Chapter 2
The next day, April was up early. One of the downsides of using a convention to flush out a target was that someone actually had to run a convention, and given she was posing as someone with responsibilities, she had to be seen actually
fulfilling
those responsibilities. Particularly when the mark expected to see her doing so. So, in effect, April had painted herself into a corner where she actually had to do the duties of a conference runner. Which meant early meetings with the volunteers, coordinating events, talking to the hotel management about event management, all the while keeping an eye out for Chris Morgan.
But first, because this
was
a mission, there was a phone call to make. She made it to the situation room at Ingrams Headquarters, in Washington, even though it was still late at night there. She knew Jessica would be there, waiting for news.
"We found him!" April said, the moment Jessica Ingrams got on the line. "It worked!"
"Well done, April. I never doubted it would. You come through again. Congratulations," Jessica was always subdued and never got excited. "Now, what's the situation? Give me the specifics."
"He came to the badge pickup. He's using an alias, 'Ryan Dawson'. He looks pretty much as we expected. Looks well. I made direct contact, we shared a beer and a cigar. He'll be looking for me today, because he thinks I can introduce him to one of the stars of the show."
"Can you?" asked Jessica, mildly interested.
"Sure," responded April.
"Okay, so we know he's going to be there for the duration of the weekend?"
"I think that's likely. I'm going to try and give him a reason to stick around, and try and get myself into his life a bit, at least to see what makes him tick."
"April, that's not the mission. We had to find him. We did. You are pretty much done."
"Right, but still, Jessica," counted April. "We spent all this money. We found the guy. Let's at least get an idea of why he's doing what he's doing, right? I mean, there's got to be a reason. We could at least try and help him? It's what we do, right? The bill is being paid, regardless."
April could almost hear Jessica weighing up the pros and cons. She knew April had to stick close with Chris Morgan for at least a few days, so in that case...
"Okay, well, I'll tentatively give it my blessing, until two days after the conference ends. At that point, the client is responsible. We've done our part. But until then, go ahead, see what you can figure out is his motivation. Being able to hand that to the client at the same time would be even more a feather in our cap."
"Gotcha, Boss," replied April, pleased she was going to get the chance to actually do what she was paid to do.
"April?" said Jessica.
"Yes?"
"Be careful. I worry about you."
"I got this. Don't worry yourself. I'm being careful, you know it."
And with that, the call was done, and it was time to get the conference running.
* * * * *
Running a conference is hard work. You have to be 'on' the whole time. Cheerful, upbeat, a problem solver, know everything about where everything has to be at all times, and make decisions on the fly you really have no business making, but there's no one else to do it.
It was nonstop, and April was on her feet the whole time, walkie talkie blaring every five minutes with something new for her to be dealing with. She barely got breakfast, and spent a lot of the time looking around, waiting for Chris Morgan to appear, while also dealing with the business of the conference. Talia was in her element too, enjoying the hell out of the whole experience, meeting actors, writers, producers, uber fans of the show. Since the mission had already been accomplished, she was relaxed and on form.
April was also astonished by both the good will generated by all the fans, and their commitment to a fifty-year-old British TV show. The costumes, - cosplay, she had learned, was the word, - was amazing. Some fans had obviously spent months and a fair bit of money recreating some of the aliens from the show, lots were dressed as one of the various people who had played the title role, and some of the women, she was both amused and gratified to see, had their own female versions of the same costumes. So many were dressed, at least forty percent of the convention goers.
It was a full morning, and right on time at midday, she saw Chris Morgan, weaving his way towards her, while she stood outside the main convention hall, talking with one of the volunteers, who wanted to know how many speakers were expected for the speaker dinner that night.
She looked up and caught his eye, and right at the moment she did, she felt her heartbeat quicken. It was enough for her to know that, as she suspected from her reaction the night before, her interest in this man was beyond just beyond a target. She had reviewed her own reaction, and understood it for what it was, - this was
her
kind of man. Serious, smart, clever, confident, funny, and a man for whom action was a second nature. This man
did
things, made things happen. He was right up her street.
But. She was also a full field agent for Ingrams and Associates. She was something herself. This was her job and she was good at it, and by god, she was not going to allow an involuntary emotional response to stop her doing it. Rationality over emotion was the purview of an evolved being, and she
was
evolved. She could feel, for sure, and you never ignore your feelings; she knew that better than anyone. But that didn't mean that feelings should dictate actions either.
