The Arctic Code by Matthew J. Kirby Read Free Book Online Page B

against her back. She dove into the narrow alleyway between two buildings, elbows grazing either side. She didn’t know if the driver was chasing her, but she didn’t even turn to look.
    Eleanor burst out from between the buildings into a wider road. She threw herself down another narrow alleyway, across an even wider road, and into an open, dark hangar, where she crouched down in the shadows, slowed her breathing, and listened.
    She didn’t hear anyone coming. But she heard indistinct shouting. It sounded like a few people werecalling back and forth about her. They knew she was here, somewhere on the airfield, and they were looking for her. If she got caught, this would be way worse than being reprimanded at the police station. She’d get arrested for sure. They’d call Uncle Jack, he’d take her Sync, and Eleanor would lose any hope she had of finding her mom.
    Her only chance was to get to hangar eighteen and somehow bribe her way onto this Luke guy’s plane before anyone caught her.
    Eleanor waited a few minutes longer, trying to figure out if the voices were coming closer. When she felt pretty sure they weren’t, she crept forward and peeked out of the hangar. The road outside was lined with buildings, but like the one in which she now hid, none of them seemed large enough. She assumed Luke’s plane would have to be pretty big to make his Arctic runs.
    Farther down the road, the buildings doubled and tripled in size. She decided to make her way toward them. Fortunately, it was still pretty early in the morning, and the road appeared deserted in both directions.
    Eleanor scurried out but kept to the sides of the road off the pavement, running like a mouse in a corner, close to the buildings, her boots leaving footprints in the sand and snow. She’d made it a block or so whenshe heard the sound of an engine approaching.
    She ducked down behind a stack of empty wooden pallets, peering through the splintered slats as a utility truck rounded a corner up ahead and turned in the same direction she was headed, toward the larger hangars. She watched it drive off, getting smaller, until it turned another corner and disappeared.
    She waited a few more seconds before continuing down the road. On the way, she hid from two more trucks, as well as a group of guys wearing those big headset things around their necks, until she reached the first of the large buildings.
    Through a window in back, she could see it was a hangar, but it was empty. She moved on to the next, which had two smaller, sleek planes inside it, not what she was looking for.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    Eleanor whipped around.
    A young guy stood there, a coil of hose over his shoulder that almost reached the ground. Eleanor thought about running again, but this guy didn’t seem like he was after her, or cared who she was.
    â€œI’m, uh, looking for hangar eighteen,” she said.
    â€œTwo more down.” He pointed. “That way.”
    â€œThank you.” She nodded and walked on, forcing herself to move slowly and openly.
    Security on this side of the airfield seemed a lot looser than it was in the passenger airport. No alarms here. Maybe that was all part of the deal. Maybe all the illegal runs made by these supply planes were . . . overlooked.
    The young guy’s directions brought Eleanor to the back of the hangar. She skirted around the building and found the main doors wide open. A large plane took up most of the space inside, its wings almost reaching wall to wall. It was definitely an older model, one that ran on gasoline, not one of the newer electric ones. The plane was thick and round, painted in not-quite-matching shades of white, with a wide belly. Eleanor assumed from its girth it was a cargo plane, and it looked like it had been beaten up and not quite given the chance to heal before it got into another fight. A couple of mechanics currently worked on its nose.
    A man stood nearby, watching