“This,” Pedro said, “is what the old Americans called a 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan. It’s got its original motor, over four hundred cubic inches in size. It has restored tires, reproduced suspensions, rejuvenated shocks. The engine has been converted, so it’ll run fine on vegetable oil.”
“Nice,” I said. “Does it have anything wrong with it?”
Pedro shrugged. “The cigarette lighter does not work.”
Look, I didn’t say I wanted Pedro’s gate keys. If I was going to get downtown in time, I needed something with more speed than a running man. And that meant… the car in the King’s stable he’d be least likely to mourn. Pedro had walked me past the Jaguar without losing a step, but this one he’d let me sign out, since the Hermosa did give me that note.