“And why is she a widow?”
“The car was delivered a couple of days too late to serve the purpose the gentleman had intended.”
“You mean he was in another car when…”
“When he needed the extra protection that this car affords.”
“How much does the widow want for it?”
“Something in the region of…” He named a figure. “But I believe she is a highly motivated seller.”
“I see,” Stone said, feeling to be sure he had his checkbook with him.
“The car has only eighty-one miles on it, and it has every option ordinarily available on the S600,” the salesman said, “including the portable telephone and the separate rear-seat air-conditioning. Even with the extra weight of the options and the armoring, the car will do zero to sixty in six seconds flat,” the salesman said, “and the top speed is no longer limited to the standard, electronically controlled one hundred thirty miles per hour.”
“What is the top speed?” Stone asked, trying to breathe deeply and slowly.
“Nobody knows,” the salesman replied.
“Ask the widow if
she will accept an offer of…” Stone named a number. “And please tell her it will be my only offer.”
“Let me make a call,” the salesman said. He went to his desk and picked up the phone.
Stone walked around the car, looked in the trunk, then raised the hood. He gave a little gasp. The engine was the most beautiful mechanical object he had ever seen, ingeniously crammed into a car allegedly too small for it and beautifully polished wherever possible. He closed the hood and looked at the wheels. He reckoned they were two inches larger than standard; the rear wheels were wider than the front, and the tires were low profile.
The salesman returned. “The widow accepts your offer,” he said. A film of perspiration covered his face. “Will that be cash, or would you like to finance it?”
“It will be cash,” Stone said, pulling out his checkbook. “How soon can I drive it away?”
“The car’s already been prepped; you can be on your way in half an hour.”
“Can you get me a number for the car phone in that time?”
“You better believe it,” the salesman said, trying not to pant.
20
S TONE DROVE MADDENINGLY SLOWLY through the crosstown traffic, two detectives in a car behind him. Sarah was reading through the instruction book that came as a supplement to the owner’s manual.
“It says here that the electric, rear-seat sunscreen is made of a material that is designed to stop any incoming…” She stopped. “Incoming what?”
“Just incoming. It means bullets or shrapnel.”
“Any incoming that penetrates the rear glass.” She found the button under the armrest and watched as the fabric sunscreen went up and down. “Cute,” she said. “Does it have built-in machine guns like James Bond’s car?”
“Of course not. I shouldn’t have told you about the armor.”
“Oh, I’m very glad to hear about the armor,” she said. “Gives one a cozy warm feeling inside. Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“How long a surprise?”
“Normally less than two hours, but I want to make a brief stop along the way.”
“A brief stop where?”