THE ROAD IS LONG
Sorry that this chapter was so long in the coming, we've been having some quite bad storms over in the old Wirral Peninsular and it has been affecting my internet, it's been down for a while. But it's better now! I know I said that the next one would be Dom and Letty but chapter nine was going to be all squished together and I kinda like the separate-ness that I have going. You know different chapters for different characters. So I decided to break it down into two chapters. Don't worry I've posted chapter 10 along with this one so you won't have to wait for more Dom/Letty mushiness! I've really gotta work at brining Leon, Vince, Donni, Tino and Mia into the story a bit more coz they're kind of being neglected! Well, I've got some plans for the next three or four chapters so that should keep me out of trouble for a while but if anyone has any ideas please, please tell me! It would be a big help! Okay, this chappie is quite boring I think so that's okay if no one likes it, I don't very much! Happy reading anywho! Gem Xxx Chapter 9: Tran's Cunning. "Stop!" Lance's harsh voice demanded with a bark at the driver of the sleek black jaguar. The thin, pale man gave a short nod of affirmation before gently brining the car to a halt. Through the heavily tinted window, Lance could barely make out the shape of the all too familiar garage belonging to the man responsible for his cousin's untimely death and his own uncomfortable situation at the hands of Hikaru Tran. They were already waiting for him. The group of dubious looking men that his uncle had hired for Lance's use and disposal in the pursuit of his objectives. There were five of them, all of varying shapes, sizes and nationalities though sharing a common demeanour of dangerousness. Lance was certain that none of the five men would think twice about kicking the living shit out of him in different circumstances but his uncle's prominent position and power in society made Lance sure that he was perfectly safe. Made him sure that his orders would be carried out to the highest possible standard and with unswerving diligence for Hikaru had their balls in the same vice that he was crushing Lance's in. They were all in the same boat and if they did not succeed in their mission that little boat would be sinking very soon! Lance took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fierceness that he needed to portray when dealing with such vagrants and opened the car door slowly. His highly polished dress-shoes clacked against the concrete as he stepped out and began his purposeful stride forwards to meet them. Long gone where the days when he would tackle the world from the back of a motorbike, wearing his preferred attire of snakeskin trousers. The man he had been had long since perished, perhaps due to the death of Johnny, perhaps due to the immense pressure that his uncle now placed upon his young shoulders. But no matter the when's or the why's. Lance Kuan-Yin Tran had died and had been reborn into a serious man who had no more mercy than his uncle. "Gentlemen." Lance exclaimed, sarcasm soaking his word as his lips twitched ever so briefly into a false smile. He straightened his dark blue, pinstripe suit jacket and then tugged at the open necked collar of his pristine white shirt. His hard gaze travelled over them for a fleeting, disdain filled moment before his coal black eyes stopped upon a severely beaten and bloodied member. "What the hell happened to you!" he demanded standing directly in front of the man in question, clasping his hands together at the small of his back. After a long paused without a reply, Lance raised an eyebrow warningly. "The second target attacked me." The large, brutish man mumbled through a thick lip, blood trickling from the corner. "He went psycho on me with a chair leg!" Lance narrowed his eyes at the much stronger man. "Vincent Keller was half your size and you are telling me that you allowed him to beat you with a chair leg?" Lance challenged before releasing a bleat of furious laughter from his thin lips. "I find your incompetence amusing." He smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket then turning his hard eyes back to the man that he was berating. "But you dealt with Leon Holden? Did you not?" Lance had resumed his pacing along the line of thugs but when silence resumed it's reign over the vicinity he snapped his suddenly incensed frown back to the beaten man. "I see." He murmured icily. "I gave him the beating of his life, sir!" the exhausted figure gasped suddenly, afraid that his ineptitude had sealed his fate, spraying blood unintentionally over the clear white of Lance's collar and his face. The young Chinese man curled the corner of his lips into a snarl of distaste, removing his handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the scarlet blobs of spittle. "He just wasn't there when I regained consciousness…" the thug continued though he was considerably less sure of himself. "Guess his psycho friend took him away…Dunno if he was hurt bad enough to die." The last sentence came out of the bruised lips as little more than a muttering. "I see." Lance repeated his earlier statement, turning on his heal and striding towards the open door of the garage. "Come with me!" he ordered and the five men dutifully shuffled after him towards the gloom of the empty building. Lance, however, whirled about and stabbed his finger in the air towards the limping member who had been sent to take care of Leon and the shop. "Just you!" he snarled almost animalistic in his fury and the four others fell back leaving their doomed comrade to hobble in Lance's wake. Once inside Lance angrily gestured to several portable fuel cans that stood stacked up against the far wall before heading towards the office door. "Empty the fuel onto the floor." He spat and his unfortunate companion set about his task without voicing the complaint that Lance knew he felt. That thought caused a heartless chuckle to form in the back of his throat as he closed the door tightly shut behind him and moved to the telephone that was perched precariously on the rickety looking desk. He reached for the handset of the phone and typed in the code for caller ID hoping with all hope that the last person to call was someone of interest. If not he would have to look in to securing a copy of the garage's recent phone bill. He hoped that he would not have to go to any further trouble that day to find something to present to his uncle and to his relief he didn't. He scribbled the digits down onto a scrap piece of paper, a smile slowly creeping onto his face as he linked together the phone number being relayed to him. Zero, one, one. Pause. Five, two. Pause. Six, eight, six. Pause. Five, seven, seven. Zero, zero, one, two. It certainly wasn't a local number; that much Lance was sure of. He would bet his life on the notion that this phone number had been used by Dominic Toretto. It had to be! He continued to grin insanely to himself at his own good fortune and wedged the receiver to his ear again, dialling up the operator service. A loud, bawdy, female voice blared down the line, making the earpiece vibrate against Lance's ear excruciatingly. "You've reached the operating service. How can I help?" the woman trilled, the sound of her voice setting his teeth on edge. "Yes. Hello. I was wondering if you could help me?" he queried after unclamping his jaw and resuming the task at hand. He attempted to sound as polite as possible to ensure the woman's cooperation, though such an effort required an awful amount of willpower. "I'll do my best, sweetheart." She replied with a light laugh that made Lance grit his teeth again. "Yeah. Well, my business telephone line has been receiving some…hostile phone calls of late. One came this morning actually. I was hoping that it might be possible for you to tell me which state the area code is from." He paused slightly letting the woman contemplate his words for a few seconds and diverting his gaze ever so fleetingly to the work of the incompetent idiot who was sloshing petrol over the entire garage floor. "You see, I have a vague idea who it may be that is making these prank calls, but I need to know what the state the number is from to confirm my suspicions." The woman had barely let Lance finish his sentence before her mouth had jumped into action in the same warbling tone though it seemed several pitches higher than before. "Oh, you poor love!" she cooed. "You know, there are some dreadful people out there now-a-days! My sister, Flo, she-" "The number is zero, one, one. Five, two. Six, eight, six. Five, seven, seven. Zero, zero, one two!" Lance spoke over her roughly, cutting off her nonsensical babbling. "It's urgent!" "Well, fine!" she huffed, her cheery disposition vanishing suddenly. "One minute." He heard the faint clacking of the keyboard as the annoying operator typed the number into her computer and then the clicking of the mouse as the she searched for the one thing that would spell the beginning of the end for those responsible for Johnny's death. "Aha!" she crowed triumphantly. "Here we are, my sweet! Lance wanted nothing more than to slap the stupid smile that was no doubt plastered across her features, from her similarly stupid face. "It's Mexican. San Felipe in Baja to be exact. Is that the state you think the culprits are from?" Lance however, had long since stopped listening and barely heard her question before he slammed the phone back down into it's cradle cutting the ridiculous woman off for the final time. His wicked beam returned to his face. It was common knowledge in the racing world that the Toretto's had family in Mexico and Lance had had his suspicions before he was even appointed the task of vengeance by his uncle. Now, however, he had solid proof that Dom had taken off to what he thought was safety. Lance gave a gurgling laugh at that thought for there was nowhere left that was safe for the speed king. Suddenly tapping on the office door dragged Lance from his moment of glory and he glanced angrily at the bruised faced lackey who peered in worriedly. "I finished my task, Boss." He mumbled, clutching onto the edge of the door as if it were a shield. "Good!" Lance sniffed with contempt. "At least you did something right!" he strode towards the door, brushing past the man who flinched and scuttled backwards to let him pass. "I want you to stay in the office. I'm expecting a phone call." He lied and the other contemplated his boss' words as if he sensed the falsehood, though he nodded anyway and stepped into the box-like room. Almost as if he was resigned to his own fate. It was all too easy! Lance congratulated himself as he jammed a nearby chair underneath the door handle preventing all escape and strode purposefully back out into the fading sunlight. The remaining four members of his little entourage shared worried glances as Lance exited alone and moved past them back towards the waiting midnight black jaguar. He paused only as he had opened the door and was levering himself into the comfortable leather seats. "Burn it!" he growled over his shoulder, icy hate in his tone. "And lock the garage doors!" Lance disappeared into the back of the car. "But what about Finney! He's still in-" Lance's head reappeared for a brief second, his teeth clenched and his eyes daring any of the other men to challenge him. "I said 'burn it'!" his voice was low and filled with abhorrence and then the door slammed. Tyres squealing against the tarmac, leaving the four men in clouds of blue smoke as they turned to do his bidding. -00000- Well, that one's outta the way (thank God!). I made up the surnames for Vince and Leon coz I don't think we ever find out in the film…? Oh well. Onwards! To the Dom and Letty-ness!
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