Some days you just get lucky: there was a Ferrari - door open, keys in the ignition - sitting behind the hotel. No bones or messy remains inside, it was clean: whoever had been in it must have run, or died and turned with the door open.
He tossed his bag and the gun in the passenger’s side and slid behind the wheel. It started up right away, had almost three quarters of a tank. From his pocket he fished a notepad. Under "R.R. Phantom” and “Fire Chief” he wrote “F430 Spider.”
The only question was: top down or up?