Whirlwind by Joseph Garber Read Free Book Online Page A

swerved hard. More than a single horn blared. She bounced over rocky soil, felt the Aerostar’s rear wheels claw dirt as it bumped onto the ramp.
    She pulled to an intersection a few miles west of the supermarket from which she’d stolen her minivan. She’d marked out this place earlier while driving east. Now she was back, and it was exactly what she wanted.
    The Sun Land Mall. Two upscale department stores: Nordstrom and Macy’s. All the national chains: Eddie Bauer, The Body Shop, Ralph Lauren… and restaurants six of them according to the directory at the entrance. Something for everyone: organic vegetarian to pricey faux French.
    Only the coffee shops were open now, but the other stores would be opening soon. Then the acres of parking surrounding the mall would fill. A
    blue SUV would be only one of many, and would go unnoticed she hoped until the stores closed for the night, and the parking lot emptied.
    That was twelve hours away. In twelve hours, she would be very, very far from here.
    She cruised to the end of the lot. A thirsty row of live oaks lined the mall perimeter, prime parking, the only spaces with shade. Those spaces were not what she was looking for. Her objective, marked by a small sign pointing left, was the area designated: Employee Parking Only.
    The workers will be the last to leave, she thought, the last to notice that a car has been stolen.
    She followed the sign. The Ford crept between two buildings and into a courtyard lined with Dumpsters and heaped with empty shipping crates. More than three dozen cars were already there. There were parking spaces for at least another hundred.
    After circling the lot twice, Irina chose a space nearest to the most promising vehicle: a dusty black Dodge pickup truck. She inventoried its qualities and found them pleasing: a little old, a little battered, but still sound. Four-wheel drive; off-road tires; tinted glass. No bumper stickers. That was important. Bumper stickers were second only to vanity license plates in making a vehicle easily identifiable.
    All in all, the Dodge was ideal. Here, in the American Southwest, there would be hundreds thousands of similar trucks on the road. For all intents and purposes, she would be invisible.
    Irina tucked her pistol behind her back, leaving her blue jumper loose so that no telltale bulge could be seen. Easing watchfully out of the Ford, she began to walk slowly down the row of parked cars.
    Past the truck, eyeing it from the rear.
    Around to the front of the parking lane, examining her target from another angle.
    She edged by it on the passenger side, glancing through its windows. The doors were locked, but that was no more than a thirty-second problem.
    Another car rolled into the parking lot. Irina kept walking, entering an alley that led out into the center of the mall. She stopped just where the passageway debouched into public space. Flipping open her purse, she began to rummage through its contents a punctual shop girl looking for her lipstick, getting ready for her day’s duties.
    A middle-aged woman with unfortunate hips bustled out of the alley, barely giving her a passing glance.
    Irina dropped back into the shadows, turned and sprinted. Mall workers would be coming into the parking lot in increasing numbers. What time did most of the stores open? Nine thirty, probably. Certainly no later than ten. She had to act now, before the crowd arrived.
    Moments earlier, she, who wore no makeup, hadn’t been searching for lipstick. She’d been looking for the plastic shim she kept in her shoulder bag. As she slipped it into the pickup truck’s door, just as she felt it engage the lock catch, she heard her luck run out.
    “Hey, lady, just whut the hell you think you’re doin’ with my truck?”
    i3am was hiding something, and Charlie knew it. Frustrated, he silently reflected on what tone of voice might shake the truth loose. Outrage, he decided, icy outrage: “One last time: What the hell has this girl