Chapter Thirteen

Tubbs and his entourage drove through Detroit, a green Pacer continually firing directions at him. There was so much going through his mind that he didn't bother putting the Pacer in his place, and besides, he wanted to be the one out front if anything as bad as the Professor had described, second-tire, were to take place.

Five minutes after landing in the airport, he pushed through the doors of the meeting room and asked, "Where's Alex?" Alex Hugo paused, but drifted back and pointed to the scarred aquamarine Pacer. Tubbs drove over to him and took him in his tires. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Alex replied.

"What the hell happened last night?" Alex told him the story, and when he finished, Tubbs fired off questions. "Did anybody get shot? Where the hell is this guy? Where's this other car you met? Why here? Why now? What does he know?"

"Uncle Tubbs, Uncle Tubbs, please, calm down. Nobody got shot, don't know, left for Chicago, don't know, don't know, don't know. Anything else?"

"From you and considering the circumstances, no." Tubbs patted Alex on the fender and turned to face the other heads of the families. "Everybody's okay, right?" he asked. After a chorus of yeses and nods, he allowed himself to relax a bit. "We're here for a meeting, fellas, so let's have one."

CARS

Okay, Lexie thought, studying the room around her, time to figure out what I need to school. She drove around the cone, picking out various items and studying each closely before designating an area for it. After she finished, she studied both piles of items and let out a satisfied sigh. Fairly well set, she thought, turning and driving out of the cone.

A few of the residents were gathered at the V8 Cafe, exchanging small talk. The television was on, playing the midday news, and Lexie parked in front of it, next to the Sheriff. "What's up?" she asked.

"Same old, same old," the Sheriff replied. "You?"

"Getting ready for school, worried about Alex and this Montgomery situation, the usual."

"Sounds like you got a lot on your plate."

Lexie shrugged, and then she turned to the Sheriff. "Alex is a member of the Pacer family."

"Yeah?"

"I'm just worried that I'm in too deep and I won't get out alive."

"Nah, I doubt it. You'll be just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Look, I spent the better part of the sixties fighting the Four Families and other crime families. I got cars out for doing worse than talking to a few lemons."

"And how many got out on their own?"

"And lived? Well..."

"Exactly."

"That was the sixties; this is now. You're, what's that word Finn used? A Ceres. I dunno what that means, but it must be important, considering the way he said it."

"I don't know what it means, either, but I doubt a word's enough to save my life."

"Okay, forget the word Ceres for a minute. We all know you can fend for yourself better than most of the cop cars I've ever met. I know for a fact you're gonna pull out okay."

"What about Alex, if he wants to leave?"

"Well, that's a little trickier, but I think it can be done. If he wants to."

"Right."

"Why're you askin', anyway?"

"In case bad things start to happen. I wanna be sure everyone's gonna be okay."

"Define 'bad'."

"Mob war, intra-family fighting, basically anything having to do with mobsters and guns."

"Oh."

"So do you see my dilemma?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Lexie turned back to the television, but she paid little attention to what was on the screen. "I guess I'm a little too young to worry about this stuff, but I do."

The Sheriff shrugged. "'S okay. Happens to a bunch of cars, all the time."

Lexie opened her mouth but was cut off by a chopper overhead. She turned toward the black helicopter, following it with her eyes as it flew over Radiator Springs and into the desert. She drove after the copter, and after a moment, she realized that it was going to the dirt track around Willie's Butte. She pulled onto the ledge and watched the chopper land twenty feet beyond the butte, and then she drove onto the track toward it.

A teal Zundapp Janus disembarked, and she instantly recognized him from the party in Tokyo two months before. "Professor Zundapp?" she asked.

"Ja," he replied. "You've heard of me?"

"Bits and pieces."

"Good. Come with me."

Lexie turned and followed Zundapp across the desert. "It's about Montgomery."

"You are as good as McMissile says you are."

"Thanks."

Zundapp turned to face her and lowered his voice. "He is looking for you."

"I know."

"Do you know how many cars could die if you were found?"

"Excuse me?"

"McMissile likes to think we don't know what you're meant to be, but being a weapons developer, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that you are, in fact, a weapon, and, if I may, one of the finest I have ever had the opportunity to work on."

"Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no, but you are supposed to know. Nowhere is safe, for you or from you."

"Even more about this mess that I don't understand. I feel so naive."

"And that may be your saving grace. It implies an underlying goodness and sense of morality that keeps you from being easily manipulated. It can save you." Lexie chuckled and told him what the Sheriff had told her. "He is right," Zundapp said simply.

"A word or trait won't save me."

"By themselves, no, of course not, but a car is much more than the sum of his or her parts." He nodded to her and drove into town without another word.