Pop Travel (16 page)

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 popped 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?”