Jeff Abbott - Fear

Fear
by
Jeff Abbott

If there was a drug that allowed people to forget the worst moment of their lives, how far would someone go to obtain it, given the potential profit? Such
a drug, code-named Frost, lies at the heart of Abbotts latest novel. Miles Kendrick is in the federal witness protection program and also undergoing therapy
for post-traumatic stress syndrome, a condition manifested by his being haunted by the ghost of his best friend, Andy. When his therapist is blown up
in her office, Miles finds himself being pursued, along with two other PTS patients, by several deadly factions, each of whom erroneously believes that
the trio possesses the priceless Frost. Ganser delivers a strong performance as narrator. His characterizations, especially the ruthless yet oddly sympathetic
hit-man, Groot, and the annoying but funny phantom, Andy, are nicely delivered. But it is his sense of pace that keeps this audiobook moving. Ganser manages
to convey the excitement, suspense and urgency of Abbotts thriller, keeping listeners on the edge of their seats through every chase and narrow escape.

I killed my best friend.
i didnt mean to, but I did.
This is my story
Miles Kendrick is in a witness protection program,
hiding from the mob and constantly haunted by his
best friends death. With the aid of psychiatrist
Allison Vance, Miles is trying to hold onto his sanity
and to recall the events of that tragic night.
But when Allison is blown to pieces by a bomb planted
in her office, Miles becomes caught up in a deadly
conspiracy beyond his worst nightmares. Targeted
by Dennis Groote, a deranged FBI agent, Miles must
run for his life and force himself to remember the
terrible truth about the death of his best friend

sphere
First published in the United States of America in 2006 by Dutton
First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Sphere
Copyright 2006 by Jeff Abbott

The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters in this publication, other than those clearly in
the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be
otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other
than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed
on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
ISBN-13: 978-1-84744-015-0

Typeset in Sabon by M Rules
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Clays Ltd, St Ives pic

Sphere
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
Brettenham House
Lancaster Place
London WC2E 7EN
A Member of the Hacbette Livre Group of Companies
www.littlebrown.co.uk

In memory of my brother Danny

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseasd,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart? William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Tell me, if you can, what is courage. Plato

ONE

I killed my best friend.
Miles stared at the words, black in their clean lines
against the white of the paper. First time to write the truth.
He put the pen back to the pad.
I didnt want to kill him, didnt mean to kill him. But I
did.
'Baring your soul fixes nothing. Andy sat against the
edge of the kitchen table, watching him write. 'Shell just
hate you.
Miles said, 'No, she wont.
Andy lit a cigarette, exhaled a blue cloud over the confession
as Miles wrote. 'Youve lied to Allison for
weeks
'Lies a bit strong.
'Not as strong as murder. Telling her what you did isnt
going to make you better. He watched the smoke dance
from the cigarettes tip.
'Shut up. Miles finished writing out his confession.
Andy wandered to the kitchen, rummaged in the refrigerator,
found an early-morning beer.
'Priests say confession is good for the soul, but this is
an exceptionally bad idea. Even for your soul. We had a
deal, Miles.
'This doesnt affect you. Miles signed his name his
real name, Miles Kendrick at the bottom of the page.
Allison had never seen his true name.

'You tell her what happened, it very much affects me.
Andy slapped his hand on the table. 'Let me read what
you wrote. Miles slid the paper across the table to him,
then went to the kitchen counter and poured black coffee
into a cup. He usually drank his coffee first thing, but
this morning hed wanted to write the confession before
he lost his nerve.

Miles went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his
face. Stared at himself in the mirror.

I used to be someone, he thought. I used to be me, a
regular guy, the anybody American with a home and a
business and a life, and now I dont know who I am anymore.
The old me died. The new me doesnt want to be
born.

'Lies! Andy called from the kitchen.

Miles wiped his face and stepped back into the kitchen.
'Im telling the truth.

Andy slapped at the confession. 'The truth you remember.
Not the truth of what really happened.

'Its all I remember.

'You didnt save those cops.

'You know I did.

'And I think about the high price every day, Miles.

Miles stepped around Andy, took the paper, folded it,
slipped it into an envelope. 'I have to be honest with her.

'Youre breaking our deal.

'The only deal we have is in your mind. I have to go.
Dont be here when I get back.

'I dont want to get ugly, Miles, Andy said, 'but you
give her that confession, and Ill kill you.
Miles stopped by the apartment door. He yanked on his
coat, slid the confession into his coat pocket.

'I will, Miles. Andys voice was low and it prickled
Miless skin as if an ice cube ran along his ribs. 'Ill slip
a gun into your mouth. Ill pull the trigger. Ill settle the
score. Andy paced the kitchen floor, arms crossed, glaring.

'You go ahead and try. Miles shut the door behind
him and leaned against it. Then he hurried down the steps,
past the comforting cinnamon smells of the bakery on the
ground floor of his apartment building. He stopped right
outside the buildings front door, craned his neck out an
inch, scanning both ways up the narrow streets, eyeing
every car and pedestrian.

No one waited to kill him. No cars idling on the
road, full of assassins to mow him down before he took
five steps. He started his walk to Allisons office. He
didnt drive anymore because he was afraid if the
Barradas found him, theyd wire a bomb to his cars
ignition. Theyd blown up the last two people who had
testified against them, scattering engine and glass and
flesh across a driveway in Hialeah and an office parking
lot near Miami. The center of Santa Fe, where he now
lived and worked, was territory he could cover on foot.
Santa Fe was so much smaller and quieter than the constant
revving hum of Miami. He walked through the
Plaza at the heart of the old city, past the Native
Americans spreading turquoise and silver jewelry across
black felt mats. He headed up Palace Avenue, past a
beautiful young mother pushing a stroller with twin
girls under a pink blanket, tourists ambling along an
architectural route, joggers huffing in the crisp gray of
the mountain morning. Jogging, Miles thought, he
should try jogging. Good healthy exercise to heal all the
rot inside him.

He glanced over his shoulder twice to see if Andy was
following him. No Andy, although it wouldnt take him