Pop Travel (6 page)

8:00 a.m., Wednesday, July 24

Geri steadied her aim and emptied a charge. Sending a blue flash across the room, she fried the target dummy’s head, then smiled at her shiny new electrogun.

“Nice work, Harper. If you’re through, Ed needs to see you in his office,” Nate said over the speaker in her booth, turning her smile to a frown. Ed must need a coffee.

Stopping to chat with a colleague here and there along the way, Geri took her sweet time. Ed could wait. Sticking her at a desk to decipher nonsense all day, Ed wasted her talents of disguise and adaptability. After completing a successful stint of intel gathering during the Tex-Mex War, she had hoped for a field assignment with the CIA. Instead, she had been traded to the FBI like a broken-down relief pitcher. For the past two years, she was never the right agent for the job.

When Ed’s admin told Geri she could go in, she waltzed through the door and plunked down in a hard chair.

Finishing up a call on his specs com, Ed held up a finger for Geri to wait a minute and turned to his window. This man had no fashion sense, a classic nerd with a crew cut, a short sleeved, button-down shirt, and gray slacks hiked a little too high. Watching the strain on his face to keep from expressing emotion, Geri wondered who needed the anonymity to be seen only on the small frames of his glasses.

“Yes, I know… I am well aware… Yes, I have things under control… Of course.” He paced, sounding agitated. When he disconnected, he sat down at his plain metal CC desk, removed the specs, and rubbed his temples.

“Rough morning?” Geri asked with a smirk.

Ed nodded and a grin spread across his lips. She took advantage of being his favorite. Unfortunately, he played the overprotective, doting father

“Those specs always give me a damn headache. Good to see you, red.”

She hated when he called her red, but she just smiled.

“You too, boss.”

He took a sip from his mug, which had an alien, pointing a ray gun, pictured on it saying,
I AM your leader.

“I heard you did a fine job at the range. Glad to see you keeping up your skills.”

“Uh huh.” She strummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, then looked at her nails.

“Enough with the chitchat, eh? I’ll get to the point. Geri, I think you are ready for a field assignment.”

Geri’s eyes brightened. Now Ed had her attention. She leaned forward.

“I’m listening. Please continue.”

“We have word a small-time private detective is snooping out info on Hasan Rakhi.”

“Ah, yes. The boy genius. The Creator of pop travel.”

“Precisely. For now, the detective is harmless. So before we send you in, we need you to read up on Hasan, his sophisticated plantation compound, and the detective, Jameson Cooper.”

Geri’s expression sank a notch. More homework.

“Now, Geri, that’s why we are here. We must be thorough. And once you’re up to speed, you will get your undercover identity and be ready to protect the Creator, as needed.”

Ed’s desk buzzed.

“Yes, Cheryl?”

His admin’s face appeared.

“Blake is here,” she said.

“Good. Send him in.” Ed tapped his desk and the image faded. “You know Blake, don’t you, Geri?”

Sure she did. A legend at the office, Agent Blake earned his nickname, the Tiger, for being strong and agile and a master of ambush.

“By reputation only.” Geri had heard he used any means necessary to nullify his targets. Nerves of steel. To Geri, that also meant a heart of stone.

When Blake stepped in, Geri stood up as Ed went over to greet him. With short, spiky, dark hair and keen, almond eyes, Blake wore all black and an iron gaze of self-assurance. Standing straight, Geri could almost look him in the eye. She judged him to be five-foot-ten, but his solid stance made him seem a full foot taller.

“Blake, this is Geri. Geri, Blake will be your mentor on this case. He trained in Hong Kong with the Chinese Regulators who restored order when the Eastern Union collapsed. He works behind the scenes and will back you up.”

“I feel safer all ready,” Geri said. “Nice to meet you.”

Blake gave her a short nod. Friendly character.

“Good. Well, Geri, you have a lot of reading to do. Cheryl is sending you the files. We will be in touch soon,” Ed said, dismissing her.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, eh?
Geri got up and plastered on a smile for the boys.

“Yes, sir.” She gave Ed a hardy salute and left. Excited about finally getting a field assignment, she floated off like a giddy teenager who just finagled the keys from her dad.

Atlanta, GA
11:00 a.m., Wednesday, July 24

he MARTA train sped through a rebuilt neighborhood on the south side of Atlanta. The city had morphed with the arrival of pop travel. And with Pop Travel International headquartered downtown, PTI executives had rebuilt College Park as an inner-city suburbia, a gated community.

Balancing himself as he stood during the ride, Cooper checked his QV for messages to help him ignore the 3D ads overhead, urging passengers to purchase various unnecessary necessities. Harder to filter out, the bouquet of sanitizer and urine irritated his nose. He needed one of those surgical masks for protection.

Cooper yawned. After transferring buses and just making his train connection, it was already eleven. When he got up at eight, he had considered staying home. A pop travel problem was none of his concern and certainly not worth trekking downtown. Phisner had probably been pushed over his stress tolerance limit and needed someone to blame. Cooper knew how that felt. Losing a loved one made people do stupid things.

Which made him think of Kristen. So he had dragged himself out for the lovely day’s journey into the bowels of Atlanta hoping to find a shred of evidence against pop travel and bring himself some peace. One good thing, he might get to see his old college buddy, Gordy Maynor. Cooper grinned, picturing Gordy’s goofy face, the big dumbass.

Several years ago, Cooper had helped Gordy get a job as a baggage handler at the Transport Center. A good guy who always had Cooper’s back, but not very bright. During their days at Michigan, Gordy would always get them into trouble and Cooper would talk their way out of it. Having Gordy point him in the right direction to see the security recordings would make things that much easier. If he still worked there. Cooper hadn’t spoken to Gordy since his and Kristen’s wedding.

For the rest of the ride, Cooper looked out the window and made a game of spying the web cams on buildings they passed. When Cooper first got on the train, he had noticed the small video camera in a corner of the ceiling, reminding him surveillance cams had overtaken the city. He spotted them under awnings, on storefronts and restaurants, attached alongside traffic lights, and on columns of charging stations. After counting fifty, he better understood Phisner’s paranoia. Cooper would have to keep in mind someone could be watching him at all times and be careful not to draw attention to himself.

As they approached the travelport, Cooper shook his head at the new construction on the north runways. Hotels with spectacular amusements based on themes rose around each other in a race to be the first finished. It looked like a miniature Las Vegas strip. The Sin City of the South. Just what Atlanta needed, to attract more lowlifes. One more reason to avoid downtown.

When they arrived, the doors slid open and Cooper exited with the rest of the passengers. Everyone entering the building had to pass through a security checkpoint with scanners and special ops dogs sniffing out weapons, drugs, and explosives. Every time they beefed up Security, some idiot terrorist found a way around it. Smarter and more loyal than any human or android, the dogs had Cooper’s complete faith.

Feeling queasy just by being at the travelport, Cooper let others go first. They placed their bags on a conveyor belt, then stepped onto an adjacent people mover. Like cattle entering a slaughterhouse, they were funneled through the scanners. As the last line of defense, they passed a fenced enclosure, where faithful dogs did their duty, sniffing the travelers for weapons and other nonsense.

Once through Security, Cooper looked for a map to gain his bearings. He had been to the ATC only a couple of times since its conversion and still wondered at its makeover from airport to travelport. Now that all the gates had been converted to transport platforms, travelers waited in the extravagant front lobby for their pop time to be announced. To accommodate them, the shops and restaurants had been transplanted, taking the place of the old baggage claim carousels, turning the area into an elaborate mall. Pop travel had transformed airports into destinations.

Cooper spotted the information desk in the middle of it all. And suspended from the three-story ceiling hung a colossal, shiny steel statue of the Creator of pop travel. Young Hasan Rakhi stood tall, as if he had just taken a step forward, with his shoulders back and his chest out, his face shining with a determined look, peering into the future, at the parking deck.
He doesn’t think much of himself. Sheesh.

Cooper shook his head at the monstrosity. He had no use for pop travel or the celebrity Creator, often wondering if he had been born in the wrong era. As he approached the counter, he took a deep breath and put on a rehearsed smile.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is J.L. Cooper. I’m looking for the Security office,” he said in his most friendly tone. Using his QV, he displayed his ID to the black, schoolmarmish lady who adjusted her small glasses and inspected the picture with one eyebrow raised. Her eyes yo-yoed between his face and the ID, comparing it to the real thing.

“May I ask what this is about, Detective?”

“Of course.” He paused to look at her name badge. “Vera. I am investigating the disappearance of a client’s loved one.”

“Oh. Well, I doubt you’ll have much luck. Unless you have federal clearance you won’t be gettin’ anywhere,” she said with a deep Southern accent.

“I see. Well, it was worth a shot, I guess.” He shrugged. “By the way, could you tell me if Gordy Maynor still works here?”

Her eyes lit up, lashes fluttering, and her tone softened.

“Gordy? Why shore, honey. Is he a friend of yours? He’s a doll.”

Good old Gordy.

“Yes, he is. We go way back. Gordy and I went to college together.”

“Why didn’t you say so!” She swatted at the air in front of him. “I’ll buzz him.”

“Thanks. That would be great.” Cooper looked at the masses wandering around while she got Gordy on her comlink.
So many people. Where could they all be going?

When Vera finished, she grinned at Cooper.

“Gordy is beside himself. You’d bettah get right down there.” She stood up and pointed. “The office is down that way, through the Atrium. Turn right just before medical and take the elevator down. There’s a hallway on the right. Then it’s the door on the left. You got all that?”

She sat back down, activated a visitor’s pass and handed it to him. Before letting go, she looked over her glasses at Cooper, as if reconsidering his intelligence.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you very much, Vera. I appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome, son. And I’m tellin’ the rest of Security to expect you. Come back if you get lost, now.”

He smiled and waved as he walked away.

The guards posted along the way scanned his visitor’s pass and nodded at him. Relieved he didn’t have to go through it, Cooper watched passengers enter the medical checkpoint as he passed. An elaborate process to make sure bodies could handle being broken down and rebuilt.
No thank you.

Cooper smiled at the elevator guard who asked Cooper his name and to show his ID, in addition to the visitor’s pass. After verification, the guard nodded and used his keycard and thumbprint to open the elevator for Cooper to go down. He had no trouble finding the office. When he pushed the buzzer, he noticed all the security measures on the door, including a card reader, a color changing, 3D, alphanumeric keypad lock, and a handscan verification. Not to mention the camera staring at him overhead. Cooper waved at it.

The door sprang open.

“Coop! How the hell are ya!” The brawny, sandy-haired man wearing a Security uniform grabbed Cooper in a bear hug and lifted him off the ground, Sasquatch style.