“You planted the bugs?” Damon Harding asked. His miniature figure appeared to be standing on the bistro table where Dawson was still sitting. Terra had boarded the express zip train to Denver only minutes ago.
“Yes, there are about fifty of them on her. Some are on her clothes, some on her skin and some in her hair. She shouldn’t be able to ditch them even if she wants to. And of course we always have our other source in case anything happens to the bugs.” Dawson said.
“Good, are you leaving for Denver?”
“I’ll be on the next train. It’s not an express, but I’ll be there by the time she arrives for the meeting, and I’m in constant contact with the agents at the scene. We’ll keep an eye on them,” Dawson reassured him.
“Just don’t forget that we want them to think they have gotten away. I’m sure they’ll try to make a break for it, so don’t let your agents catch them. Just stay on their heels, as far as it takes you. Understand?” Damon said.
The man was still imposing even when he was the size of an action figure. “Don’t worry, Mr. Harding, I understand the plan perfectly,” Dawson replied though he didn’t know why the guy treated him like a child.
“I worry about everything, Mr. Harding, that’s why I’m where I am,” Damon retorted and cut the connection.
“Ass,” Dawson whispered as he took another sip of his mocha. He didn’t want Terra to get hurt. He liked her. She was in the game for her and her planet. He couldn’t blame her for that; he was in it for him and his. Dawson finished his drink and dropped it in the waste bin as he headed towards the terminal where the next zip train to Denver was due to arrive.