“OK,” said Smithy. “First things first. I think I speak for everyone here, Diller, when I say how in the hell?”
Diller turned his clipboard around and showed it to the others.
“It’s amazing how quickly you can make friends when you’ve been sent by the Emperor to find out what everybody wants for the big party tomorrow night.”
“I see,” said Muroe. “And what party would that be?”
“Oh, that would be the one I entirely made up.”
Smithy read from the list. “Someone called Zeus wants three bottles of Paddy’s Whiskey. A speedball. Ketamine.” He started to skim read. “This list appears to contain what even Mötley Crüe might consider an excessive amount of drugs and booze.”
Diller nodded. “That would be fair. Some of these drugs I had to double-check what they actually were. There are a lot of types, and some of the guys have exotic tastes. It was educational.”
Smithy flipped through the next two pages. “I can see that.”
“I tried to limit them,” said Diller. “I told them – one bottle of booze per man and, like, thirty bucks worth of drugs.”
“There’s a lot more than that here,” observed Muroe.
“Yeah. Then I did a lot of bartering, which is how I got all that gear.”
Muroe shook her head in admiration. “I don’t suppose you’d like a job after this?”
“No,” said Smithy pointedly. “He would not.”
“I hate to be the wet blanket in all this,” said Wilkins, “but what will happen when these men realise that none of the tricks and treats listed here shall be forthcoming tomorrow evening?”
“Yeah,” said Diller, with a nod. “I imagine they will be pretty angry. I strongly suggest we are not here for that.” He looked around the group. “I mean, I assumed we were going to try to get away before then, right?”
Smithy nodded. “Well, we hadn’t firmed that up, but a quick vote on that being the plan?”
Everyone raised their hands.
“Cool. And sincerely, well done, Diller. You are truly this group’s Face.”
“Face?” said Wilkins.
“I think they’re referencing The A-Team,” said Muroe.
“The what?”
“The TV show.”
Wilkins shook his head dismissively. “Childish.”
“You are such a B. A.,” said Diller. “Also, I found out that Reed is with Emperor Chaz pretty much constantly, so that’s going to be tricky.”
“Why?” said Wilkins.
“To round him up for when we bust out of here.”
Wilkins raised his eyebrows.
“I mean, I know he’s not terribly nice, but we can’t leave him.”
“I most certainly could,” said Wilkins.
Diller looked at the others.
Smithy went to speak but Muroe beat him to it. “Look, if we can get everybody out, then great. But believe me, I worked for him – the guy isn’t going to be overly concerned about our wellbeing.”
“Alright,” said Smithy. “Let’s just park that for a while. We don’t even have a plan to worry about including him in.” Smithy looked around to double-check no one was eavesdropping on them before continuing. “OK. In other news …”
The others listened in silence as he explained about Zero, or Keith as he one day no doubt hoped to be known as again. When Smithy had finished, Diller shook his head appreciatively. “Wow. He is good.”
“I know,” said Smithy. “Talk about an understated performance.”
“While I’m sure this episode of Inside the Actors Studio would be fascinating,” said Muroe, “we still have the dual problem of getting out of here and this damned demolition derby.”
“Right,” said Diller. “On that score, some info. That plane that Mr Wilkins mentioned – it’s in a hangar about three miles west of the camp, and it’s heavily guarded. I presume that’s the one beside the airstrip where we arrived.”
“OK,” said Muroe.
“And I found out about our opposition tomorrow. Not good. Five other cars have entered. There’s the Killertron – it’s got spiked wheels and a ram that I know of. The Scorpion – which has some kind of … Well, it’s like a scorpion with pincers and a tail.”
“You’re kidding?” said Muroe.
“Nope. There’s some really talented mechanics around here. It is a shame more of them didn’t find a way onto the straight and narrow.”
“A tragedy,” said Wilkins. “You were saying?”
“Right,” continued Diller. “The Black Dahlia has one of those big chain-fed machine guns. And the Rhino is, like, y’know, a rhino with a ram and stuff, but now they got that flame thing off Dragonzilla too. It doesn’t fit the theme they’re going for and the team are having discussions about a new name. Then there’s the final car …” Diller looked suddenly bashful.
“What?” said Smithy.
“Sorry,” said Diller. “I know this is silly, but the name is so vulgar I’m not comfortable saying it in front of a lady.”
Muroe rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll cope.”
“I just … How about …” Diller wrote something on his clipboard in the margin and circled it. He showed it to the others.
“Jeez,” said Smithy. “That really is rude.”
“I don’t see how …” started Wilkins.
“Say it out loud in your head,” said Smithy.
“Alright, but … Ahhh … that is vile.”
Muroe nodded. “Christ. I hope their design isn’t as inventive as their wordplay.”
“It might be,” said Diller. “They’ve got a buzz saw, some kind of lifter thing, and stealth armour.”
“Stealth armour?” said Wilkins. “That doesn’t sound likely.”
“I agree,” said Diller. “I’m just telling you what I heard. The guy who told me that was really drunk, though. So take it with a grain of salt. Oh yeah,” he said, standing up and shifting on his feet. “Then there’s the bad news.”
“Are you implying that everything else up until this point has been good news?” asked Wilkins.
“OK, the worse news. The prize for the demolition derby was twenty thousand dollars.” He looked around the group. “Emperor Chaz has let it be known that anyone who kills our car? That’s worth fifty grand. And I mean kill. As in …”
“Yeah,” said Smithy. “I think we all get it.”
“What are we going to do?”
Smithy looked at the broken-down husks of the cars that they’d retrieved earlier. “I don’t know, but whatever it is we’d better do it fast.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
They had been working on the cars for what felt like not much more than an hour when Zero returned, accompanied by a half-dozen more men. Apparently, their presence was requested for dinner in the arena. Muroe had tried to make the case that they were already criminally short of time to be ready for the following day, but it was made clear that attendance was mandatory.