The Dresdon Hotel and Conference Center stood forty stories high and gleamed black and gold under the hot Georgia sun. Nestled in the Peachtree area of downtown Atlanta, the hotel hosted numerous business conventions throughout the year, including the annual Cyber Security convention starting that day.
Agent 47 stood before the large mirror attached to the dresser in a room on the fourteenth floor. Chrome and glass furnishings offset the gold patterned wallpaper lit by modern, upturned sconces. Heavy silvery-gray blackout curtains hung across a wall of full-sized, tinted windows. The cream-colored carpet was soft underfoot. An orientation map of the convention floor and meeting rooms sat on the king bed beside an open laptop displaying architectural schematics of the building.
"Jackson Cogsgrove is twenty-three years of age, a graduate of CalTech with a degree in computer science and engineering, and currently runs his own security software business called Cogsgrove Technologies. His hobbies include bungee jumping, parasailing, and laundering money for several major cartels and traffickers," Diana Burnwood briefed Agent 47 over the speakerphone. Her posh British accent always made him think of old moneyed estates, high teas, and not touching anything. "Our clients have requested and the ICA has authorized termination of Mr. Cogsgrove's employment."
"Does Cogsgrove have any vices?" Agent 47 asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror's reflection. He stood over six-feet in height, with a bald head and sharp blue eyes. With his black Brioni suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie, most people mistook him for security detail, something he did not correct. It helped in his line of work to be misidentified as someone in charge and who belonged.
"He is a competitive Hearthstone player, and he is rarely seen without a can of Monster in hand. He is scheduled to be at the Greet and Gather this evening. After that, his movements are unknown."
"Hearthstone, Monster, Greet and Gather. Are we still speaking English?"
Diana's laugh rolled through the room and caused 47's lips to twitch into a rare smile. "I believe we are getting old, Agent 47."
"Please, do not remind me," he said. He had been in the lobby off and on since six a.m., observing the convention goers as they registered. No one appeared to be above the age of thirty or wore anything other than sloganed tees. He'd likely have to obtain Cogsgrove's room number, a master key, and disable the hallway cameras to accomplish his task. "I don't exactly blend in this time."
"Somehow you always manage," Diana said. "Good luck, Agent 47. Your mission status is now marked: active."