J.A. Konrath - Flee: A Thriller

Copyright 2010 by Joe Konrath & AnnVoss Peterson

Cover and art copyright 2010 by CarlGraves

This book is a work of fiction. Names,characters, places and incidents are either products of theauthors imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance toactual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication canbe reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from theauthors.

Smashwords Edition: April 2011

If the adrenaline doesnt kill you, shewill

NOT TOO LONG AGO

Whenever possible, avoid engaging theenemy, The Instructor said. If engaged, run. Fighting should beyour last resort. Patriotism has its place, but it costs millionsof dollars to train people like you. Youre more valuable than themission. If things go sour, flee.

This is fun I typed. Then I hit enterand waited for the reply. It popped up on my computer screen amoment later.

No pressure, but are we ever going to meetIRL?

I took the last sip from my bottled water andtried to ignore the jitter under my rib cage. In real life. Heassumes I have one.

I tossed the empty over my shoulder withoutlooking. The sound it made confirmed Id hit the garbage can.

How do I know youre not some lunaticstalker? Or even worse, weigh eighty pounds more than your jpg?

Id been chatting with Victor9904 almostdaily for the past two weeks. I liked him, and he was the first guyI had ever hooked up with online that I wanted to meet in person.That alone made me a little nervous. Dating, for me, wascomplicated. Except for stretches of time when I was abroad, I keptto a tight routine. Cruising bars looking for men wasnt part ofthat routine.

Do you have a webcam? hetyped.

Another jitter, this time tougher to ignore.Chatting online was one thing. Letting him see me was riskier.

Yes. But I havent showered yet thismorning.

Neither have I. You chicken?

I smiled. I dont scare easily.

OK. Ill set up a private webcam chat roomand send you the URL. Give me a minute

Sounds good.

I didnt rush to the bathroom to check myselfin the mirror, but I may have moved a little quicker than normal.My dark hair was shorter than I would have preferred, but it nevergot in my face and was easy to manage and conceal. I finger combedit, deemed it fine, and wiped a toast crumb from the corner of mymouth. I was wearing what Id slept in, an old tee and some baggysweat pants. Since Id already told him I hadnt showered, changinginto nice clothes and putting on make-up would be disingenuous.

Besides, if a guy couldnt accept the way awoman looked when she woke up, he wasnt worth waking up nextto.

Not that I was planning any sleepovers.

Sex, on the other hand it had been toolong.

I wandered back to my computer, sat down, andnoted my pulse was a tiny bit faster than normal. My webcam wasbuilt into the monitor. I switched on the application, and a fewseconds later Victor IMed me the address. I typed in the URL, andthen there he was, filling my computer screen, smilingboyishly.

He was actually cuter than his jpg. Blondhair. Strong chin, covered in stubble. Broad shoulders. Around myage, early thirties, and his blue eyes were several shades lighterthan mine.

He said something, which I lip-read to be,Good morning, Carmen. Nice to finally see you. Are you wearing aCubs t-shirt?

I unmuted the picture and adjusted thevolume.

Yes, I am. I smiled. Is that going to be aproblem?

Victor stood up, revealing the White Sox logoon his jersey. Behind him I could make out a sofa, but the roomdetails were blurry beyond that. With the sound level up, I heardhis cat, a calico named Mozart, meow in the background.

Im a season ticket holder. His voice wasdeep, rich, pure Chicago south-side. He sat down, grinning. ButIm willing to work through this if you are.

I shook my head, feigning disapproval. Idunno. Season tickets? Im not sure I could get over something likethat.

Are you asking me to give up the Sox when wehavent even had a first date yet?

If I did ask, what would you say?

He rubbed his chin. On one hand, I dontwant you to think Im a pushover. On the other hand, if this iswhat you look like before a shower, giving up the Sox doesnt seemlike that big a sacrifice.

I granted him a smile for that one. Youshould see me juggle.

We stared at each other for a fewseconds.

This is the first time Ive ever used awebcam for something other than business. He leaned forward, likewe were talking over a coffee table. Its weird. Intimate, butdistant at the same time.

I agree. I took a breath and a plunge.Dinner would be better, I think.

Are you free tonight?

I pretended to consider it. Yes.

I could pick you up. Have we reached a levelof trust where youre willing to tell me where you live?

Lets meet someplace. Only one person inthe world actually knew where I lived, and I wanted to keep it thatway.

You like German food, right?

I nodded, remembering Id mentioned thatduring our very first text chat.

How about Mirabels on Addison? he said.Six oclock?

Looking forward to it.

Me, too. But now its almost nine, and Imon call. Gotta get ready for work.

Off to save some lives?

Im hoping for a slow day. Maybe Ill getlucky and no one in Chi-town will dial 911 during my shift. But ifI do have to heroically spring into action, he winked at me, Illbe ready.

See you later, Victor.

See you, Carmen.

He switched off the camera. I initiated mytracking software, locating his IP address. It was the same one healways used. Previously, Id hacked his ISP and gotten his billinginformation, and from there it had been easy to run a backgroundcheck. Victor Cormack, as far as I could research using both publicand private records, had been telling me the truth about his job,his education, his past. On the surface, he was a normal, averageperson.

But anyone checking out my identity wouldassume the same about me.

I erased my Internet footsteps, deletingcookies, clearing the cache, and reformatting the C drive. A painin the ass to do every time I went online, but a necessary one.Then I wiped the keyboard clean with a spritz of Windex and beganmy morning work-out.

Halfway into it, my encrypted cell phonerang. I finished my two-hundred thirty-ninth push-up, slid thesweaty bangs off my eyebrows with my forearm, and padded over tothe breakfast bar to answer it. Only one personthe same person whoknew my addresshad this number. A call meant work. And workcouldnt be refused. The phone was even waterproof so I could takeit into the shower.

I hit the connect button on the touch screenand waited, habit making me tune in to my surroundings. I couldsmell traces of the green pepper omelet and wheat toast Id had forbreakfast, along with a slightly sour odor coming from the sinktelling me dishes needed to be done. The ambient sounds wereunremarkable; the thermostat kicking on, the hum of the fridge, theticking of a wall clock hanging over my computer, pigeons warblingoutside.

Is Velma there? The familiar voice wasdigitally altered and sounded slightly robotic. Ive never heardhis real voice, never met the man it belonged to.