The Pandora Key (Alex Shanahan) PDF
Preview The Pandora Key (Alex Shanahan)
Alex Shanahan goes undercover to expose a deadly crime ring at 30,000 feet—in Lynne Heitman’s FIRST CLASS KILLING “This action-filled thriller packs an erotic punch…gathers strength as it goes along.” —The Boston Globe “Enthralling…. A very compelling crime thriller complete with blackmail, murder, and an internet-run prostitute ring…. The well-written storyline [leaves] the audience eagerly turning the pages.” —Harriet Klausner, barnesandnoble.com “Get ready for the plane ride of your life…. Heitman is an excellent storyteller who creates wonderful and believable characters…. First Class Killing will leave readers eagerly awaiting the next Alex Shanahan novel.” —Old Book Barn Gazette HARD LANDING “A confession: I love to have an insider from a field I thought I understood show me how I was wrong. Lynne Heitman’s debut mystery, Hard Landing, delves beneath the ticket counters and departure gates to expose how both a major airline and a major airport really work. The Boston settings are dead-on, and Alexandra Shanahan is credibly tough and genuinely sensitive at all the right times. Highly recommended.” —Jeremiah Healy, Shamus Award–winning author of Turnabout “Hard Landing goes down easy, and will keep you guessing—and flipping pages —till three a.m.” —John J. Nance, New York Times bestselling author of Orbit “There’s something mysterious happening at Boston’s Logan International Airport, and the novel’s heroine, Alex Shanahan, the new manager of the fictitious Majestic Airlines, is thrust into the middle of it. Fasten your seat belt— this story, written by an airline industry insider, is exciting from start to finish.” —American Way, American Airlines’ in-flight magazine “Sometimes a reviewer just wants to read a book because it’s good…this is…a good novel…. Heitman leads Alex in a lively dance.” —The Boston Globe “An edge-of-your seat thriller that sweeps you up and carries you along for the ride.” —Lisa Gardner, New York Times bestselling author of Gone “Terrific…twists and turns and keeps you on the edge of your seat.” —Kate Mattes, Kate’s Mystery Books TARMAC “Fast-moving and as fascinating as a natural disaster, the novel is suspenseful and electric and has the appeal of any insider story. Ms. Heitman is a former airline employee of 14 years, and her words ring true.” —The Dallas Morning News “A fast-paced thriller that kept me turning the pages into the night…you can practically smell the grease and gasoline.” —Kate Mattes, Kate’s Mystery Books “An intricate and explosive thriller…evocative prose…[a] tightly woven, compelling read. One of the year’s most notable thrillers.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Heitman is proving to be an accomplished thriller writer.” —Bookseller Star Ratings “Truly excellent…the best white-knuckle ride I’ve taken in a long time.” —Lee Child, New York Times bestselling author of One Shot “[Tarmac] needs no blurbs…the book can lift off for itself.” —The Boston Globe “…the story kept me turning the pages rapidly…. Recommended.” —Barbara Franchi, reviewingtheevidence.com Also by Lynne Heitman HARD LANDING TARMAC FIRST CLASS KILLING An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2006 by Lynne Heitman All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 ISBN: 1-4165-2308-1 POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com Prologue MY ASSIGNMENT IS TO KILL THE HOSTAGES. I HAVE GROWN to like some of them over our ten days together, but my duty is clear. The army is gathering outside the airplane. It is time to execute the plan. We all know our places. We all go to our duties. I dig an extra clip out of the bag. I do not know how many rounds it will take. I stop at the front of the airplane, in the section that we have reserved for ourselves to pray. Then I go back through the curtains, and when they look at me, they know. By the way I hold the Kalashnikov or by the way I stand or by the way I look at them. Something tells them I am there to finish it. But I’ve never killed anyone before. I’ve dreamed of it. I lied about it to be part of this operation, but I have never done it before. I level the rifle. The first one gets down on the floor between the seats and curls into a ball. I point the barrel at his head and fire. The recoil jams my shoulder back. When the bullet hits, it stops him in the middle of a scream. His head ruptures. The others run like frightened beasts. They climb over the backs of the seats. They stumble and fall and step on each other, but there is no place for them to go. I smell the fear. They should die like men, as we all will soon. Outside, firing begins. At first it is like rain, a sprinkling against the outside of the airplane. But then the deluge. The first bomb goes off. The floor rises up, then drops from under me. A wave of pressure pushes me down. My ears hurt, and when I get to my knees, I can’t hear. One of them is coming. I find the rifle and shoot. He’s screaming, but I can’t hear, and he keeps coming. I shoot again, and he falls. When I try to stand, there is too much smoke. My eyes burn, but I can still see they are all coming. Their faces look like my son’s crayon drawings. I try to raise the rifle again, but they push me down and step on me as they go over. Another bomb goes off. The seats are on fire. The air feels greasy, like kerosene. Because I can’t hear, everything feels slow. I crawl up the aisle. A man with blood on his face and his arms on fire runs toward me. He bumps into something and falls backward. On the floor in front of me, he twists and kicks and turns and screams until he is still. I pull myself into one of the seats. And I wait.
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