Pop Travel (32 page)

“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 time 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.

As they stood and admired the house, Hasan rang the outer bell.

“This is where I want to build a winter home,” Hasan said wistfully. Geri understood his aspirations. Hasan deserved to live it up, on his own terms.

A servant android’s face appeared on the screen.

“
Aapko
.
Kaun chahiye?
” it asked.

“Namaste!
Mena naam
Hasan,” Hasan said.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Dhruba has been expecting you. Your uncle is here as well. Come in,” it answered in fluent English and buzzed the gate open for them.

The driveway curved around a bed of beautiful flowers surrounding a fountain of an elephant balancing on its front leg and spewing water. As they walked up to the broad front porch, one of the double doors opened and the droid bowed to them.

“Right this way, please,” it said, holding out its arm.

As they followed the droid through the house, Geri spied water curtains in a sitting room to the left. At the back of the house through a glass door wall, Geri could see the ocean past a Jacuzzi and some coconut trees decorating the high-fenced yard. Difficult to remember each turn in the maze of a house; Geri reoriented when they turned down a hallway with windows all along the top half of the wall. The bright sun reflected off the marble floors. Movie star mansions, all right.

After a few more turns on the second floor, they entered an impressive library. Though there were no windows, track lighting, a delicate crystal chandelier, and two colorful, ceramic table lamps kept the room bright. Hard copy editions climbed all the way up the wall to the twelve-foot ceiling. Geri had never seen such a remarkably vast private collection in a residence. She appreciated Mr. Dhruba already.