Pop Travel (15 page)

“Okay. Thanks again, Dawson. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No problem. Now you owe me.”

“Add it to the list. Take care of yourself,” he said, and they disconnected.

As he walked back over to the table, he caught a whiff of himself and cringed. He had forgotten about having on the same dirty clothes as yesterday. Nice first impression. Not much he could do about it now, and he reminded himself he’d probably never see Miss Harper again anyway. He shrugged and sat down, wearing an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that. My brother.”

She grinned, lighting up his mood and squashing it at the same time. Damn responsibilities.

“Of course. So, where were we?”

“Beasley Hills.”

“Oh, yes! It’s gorgeous. I toured it as a little girl. Before it was
his
compound.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“How did the Creator come to get it? You’d think he’d want something more modern.”

“Apparently he wanted to live in the South in mild-climate seclusion, with lots of room for an extensive playground. The plantation sat on the market awhile and fit the bill. But when he made his intentions known, the Historic Society stepped in and protested. He agreed to keep the appearance of the grounds true to the original layout and rebuilt the house and all surrounding structures on the same footprints, leaving a couple untouched. The outside looks as glorious as it did in the nineteenth century, when it was first built.”

“So no interesting ghost sightings or stories there?”

“I seem to recall the original building had a secret staircase and space between some of its walls for people to spy through peepholes. I hear tell one of the old Beasleys died in those walls and used to haunt it.”

“Now that would be a good tour.”

“Yes, but since the renovation and several years’ time, the ghost sightings were demolished along with the old manor home. And it is strictly off limits to the general public, anyway.” She paused and took another sip of her latte. A mischievous gleam shone from her eyes when she continued. “Have you heard about the laser fencing?”

“Yes, but I thought it was just hype.” Cooper would never have found such great insight without digging for days. He hung on her every word, leaning in to listen. Her details were much more valuable than anything he could have found in a book. What a lucky break to bump into her.

“I would choose to believe it. I haven’t seen them myself, but I’ve heard there are two sets. One along the property lines and another surrounding the house. They definitely discourage unexpected visitors. Tour groups visit the plantation but must keep their distance from the house. It’s completely modernized on the inside now, anyway.”

“You don’t say. Huh. That’s too bad. I really would’ve liked to see it.” He shook his head.

“It
is
too bad,” she agreed and took another dainty sip.

Sitting and talking with Geri reminded him how invigorating it felt to make a new connection with someone. Her kindness and helpful information made him wish he could stay and get to know her. She stirred up feelings he thought had died. Maybe he would call her, once everything settled down again. If he was still around. His true luck would be the unhappy ending he foresaw.

His cynicism brought him back to reality. He needed to make preparations and figure out a plan for what to do at the party. He had to get moving. Walking around the grounds would be dangerous, with the tight security and lasers. Thinking ahead, he wanted to find a way to see the Creator one on one, away from the festivities. Time to bid farewell to his new acquaintance.

“Well, thank you for talking with me, Miss Harper. I have a meeting coming up, so I will have to be going.” Now that he had gotten to know her a little, it pained him to lie to her.

“That’s quite all right. The pleasure was mine. I enjoyed this entertaining diversion. I could talk about the Old South and plantations all the livelong day. You can call me if you’d like to discuss anything further. And thank you for the coffee, J.L. It was very nice meetin’ you.”

They exchanged numbers, and he offered her a hand to help her up. Her ladylike character was rubbing off on him, making him act more like a gentleman. Savoring her delicate touch, he held on a few extra seconds.

“It was nice meeting you too, Geri. Thanks again.”

“You are quite welcome, J.L. Good luck in your endeavors. Bye, now.” She gathered her things and with a little wave, she left.

Cooper’s eyes lingered on her figure as she sauntered away.

Turning back to wave again, she caught him staring.

He blushed and gave her a sheepish grin.

When she left the building, he picked up his books and went back into the library, reviewing what she told him about secret passageways and tunnels. Their talk gave him hope of finding a hidden room or remote building where he could corner the Creator.

The name of the last book in the stack,
Great Escapes of the Underground Railroad,
had a full chapter dedicated to the Beasley Hills Plantation. Searching through the chapter, his face lit up as he found what he wanted and paid the librarian for a hard copy of the page for a “souvenir.”

PTI Corporate Offices, Atlanta, GA
3:00 p.m., Thursday, July 25

ay Saffioti stared out his window wall at the bustling city below, absentmindedly grinding his teeth and ignoring the report on the plate in his hand. To take his mind off the problem of the investigator, he had futilely tried to get some work done. He wanted to trust the FBI, but knew they could turn on him at any moment. If this detective guy had evidence of their problem and it got out, Ray’s life would be over, and pop travel would be history.

He ground his teeth so much, he felt a crown loosen, stabbing him in the gums. That did it. He couldn’t take the erosion of his nerves any longer and called his own meeting. He needed to get advice and assurance from his two co-conspirators.

After making the arrangements, he covered his web cam and scanned the room for bugs. Working with the FBI made him self-conscious. Especially after watching that investigator’s every move in Ed’s office. No one was out of their scope.

Charles Maynard, his Senior VP, arrived first. As soon as the door closed, Ray told him about Cooper.

“It sounds like the FBI is handling it. There’s no need to worry, Ray. Right?” The darker-skinned, thick-framed man twirled the gold ring on his pinky finger and frowned. He stood in his usual spot by the wet bar, eyeing the crystal decanters, and licked his lips. Ray gave him a sympathetic look, remembering the old days when Charles had been a strong, levelheaded leader. Now a ball of nerves, Charles found his strength from brown liquid or green pills. The stresses of their instant success and now their looming failure had broken Charles’ composure.

Just as Ray opened his mouth, Vivienne stormed in and slammed the door.

“Ray, you have got to keep it together! You were pathetic in that meeting with Ed!”

“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.