Flee Read Free

the trigger.
    The
buckshot tore off much of the stairwell man's face. I never saw the woman in
the elevator, but this one was dressed in blue coveralls and white latex
gloves. His dead hand still clenched a semi-auto with a suppressor screwed on.
    I
did a quick wipe down of the shotgun with my shirt, then discarded it. Spent
gunpowder clogged my throat. I pinched my nose, held my lips closed, and tried
to breathe out, forcing my ears to equalize. I still couldn't hear very well.
    "This
connection is terrible," I said into the phone. "You're breaking up."
    My
hip buzzed. I startled, whirling around, then remembered my encrypted cell. I
dug it out of my panties.
    Now
I had no choice. I couldn't talk to Jacob while listening to Cory's ransom
demands. And Jacob had priority over everything else. I squeezed my eyes shut,
hands shaking, and hit the disconnect button on my land line with my knuckle. I'd
know in a few seconds how Kaufmann suffered for my decision.
    "Is
Wanda there?' Jacob asked. I could barely hear him.
    I'd
already used the Milan code phrase, so I used the follow-up. "She's
visiting her cousin in Nebraska. Can I take a message?"
    "Are
you out of the building yet? The Carmen Sawyer ID is burned. Word from the
Chicago PD is that there are state and federal warrants out on you. I count at
least ten squad cars heading toward your apartment. Two of them are pulling up
right now."
    Standard
operating procedure. Someone higher-up trumped up some fake charges so the feds
and local law enforcement brought me in. But were they trying to save me, or
bury me?
    I
shook my head. Think. I needed to think. Kaufmann first.
    "I
need you to triangulate that call made to my home phone. It's a..." I
groped for the word, " friend's cell. Cory kidnapped him. I also
need a DoD backdoor and a direct uplink to an ICU satellite in sync orbit over
Chicago."
    "Opening
backdoor…now. Diciassettesimo papa. You don't have time to mess around
with Cory right now, Chandler. Wait…what the hell?" Jacob paused, then
said, "How did they find me?"
    My
heart rate jumped up an extra twenty beats per minute, and it was already
hovering around 130. "Who found you? What's happening there?"
    "Chandler,
they're blowing the main…"
    The
phone went dead. Jacob. I let out a breath. Nothing I could do about it
at the moment. I hopped over the corpse, tucked away the cell, and stepped into
the hallway. My house handset rang. Cory.
    "It
wasn't my fault," I said, trying to keep my breathing steady. "This
damn phone connection."
    Kaufmann's
voice was faint, and my hearing still hadn't fully returned, but his words felt
as if they were fired into my head with a machine gun.
    "He
cut off one of my fingers."
    Everything
I've been taught—all of my training, all of my experience—slipped away. For a
second, I couldn't breathe. I shuddered, rooted to the spot, alone and afraid. "Kaufmann?
Talk to me!"
    Cory
came on. "Do your best not to lose the connection again, Carmen. Next time
I'm not going to bother with a finger. I'll take the whole hand. You know I'll
do it. Shit, I'll enjoy doing it."
    Ice,
I reminded myself. I was ice. So cool I had antifreeze for blood. I unbunched
my jaw, forced back the tears and looked around the stairwell.
    Focus.
    No
heat in there, making it at least ten degrees cooler than the hallway. Brick
walls, metal stairs, eight steps per flight, two flights between floors. Below,
I heard footfalls. At least five sets, coming up in a hurry. "I'll give
you the money. Whatever you want. Just don't hurt him again."
    "Listen
closely, babe. I'll only say this once."
    If
that many cops were coming in after me, they must have the exits covered. Getting
arrested meant Kaufmann would die. No doubt Cory was planning on killing him
even if I paid—Cory wasn't known for leaving survivors. But I couldn't help Kaufmann
if I was in custody.
    Assuming
whoever set me up would let me live long enough to be taken into custody.
    Down
wasn't an option. So I had to go