Chapter 7: Down a Slick, Silver Slide

It’s a good thing Sarah wasn’t still in the bag cart!

Actually, she’d barely been in it at all, except for the part where she fell through.  What Clam Chowder couldn’t see, and what the other enemy agents didn’t know, was that the cart had had a mirror underneath it.  This mirror had run from its “bottom” to the ground, and it had been angled precisely so that a couple of other well-placed mirrors gave it the appearance of being just a normal bottom.

When Sarah fell through, though, the floor on the bottom of the cart had been open—as had a secret trapdoor in the runway.  Once she fell through this, the falling was over, but her descent wasn’t.  No, now she was sliding—down a slick, silver slide that was completely dark when the trapdoor closed.

Oh, boy! thought Sarah to herself, sarcastically.  I love slides when I don’t know what’s at the bottom!

Her descent continued for about a minute, with no sign of light ahead.  Suddenly, her feet hit a thin, rubber door at the end of the chute.  She flew out and landed squarely in a large, puffy red armchair.

“Oof!” she exclaimed.  “Where am I?”

Looking around, she saw she was in a medium-sized room with pale yellow walls made of cement.  Two cement pillars ran up and down in the room, one on either side of the armchair.  There was a door over on the right side, and directly across from Sarah was a large control panel, complete with monitors, lights, and a computer keyboard.  A man sat in front of the panel…he swiveled around as she fell in.

“You’re right on schedule,” he said.  “Glad you made it!”

“Uh, thanks!” Sarah studied the man.  He looked to be about six foot four, probably in his mid-to-late fifties.  He had a rather squarish jaw and bright, green eyes that seemed intensely alert.  There was something else about his face, too—something that Sarah couldn’t describe, but something that caused her to trust him.

“Where am I?” she said.

The man laughed—a soft laugh.  “Underneath the bowels of the Atlanta airport,” he said.  “You’re a special guest!  We’ve only had three other people drop in on us like that.  This is our Atlanta headquarters—we use it whenever matters arise that might involve the airport.  Like the one you’re involved in right now.”

“Then this place is secret?” Sarah said.  “Firefly won’t find me here, will he?”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” the man said.  “By now, the TSA officials have probably picked him up—along with Mrs. Hayes and the rest of his operatives.  We knew they were there—we just wanted to see how many people he had working with him before we moved in on him.  I hope he didn’t scare you too much on the way to B13.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly relaxing, getting chased like that.”  Sarah grinned.  “I guess that’s not your fault, though.  Is—is this where I’m supposed to go?”

“Only for a short time,” the man said, checking his watch.  “Your next flight leaves in about an hour and a half.  We’ll wait here first, though, until all of Firefly’s men have been rounded up.”

“That’s right, this wasn’t the final destination,” Sarah remembered aloud.  “Where am I going?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the man said.  “You see, Sarah, in a case like this, it’s best that as few people know those sort of things as possible.  I’m just in charge of protecting you while you’re in Atlanta.  Once you leave, I’m not supposed to have any idea where you are.  That makes it harder for Menace to find out your whereabouts.”

Sarah cringed.  “It’s that dangerous?”

“Er…well, yes and no,” said the man.  “If you were on your own, then yes, this would be dangerous.  You’ve got 3145-008 on your side, though, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“3145-008?”

“Of course—oh, excuse me.  You know her as Tracy Turner.”

Sarah nodded.  “She’s good?”

“Good is an understatement,” the man said, turning to check the computer monitor.  “One of our best is more like it!  The junior division maintains quite a few youngsters, but we’ve never had one with talent quite like that!  You should consider yourself fortunate to have a friend like her.”

“I always did,” said Sarah, “but I never realized how fortunate until the last two days…what about Dad?  Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” said the man, “but I can assure you, our agents are working on the case.”

“Oh, alright,” said Sarah.  She thought a moment.  “Is Tracy supposed to meet me, wherever I’m going?”

“Afraid I don’t know that either,” said the man.  “If I were you, I’d just relax, take it easy until your next flight.  There’s snacks and drinks in the refrigerator over there, and there’s a bedroom down that hall if you want a nap.”

Sarah wasn’t really a nap person, but she took the agent up on the snack offer.  They chatted happily for the next several minutes, about Atlanta, about Minnesota.  Sarah asked if the agent knew what her father did, and this wound up being a question he could answer.  At least somewhat.

“He’s one of our top cybersecurity officials,” the agent said.  “When secret information gets leaked—information that could have harmful consequences if it fell into the wrong hands—your father investigates.  He’s very good at it.”

“So that’s what he does,” Sarah remarked.  “Doesn’t surprise me.  He’s always been good with computers.”

All too quickly, the hour passed by, and it was soon time for Sarah to catch her flight.  “Give me just a second,” said the man, pulling out his cellphone.  “I need to make sure they got rid of Firefly’s crew—hello?  Atlanta Division?  This is Agent 5590 reporting.”

In just a moment, he’d hung up.  “Quite a haul,” he said.  “They got sixteen!  You shouldn’t have anything to worry about the rest of your time at the airport.”

“Well, that’s nice,” said Sarah.  “If that’s the case, can’t I just stay here?”

The agent shook his head.  “My orders are to send you on—plus, if you wait here too long, they’ll send someone else to try to catch you.”

“Oh.”  That’s a cheery thought.

She and the agent walked down a long sequence of hallways, deep beneath the airport, until they came to a hall that looked like it dead-ended on a green metal wall.  That didn’t faze the agent—he turned his watch so that it faced the wall and held it there until some red numbers appeared to the side, in the shape of a keypad.  He typed in a five-digit code, and a portion of the wall slid back—revealing—

“A train?” Sarah exclaimed.

“The Plane Train, actually,” said the man.  “It runs around the airport, helping people get to the different terminals.  This here’s the repair facility, where ones not in use are stored.”

The little subway-ish thing consisted of four cars, all coupled together, riding on a single rail in the middle which the train was clamped to.  Several of these rails ran all about the room, with island platforms in between.  Sarah assumed the facility was large enough to store all the cars, when necessary.

“Get in the last car,” the man told her.  “Through those open doors.  In just a couple minutes, an empty one from the tunnel will come in—” he pointed to the tunnel that led to the main track.  “Once it parks, your train will head out and take its place.  That way, if Menace is timing the cars, they won’t realize there’s been a switch.”

Sarah whistled.  “You all don’t miss any details!”

“Precision is often the difference between life and death.”  The man smiled and held out his hand.  “Nice meeting you, Sarah.”

“You too,” she said.  With that, she walked over to the train and slipped inside.  She’d just barely gotten through the doors when they closed behind her.

Looking around, Sarah saw that the car was practically seatless.  Apparently, it didn’t run for very long, so poles in the middle and handles on the ceiling were the ways people ensured they didn’t fall down.  However, there was one seat at the back, so Sarah made her way over to it.

As she sat down, she saw an envelope lying on the seat with her name on it.  Opening it, she pulled out a Delta ticket envelope.  She eagerly slipped it open and pulled out the ticket to check where she was going.

Flight DL 523:  Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta International Airport to Eppley Airport

“Omaha?!” exclaimed Sarah in surprise.  “I’m going to Omaha?!”

As if in answer to her query, her cellphone suddenly rang.  Only, it wasn’t Sarah’s personal cellphone.  It was the one Tracy had given her.  Sarah realized this as she picked it up.

“Tracy?” she said eagerly.

“Hi, Sarah!  Having a nice trip?”

“Um…actually, it could be a lot nicer—”

“I know, I know—sorry about the bumps in the road.  Anyway, you just got your ticket!  Did you catch the destination?”

“I sure did, but what’s Omaha got to do with anything?”

“You’ll find out after you arrive.  Once you get there, look for one of two things.  I want to try to pick you up, but I may not be able to make it.  If I’m there, I’ll be at your gate when you get off.  At your gate…not at security, but at the gate itself.  If you don’t see me there, don’t wait.  Instead, take the Number 16 bus—the one heading towards the downtown.  Get off at TD Ameritrade Park, and don’t get off before there, even if you figure out where you’re ultimately supposed to go.”

“Where I’m ultimately supposed to go—what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out, Sarah—I know you!”  Sarah wished she had the same confidence in herself that Tracy did.  “Just don’t marginalize my acting career.”

“Acting career—oh, you mean the show?”

“Didn’t Greata Gerbec do a marvelous job?” Tracy laughed.  “Also, Sarah, if you do have to go to TD Ameritrade, then keep your eyes open.  More than likely you’ll be followed by Menace.”

“Well, that’s a cheery thought!” said Sarah.  “So I can evade them by going in TD Ameritrade—”

“Oh, no, you won’t go in!” Tracy explained.  “There’s no game there tonight.  Just get out and look around until you find something familiar.  Something very recently familiar.”

Sarah sighed.  “I wish you could be more specific, Tracy—”

“I wish I could too, but this mission’s too dangerous for that.  Don’t worry, Sarah.  Everything will make sense when it’s supposed to.”  In the background, Sarah heard a sound similar to a voice coming over a loudspeaker.  “Cymbals and catfish!  I’ve got to go, Sarah.  One more thing, quickly!  After you leave the place that looks familiar, look for the part of Omaha that’s not Nebraska.  The part of Omaha that’s not Nebraska.  See you soon—very, very soon!”

“Tracy?  Tracy?”

But the conversation was over.