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Chapter Six
Grand Theft Auto Ain't Just A Video Game
Somehow I thought that I would feel guilty. Nope. There's a quote somewhere in Conan Doyle's works about it being a short step from detective to criminal. For a person to catch thief, you must first understand the thief's motives and reasoning. And from there it is a very short step to the Dark Side. Join me and together we shall rule the galaxy as father and son. Luke, I am your father. Noooo!!!! Ahem, moving on.
It was certainly fun to be running around on the other side of law and order. 'Course Holmes and I had done a few semi-illegal things in the course of our investigations, but that was different. This was a full blown felony, and we would be seriously dead if we got caught. I still found it hard to be apprehensive.
We had been circling the parking lot in front of the supermarket for a good twenty minutes before we saw a likely mark. A thirtysomething man screeched and skidded his shiny red Accord into a parking space. He was well-dressed and nearly ran us over when he parked, so I didn't feel too guilty.
"Ladies first." Ghost was with us, evaluating every move we made. It was curiously like an oral quiz in Spanish class. He handed me a more professional version of Holmes' coat hanger. I rarely lock my own car, mainly because if someone did steal it I would make a profit on the insurance. So, without thinking, I tried the door latch. The guy had left his car unlocked.
I looked up at Holmes and Ghost, who were just as startled as I. Holmes had one of those looks on his face, worried, annoyed, and meaningful all at once. In a flash I realized that a pro wouldn't have tried the door for fear of a car alarm. But what kind of detective would I be if I couldn't think on my feet?
"I saw that he hadn't locked the door. Why look more suspicious then we have to?" I drawled sweetly. Ghost seemed impressed by this line of reasoning. Holmes' look morphed into something of a "why me Lord?" expression. Hot wiring the car was a matter of moments. In less than a minute, I had boosted my first car.
"Er, where exactly are we going?" Holmes asked from the back seat.
"Good question." Ghost replied.
"What's the answer?" I prompted.
"Make a right up here. You'll see." Ghost was enjoying being Mr. Mysterioso. Right led onto a highway, which in turn led out of London. We were just passing through Surrey when I started to get a bit frustrated. Ghost steadfastly refused to explain where we were going.
I pulled into a gas station and parked. "Now you look here. You may be used to doin' thing like this, but I prefer to know where y'all are taking me. Now you either tell me where we're goin' or I'm going home."
Unsurprisingly, Ghost was amused rather than angry. All of this had the vibe of a test, and hopefully we had just passed.
"Southampton. We ship the cars overseas from there."
"Where?" I asked casually.
"Asia. India. Something like that." Ghost shrugged. He clearly didn't care, as long as his paycheck came on time.
Satisfied that I was not driving to the ends of the earth, I pulled back out onto the motorway. Southampton made sense. They had to be shipping the cars out somehow; and though located on the River Thames, London is not a good seaport. Most of London's shipping traffic comes out of Plymouth or Southampton, and Southampton was much closer to London. I want to talk to Holmes about this, but he had no doubt already deduced that, and several other things besides.
Ghost directed me to warehouse (of course) near the docks, where we parked the Accord next to his brother Civics and Nissans and the odd Geo. Most of the rest of the gang was already there, including Sharon and Karen, Ink, and the infamous Shorty, an incredibly tall man with his arm in a sling. Sharon told us everyone else's names, and I promptly forgot them all. I can remember the name of every single bone in the human body, but I can't remember a person's name. Don't ask why, I'm just stupid like that.
"This is Joshua and Katrina." "Joshua" grunted something along the lines of hello.
"Hi y'all." I beamed, delighting in my accent. True to Holmes' estimate, there were exactly twelve people (not including us) in the Tigers.
The introductions were interrupted by the arrival of the last member of the group and their Civic. There was a general gravitation toward the upstairs office. This seemed to be the nightly tradition, so Holmes and I followed.
The former office had been converted a hangout suitable for car thieves. There weren't any chairs, but several mattresses and a futon provided seating. The desk was too big to get out the door, so they'd left it, and perched a television and mini-fridge on top. Beers were retrieved from the fridge and distributed to the gang. Someone turned the TV to Cartoon Network. They all looked like a bunch of college students after finals.
I chatted with Sharon and another girl, while Holmes tried to talk to Shorty. Shorty had downed three beers in three minutes, and they clearly weren't his first of the night.
"Damn cops!" I jumped at Shorty's two word tirade. The yell was followed by the empty beer car flying through the air. The rest of the gang ignored this outburst. Holmes picked up the can and threw away in what seemed to be a trash bin.
I tried to sip carefully at mine. I'm not usually much of drinker (Holmes' comments about hangovers aside) especially with such low quality beer. Most of the others had no qualms about drinking heartily, which explained all the mattresses. They needed somewhere to pass out at the end of the night.
The party ran down quickly after the "South Park" marathon. Ghost drove us back to the Tower Bridge.
"Hey Josh, here." He tossed Holmes a cell phone. "When that rings, meet us at the Covent Garden Tube Station Try not to be late."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.
Chapter Six
Grand Theft Auto Ain't Just A Video Game
Somehow I thought that I would feel guilty. Nope. There's a quote somewhere in Conan Doyle's works about it being a short step from detective to criminal. For a person to catch thief, you must first understand the thief's motives and reasoning. And from there it is a very short step to the Dark Side. Join me and together we shall rule the galaxy as father and son. Luke, I am your father. Noooo!!!! Ahem, moving on.
It was certainly fun to be running around on the other side of law and order. 'Course Holmes and I had done a few semi-illegal things in the course of our investigations, but that was different. This was a full blown felony, and we would be seriously dead if we got caught. I still found it hard to be apprehensive.
We had been circling the parking lot in front of the supermarket for a good twenty minutes before we saw a likely mark. A thirtysomething man screeched and skidded his shiny red Accord into a parking space. He was well-dressed and nearly ran us over when he parked, so I didn't feel too guilty.
"Ladies first." Ghost was with us, evaluating every move we made. It was curiously like an oral quiz in Spanish class. He handed me a more professional version of Holmes' coat hanger. I rarely lock my own car, mainly because if someone did steal it I would make a profit on the insurance. So, without thinking, I tried the door latch. The guy had left his car unlocked.
I looked up at Holmes and Ghost, who were just as startled as I. Holmes had one of those looks on his face, worried, annoyed, and meaningful all at once. In a flash I realized that a pro wouldn't have tried the door for fear of a car alarm. But what kind of detective would I be if I couldn't think on my feet?
"I saw that he hadn't locked the door. Why look more suspicious then we have to?" I drawled sweetly. Ghost seemed impressed by this line of reasoning. Holmes' look morphed into something of a "why me Lord?" expression. Hot wiring the car was a matter of moments. In less than a minute, I had boosted my first car.
"Er, where exactly are we going?" Holmes asked from the back seat.
"Good question." Ghost replied.
"What's the answer?" I prompted.
"Make a right up here. You'll see." Ghost was enjoying being Mr. Mysterioso. Right led onto a highway, which in turn led out of London. We were just passing through Surrey when I started to get a bit frustrated. Ghost steadfastly refused to explain where we were going.
I pulled into a gas station and parked. "Now you look here. You may be used to doin' thing like this, but I prefer to know where y'all are taking me. Now you either tell me where we're goin' or I'm going home."
Unsurprisingly, Ghost was amused rather than angry. All of this had the vibe of a test, and hopefully we had just passed.
"Southampton. We ship the cars overseas from there."
"Where?" I asked casually.
"Asia. India. Something like that." Ghost shrugged. He clearly didn't care, as long as his paycheck came on time.
Satisfied that I was not driving to the ends of the earth, I pulled back out onto the motorway. Southampton made sense. They had to be shipping the cars out somehow; and though located on the River Thames, London is not a good seaport. Most of London's shipping traffic comes out of Plymouth or Southampton, and Southampton was much closer to London. I want to talk to Holmes about this, but he had no doubt already deduced that, and several other things besides.
Ghost directed me to warehouse (of course) near the docks, where we parked the Accord next to his brother Civics and Nissans and the odd Geo. Most of the rest of the gang was already there, including Sharon and Karen, Ink, and the infamous Shorty, an incredibly tall man with his arm in a sling. Sharon told us everyone else's names, and I promptly forgot them all. I can remember the name of every single bone in the human body, but I can't remember a person's name. Don't ask why, I'm just stupid like that.
"This is Joshua and Katrina." "Joshua" grunted something along the lines of hello.
"Hi y'all." I beamed, delighting in my accent. True to Holmes' estimate, there were exactly twelve people (not including us) in the Tigers.
The introductions were interrupted by the arrival of the last member of the group and their Civic. There was a general gravitation toward the upstairs office. This seemed to be the nightly tradition, so Holmes and I followed.
The former office had been converted a hangout suitable for car thieves. There weren't any chairs, but several mattresses and a futon provided seating. The desk was too big to get out the door, so they'd left it, and perched a television and mini-fridge on top. Beers were retrieved from the fridge and distributed to the gang. Someone turned the TV to Cartoon Network. They all looked like a bunch of college students after finals.
I chatted with Sharon and another girl, while Holmes tried to talk to Shorty. Shorty had downed three beers in three minutes, and they clearly weren't his first of the night.
"Damn cops!" I jumped at Shorty's two word tirade. The yell was followed by the empty beer car flying through the air. The rest of the gang ignored this outburst. Holmes picked up the can and threw away in what seemed to be a trash bin.
I tried to sip carefully at mine. I'm not usually much of drinker (Holmes' comments about hangovers aside) especially with such low quality beer. Most of the others had no qualms about drinking heartily, which explained all the mattresses. They needed somewhere to pass out at the end of the night.
The party ran down quickly after the "South Park" marathon. Ghost drove us back to the Tower Bridge.
"Hey Josh, here." He tossed Holmes a cell phone. "When that rings, meet us at the Covent Garden Tube Station Try not to be late."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Make your voice heard.
.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.