A flying Ford Mustang? When the government's latest secret weapon is stolen, agent Rick Fortune must recover it before it falls into the hands of the terrorist group Sword of Allah. Greed, betrayal and bad food plague Rick and rival agent Monique Mechante as they chase the car across South Florida and the African nation of Tambuta. And there is Rick's little problem. He is still a virgin, but is hoping that Monique will help him to ... well, you know. His plan might work, but only if they survive.
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The drawbridge crawled upward, blocking the path of the Mustang. Rick stabbed the brake pedal, killed the engine and settled back in the driver’s seat to await the passage of a sailboat beneath the bridge. There were some disadvantages to having a hideaway on an island, he thought, and waiting for drawbridges was one of them. The morning was fresh, almost cool, with no hint of the furnace it would become in just a few short hours. The early sun painted palm tree shadows in thin lines along the deserted road. It was an altogether gorgeous time of day, which the delay at the drawbridge was allowing him to savor. Maybe those disadvantages were really advantages, he thought. He sucked in the dense vapor that passed for air, closed his eyes and thought about last night, which was a mistake, because his mood soured.
Monique, you fooled me, he mused. I thought you were different, special, but in the end, you were just like all the rest. You wanted a take-charge kind of guy who would make you feel all feminine, not someone who required a little patience, a little consideration. He had been battered by her rejection, and it wasn’t just his male pride that suffered. Those few hours with her had lifted him out of the abyss of loneliness, and now he was back at the bottom of the pit. Still, I’m sorry to abandon you like this, he thought, but after studying the information on this LOLA car, I have plans that couldn’t possibly include you.
The voice that broke his reverie was not Monique’s but it was sultry, murmuring to him from a speaker on the dashboard. “Mr. Henderson would like to hear from you, Rick.”
“You’re one sexy-sounding CompuCall,” he replied. He rallied from his black mood. Adventure was in the air; he could almost smell it.
“He said it was urgent,” the voice continued.
“Thank you. I’ll make the call right now.” He pulled his satellite phone off the belt clip and said “Henderson” to trigger the voice-dial feature, then sat up, his back muscles tightening in anticipation.
“Fortune, this is Warren Henderson,” blared the voice on the phone. “You may remember me. I’m your boss!”
Rick held the phone away from his ear. As he expected, his boss was mad, and mad meant loud.
“I have been cooling my heels in the boardroom for the past half hour!” Henderson bellowed. “Where are you?”
“C’mon, Henderson,” he answered lightly. “You must have your computers keeping this Mustang under constant watch. You know within a foot or two where I am.”
“Yes, of course I know where you are!” sputtered the Director of Central Services. “The question is, why aren’t you here?”
Rick glanced up at the sailboat that was creeping out from between the open spans of the drawbridge. “I guess you could say I’m caught in traffic.”
“Be serious, Fortune. I have a situation here that is deteriorating rapidly. I need you here now.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have a long wait ... unless I use LOLA.”
“What? You mean fly? No!”
His heart rate climbed a notch at the prospect of using this high-tech equipment. This was the reason he had delayed his departure, deliberately making himself late for the meeting. This was why Monique was still asleep at The Hideaway instead of sitting beside him. His hands were gripping the wheel of a multi-billion dollar, top-secret, one-of-a-kind, CPP-powered revolutionary flying automobile, and, by God, he was going to fly it. “I have enough information to get the LOLA into the air,” he said, struggling to contain his excitement. “After that, I don’t know how it works, but it’ll get me to the church on time.”
“No, Fortune – ”
“All I have to do is sit back and enjoy the view.”
“A 400 mile-an-hour joy ride!” Henderson shot back. “No, it is out of the question.”
“Fine. But it’s either LOLA or another two-hour wait, while I drive slowly and carefully all the way to Palm Beach, and that’s not counting drawbridges.” As he spoke, the crossing gates shivered to a stop in the upright position and the bridge bell rang to indicate the roadway spans were in place and traffic could resume.
Rick waited as the CompuCall hissed softly. Finally, Henderson said, “Your data flash drive had extensive details about the LOLA. I trust you studied the data.”
“You mean the Final Justice video game?” Rick asked. “I reached level nine.”
“Not funny, Fortune.” Henderson growled through the phone speaker. After another pause, he said, “Very well. But I warn you, LOLA hasn’t been completely tested. It’s your neck.”
“I’m practically there!” Rick quickly cut off the call before his superior could reconsider. Latching the auxiliary seat harness across his chest, he kicked the engine over and accelerated across the bridge. A half-mile later, cruising at 40 mph, he popped open the glove compartment and tapped the code into the key panel for the Low Level Autofly. The CompuCall speaker light flashed on.
“Destination?” queried the soft voice.
He scanned the long stretch of road before him and sucked in another breath. “Central Offices, Palm Beach.”
About Jay R. Worsham
Jay R. Worsham wrote newspaper humor columns for several years before tackling a fiction novel. His first work was a fantasy entitled The Knotted Sword. Following that, he completed Florida Freeze. He is currently working on a second Rick Fortune adventure. A resident of Florida for twenty years, Mr. Worsham now lives in Connecticut, where he gripes about the cold winters.
A flying Ford Mustang? When the government's latest secret weapon is stolen, agent Rick Fortune must recover it before it falls into the hands of the terrorist group Sword of Allah. Greed, betrayal and bad food plague Rick and rival agent Monique Mechante as they chase the car across South Florida and the African nation of Tambuta. And there is Rick's little problem. He is still a virgin, but is hoping that Monique will help him to ... well, you know. His plan might work, but only if they survive.
Jay R. Worsham wrote newspaper humor columns for several years before tackling a fiction novel. His first work was a fantasy entitled The Knotted Sword. Following that, he completed Florida Freeze. He is currently working on a second Rick Fortune adventure. A resident of Florida for twenty years, Mr. Worsham now lives in Connecticut, where he gripes about the cold winters.