Flicking

by Lukas Oberhuber

What was taking Dorian so long? She pushed her plate aside, and grabbed her long hair behind her head, then let go again. If he didn’t come back soon, she’d have to go investigate, or even, just walk out of there forever.

  But if she did that, what chance would she ever have of finding out what had happened? And worse, of finding out what had happened before someone came to kill her. What was one more stupid dead IT professional to them anyway?

  Dorian sat down in front of Andrea, interrupting what was starting to turn into a panic death spiral as the TV shrinks liked to call it.

  “I’m such an idiot,” he said.

  At least he was back. “Why?” She needed to ask where he’d been. “Before you answer, what took so long?”

  “Huh?” He looked startled, as if the question had never crossed his mind. “Toilet problems.” He pointed at his stomach.

  “Ah. Don’t be so hard on yourself about making mistakes.” Andrea wanted to hold his hand, but didn’t dare. It might scare him. “What have you done?”

  “There’s this guy, ReeperG, who’s been calling me, IMing me and everything. He must be a Deep Noder. He must be one of us. I should have known a long time ago. The signs were all there.”

  “Shut up!” It came out all California ditz.

  “Everything was right there in my face. He uses all the same tricks and techniques as us. He would have had to learn them from somewhere. Why didn’t I think of that?” Dorian banged his fist against the table, making the empty orange juice glasses jump. “So, where are these transcripts. Can I seen them?”

  Andrea shook her head. “Lost. All lost.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, unfortunately. My laptop got stolen while I was going through Nevada. I didn’t get to see all the transcripts, and now I’m working from memory.”

  “You fuckup.” He sighed.

  “Yes. So what are you going to do about it?” Andrea was unable to muster actual anger. The tension of the last few days weighed heavily.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. Of course things go wrong.”

  “I could kill myself. That data on my laptop is all I have.” She pulled at a tuft of hair. “That and you.”

  “And me.” Dorian shook his head slowly.

  “So don’t get lost or stolen.”

  “No.” He smiled just slightly. “So tell me everything you remember.”

  Andrea explained the strange company inside Melbox, the sleuthing, the hints, and the deal with squelch to get the surveillance. Dorian interspersed with what he knew.

  They’d been speaking for some time when a blond girl leaned over the table and put her hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Was she a waitress?

  “Hey,” the girl said.

  She couldn’t be. She wasn’t wearing the uniform. Instantly, every muscle in Andrea’s body tensed for flight. Had she been betrayed? Was Dorian really an agent for the other side, just as she’d worried during her whole trip across the US.

  “Oh,” she saw Dorian say. He looked almost as surprised as she was. He looked at his watch. “What are—?”

  “I came early.” The girl turned to Andrea, brushing Dorian off. “Hi, I’m Tara.” She held out her hand to Andrea. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dorian’s friend.”

  Andrea returned the handshake, not sure what to do, frozen between running and seeing how things would develop. The girls’ shake was firm and warm. Andrea thought she detected a Scottish accent, like Sean Connery. The girl really was beautiful, that was clear.

  Andrea turned to Dorian, keeping her voice under control. “What is this?”

  “I’m sorry.” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. “Tara was supposed to come later. She’s my girlfriend. She’s gotten caught up in all this so I brought her along.” He turned. “Tara, this is—”

  “SHUT UP!” Andrea felt the words explode from a place deep inside.

  “—Bunny.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t want Tara to know my name.”

  “I know.”

  “Well. You’re here. I guess you should sit down.” She pointed at the bench next to Dorian. This had better be innocent. “Make yourself at home.” She pasted a smile on her face. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten? Should we get you a menu?”

  “Oh. That would be nice,” Tara said, looking a bit bewildered. Dorian got out and let her slip into the back of the booth.

  By the time Tara’s Chicken Burger Supreme arrived, Andrea had steered the conversation far from the deadly goings on. She couldn’t afford to trust this Tara girl. It hadn’t been part of the agreement. Certainly not when her life depended on it. “It’s no big deal. You see the stars all over. I guess they just hang out in LA and so you get used to it. It’s not a big deal anymore, that’s for sure. Just a few weeks ago I ran into Justin Timberlake. Not to mention I see Tory Spelling all the time. She must go to a gym near me. She’s always in some trendy spandex. Not looking the youngest anymore.”

  Dorian and Tara stared at her with rapt attention.

  “What?” Andrea asked. “What’s so surprising about that?”

  “Sure,” Tara said. “I see someone every once in a while in London, but still. I don’t trip over them by any stretch.”

  “So, what happens in London?”

  “Actually, there was one time where I ran into Robbie Williams and he tried to ask me out.”

  “Oh my god, I love Robbie Williams,” Andrea almost crowed. Maybe this girl was cool. Her anger loosened a notch.

  “Isn’t he though? So I was in the lift at Claridges, I can’t remember why, and he’s asking me to visit his suite.”

  “No?”

  “That’s the way it happened.” Tara leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Cross heart.”

  “And hope to die,” Andrea finished the phrase with a flourish. “They’re not famous, but all these would-be actor boys are constantly trying to get in my pants! You should see the texts they send.”

  “Oh, so the actors are shameless? Well, good for you.” Tara laughed.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Only when I really need some company.”

  Dorian pulled a face.

  “Don’t act so superior,” Andrea said. “You’re a good looking guy, ok, boy. You do it too, I bet.”

  “Not really,” Dorian answered.

  Something about the conversation nagged at Andrea. She couldn’t quite place it.

  “How about you, Tara?” she asked. “How do things work in…wherever you’re from.”

  “I’m from Scotland, actually.”

  “I see.” Andrea fell silent.

  Dorian said something about getting back on track with the earlier conversation, but Andrea wasn’t listening. That something that was bothering her wouldn’t go away. She looked over at Tara, and squeezed a smile onto her face. Had she seen Tara before somewhere? No, not likely. Andrea was good at recognizing faces. What was it then?

  They’d all had a nice chat, but still, they were here risking their lives.

  “How did you guys meet?” She kept the smile on her face.

  “Oh, Tara’s one of my sister’s oldest friends.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes,” Tara answered. “We met at LSE where we were both getting MBAs. Well, we’re still getting MBAs. ” Tara looked embarrassed. “Well, Federica was still getting an MBA.” She patted Dorian’s arm.

  “That’s great.”

  Dorian spoke again but Andrea wasn’t listening. There was something Tara had said. That’s what was bothering her. Something she said. Her subconscious wanted her to pay attention. Pay attention to what? she wanted to scream.

  Then it all clicked. A chill crawled up her spine. It was the phrase, the conspiratorial look. She recognized that phrase. That stupid phase. She’d seen it before. Cross Heart. That’s what was bothering her.

  “What’s your last name?” Andrea managed to choke out through a suddenly dry mouth. She had to keep the smile on her face no matter what she did.

  “Uh, Stevens. Ta
ra Stevens. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” Andrea bit her lip, hoping it wasn’t quivering. “Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Where is it exactly Dorian?”

  “Down there,” he pointed.

  Andrea walked down the steps, gripping the hand rails. Her head spun in circles. That phrase had come up in the documents. The ones she didn’t have anymore. Hadn’t the IM transcript said Cross Heart? It was just a coincidence, right? That phrase came up a lot in standard speech and Tara seemed so normal. She really seemed like a genuine nice person, right?

  But Andrea wasn’t here in New York on vacation. The last time Andrea had ignored a warning, she nearly ended up dead. And this Tara girl showed up kind of randomly. Code, suddenly she couldn’t remember his real name, didn’t even mention her. What kind of crazy was he?

  No, she couldn’t take a risk like this. She slipped into a stall, opened her purse and pulled out the gun. She looked it over carefully. Please god, let her be wrong. She released the safety. How would she tell Dorian? Or, was he one of them? But then, it was his family that was dead, and he had told her everything.

  Stupid, stupid. Why hadn’t they agreed on a danger signal at the beginning of the meeting? She rummaged in her purse. There, the address book. She ripped a page out, her fingers shaking, and wrote on the slip of paper. Pull yourself together darling, she told herself. She wanted to get out alive, not in some blue plastic container with zero fashion sense. She gnawed on one of her nails. She had to go back soon or they’d get suspicious.

  She climbed the steps, and when she got to the table, she pointed at the hostess station. “I need to ask the girl there something. You guys don’t mind, do you?” She hoped they were both looking