THE BREAKS EXCERPT

At two minutes to ten in the evening, with fifteen hours to go, Lorentz Pulido exited the train at West Oakland BART station. It had been a long time since he had used public transit. He hadn't been looking forward to it but had actually enjoyed the journey and the sights along the way like the weird gas station and the crazy murals. There had been the backyard filled with junk all neatly lined up like it was representative of some kind of plan and even a boat on a roof.
He walked out of the station into a largely deserted street. It was a clear night but the moon was new and the combination of darkness, lack of social amenities and the reputation of the neighborhood meant no dog walkers, or joggers, or couples out taking a stroll.
After taking in some of the surrounding area he noticed a white Chevrolet cargo van parked at the curb up ahead. It was possible it belonged to someone who worked in carpentry, or an electrical or maintenance trade. He was pretty sure women were advised not to park next to such vehicles in lots and that children were told they should cross the street, wary of men waiting to snatch them.
As he approached he could see it had a large sliding door in place of side panels, a practicality for taking out ladders and paint and putting back other such tools and equipment.
He got level with the drivers' door and paused to check his reflection in the wing mirror, satisfying himself that the dark hooded clothing made him unidentifiable. Whoever had planned on saving seven bucks by using the free street parking on Magnolia was about to discover it had cost them a whole lot more.
He beat the lock, defeated the immobilizer, and started up the engine. After a five minute drive on West Grande Avenue he entered the eighteen lane toll plaza of the Bay Bridge and headed westbound for home back into the City, taking in the interesting new construction of the eastern span.

At the storage lock-up, he unscrewed the license tag and replaced it with one from out of state. A large roll of plastic sheeting lay propped in a corner. He dragged it to the shutter to be nearer the light and began to unwrap it. He settled on a three foot length as manageable and used a craft knife to slice it from the main roll.
Inside the van he stapled it to part of the first of several plywood sheets lining the interior. After repeating the process until all the wood was covered, he bolted two D-rings to the floor ready for attaching chains and handcuffs.
After two hours of steady work he sat down satisfied with his efforts and thought about the new day ahead. Driving out to the mall, the stalking and the take down. The slight nausea of adrenalin started to grip his gut. He was going to enjoy himself.

Twelve hours later he trailed around Westfield like a bored boyfriend, hanging back, being discreet. Every time he caught a glimpse of himself in store windows he worried if he had dressed right. Looked like a lot of people were about to go out for the night rather than spend an afternoon in a mall. At least he didn't look like the tourists with the waist wallets and cameras. Craning their necks at everything. Making themselves easy targets when they didn't realize that this was an odd city, the good, bad and ugly neighborhoods all mixed up, different by day and night. The worst parts were only blocks away from the tourist traps and not marked on the map. It was easy to stray off track.

Outside on the street the girl was harder to follow. At one point she looked over in his direction but he knew he hadn't been made. It was just a quick look around like she was checking street signs. He got the idea she was lost. She was heading down exactly the right streets as far as he was concerned.
He was excited. Cash money, the best kind, and the bonus of time to play. Pulido parked the van in a space twenty yards further up the street and checked the mirror. Ten yards out he readied to make his move. He slid out of the driver's side and unlocked the panel door. He pulled it back a few inches. The interior was dark, not too revealing of the modifications.
To begin with, he thought the bitch was raising some kind of alarm with her cell phone. Her fingers moved fast like those of kids texting always did. Why were they so attached to their phones? Even when they were in danger? Even when they should be running?
Ten seconds later he caught up with her and landed one to her temple which connected so squarely he was surprised it hadn't completely knocked her out. She staggered back dazed but still gripping the phone. He snatched it from her hand, delivered another blow and bundled her limp and confused into the back of the van and made everything secure. He scanned the surroundings and slid the side door shut happy there were no witnesses.
He checked the cell phone for any connections. He didn't want 911 dispatch listening in. No calls had been made. No text messages appeared to have been sent. He thought about it for a moment and then opened up the photo file. She had been smart. She had managed to take his picture but then, luckily for him, she had run out of time. He on the other hand, now had all the time in the world. After deleting the photo he focused his attention back to the girl. Back to all the fun he was going to have.