Midnight Driver: Five Stars or Die

Ch 08. Breach of Contract

    The crystal chandeliers in the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel cast a warm golden glow, a sharp contrast to the night air outside that had begun to bite. Along the valet lane, Rolls Royces, Bentleys, and Ferraris stood in neat rows, displayed like the expensive toys of Hollywood gods. At the very end of the line, Ray’s matte black Dodge Charger sat motionless, a wolf among pampered poodles. No valet dared approach it. The car radiated a sense of danger that made wealthy people instinctively uneasy.

    

    Ray tapped his index finger against the steering wheel, matching the rhythm of the digital clock on the dashboard. 9:00 p.m.

    

    The hotel’s glass doors spun open. A man stumbled out. He wore a black tuxedo with the tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his face flushed from a mix of expensive alcohol and pure panic. This was his client, City Councilman Marcus Hartman. The same man whose face smiled confidently from campaign billboards under the slogan Law and Order, yet tonight he looked like a fugitive fresh from robbing a casino.

    

    Hartman waved off the hotel attendant, hurried toward Ray’s car, and pounded on the passenger window. Ray calmly unlocked the door. Hartman climbed in, slammed it shut with enough force to make Ray wince inwardly, then collapsed into the leather seat.

    

    “Drive,” Hartman ordered hoarsely. “Now. Get moving before they see me.”

    

    Ray eased onto the gas. The car glided out of the hotel driveway and merged onto Santa Monica Boulevard.

    

    “Destination as listed in the app, Emerald Bay Residence, Laguna Beach,” Ray said flatly.

    

    “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Hartman muttered. He pulled out his phone with shaking hands and jabbed at the screen. “Linda? Burn everything. Files in the safe, the laptop, all of it. The FBI is on the way.”

    

    Hartman ended the call and hurled the phone out the open window into the street. He leaned back, his breathing still uneven.

    

    “Change of plans, Driver,” Hartman said suddenly. “LAX. Private aviation terminal. I have a Gulfstream ready to take off for Panama in thirty minutes.”

    

    Ray kept the car steady in the lane leading toward the I-405 South, the direction of Laguna Beach. “To change the destination, you need to update it in the app. Security protocol.”

    

    “I just threw my phone away, you idiot!” Hartman snapped. “I do not have access to your damn app!”

    

    “That’s your problem,” Ray replied coldly. “Without a system update, I can’t change the route.”

    

    “Insurance?!” Hartman laughed like a rabid dog. “We’re talking about my freedom. I’m Councilman Hartman. I sign off on the road repairs for the streets you’re driving on.”

    

    “And this road still has potholes at mile four,” Ray replied evenly. “Sit back, Mr. Hartman. Or this ride ends here.”

    

    Hartman fell silent for a moment. His anger peaked, then he reined it in. He suddenly chuckled, the sound smoother, more controlled. He leaned forward, bringing his face close to Ray’s shoulder.

    

    “You think you’re someone special, huh? Just because you have an armored car and a fancy app, you think you have power?” Hartman lowered his voice. “I know about Car Gow. I know the network you people use. And I know your kind. Ex-military, discarded ghosts tossed aside by Uncle Sam.”

    

    Ray did not react, but his jaw tightened.

    

    “How’s Commander Krueger these days, Ray?”

    

    The words struck the cabin like a burst of static. Ray’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but his breath caught for a single second. That name. The same name that had haunted him at the diner that morning.

    

    Hartman grinned when he saw he had hit the nerve. “Oh yes. I know about Al-Safira. That black budget you saw on the news today? I helped bury the money trail for years. If I go down, I won’t go down alone. And if you don’t take me to the airport right now, I can make sure the name ‘Rayner’ ends up on the FBI’s most wanted list by tomorrow morning.”

    

    Ray glanced at the rearview mirror. Hartman’s bloodshot eyes stared back at him in triumph. He was no longer a panicking child. He was a snake, baring its fangs.

    

    “Turn the car around, Driver. Now,” Hartman whispered. “I’m not asking. I’m buying your life.”

    

    Ray checked the dashboard. Speed, sixty miles per hour. An empty, dimly lit bus stop lay ahead. Ray did not turn toward the airport. He pressed the brake firmly. The car rolled to a stop at the shelter.

    

    “Why are we stopping?” Hartman asked, his smile vanishing. “This isn’t the airport.”

    

    “The ride is over,” Ray said. He pressed the door release. “Please step out.”

    

    “Did you not hear me?!” Hartman shouted, hysteria surging back. “I know who you are. I can destroy you.”

    

    “You have information, Mr. Hartman, but you don’t have power,” Ray said, his voice ice cold. “Krueger doesn’t care about you. If he knows you’re cornered, he’ll be the first to put a bullet in your head to keep you quiet. You’re just a pawn past its expiration date.”

    

    Ray met Hartman’s gaze in the mirror. “And one thing about me. I don’t negotiate with dead weight that’s trying to drag me under.”

    

    “No. I’m not getting out.”

    

    Ray pressed the small red button beneath the steering column.

    

    CLACK.

    

    The rear seat suddenly surged forward, the backrest snapping upright aggressively, forcing Hartman toward the automatically opening door. At the same time, the car’s audio system unleashed a high-frequency alarm that stabbed at the ears.

    

    “Aaaargh!” Hartman clutched his head in pain. He was thrown out of the car, landing on his knees on the filthy concrete sidewalk.

    

    The moment Hartman was clear, Ray cut the alarm. Silence returned to the night. Ray grabbed the wad of cash Hartman had tossed onto the front seat earlier, about two thousand dollars, and flung it out the window.

    

    “Use that to hire a lawyer, not a driver,” Ray said. “And if you plan on saying my name in front of the FBI, make sure you’re ready to explain where the stolen teachers’ pension fund went.”

    

    “Bastard!” Hartman screamed from the sidewalk, scrambling to collect the bills as the wind scattered them.

    

    Ray rolled up the passenger window. He hit the gas. The V8 roared, tearing through the night. The Phantom sped away, leaving Hartman alone beneath a flickering streetlight as distant police sirens began to draw closer.

    

    Ray checked the mirror. Hartman looked small and pathetic. The threat involving Krueger might be real, but Ray had a code. In a lawless world, integrity to the contract was the only thing separating him from monsters. He could not be bought, and he refused to be bullied.

    

    Ray tapped the app.

    

    CANCELLATION REASON: Problematic Passenger / Security Threat.

    

    PASSENGER RATING: 1 Star (Blacklisted).

    

    He turned the car north. His chest still thudded hard from hearing Krueger’s name. This was no longer about money. Hartman was right. Ray’s world was starting to crack, and old secrets were leaking out. He needed coffee. He needed a plan. And he needed to stay behind the wheel before the storm finally broke.