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Ralph Hinkley was confused. The last thing he remembered was floating down a long hallway and hearing whispered voices just above his head.
"You didn't have to rush me," a female voice said. "He would have followed me outside in a minute."
"You were moving too slowly," a faintly accented male voice said. "We saw Maxwell outside the building."
"So he's following us?"
"We took care of that."
What had happened before that conversation, Ralph wondered. He remembered following the immaculately dressed waiter down a long hallway off the lobby.
It had seemed reasonable at the time. You wouldn't want Bill Maxwell hanging around in the atrium giving everyone hard looks and frightening the guests with his strident voice.
You might ask him to wait in the private lounge. And he might go. But probably not, it occurred to Ralph now.
It had also seemed reasonable that Mitzi would come along. Okay, not reasonable exactly, but she wouldn't let go of his arm. He figured Bill could come up with some way to get rid of her. He was good at scaring people away.
He rememberedgetting about halfway down the hall. Then they stopped, and- No, Mitzi stopped to adjust her shoe. She was leaning on his arm, trying to reach the strap and he turned toward her and then –
Then the waiter came up behind him and hit him over the head. Well, he thought, at least that explained the throbbing pain behind his left ear. And it explained how he wound up lying in a moving van with his hands tied.
But it didn't explain why, he thought grimly. He had a sneaking suspicion the 'why' had something to do with Bill Maxwell.
The van jounced over another in a seemingly endless series of potholes, causing his aching head to collide with the floor again. Ralph gritted his teeth.
Bill was going to have a pony over this. Not three days ago, he'd been saying, "You gotta be alert, kid. They're always looking for one slip. One wrong step and BAM! On you like a ton of bricks. The super suit's not gonna be much help if it's home under the bed."
Of course, he'd been trying to talk Ralph into wearing the suit at all times. That, Ralph had told him, was not going to happen.
"I'm not going to let the suit run my life, Bill," he'd said.
He grimaced as a deep pothole sent him crashing into the wooden bench that was bolted to the wall of the van.
Now, the suit was at home, not under the bed but in the closet, which was really the same thing to Ralph because he was in the back of a van riding at a ridiculous speed through what was apparently the pothole capital of the world on his way to who knew where.
"Okay, get it together, Ralph," he muttered as the first cold threads of panic started to work their way into his brain.
"You don't need the suit for this," he said to the dark compartment. "It's a simple problem. You're a smart guy. Get yourself out of the van."
Of course, the suit would make it considerably easier, he admitted. The coarse rope around his wrists would snap like spaghetti if he was wearing the suit. He glanced around the van's cargo compartment. There was no access to the cab – it was basically a metal box.
Not entirely metal, he realized. One-way tinted windows in the double-door at the back let in enough light to see the wooden benches bolted to the side walls.
A plan began to form in his mind.
Not a plan, he thought, a scenario. He smiled grimly. He was going to get out of this, he thought as he began pulling himself up onto the wooden bench, and he was going to do it without the red suit.
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Bill Maxwell peeled the white VW Bug out of the hotel parking lot while Pam was still trying to find the strap to her seatbelt. She fell against the door with a thump.
"I can't believe you double-parked!" she said, fumbling with the latch of the belt.
"Yeah, well, I can't believe it only took 'em ten minutes to tow my car," Bill growled through gritted teeth. "And I can't believe I've gotta execute a high-speed chase in this 4-cylinder pinball. This night's shaping up to be chock full of fun surprises."
"I still don't understand," she said, jolting back and forth in her seat as Bill navigated through the line of taxis outside the hotel, "Why would they kidnap Ralph?"
"I been following my own advice, lately. Shaking a lot of trees," Bill said. "I was expecting something to fall out, just not-"
His words broke off as he skidded around a silver limo.
"Just not on Ralph?" she said, shooting him a dark look.
"Right," he said. "But when they pulled Marty the Slug and his pancaked Pontiac out of the rubble this morning, they found some surveillance photos in the back. And, wouldn't you know, there's me and our blue-eyed boy walking out of the Bureau."
"They think Ralph's your partner," Pam said, wincing as they narrowly missed the opening door of an LA Times delivery truck. "Bill, if somebody did kidnap him, I want to call the police!"
"Yeah," he barked. "You said that before. Like three times. And I keep telling you, the police are gonna be real handy if we need a bunch of neat little baggies to put him in, but right now-"
He took the corner in a screech of tires.
"-we're trying to find him in one piece."
He laid on the horn and shot around a city bus. Pam dared a look at the speedometer. The needle was hovering on 75.
"Are we going to be in one piece?" she said.
"Look, Counselor," he said. "If we believe that bellhop-"
He spun the wheel and fishtailed through the intersection. A cab screeched to halt in the cross street, its headlights flaring through their window.
"I think we can," she said. "I don't think he'd ever seen a gun in person."
She flinched as they narrowly avoided a parallel-parking Buick.
"Certainly not that close up," she added.
"Yeah, well," he said, "I find a big gun is a great way to sharpen people's memories. Helps 'em remember exactly what you wanted to know."
They hit a straightaway and Pam gritted her teeth as she felt the car jump forward with another burst of acceleration. The taillights of other cars whizzed past at dizzying speed. She was afraid to check the speedometer again.
"Case in point," he went on. "Jerry the Bellhop only needed a little persuasion to remember Ralph heading for the side door with some waiter he never saw before and what sounds like your Mitzi Gold."
"We didn't check the rest of the lobby," she said over the roar of the engine. "You didn't even try the men's room!"
"Didn't have to," he barked. "You get an instinct when you've been chasing bad guys as long as I have. And my instinct -"
He sailed through a red light. She heard squealing brakes and a crunch of metal fading behind them.
"-says they got a ten minute head start while I was wasting time painting you a picture of the West Coast underworld."
"Where my instinct let me down," he said, 'Was I didn't think they'd move that fast."
He downshifted and shot through the next intersection at- Pam braced herself and checked the gauge – 92. She didn't even know her car could go that fast.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the jarring impact of a pothole and distinctly felt he car get airborne before it jolted back to the ground.
"Let's say you're right!" she said. "Where are we going?"
"I've got a pretty good idea I know where Joey is hiding out," he said. "If we can catch 'em before they get to the docks-"
They hit another pothole and her purse flew out of her hands. She felt the breeze as it shot past her head into the backseat.
"Before they get to the docks, then what?" she prompted.
"We may not have to go that far," he said. "Did you see that van?"
She opened her eyes. Bill was staring into the rear view mirror.
"What van?" she said, craning around in her seat.
He clamped a hand over her shoulder.
"Don't look," he said.
She felt the car slow from rocket ship speed to merely supersonic.
"I think we just caught a break," he said quickly. "Look for a loading dock, an alley, something like that."
She studied the buildings zipping past the window.
"I think we're near the Beverly Plaza," she said. "They've got a circular drive. Will that do?"
"Perfect," he said. "How far?"
"Here!" she shouted. "Right!"
He twisted the wheel, stomping on the accelerator and the brake like they were pedals on a boogie-woogie piano. The car skidded sideways toward a parked minibus, but a split second before impact they straightened out and sailed gracefully around the curve. They glided to a gentle stop of the top of the driveway.
Pam uncurled from her crouch. Bill was looking back up the road the way they'd come.
She stared at him with wide eyes.
"You passed the get-away car?" she said.
"We don't know it's the get-away car," he said. "It's an unmarked van with dark windows traveling in the right direction below the speed limit."
He flicked on the hazard lights and waved around a limo that pulled up behind them.
"That must describe a hundred vans in the city at any given time," she said.
"Yeah," he answered. "But how many of 'em is Joey Cupid driving?"
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Ralph gripped the support strut running along the roof of the van with both hands. Not that he had much choice with his wrists tied together.
Getting up hadn't been too difficult. He'd pulled himself up on the bench and from there it was relatively easy to stand.
The van didn't seem to be moving too fast. By flexing his knees as they went over dips he was able to stay upright and shuffle as far as the door.
The next bit was going to be trickier. He was braced and ready. If the van stopped soon, he was reasonably sure he could catch his captors by surprise and kick his way out when they opened the door. After that, well, that would involve more variables than he could think his way through right now.
The immediate question was, when were they going to stop?
The van rattled over another rut and his hands almost slipped from the crossbar. He grabbed wildly before regaining his hold.
Then he heard a new sound in addition to the normal creaking of the van. Something was rattling. It took him a moment to isolate the sound to the door in front of him. Part of the latch was swinging loose.
His glance traced the struts across the door. They looked solid on either side, but they split at the middle where the doors opened out. That one loose strip of metal held the doors shut.
"Okay," he said to the darkness. "That'll work."
Weighing the options, he made a snap decision. He flexed his knees and waited for the next pothole.
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They sat in the driveway at the Beverly Plaza, staring back up the way they'd come.
"Bill, did you see anybody else in the van?" Pam said. "Did you see Ralph?"
Bill shook his head.
"There was somebody in the passenger seat, but I didn't get a good look," he said. "I'd guess it was Yan. I'm bettin' Ralph's in the back. Probably tied up."
At that moment, square headlights appeared at the top of the street.
"Okay, Counselor," Bill said. "Here's the thing. Joey knows what I look like and I don't wanna spook him, so..."
He paused and glanced over at her then looked back up the street. In the brief glimpse she got of his face, she could swear he was blushing.
He took a deep breath and his next words came out in a rush.
"So what I'm gonna do is lean over and pretend to, uh, kiss you. Meanwhile, you watch the van. Tell me when it gets half a block past us. Any questions?"
She opened her mouth, but for the life her, couldn't find a word to say.
"Good, you're a real trooper," he said, staring up the street at the approaching van. "Okay, here we go."
He twisted in his seat and leaned toward her, then stopped as he looked down at her dress.
"Uh, any way you could try not to twinkle so much?" he said, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. "It's really eye-catching."
She looked down at her gown. The lights of the hotel marquee shone and sparkled in the sequins.
"Well, I don't know-"
Whatever she'd been about to say, it completely vanished from her mind. Instead, she inhaled sharply as he bent over her and pressed his cheek against hers.
"What can you see, sweetheart?" Bill said.
"Your ear mostly," Pam said a little breathlessly. The scent of Bay Rum aftershave was almost overwhelming.
"Sorry," he said stiffly. "Tryin' not to, uh, muss your dress there."
He shifted and placed a hand next to her thigh. His head bent lower and his cheek brushed her throat.
Between the tension of worry about Ralph and the tickle of Bill's 5-o'clock shadow against her neck and the very unaccustomed feeling of having Bill Maxwell's chest pressed against hers, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from dissolving in a fit of giggles.
Fortunately, before she completely lost control, the white van coasted past the driveway.
"Okay," she managed to gasp out, "There it goes."
When Bill didn't move, she shifted against him.
"Um, Bill?" she said.
"Hold your horses, sweetheart," he said, his breath warm against her shoulder. "Give him a minute to clear the block."
After what was quite possibly the longest few seconds of her life, Bill pushed up and away. His weight and stubble and breath and cologne were gone in an instant and she was tempted to think it had all been her imagination except that Bill was shifting in his seat like he was doing a stationary rumba and she knew she wasn't imagining that his face was bright red.
He cleared his throat with a sound like a bark and said, "Uh, good work, Counselor. Real professional."
"Thanks, Bill," she said bemusedly as he put the car in gear and pulled out into the street. "Thanks a lot."
While they were waiting for the van to pull ahead, a light blue Honda hatchback turned out of the next driveway. As Bill angled the VW back out onto the one-way street, the Honda braked, adding another two car lengths of distance between them and the van.
She saw Bill's hands clench on the steering wheel.
"Can we get around them?" she said.
"They'll turn in a minute," Bill said.
"How do you know?" she said.
"'Cause I'll shoot out their tires if they don't."
To her relief, the Honda put on its signal and turned left onto a side street. Bill edged the car forward. She suddenly noticed the sound of police sirens rising in the distance.
"I'm thinkin' of changing that saying to 'There's always a cop around when you don't need one'," Bill said.
"I still think we could use the police," she said. "Why don't we just let them help?"
"Because, Counselor," he said. "We don't want to spook these punks. Jimmy Cupid has got a notoriously short fuse and we don't know who's riding in the back with Ralph. He's probably out cold. Completely helpless."
Pam still thought there was a very good chance Ralph had come back from the men's room and was now standing in the ballroom looking puzzled. But on the off-chance Bill was actually right…
She stared at the double doors of the van in the lane in front of them. Come on, Ralph, she thought, if you're in there, give us a sign.
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Ralph felt the van drop into another pothole. Before it hit the bottom of the dip, he pulled up on the overhead bar, raised his knees and kicked out at the door with both feet.
He'd timed it right. The sound of the impact against the doors coincided perfectly with the thud of the tires going over the rut.
There was definitely a gap showing from the top of the door to the van floor.
Ralph flexed and waited. There was a sharp drop and before the van hit the bottom, his legs were rising.
On the thud from the wheels, he kicked out with all of his strength. The doors crashed open and he looked down into the startled faces of Bill Maxwell and Pam Davidson.
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"Ralph!" Pam said, grabbing Bill's sleeve. "Bill, it's Ralph!"
"Yeah," Bill said evenly. "Counselor, I got the funniest feeling you didn't believe me before."
"Oh, be offended later," she snapped. "How are we going to get him out of there?"
"Actually, honey," he said thoughtfully. "It looks like he's getting himself outta there. Are you sure he ain't wearin' the suit?"
"No, I mean- yes!" she said. "I'm sure he's not wearing it. I saw him get dressed! Unless the suit can go invisible on its own now-"
"All right! All right," Bill said grimacing. "You don't haveta paint me a picture."
He started fumbling with knobs on the dashboard.
"How do you get this ragtop down, Counsel-?" he said. "Hey!"
He swerved into the next lane and jerked back on course when she reached across his lap and yanked the release for the convertible roof.
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From the back of the van, Ralph looked down at the swerving Beetle.
They're arguing, he thought, I'm hanging out of the back of a getaway van and they're arguing.
He saw Pam unfasten her seat belt, then reach up and undo the safety catch on the convertible roof. She stood up from the passenger seat, her long hair streaming in the wind,
and shoved the roof up and back.
Ralph wasn't sure what they had planned. It was too far to jump to the back of the Beetle and the sloped nose didn't provide any usable handholds.
Pam stood and turned into the wind. She looked incredibly beautiful. Like an avenging angel, Ralph thought, as they stared at each other across the open space.
He heard Bill say something, but couldn't make out the words. Pam looked down and scowled at him, then said something back. He clearly saw Bill roll his eyes.
Pam looked back up at him and mouthed, "Hold on!" making a clutching motion with her hands.
He shrugged. He didn't have any other plans except to hang on.
Bill said something else and Ralph caught the word, "driveway."
Pam nodded and leaned out the passenger side of the car, staring ahead. After a moment she pointed and Ralph heard her shout, "Here!"
To Ralph's surprise, Bill spun the wheel and the Bug shot off the road into a hotel driveway. To his amazement, the car jerked to a stop then reversed out of the drive, backing up the street toward him at a ridiculous speed.
Within seconds, the little car was hovering inches from the rear bumper of the van. With barely a moment's hesitation, Ralph stepped off the van and fell into the backseat of the Beetle.
Ralph was vaguely aware of Bill slamming on the brakes and shifting into drive to tear back up the street in the opposite direction. He was more interested in what Pam was doing.
She had crawled halfway into the backseat with him and had her arms wrapped around his neck.
"Oh, Ralph!" she said, burying her face in the shoulder of his tuxedo jacket.
"Good to see you, too," he said laughing. "I'd hug you back, but-"
He pulled out of her embrace far enough to hold up his bound hands.
"Could you-" he began, but she was already working at the tight knots that secured the rope.
"Ralph, I can't believe they kidnapped you," she said as she tugged the end of the rope free. "Are you okay, honey? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Just a bump on the head. I'm really sorry about the din-"
His words broke off as the car swerved violently to the right. A horn blared and cut off abruptly. He looked up as they passed a black sedan traveling in the opposite direction. Two shocked faces looked back at him through the other car's side window and he gave a shout of surprise as the other car shot past.
"Pam, did you see that? That was Mitzi! She's one of the ones that grabbed me!"
"Mitzi Gold?" Pam said, her eyebrows rising. "Was that John Gold with her?"
"Counselor," Bill shouted from the front seat. "Is this Gold character a friend of yours?"
"N-no," Pam said hesitantly. She looked over her shoulder at him. "But I think he may be one of yours."
She kept working at the rope around Ralph's wrists as she twisted to face Bill.
"Bill, I never heard of John Gold before tonight," she said. "What if he's actually-"
"Rostokrovinitz," Bill said grimly.
"Who's Rostokrovi-whatever? Who's Mitzi, really?" Ralph said, looking from one to the other. "What's going on?"
Ralph saw Bill studying the rear view mirror. There was a screech of tires behind them and Bill said, "I think you're gonna get some answers real soon, kid. 'Cause here they come."
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- continued -
"The One the Suit Wasn't Meant For"