Heart Seizure by Bill Fitzhugh

Author:Bill Fitzhugh [Fitzhugh, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-06-204186-9
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2003-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Despite having lost visual contact with the Mustang half an hour earlier, Rodgers and Hart seemed unconcerned as they cruised down Highway 58. Jed X was driving, equally nonchalant, as if he’d picked up a pair of friendly hitchhikers instead of having been carjacked. Rodgers was in the passenger seat staring at the big green spiderweb tattoo centered on Jed X’s right elbow. It spread up and down his arm and annoyed Rodgers for reasons beyond his ken.

Agent Hart was in the back, hunched over, looking at something in the valise.

Rodgers turned and cast a jealous eye at the custom interior and contents of Jed X’s van. Skateboards, mounted like rifles in a gun rack, angled against the back walls like wheeled shingles. Long boards, short boards, plywood, Fibreflex, all with gleaming custom trucks and personalized paint jobs ranging in theme from pseudosatanism to the praise of hemp. Helmets, knee pads, elbow pads, wrist braces. Weapons and armor for a different kind of fight.

Agent Rodgers sighed. This was the sort of thing he had been denied as a kid. While his father made sure there was no long hair or dope smoking, his mother refused to allow him to participate in any activity that might result in physical harm. No football or baseball or hockey for you, young man. He was forced to learn chess and piano, and for that he’d been taunted and teased and eternally tormented. He remembered one day staring out his window at neighborhood kids playing football when one of them raced and dodged the length of a field without being touched. He wondered what it must have felt like to score. To be the hero. To put points on the board. To be cheered. But it was something his mother never allowed him.

Jed X noticed Agent Rodgers admiring his boards. “Yo, you old school or what?”

Rodgers made a disparaging noise as he gestured at the skateboards. “Games are for losers.”

Jed X shrugged. “Awww, now, c’mon, G, show me a l’il love.”

Agent Hart looked up from the valise. “They’re still eastbound,” he said. “But we need to close the distance if we want to keep our client comfortable.”

Rodgers nudged Jed X with his gun. “Give it some gas, Cheech.”

Jed X glanced into the valise and saw what looked like a radar screen. “’Sup with the Lojack, yo?”

“GPS,” Hart said. “Designed, funded, and controlled by the Department of Defense.”

“Yo, check it, homes, you droppin’ the science like it’s all hush-hush, but, shit, they got all that bling bling in the new Lex.” Jed X nodded seriously. And he was right. GPS had become optional equipment for luxury cars, whose owners apparently found themselves having not the slightest idea where they were at such an alarming rate as to make GPS seem like a great idea. Jed X pointed at the screen. “Yo, dog, that show where we at?”

“You wanna know where you at, look out the damn window,” Hart said. “This tells me where someone else is.”

Jed X nodded for a moment before waving a hand at Agent Rodgers.

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