Crashers Read Online Free Page A

ago.”
    The professor’s eyebrows rose. “You’re fifteen minutes away by helicopter. I always thought time was of the essence in these situations.”
    Tommy said, “You got a helicopter?”
    The woman who had been checking Tommy out was one of the hosting physicians from OHSU. She reached for her purse and produced a cell phone. “We’re a level-one trauma center. We’ve got one, sure.”
    Tommy watched the smoldering scene for a moment, then checked his watch. Almost 9 P.M. He felt his stomach tightening up and wondered if his ulcer was making a comeback. He nodded without looking at the woman beside him. “Get me there.”
L’ENFANT PLAZA, WASHINGTON, D.C.
    Susan Tanaka dashed through the darkened halls of the National Transportation and Safety Board building, empty except for the night cleaningcrew. The clocks showed midnight, Eastern Standard Time. She zigged around two guys with floor waxers. “Excuse me,” she shouted. “Coming through. Pardon.”
    Susan was a small woman, only five-two, and she probably didn’t weigh 110 pounds soaking wet. The men got out of her way all the same.
    Her BlackBerry chirped. Susan wore it in a holster attached to the belt of her wool, camel-brown pin-striped trousers. She swept back the matching Max Mara jacket and snapped up the phone with the fast draw of an Old West gunslinger.
    â€œTanaka. Sorry, look out!” She zoomed past another janitor.
    â€œSusan?” The shouting voice on the other end was tinny and hollow, the call definitely long distance. There also was an odd whooshing noise in the background.
    â€œWho is this?”
    â€œTommy Tomzak. You heard?” She realized that he was shouting to be heard over that whooshing noise.
    Susan rounded a corner, barely missed knocking over a security guard. “Oops. Sorry. The Vermeer in Oregon? We’re on it. Where are you?”
    â€œAbout five minutes from the site!” Tommy said.
    Susan screeched to a dead stop, her Prada heels almost skittering out from beneath her. “What!”
    â€œI was in Portland, at a conference! They’re flying me out! I’ll be on site in a couple of minutes! I can keep the site pristine until you build a crew! Susan? Can you fucking hear me over this racket?”
    Susan swiped back her pitch-black hair, which she wore straight and shoulder length. Her suit was impeccably cut and her silk blouse was the color of brandy. She was a senior incident investigator. In a field dominated by men who wore jeans and steel-toed boots, Susan Tanaka had a reputation for her taste in clothes, wine, art; in short, in everything.
    â€œAre you un-quitting?”
    â€œHell no! I’ll handle the rescue work until your crew leaders get here.”
    Susan shook her head in awe. “Tommy, the eastern seaboard is socked in. There’s a tropical depression off the coast of Georgia. We won’t get out of here for hours. If you want in, you’re in, but I’m going to make you my Investigator in Charge.”
    â€œTanaka! You’re as crazy as any five people I ever met!” he hollered. “No way, no how!”
    â€œTommy, this will be your fourth major crash investigation; one aspart of the pathology team, one as leader of the pathology team, and one as Investigator in Charge! At your age, that’s incredible.”
    â€œYeah, but that last one was Kentucky,” he replied darkly, “and that was a clusterfuck! Look, I’m not the guy for this work and we both know it. Get out here fast as you can.”
    And he hung up.
    She closed her BlackBerry, started running again. She made it to her office just as one of her assistants arrived, wearing sweats and sneakers, pillow creases evident on her cheek. Susan waved a sheet of paper in front of her.
    â€œWe’ve got a liner on the ground. You call the names on the left, I’ve got the right. Hurry up; we’re building a