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  Geri hid a smirk, then scolded him. “McDonald’s is not food.” Turning to Hasan, she added, “But I could use some nourishment. I can smell the wonderful aromas invitin’ us into the market. Where would you suggest we start?”

  “There are many clothiers to choose from outside.” Hasan waved his arm to showcase the swap shop style tables in front of the stores lining the streets around the Crawford Market. “And then you may enjoy the delectable wonders inside. Man, I miss this place.”

  “I see Levi’s.” Cooper pointed, drawn to the familiar logo. “Let’s go there.”

  “Fine. But I’m gettin’ more than just a pair o’ jeans. How often does a Georgia girl get to shop in India?”

  Merging with the masses, it took them a while to traverse the streets. They managed to reach the store advertising Levi’s. Using the Doc’s generously offered credit card, they could make purchases without being traced.

  Cooper sighed, feeling much better in good old blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Reaching down to pick up his mud-soaked shoes, he saw Geri step out of the dressing room. He drank her in and couldn’t help smiling as she checked out her reflection in a cracked, full-length mirror. Wearing a tight pair of pale green jeans and a pretty black shirt with bright stitching around a deep-cut neckline and on her sleeves, she lit up his appetite.

  “What do you think?” she asked him.

  “You look nice,” he said. She would look good in anything. He still got tongue-tied talking to her about anything other than their mission. Funny. When did it become our mission?

  “Why, thank you, J.L. The saleslady said it’s called a kurti and this pretty trim is called jardosi.”

  As she attached her brooch and adjusted the rest of her jewelry, Cooper watched her loosened hair sway and bounce, as if in slow motion. Those wavy auburn locks framed her face and perfectly complemented her bright green eyes. Cooper couldn’t believe she’d stuck with him this long. And hated wondering why she had.

  When Geri caught him staring at her through the mirror, she smiled at him.

  Blinking out of his trance, he turned to Hasan.

  “Do they have Nike here?”

  “Of course. We are more civilized than you Americans think. Right this way,” Hasan said.

  You’re American, too, boy. Cooper shook his head at Hasan’s re-found Indian patriotism as they went into another shop.

  Geri and Cooper traded their beat-up formal shoes for some comfortable performance treads. Much better.

  “Nice. You two feel better now?” Hasan didn’t wait for an answer. “Good. Let’s eat!”

  Geri linked arms with Hasan and Cooper followed. He admired Geri’s new look from behind, as well, but tried not to linger on it. Don’t get distracted, now. Focus, Cooper!

  On the streets leading to the market, they passed rows of covered tables displaying everything from handmade rugs to vintage glass bottle vases. When they reached the main entrance, Hasan pointed out the detailed carving of Indian peasants in wheat fields above the arch. Geri ate up the culture, chattering with Hasan. Cooper wanted to bypass the tour and get to the food.

  Many strange aromas invaded his nose. The mix of sweet produce and exotic flowers mingled with the salty smell of unfamiliar seasonings and the pungent stink of sweat and animals. Growling, his stomach picked out the spicy meat scents, beckoning him to go try some, and would not be ignored.

  Vendors lined the aisles with produce and wares stacked two stories high. Their shouts pierced the hum of the crowd as they called out their specials. In one section toward the back, Cooper saw fresh meat being cut and hung out to dry. This place has everything.

  As they ordered their lunch, Cooper spotted a group of teen girls pointing and whispering off to the side. Hopefully they wouldn’t accost Hasan or take his picture. Cooper shuffled Hasan and Geri along and the crowd filled in behind them. Now, Cooper was the kid’s bodyguard. Great.

  They meandered around the market while they ate. Cooper lagged behind, struggling with the messy mystery meat sandwich on a stick Hasan had ordered for him. It tasted good and he was famished, so he didn’t ask any questions. Concentrating on it kept him from complaining about the steamy, sardine-like conditions. Geri and Hasan chatted casually, not bothered in the least.

  “It would be easy to get lost in here,” Geri said and took a dainty bite.

  “My cousins and I used to hide from my mother when we were young.” Hasan smiled, reveling in the old familiar sights.

  Cooper had trouble breathing, never mind trying to finish his lunch. The people seemed oblivious of each other and kept knocking his elbow when he went to take a bite.

  “There’s no sense of personal space around here, is there?” He hoped whatever he was digesting agreed with his stomach.

  “Take it in, J.L. It’s a whole different world,” Geri said.

  “Just another city to me,” he mumbled. “I need a Coke.”

  “Over there, Cooper.” Hasan pointed.

  Cooper sighed with relief and used Dr. Rastogi’s credit card and thumbprint mold at the vending machine to quench his thirst. Geri relinked arms with Hasan and they continued their tour of the market. Cooper saw light and hoped they were headed for an exit.

  “So, Hasan. Tell me. How did you discover pop travel?” Geri asked.

  “Well. As a student, I was working on a transmission research project and experimenting with my Biogen Laser in my mom’s basement. The laser starts at the lowest point of an object and works its way up, attracting microscopic particles to it as it passes through, like a magnet, and depositing them in a storage chamber when the laser is turned off. It’s great for removing unwanted matter without eliminating it. But I wanted to do more. I hypothesized that after I zapped an object with the laser, I could transmit both the laser and particles to another location and re-form them. I was working under a grant to remove a tumor or organ and recreate it for study. I started with inanimate objects. Then I tried it on a rat to see what would happen.”

  “What did happen?”

  “The subjects disappeared. I thought the laser might be disintegrating them, but there were no remains or residual effects and the transmission had been sent. As I checked for problems, I realized my receiving signal wasn’t in sync. Without a destination, everything hung in limbo.” Hasan reached up to feel imaginary objects over his head. Always talking with his hands, he made a grabbing motion, as if plucking an apple from a tree, and continued.

  “Once I adjusted the signal, all the particles I had zapped came together in a messy lump. Similar to the collection chamber. Not quite a success, but I knew I was onto something. Figuring out how to put the puzzle back together took the longest. When I took a scan of the subject before the transmission as a template, I had my solution. The laser needed a path to follow to redeposit the molecules in the correct order.”

  “That is simply amazin’,” Geri said.

  The explanation did not make Cooper feel any better about the experience. Picturing a clump of messy, congealed matter while digesting his greasy lunch, he felt queasy. He needed to sit down.

  “We should find a cab.” Cooper was done wandering around like a tourist.

  “Yes, it could take a while,” Hasan agreed. He herded them out of the market and over toward the taxi stands.

  Suspicious of satellite observers, Cooper looked to the sky. Thick, gray clouds covered most of it, to his relief. I wonder if they’ve found us yet.

  “Geri. How did you get mixed up in all this?” Hasan asked.

  Putting a finger to her cheek, she thought for a moment as they waited in line.

  “I don’t rightly know. Originally, I started out studyin’ in the old library museum back in Atlanta. When I passed by J.L., he looked so lost and lonesome with his stack of plantation books, my curiosity got the better of me. Once I finally weaseled the truth out of him, I just had to help. So here we are. It’s been quite an adventure, to say the least.”

  “I warned her. Several
times.” Cooper hadn’t wanted her to get involved, worried for her safety. And ever since their getaway from the plantation, Cooper had doubts about her. When she held her own against guards and recognized the unknown follower, she had surprised him, making him realize he barely knew her. Though she had been helpful, he had no idea who she really was, and he needed to remember to keep his guard up. She sure wasn’t a simple divorcée philanthropist.

  “I guess I couldn’t resist your charms,” she said and pinched his arm.

  Cooper felt his face flush against his will. Noticing the android attendant, he changed the subject.

  “Hasan, what’s with all the security androids at your plantation?”

  “You mean the guns with skin? They have more weapons than brains. They’re remote controlled toy tanks with faces. The security guys can’t stand them and I don’t blame them. The security droids are more for intimidation than protection. That is the next project I want to tackle. Artificial intelligence. If I get the chance.”

  “Sure you will,” said Geri and patted Hasan’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. We’ll see to that.” She widened her eyes at Cooper for him to add something.

  “Of course we will.” Cooper gave them a smile of assurance he didn’t feel.

  “Well, I can’t thank you two enough. I owe you my life, or at least my sanity.” Hasan put his hands together and gave them a slight bow.

  “Don’t thank us yet. We’ve got a ways to go. Looks like we’re up,” Cooper said as the attendant motioned to them.

  Out of nowhere, ten screaming girls rushed Hasan, clamoring for his autograph and snapping images. This was not good for keeping a low profile, but Hasan loved it.

  “Hurry! Get in the cab!”

  Geri hopped in first, but Cooper had to tear Hasan away from the grip of the desperate girls. When they were safely in the taxi, they pulled away.

  “Being me has its perks,” Hasan said with a silly grin on his face.

  “If you want to enjoy those perks, we need to get through with this alive,” Cooper reminded him.

  Hasan’s grin sank into a grimace. He nodded and instructed the driver.

  “Bhaiya. Juhu leke chalo.”

  Cooper assumed Hasan told the driver where to go. It would be nice to get back to America where the foreign cab drivers spoke English most of the time.

  Sitting on a curb outside the main entrance of the Market, Blake waited for the three escapees to come out. After changing out of his suit at the travelport, he blended in with the masses, wearing a loose-fitting, white, linen shirt, dark khaki pants, and sandals. As long as he kept his hat low, his coffee-brown skin and black hair camouflaged him as a local.

  When Blake arrived at the market, Nate had attempted to guide him through the crowded, convoluted halls inside, tuned to Geri’s signal. Blake soon put a stop to that, got something to eat, and sat down outside in the drizzling rain. The unsuspecting group was headed back in his direction anyway.

  As the trio emerged, the rain stopped. Blake followed them to the taxi stands and got into the second line, then had his driver tail them. The fools acted like they were on a holiday. Blake sneered. Such easy prey.

  Security Headquarters, Beasley Hills Plantation

  12:30 a.m., Saturday, July 27 (10:00 a.m., Mumbai, India)

  losing his eyes and massaging his temples, Ray paused to look over Manny’s shoulder, helplessly observing the chaos as they searched for Hasan. Ever since they witnessed the exodus, Ray put a groove in the floor with his pacing.

  So far, nothing had been accomplished. With each passing hour, Ray’s confidence in his head of Security dwindled. Guards had popped to cities all over the country to search for Hasan in his old neighborhoods. No one had heard from him or seen him in person since he had gotten famous. All the guards brought back were dead ends.

  Ray’s hands shook, still unable to calm down. Before this persistent detective showed up with his video that shouldn’t exist, Ray’s stress level had already been at maximum. Each time he thought the disappearing mess was over, another disintegrated traveler would drop on him like a surprise turd from the sky. And now, Mr. Cooper had set in motion the catastrophe Ray had always feared. He clenched his fists. When will things ever go my way?

  If they couldn’t find Hasan, Pop Travel International would be done for. No one would be able to fix it. Announcing Hasan’s disappearance would cause the biggest worldwide upheaval since the Mexicans invaded Arizona, inciting the Tex-Mex War.

  And if Hasan went to authorities Ray couldn’t touch, the investigation would send him to jail for life or straight to the pod—no injection necessary. Zap, it’s over. No last-second appeals.

  Shaking his head, he snapped himself out of his condemned spiral of self-decimation. Forcing the images out of his mind got harder with every hour that passed. Maybe they should have told Hasan about the problem. But that kid was an open wound. An oversensitive, overdramatic bleeding heart. Who knows what he would have done, like shut down the travelports and tell the press, ruining everything.

  For now, Ray needed to focus on getting his golden child back; then he could worry about salvaging everything else.

  “Manny, explain this to me again. How did this happen?” Ray asked for the twentieth time.

  “Sir, as I said before. Hasan must have been working on a plan to escape for some time. He always complained about not being able to go anywhere,” Manny repeated.

  “That spoiled brat complained about everything, all the time. But this tunnel! How did we not know about it?” Ray picked up his Scotch and resumed pacing the control room. Peering through the windows, he watched the security imagers on the main floor below them.

  “Vivienne would know what to do, but I refuse to call her. She’s probably drunk or with one of her playthings anyway,” he said under his breath.

  Manny raised a questioning eyebrow at Ray but didn’t comment.

  “That tunnel is over two hundred years old. It was a legend, a rumor in a book of folklore. No one knew about it, much less suspected anything like that really existed.” Manny frowned.

  “That is unacceptable! He knew.” Ray straightened and pointed toward the house. Losing his steam, he lowered his shoulders and waved it away. History was useless to discuss.

  “Where are we on locating my boy?”

  “Our last agent is reporting back now.” Manny held up a finger as he listened to his comlink earpiece. He nodded a few times, then sighed and gave Ray the update.

  “After contacting his known prior associates in the U.S., and hearing back from all major U.S. transport centers, Hasan is not in the States. It is time to go to India,” he said.

  “India?” Ray coughed on his drink.

  “We hoped he would remain in the country. We have the addresses of two uncles living near Mumbai. Since he never contacts anyone without us knowing, those are the most likely places he would go.”

  “That you know of.” Ray sniffed.

  Manny raised an eyebrow and continued.

  “The Indian government took their time giving us video footage from their international transport hubs, and they said there was no sign of him. Hasan is resourceful. He probably used codes for a local transport dock somewhere. He has access to them through the company database for testing.”

  “If he’s so resourceful, he could be anywhere!” Ray threw his hands in the air.

  “Yes. But Hasan doesn’t want to be dragged back here after the ordeal he went through to escape. Being a celebrity, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without being noticed. He will have to lay low. A relative in India would provide perfect cover for him.”

  Ray digested all the disappointing news. How is Manny staying so calm!

  “It sounds like he’s been spotted.” Manny pointed to the imager and pulled up a candid photo of Hasan from a teenage girl’s Meme page. Mr. Cooper was there, too, pulling Hasan into a cab.

  “Where is that?” Ray asked. Hope!

  Not bothering to waste ti
me answering Ray, Manny made the arrangements.

  “Sameel, you and Paris are popping to Mumbai, India. You are going to pay Hasan’s uncles a visit. How is your Hindi?” Manny asked.

  “It’ll do. But most of them speak English pretty well,” Sameel answered.

  “Good. I’m sending you the two addresses. This picture was taken at the Crawford Market twenty minutes ago, but as you can see, they are moving again. Follow your instincts and find that boy!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think they know?” Ray asked Manny behind a cupped hand. His eyes peeped from side to side as if he suspected Ed might be spying on him that very moment. Those Feds are so sneaky.

  “If they do, they will be looking for him too. They’re still on our side, right?” Manny asked, but his tone betrayed his doubt.

  “For now. But if we screw this up and the news breaks, they’ll arrest us faster than we could pop to China.” Ray grimaced at his lame joke and threw back his Scotch.

  Juhu Beach, Mumbai, India

  11:00 a.m., Saturday, July 27 (1:30 a.m., Atlanta, GA)

  Geri had a problem. As she stared out the window on the ride through the luxurious Juhu Beach district, the sun came out. Time passed quickly, with Hasan pointing out attractions and famous homes like an excited child. Geri could tell he enjoyed being back on familiar turf and frowned at the thought of dragging him home. She was getting too close to her marks.

  “Lo aa gaye,” the driver announced and pulled over. They had arrived.

  “Shukriya!” Hasan said and paid the fare. “Choota rakh lo.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” the driver said with a sly grin.

  Cooper nodded at him and Geri smiled.

  When they stepped onto the sidewalk, Geri breathed in the scents of fresh rain from the asphalt and the salty breeze coming from behind the posh beach bungalow. Through the wrought iron gate at the end of the driveway, she saw squared-off sections jutting out unevenly from all three floors, emphasizing the modern cubist design of the mansion. A piece of artwork in itself. With all the palms trees and high hedges, the neighborhood reminded her of Palm Beach.