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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Half a dozen people there. Dispatcher answering phones. Two young cops at coffee machine discussing the Knicks’ dismal season. Female cop and dog control officer trying to wrestle a rhino into big cage. “He doesn’t have any tags and there’s no sign of a collar,” the female cop is saying. “He seems well taken care of, but I don’t know what his owner was thinking, letting him out like that.”

“Maybe the owner was thinking he eats too much,” the dog control officer suggests. “A dog like this can eat you out of house and home.”

No, not a rhino. Gisco! He infiltrated the police station by getting himself picked up by some kind of suburban pest sweep. Now they’re trying to lock him away. Then, no doubt, off to the pound.

“I like small dogs,” the lady cop offers. “Chihuahuas. Toy poodles. Nothing bigger than a retriever.”

“Anything would seem small next to this four-legged tub of lard. Look at his legs! Like tree stumps! And his tail! Like a dust mop!”

“At least he’s well behaved. Come on, Jumbo. Into the cage.”

Call me Jumbo again and I’ll bite your ears off.

Chill, Gisco. She’s right. You have put on a few pounds since I last saw you.

Big dog swivels his head in all directions, looking for me. That’s muscle tone. No need to insult me. Where are you?

No insult intended. But for a dog that vanished into thin air, you’re now looking rather substantial. I’m the guy in the uniform that doesn’t fit.

Oh, yeah. I should have recognized you by your smell.

You’re no rose garden yourself.

The aroma of a healthy dog is one of the world’s finest smells. It has a complex bouquet, like a fine wine.

Or a shallow latrine.

How dare you?

Just telling the truth and … Gisco, let’s get out of here! The Dark Army!

Sure enough, two tall men in blue jackets and khakis hurry through the front door. Both wearing sunglasses.

Gisco backs into the cage.

I step into a corner and pretend to read my file. Watch them out of the corner of my eye as they flash I.D.’s and demand, “Where’s Chief Parker?”

“In with the prisoner,” the dispatcher tells them. “Scott or Glenn, wanna take these gentlemen to the cell?”

The two young cops are excited to have FBI agents in the station. Lead them away down the hall.