"A harsh wind tore at the scrub along the edge of the rural road, the gusts assaulting the hills with startling ferocity. Electricity crackled across the elephant-hide sky as the Ford Econoline’s tires shrieked in smoking alarm. The heavy vehicle lumbered around a hairpin turn, far in excess of any sane speed, engine roaring as it labored toward the summit. The Ferrari California 30 convertible ahead of it negotiated the curves like an Olympic skier, its red taillights winking at the van like a taunt, the deceptive twists a slim challenge for its driver, even after more than a few drinks.

It was late afternoon and a front had moved in, one of the freak storms that could come out of nowhere and disrupt the late spring warmth that was the birthright of Southern California’s privileged. Flashes of light pulsed within the blanket of dark clouds brooding over the hills, threatening a downpour at any moment, but for now the heavens’ growling was the harmless protest of a caged bear.

Another curve, another screeching drift as tortured rubber fought to grip the asphalt and the huge motor propelled the cargo vehicle closer to its elusive quarry. Inside, a hirsute young man with two days’ growth dusting his swarthy features gripped the black lens of a Canon EOS 5D camera and gritted his teeth as the driver gave the van everything he had, pushing the ungainly conveyance to its limits.

"Damn. Slow down, would you? It’s not worth getting us killed," he complained. ?"Relax, Omar, I’ve got it under control," the driver snarled, his furrowed brow betraying the lie in his assurance. An old Chevrolet pickup truck swung around the bend and narrowly missed the van’s front fender, causing them to lose a few precious seconds as the Italian car pulled over the rise and began its descent down Malibu Canyon Road, the sheer drop to the rocks hundreds of feet below a slim deterrent to its increasing speed."