An Encounter in Atlanta | Page 4

from Florida, if it helps any."
"Oh, yeah," laughed Avery. "That helps a bunch."
"Great. Later, then."
Moving past the coffee bar, Cade stopped and looked around for the attendant, then
knocked on the counter. A man in a suit separated himself from the crowd by the door
and came to say that the coffee bar was closed.
"You're management?" asked Cade.
"Yes, sir. Look, we're rather busy at the moment..."
"I'm the guy who shot out your window and I have to go guard a body on the sidewalk.
How much is a coffee to go?"
The man seemed to have to find a way to attach the two concepts in his mind before he
said, "Uh, just take one, sir."
"Thanks. Why not offer all those spooked people a cup, too? It'll look great on your
record if you take charge and keep them quiet and happy until all the note-taking is
finished."
The guy glanced at the group and seemed to realize that this was his middle-management
chance to achieve some favorable and potentially useful self-publicity. He nodded and

stepped behind the counter to draw Cade a coffee as he called the attendant over.
"Yes, Mr. D'Angelo?" asked the attendant.
Handing the coffee to Cade, D'Angelo said, "Go ahead and open back up, Manuel. Free
coffee for anybody who's supposed to be in here until the cops are gone."
"Yes, sir," said Manuel.
"Could I have an extra coffee?" asked Cade.
Manuel drew another coffee and handed it to him. Cade thanked him and headed for the
stairs to the street. The rent-a-cop was standing by the body, as requested.
He said, "You're the guy who told me to watch the body."
Cade handed him the extra coffee and said, "Yup, sure am. Here, I brought you a coffee."
Someone aimed a camera toward them and Cade turned to face the cop -- Davies, by his
nametag -- as the camera flashed. He kicked the gun that had fallen into the bushes over
by the body and toed it under a fold in the coat.
"Should you be moving the evidence around like that?" asked Davies.
"So tell 'em I kicked it. I just came down here to get your name and badge number for the
record and secure the scene."
Shrugging as he looked around, Cade said, "Now the scene is secure, I have my info, and
you have your coffee. Just stay put until the cops get here."
Davies almost choked on his first sip of coffee.
He glanced down at the body, then stared at Cade as he asked, "But... You mean you
aren't a cop?!"
"Never said I was," said Cade. "I've just been working with them today. See you later."
As Cade turned to go, the guard said, "Hey, wait. Is there any word about the blonde?
The woman who, uh... who flew off... with the car?"
"I haven't heard anything."
Glancing up at the sky, Davies said, "God, I hope she wasn't still hanging onto that car
when it blew. I was looking right at it, but it was too far up... Do you think she...?"
"No idea," said Cade. "Later."
With that, he headed back up the steps and into the hotel, where he gave Davies' info to
Avery and refilled his coffee cup, then sat down in a corner of the cafe with an incident

report form to wait for Lieutenant Bain.



Chapter Two
Mandi Steele had landed behind a support column in the drive-through of the Rivage
Hotel, then stepped out to briefly join a group of costumed conventioneers on their way
up the walkway ramp.
As she neared the taxi at the front of the line, she spun the two-foot piece of pvc tubing
she'd found behind the column like a baton. Letting it escape her grasp in the direction of
the taxi gave her a pretext for going through the motions of pretending to look for it as
she studied the car.
The paint was new, but the car wasn't. It was full of luggage and rode so low that it must
have had a ton of extra weight aboard. No normal luggage would weigh that much.
Mandi pretended to search for her missing baton beneath the taxi's rear. She discovered
that the inner side of the fender was solid, not hollow. A pinch of the clay-like plastique
came away between her fingers and she let it fall under the car before retrieving the bit of
pipe and standing up.
In the rearview mirror, the driver's eyes were focused on her legs. Mandi saw that he was
none other than Ahmed Mussafi, a 'suspected' terrorist whose face had graced several of
the wanted posters she'd studied before she'd left Las Vegas.
The anonymous tip to