Pop Travel Page 10

  “I know. I can’t help it. I feel so trapped. This has gone on for far too long. If we don’t get this fixed before that detective does something…”

  “He’s not going to do anything.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Did you see him? He’s inept! He has no backbone! And Ed will handle him.”

  “But what if Ed changes his mind and…?”

  “Then we whack the guy. What’s it to us?” Vivienne waved her hand. The five-foot-eleven Amazon strode over and sat down in a cushioned, leather chair, crossing her long legs.

  Ray stared at her, trying to figure out if she was serious. Her piercing eyes under the blunt cut of her bangs, combined with the smug expression on her full lips, frightened him. If one overlooked her diabolical and harsh nature, she would have been beautiful. A real dominatrix.

  “Isn’t that a bit extreme?” Charles asked from his corner.

  “As long as no one could trace it back to us, who cares?” Vivienne shrugged. “We all gotta go sometime.”

  Her ruthless attitude reminded Ray of an eccentric, ancient, black-and-white movie star. All she lacked was the long, black, cigarette holder. It sickened him how comfortable she was, resorting to such a drastic solution. He fought a chill when she focused on him, daring him to question her.

  Forcing himself to blink, he turned away from her penetrating gaze.

  “I’m with Charles. I am against killing him. It would be going too far.” It wasn’t necessary to risk being linked to a murder. The accidents were just that, accidents. Killing a man in cold blood was different.

  Ray repressed the guilt, but it resurfaced with every new incident. As soon as PTI had broken into the black, finally making some profit after burning through the loans and investment money, the first pop travel abuser exploded. Luckily, it had happened in first class and the technician had the sense to call Ray’s office immediately. If there had been even the hint of a lawsuit, PTI, and pop travel, would have dissolved before it got going. Ray had panicked, unable to decide what to do. Vivienne convinced Ray not to shut down the platforms, saying it would cause unnecessary worry and fear and worldwide chaos. Like shutting down every airport in the world for one plane crash. Accidents happen. She believed they could solve the problem quickly and avoid unnecessary calamity.

  She had been wrong.

  “Don’t have the stomach for it? You know these people get what they deserve. Why do you think the cases happen almost entirely in first class? They think the rules don’t apply to them and are popping themselves to death. Is that our responsibility?” She spread her long fingers and opened her arms, looking at Ray and Charles with raised eyebrows of innocence.

  Vivienne handled of all the missing persons investigations that got too close to the truth. Keeping the press under control, she had become a spokesperson for pop travel. And no wonder, being a secret investor and number one shareholder. Hearing her talk this way, Ray cringed at how far he suspected she had gone to keep people quiet, especially after reading some of the headlines. He never asked for details, afraid of what she might tell him. Plausible deniability.

  “This is not an inconsequential slug we’re dealing with this time. His brother is a very popular Congressman. He’s the guy who turned the car industry around.”

  Vivienne huffed. “Don’t I know it. I long for my luxurious limos. Now I have to cram my legs into those tiny cubes.”

  “They’re working on making bigger models of e-cars. I went to a private concept show in Detroit—” Charles piped but Vivienne cut him short.

  “Can it, Charles. It won’t be in our lifetime.” Vivienne waved him off with a sweep of her hand and he cowered.

  Ray stood at the window again, searching the clouds above the city for a miracle answer. With his hands behind his back, he rocked back and forth on his feet to help him think.

  “Why don’t we put our own man on him? See for ourselves what he has and what he does.”

  Vivienne sniffed at him.

  “Fine. I just hope we won’t be too late to stop him from exposing something.” Examining her nails, she condemned the men with her judgment. “It appears I’m the only one with any balls around here. Don’t worry, boys. I’ll handle it.”

  “Do you want us to help?” Charles asked, poised to pour a drink.

  She glared at him.

  “What do you think?”

  He winced, not daring to say any more.

  Ray frowned at her.

  “If your man does more than snoop, I don’t want to know.” He washed his hands in the air, like Pontius Pilate. Ray didn’t know what else he could do to save the company, and himself. He could always claim Vivienne acted alone, if necessary.

  “Relax. Everything will be fine,” she purred.

  FBI – Atlanta Division

  4:00 p.m., Thursday, July 25

  Geri reported in at the main desk. The overly pleasant android receptionist told her to go straight upstairs to Ed’s office. As Geri rode up in the elevator, she considered her encounter with Cooper. What a simpleton. This case shouldn’t take long.

  At the eighth floor, she weaved through some cubicles and greeted Ed’s administrative assistant.

  “Hey, Cheryl. What kind of mood is he in?” she asked in a loud whisper. The Southern drawl was gone.

  “Hi, Geri. He’s pretty chipper. It’s strange. He was whistling.”

  “That is strange,” Geri agreed with a grin.

  “Go ahead in. He’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks.” Geri knocked on his door and entered.

  “Geri. Good work today.” He sat with his hands clasped on the desk.

  “Thanks, Ed. I had fun.”

  “What do you make of him?”

  “Average. No observable skills to speak of,” she answered and walked over to Ed’s desk, picking up a stress ball. After giving it a test squeeze, she tossed it in the air and caught it a few times.

  “Hmm. Yes, we saw him searching for words here and there. But you can be intimidating. Nice accent, by the way.”

  “Why, thank ya kindly, sir,” she joked, falling back into character. She continued in her normal voice. “I should have this guy wrapped around my finger in no time.” She held up her pinky.

  Ed snagged her next toss and looked her in the eye, speaking to her like a protective father again. His agents were his only children.

  “Just don’t misjudge him. He’s a lot smarter than he looks. And he’s been through a lot.”

  Geri folded her arms. “You don’t say. Seems more like an ambulance chaser to me.”

  “I sent you a more detailed personal file on him. Now that you are getting closer to him, you need to review it. Tonight.”

  “Great. I needed something to help me fall asleep.” She got up, wanting to leave before she got any more chores.

  “Hmm. And you’ll be going to the Creator’s birthday party tomorrow. Cheryl sent you a ticket. You will bump into Cooper there.”

  “Sho ‘nuff. Guess I’ll need a new dress.” She raised her shoulders and smiled as she opened the ticket on her QV to check the details.

  “Listen, this situation needs to be handled very delicately. Cooper’s brother is about to become a senator and is a sure bet to be president soon after that. His connections are vast and his political prowess is growing. Dawson would squash us if anything happened to his brother.”

  “That’s why you got me, right?” She winked. “Don’t worry, Ed. I’ve got this.”

  “I know you do, Geri. I’m sure you won’t let me down. Just be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  “Go get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

  “Sho ‘nuff,” she said again with a little wave and a sweet smile.

  He raised an eyebrow at her as she left.

  “She’s gone,” Ed said after Geri shut the door.

  “She’s quite a little firecracker, isn’t she? Does she have what it takes?” Vivienne asked. As soon as she had popp
ed back to her office from her meeting with Ray, Ed had called her and left her on speaker to listen.

  “Of course. She was invaluable in the Tex-Mex War. She knows how to handle herself.”

  “She’ll pull the trigger if we need her to?” Vivienne knew Geri was a rookie in the field and might hesitate at a kill order.

  “Without question. But this case shouldn’t come to that. It would be against both our interests.”

  We’ll see about that. Vivienne cared only about Vivienne’s interests.

  Downtown Atlanta

  4:30 p.m., Thursday, July 25

  Imagining a hot meal at the hotel quickened Cooper’s pace as he walked from the library to the Mall at Peachtree Center. He half smiled, wondering what Geri must have thought of his appearance and odor. But before he could eat, Cooper grudgingly needed to purchase fresh clothes, including a suit and shoes acceptable for the party. He could use a new suit anyway. He hadn’t worn a suit since Kristen’s funeral and had no idea what had become of all his old lawyer-wear. He’d left everything from his previous life in the old house, with the rest of his memories.

  While he shopped, he got a message alert from Dawson. As he stepped out of Brooks Brothers, he reviewed the arrangements his thoughtful brother had made. The Ritz-Carlton. Fancy. As he shut his QV, Cooper spotted a tail.

  The tall buildings surrounding him cast deep shadows from the bright, late afternoon sun. Cooper put up his hand to reduce the glare and steal a glance at his follower. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a guy in a cheap gray suit as he came out of the store with his shoulders hunched. When he noticed Cooper standing there, he ducked back in. An obvious amateur who lacked confidence.

  Cooper learned early that being a private investigator meant blending in and acting natural. Hiding out in the open, not sneaking around. The goal was to be undetectable to everyone, not just the mark. Cooper had the added benefit of his lawyer instincts, which helped him read people. He gathered a person’s intent from their eyes and mannerisms, not their words. A professional would have a hard time following Cooper unseen, and this guy was no professional. He was terrible.

  Cooper let him be for now and walked down the block to his hotel. The sloppy buffoon followed several steps behind, dashing and darting between trees, people and parked cars.

  Back at his station, Nate kept up with Cooper’s progress from the library to the mall. He went through two cans of Hyped to keep from falling asleep during the boring coffee talk. When his elbow slid off the desk, letting his head fall for the third time, he took a break to check with the tech monitoring Cooper’s office in Walnut Grove. Agent Lipton confirmed Phisner had been there, but the agent ended up having to take the curious secretary and her boyfriend in for questioning.

  When Nate returned, Cooper’s frames got interesting. Nate spotted the clumsy shadow following him. What a joker.

  “Who is this guy?” he questioned out loud as he watched him bumble around. The guy exposed himself time and again, so obviously following, even steadying a trash can from tipping over. Nate wanted to get some popcorn and enjoy the comical antics. Cooper had to know this amateur was behind him. To be safe, Nate ID’d the guy.

  Just as he thought. A common thief named Jaime Lester, with a mile-long rap sheet. Who would hire this guy as a tail? And they’re muscling in on federal jurisdiction. Blake isn’t going to like that.

  Cooper shook his head at the inept maneuverings of his pursuer as he crossed the street and entered the hotel.

  Blinking at the impressive lobby, Cooper felt like a pauper in the palace. The Ritz earned its name with vintage décor, crystal chandeliers, and velvet couches. A little over the top and a few steps up from the age-worn Embassy Suites, which was more his style.

  As Cooper checked in, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for his aimless tagalong. A man dressed in a black suit and sunglasses slipped in through the revolving door and glanced in Cooper’s direction before dashing into the amenities shop. His five-foot-ten stocky build and smooth stride looked familiar. Cooper made a mental note to remember where he’d seen him before.

  Soon Cooper’s young, fidgety friend sauntered in and took a seat in the far corner of the lobby. Young twenties, thin, medium complexion, with some growth on his chin. Adjusting and readjusting his position, the kid uncomfortably pretended to read a newspaper. Finer hotels still provided some printed publications for their guests, giving them the luxury of feeling the paper, but the boy had no idea how to hold it. Further showing his nervousness and inexperience, he propped a foot up on his knee and wagged it up and down like a fish flapping for water. The guy couldn’t look more out of place.

  After receiving his key card, Cooper got into an elevator with his bags. He saw the young man hop up and rush over to the desk. Cooper would find out the identity of this joker upstairs.

  Anticipating the confrontation, his pulse quickened. The floor numbers crept by. People could pop around the world in seconds but elevators still took ten minutes to go up eight floors.

  Finally, the doors slid open. With adrenaline surging through his veins, Cooper was anxious to get his hands on this guy. He peered into the hall. Clear and quiet. Itching to sprint, he reined his eager legs to a controlled walk, dropping his bags at his room and continuing on to the stairwell door. Positioning himself to the side, he held his breath and listened.

  Clumsy footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Cooper’s heart pumped like a rabbit’s. Straining not to blink, he forced his eyes to stay open, staring at the knob. He had to catch his pursuer when he opened…

  The knob slowly turned. Cooper licked his lips. Not yet.

  The door inched open. Cooper leaned forward.

  In one smooth motion, Cooper reached in, grabbed the guy’s arm, and shoved him back into the stairwell, spinning him around and throwing him into the wall face first. He frisked the punk and found a second-rate, lead-shooting gun in his boot. Cooper stashed the gun in his own pocket, then jerked the youth back around to grill him.

  “Who sent you?” Cooper asked, inches from the youth’s face.

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “I made you back at the mall. Did you enjoy the walk over here?”

  “Y-y-you got me mixed up with somebody else,” he said in a shaky voice. Sweat poured from the kid’s brow and his upper lip.

  Cooper shook him and shoved him back into the wall. Holding the front of his shirt, Cooper pointed a finger in the kid’s face.

  “You’re the one confused. You picked the wrong guy to mess with. Now tell me who sent you? Or do I need to beat it out of you?” He slammed the kid again for emphasis. Cooper would get the answers he needed.

  “Take it easy, man,” the kid whined.

  “All you have to do is talk.”

  “I can’t, man. They’ll kill me!”

  Cooper could tell the kid was genuinely afraid. His eyes were swollen and watery.

  “Then you can just nod. You don’t have to say a word.”

  He nodded.

  “Was it FBI or CIA or some other agency?”

  He shook his head.

  “PTI?”

  The kid barely nodded, his face blanching at the admission. This kid needed to find a new line of work.

  “Fine. You can tell PTI I’m onto them. And I better not catch you in my shadow again. You hear?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “Now scram!” Cooper yelled and gave him a shove toward the stairs to get him started.

  Cooper watched the youth stumble into a jog down the stairs. What’s wrong with kids these days? This couldn’t be the guy from the airport, but at least now he knew one of the powers hunting for the evidence. Cooper doubted they were the only ones.

  Blake heard the altercation up the stairs and waited on the landing below them. He held a sleek electrogun poised as the punk came flying around the corner and stopped short with a gasp.

  Before the kid could turn and run back up, Blake blasted him, sending hi
m into convulsions before he finally lay still. No one invaded his turf.

  fter securing the room as well as he could, and covering the webcam, Cooper spoke the CC imager to life and asked for the news. They were hyping the Creator’s birthday bash, announcing all the famous guests. La dee dah.

  “Room service.” The hotel’s room service menu appeared in a new frame. Using the desk touchpad, he tapped in his order for dinner.

  Twenty minutes later, the doorbell buzzed.

  “Hold on a minute.” Cooper stepped over to the gun on the bedside table and threw a towel over it. He would have to clean off his prints and dispose of that. Guns were cowardly and vulgar, and some electroguns could cause brain damage. Cooper was a martial arts man.

  After touching the peep screen to confirm it really was room service at the door, Cooper stepped into the hall. He took the tray from the waiter and thumb-stamped the bill. He didn’t need any more surprises.

  Though he was famished, his stomach gurgled out of worry, not for food. He had to digest recent events. He considered the towel with the gun underneath it. Surely, PTI sent that guy to scare him or just get the drives he had, not kill him. You keep telling yourself that, Coop. Maybe he should go back to scenario one and dump the drives. But he couldn’t. If he just let it go on, Dawson could be next. He had to find the root of the problem. Dawson wouldn’t stop popping without proof. And they’d probably kill me anyway.

  At least all the action kept him from feeling sorry for himself, for a while.

  Hunger took over. As he dug into his meal, he found a handwritten message on one of the napkins. It said, “Drop investigation. For your brother’s sake.”

  Cooper got a chill. No! No way! He rushed over to the gun, ready to sink to their level. But he had no idea who he would shoot. He couldn’t lose his head. They were just trying to scare him. It worked.

  He called Dawson.

  “Hey, bro,” Dawson answered. Cooper could see behind his brother the furnishings of a hotel room surrounding him as well, and heard one of Dawson’s aides in the background.