police with our evidence and get the bad guys arrested. Then they’ll be in jail, and they won’t be able to kill me. I came up with an alternate plan, but I don’t like it as well. It involves kidnapping my kids and moving to Australia.”
    “I can’t wrap my mind around this,” Hooker said. “I don’t think it’s a sure thing that we can send the bad guys to jail. And I’m having a hard time imagining a billion dollars’ worth of technology.”
    “I think it’s on the car,” Gobbles said. “I think they fixed it so my car would spin out, and Dickie’s car would win. I think NASCAR just isn’t looking in the right spot.”
    “Why would they want to take the hauler to Mexico?” I asked.
    “Huevo’s R and D team is in Mexico,” Hooker said. “He has a shop in Concord, but all research and development is done in Mexico. It’s on a separate campus a couple miles from Huevo corporate headquarters. If the sixty-nine had some incredible technology installed on it, they might want it taken back to R and D. Oscar Huevo is chairman of the board of Huevo Industries and the driving force behind Huevo Motor Sports. His little brother Ray runs R and D.”
    “And Ray was at the race today,” Gobbles said. “Barney and me saw him talking to Horse and Baldy.”
    I have to admit I could feel my curiosity ratchet up. Gobbles was suggesting there was a billion dollars’ worth of illegal technology on a race car that was at my disposal. As a member of the racing community, I was incensed that the technology might have been used to cause a crash. And as a car junkie and engineer, I was dying to get my hands on it.
    Hooker glanced over at me. “You’re looking like Beans when he sees a thirty-two-ounce steak left unattended on a kitchen counter.”
    “At least I’m not panting and drooling.”
    “Not yet,” Hooker said, “but I know you’re capable.”
    “We’re sort of safe here in the warehouse,” I said to Hooker. “Maybe we should roll the sixty-nine out and take a peek.”
    Hooker smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
    I entered the trailer through the rear-pocket doors. Hooker, Gobbles, and I pulled the two large toolboxes out of the aisle, onto the ramp, and rolled them out to the warehouse floor.
    We all got on the ramp, I powered us up to the second deck, we rolled the primary car out, set chocks to keep it stable, and I powered the ramp back down. We rolled the car off the ramp and onto the floor, and I got ready to go to work, helping myself to some disposable gloves, opening the toolboxes, releasing the hood latches.
    We’d let Beans out to stretch his legs, and he was running around, acting goofy, looking to play. Hooker took a hand towel from the tool chest, tossed it to Beans, and Beans caught it and tore it to shreds.
    “He’s just a big puppy,” Hooker