Chapter Twelve
Finn and Ice rushed out of the motel room, firing at a mob of sportscars that seemed to appear out of nowhere like the heads of a hydra. "Go, I'll cover for you," Finn said, cocking another gun and preparing to fire.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Ice replied.
"The worst they can do is kill me."
"That's pretty bad."
"Just go. Get out while you can, and see if you can find Electro."
"Okay."
Ice fought his way to the elevator, taking a final look at Finn as he was swarmed by cars. "You better be right," he said, pressing the button for the lobby.
CARS
As Ice drove out of the hotel, he studied the cars in the street. British security officers and unidentified sportscars were engaged in duels and shooting matches of nearly every sort. His system gave no indication that Electro was anywhere to be found, but that didn't mean it was true.
He studied the croud more closely, finally spotting a car who fought his way toward him. Once the car reached him, he said, "Thank the Manufacturer. Where's Finn?"
"Back in the hotel," Ice replied. "What's going on?"
"From what I can tell, these sportscars threatened the Queen or national security or something. I don't know."
"We've gotta get out of here. If we can catch a flight away from here, then we can figure out what to do."
"Okay."
Ice led Electro through the crowds and passed a gas station on the way to the nearest airport. Something struck the pump, and a brilliant fireball filled Ice's mirrors. He skidded to a stop and looked at the fireball, barely seeing Electro's form tumble over its roof several times before slamming into the street and sliding to a halt. "Oh, shit," he whispered, rushing over to where the charred car lay. From what he could tell, very few of Electro's parts were salvageable. He was completely gone.
Time slowed, and a dull hum filled his ears, drowning out the chaos. The cars were apparently a threat to British security, but was this something else engineered by Montgomery?
His thoughts stilled, and he turned away from the car, driving toward the airport.
CARS
Finn's eyes fluttered open. His engine pounded, and at first glance, it seemed as if he were hung over, but he didn't drink before he passed out. Of this he was positive.
Sedatives, he thought.
He studied his new, dimly lit surroundings in an effort to get his bearings. Three other cars could be seen in the room, partially illuminated by the solitary lightbulb overhead.
Zundapp rolled forward and said, "We were wondering when you would wake up, McMissile."
"Good morning to you, too, Professor," Finn replied. His gaze drifted to the other cars, and as his eyes adjusted, it became clear exactly who he was dealing with. Shorts and Alan deCarteran. "Where exactly are we?"
"That's a good question," Shorts said, rolling forward. deCarteran followed his lead. "All our crimes are different."
"Our...crimes?"
deCarteran gestured to Zundapp and said, "Weapons dealer." He gestured to Shorts. "Parts dealer." He gestured to both himself and Finn. "Traitor, rogue spy."
"So what's such a motley crew doing in one place?"
"Awaiting further orders," Zundapp said. "May as well sleep off the drugs while you still can."
Finn nodded. What choice did he have? he wondered when he considered his situation. He drove back into a corner and settled in.
CARS
Siddeley landed in the desert just outside of Radiator Springs, and Holley deplaned and drove into town. She fielded the usual greetings and made her way to the Cozy Cone, knocking on Boost's cone. When he answered, she said, "Get the others. It's time."
Within minutes, Boost had rounded up his three friends, and they gathered in his cone with Holley, who asked, "Where's that package?"
"He's not coming back?" Boost asked.
"Something's gone wrong."
Boost drove over to a corner and pushed a small brown parcel into the center of the cone. Holley pulled at the string binding it with her teeth and pulled the paper away, revealing a black cube. She tapped the box, and it popped open. A holographic image of Finn McMissile appeared. "Hello, gentlemen," the hologram said. "Welcome to Her Magesty's Secret Service."
CARS
Montgomery studied the screen in front of him. Finn had met his fellow prisoners, and the next morning, they would recieve their objective. They would have no choice but to meet it; this he would make perfectly clear. The time has come, and there was no turning back.
"Everything in its place," he said in a low voice, a sick smile forming on his bumper. "Everything in its place."