Blindfolded, bound , and shoved into the trunk 15 minutes earlier, Carl still knew that the vehicle was making a right on Western from Franklin and hoped that whoever’d kidnapped him would stay in Los Angeles. If they did at least he’d know where he was. But if they got on a freeway and headed out of the city, it wouldn’t take long for him to lose his frame of reference.
Right at that moment he was more worried about that then about losing his life.
They’d already tried to mix him up. After stuffing him into the trunk they left his house and made a bunch of lefts and rights — even a few u-turns and a fully encircled block or two, But despite his present predicament Carl had to smile at their useless efforts to throw him of the trail because if there was one thing he knew, it was the streets. And knowing where they were taking him just might help keep him not dead.
Down Western they went, crossing Hollywood and Sunset boulevards. Carl held his breath when he heard the ticking of the turn signal because it was either going to be Fountain Avenue — which was good — or the 101 Freeway immediately beyond it. And that would be bad. He could probably keep track out to Calabasas or Westlake Village, or if they got on the 405 to Magic Mountain to the north and LAX to the south, but out there specifics would be few.
The car turned right on Fountain and Carl exhaled in relief.