Baltimore took a folded newspaper from the center console and tossed it onto my lap. “Turn to the business section.”
I paged through the paper until I found the business section and spread the pages out in front of me. I couldn’t miss what he was referring to: it was the section’s leading article.
Unprecedented Volatility with German Markets
The Frankfurt Stock Exchange (German: Frankfurter Wertpapierbörse, FWB) is the world’s 10th largest stock exchange. Located in Frankfurt, Germany, the Frankfurt Stock Exchange is owned and operated by Deutsche Börse (FWB: DB1), which also owns the European futures exchange. This week, six behemoth-sized corporations, all German companies and previously traded publicly, have been purchased by a yet-undisclosed financial institution, or entity. News of the Frankfurt Stock Exchange volatility has had ripple effects across all international markets, including the NY Stock Exchange, which has seen its Dow Jones Index plummet three days straight …
I closed the paper. “The WZZ?” I asked.
“Most definitely. This clearly shows their effect on not only German financial systems, but on international markets as well. The WZZ has started to flex their muscles. Undoubtedly, utilization of their Spatz software directed them toward which six companies to privatize—which companies would produce the most dramatic domestic, as well as international, financial repercussions. Imagine the WZZ playing the same buyout games in the U.S., causing the NY Stock Exchange to tumble. We could be catapulted into a depression that would make the crash of 1929 look like a summer picnic.”
* * *
The same Gulfstream G550 was waiting for us on the tarmac. I was told not to bring anything. All my clothes, shoes, even toiletries, had been purchased beforehand and packed away. Everything was stowed in the jet’s hold. Baltimore got out of the SUV and came around the front of the vehicle.
“Not coming with us?” I asked.
“No. From this point on, everything will be scrutinized—including who disembarks from the plane once it’s on the ground in Germany. Even the charter registry of the plane needs to show David Craft as the principle, not SIFTR. I won’t be far behind. On a commercial flight, later today.”
We shook hands and I headed for the Gulfstream and the already lowered stairway.
The same SIFTR agent/flight attendant greeted me as I entered the cabin. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, Mr. Chandler! Welcome aboard.” I nodded to her and kept walking.
At the rear of the cabin was Pippa. She was bundled up tight in a blanket and her seat was extended out for sleep. She was wearing a sweatshirt with the attached hood covering most of her face. She had a small roller-type suitcase positioned on the seat adjacent to hers. Obviously, she didn’t want to be disturbed. Then her eyes opened and she saw me in the aisle, standing near the front of the cabin. It started out as a giggle. Both hands soon covered her mouth. Then I heard the flight attendant behind me; she too began laughing. I turned and scowled at her.
“Sorry,” she said. “They said it would be red, but good golly, that’s really red!”
I gave her a condescending smile and sat down, facing forward. The giggles continued from behind me so I flipped Pippa the bird without turning around.
I’d been just as surprised this morning when I went into the bathroom. To my amazement, all the hair on my head and body had turned fire engine red. Apparently, Bigalow’s clear water-like formula was a slow-acting catalyst that changed the color properties of my hair. I now understood her reference to an antidote. I’d be stuck looking like this until I got myself back in that lab of hers.
I slept for the better part of the thirteen-hour flight. I looked out the window as we landed on the runway and taxied for several minutes. When the plane finally came to a stop, I stood and waited for Pippa. She was already coming down the aisle and I almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was short and very black. It bobbed and bounced as she walked. It looked fantastic! But it wasn’t her hairstyle that held my attention. Normally tall and slim, with an athletic-type build, she was now anything but. Although trying to hide the fact beneath her oversized sweatshirt, she was obviously carrying some substantial boobage.
As she came closer, I smiled innocently at her.
“Don’t say one fucking word,” she said, not looking back at me.
* * *
A chauffeur-driven black Mercedes sedan took us to Baden Württemberg. It was already early morning in Germany when we approached Great Aunt Ingrid’s home, Villa Becksberg. The house itself was a nineteenth century red sandstone mansion, with a singular tall steeple along its dramatically angled roofline. Four storied, with an ivy-covered portico, it was an impressive estate. We pulled into a wide circular drive and stopped in front of the villa’s double door entrance.
The chauffeur Manfred, slim and elderly, moved with slow deliberation to open Pippa’s door. She stepped out and I scooted out right behind her. I nodded thanks to Manfred.
A scream emanated from behind us as a seventy-something woman with blonde hair rushed toward us.
“My little Pamela! Oh my … oh my.”
Pippa ran into the arms of her long lost Aunt Ingrid. For anyone watching, you’d think they were kindred souls, reuniting after years of separation. Truth be told, the two had never met.
Next, Ingrid’s arms were opened wide, beckoning me in for a hug. She swallowed me up in her arms and rocked me back and forth. Boy, she’s really playing this up.
She pulled away from me, holding my face in her hands. “Look at you … well, that certainly is a ginger mop, isn’t it?”
Pippa answered for me: “Well, it’s something.”
“Come, come, let’s go inside and get you situated,” Aunt Ingrid demanded.
I turned to see Manfred wrestling with one of Pippa’s oversized suitcases. “Would you like some help with that?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow and mumbled something under his breath that sounded like Verpiss dich. I certainly knew enough German to know what that translated to.
“Okay, well good luck with that, then,” I said, and followed after the women into the villa.
The wood-paneled foyer was empty but I heard murmurs coming from down the hallway. I found the two women in the kitchen, talking in low tones. The friendly smile was gone from Aunt Ingrid’s face, and Pippa was nodding in agreement to something she’d said. Both turned toward me.
“You’re late,” Ingrid said in a guttural, heavily-accented German voice.
“We are? When were you expecting us?” I asked.
“Yesterday. Plans had been arranged for the two of you. I don’t need to remind you of the jeopardy this operation puts me in, do I?”
I was tempted to let her remind me, but Pippa beat me to the punch. “We apologize. Of course, we know how important your involvement is. Now that we are here, what can we do to get everything back on track?”
“I need to get you introduced to Heidi and Leon Goertz. They have no idea yet who you are. I was supposed to introduce you at the theater last evening. Everything was in place; your seats were right next to theirs.” Ingrid sized up Pippa: “You’ll need a hat. A spectacular hat.”
Pippa nodded in confusion. “What? Why do I need a hat?”
“The races, my dear. We’re going to the horse races.”
Chapter 35
Once Manfred extracted our luggage from the car, he carried it up into our room on the fourth floor. As a married couple, separate rooms definitely wouldn’t do. Appropriate appearances needed to be kept up. On any given day, maids, cooks, even delivery personnel with loose lips could foil the mission.
Pippa was hanging up clothes in the closet. I sat on the bed and watched her.
“You’re not looking so good, Rob.”
“I’ll be all right,” I replied.
“You need to do that thing … Tap in?”
“Yeah. It’s about that time.”
“Does the electricity in Germany work the same? Will there be a problem?�
��
“Nah. In fact, it’s all 240 volts here; probably better, easier on me. But higher voltage would still be best.”
“Are you able to read my mind?”
“Right now? No … haven’t had that capability for several hours. I’m just like everyone else.”
Pippa nodded as she came over to the bed and, zipping her suitcase closed, put it away at the bottom of the closet. “How about I hang up your clothes for you?”
“I’d like that, thanks,” I said. I stood and looked out the window. I’d been gazing at the view of distant hills and the Black Forest and missed what was literally right before my nose: two thick, black utility cables. I stepped to my right a bit to spot where they were connected. Sure enough, one of the lines was connected to a large transformer unit secured to the left side of the villa, and I estimated it to be about fifteen feet from where I currently stood. From what I could see, nothing was going on outside; no one was around. I opened the window and stuck my head out to get a better view of the transformer. I’d need to get across the roof. I spotted a room’s window I’d have to cross in front of, but the biggest obstacle would be countering the pitch of the roof, which was pretty steep. I heard the mournful request over and over in my mind: Can you help me Rob? I’d have to risk it.
“What are you doing?”
“Transformer. I think I can get to it.”
“Like right now, in the middle of the day? What if someone sees you?” Pippa came over to the window and looked out. Her shoulder was touching mine and I could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. She saw me looking at her and stepped back. “I guess there’s no one around. You going to try it?”
I nodded.
“Maybe a different pair of shoes?” she asked.
I looked down at the loafers I had on.
“You’d slip right off that roof —might as well be wearing roller skates.” She lifted my suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. Within several moments she held out a pair of tennis shoes. “These would work better.”
I changed shoes and took another look out the window—all clear. First, I hung one leg outside, then the other, and slowly clambered onto the roof. The slate shingles were big and slippery even with sneaks on. I had to sit on my ass and crabwalk to my left. Pippa stuck her head out the window and was watching my progress. When I came to the next window, I peeked around the corner into the room. Peering through sheer curtains, I could see enough of the room to determine it was empty. A large mahogany poster bed, covered in a frilly comforter, was across from a dresser displaying a flat-panel TV. The TV was on—some kind of German soap opera. A shadow crossed from farther back in the room, where the bathroom was. Then I saw her. It was Ingrid’s bedroom. She was getting dressed for the day’s events. When she disappeared back into the bathroom I quickly scooted across the window to the other side.
Even from three feet out I felt the familiar beckoning. The power line was connected to the far side of the transformer. I needed to get closer. Ideally, close enough to place my forehead right next to the high-voltage cable, but the only way I’d accomplish that would be to come at it from its far side. Unfortunately, over there, the roof slanted downward into a sheer drop. I maneuvered myself so one leg hung over the roof’s edge, against the side of the house, while I precariously clung to the transformer itself. I leaned over and tapped in.
As if quenching a dire thirst, I drank in the power. My mind expanded into the grid, spreading across countless power networks, until I was one with it, a part of it.
Where have you been, Rob?
Tell me who you are?
I’m a captive. I’m in a dark place. Can you help me?
Help you what?
Get free.
The sound of Ingrid’s window opening pulled me back. I saw fingers pushing curtains aside and her face leaning forward.
“Isn’t it beautiful!”
Ingrid leaned farther out and turned to her right. It was Pippa who’d gotten her attention. I pulled my leg up and lay against the slate shingles. Ingrid and Pippa talked for several minutes before Ingrid leaned back in and closed her curtains, after the window was slid shut.
* * *
Both Ingrid and Pippa were wearing dresses and wide-brimmed hats. The color of Pippa’s small pink purse matched her hat and the floral design on her dress. It fit her perfectly and accentuated her recently endowed bosom’s cleavage both provocatively and tastefully. Ingrid’s sea green floppy hat was becoming on her and complemented her green-patterned silk dress. Pippa, earlier, had selected my attire—white slacks, button-down shirt, ascot, and navy blue blazer. We were dressed for the races.
Manfred drove as Ingrid spoke to us about our destination:
“Now the Iffezheim Racecourse, with its magnificent views of the Black Forest, is home to the Grosser Preis von Baden race. The Iffezheim racetrack is about eight miles from the small village of Iffezheim. This course is truly one of my favorites; it’s both prestigious and elegant.”
“And what will we be seeing there today?” I asked.
“There are two heralded festivals held yearly at Iffezheim racetrack … Spring Festival, and Grand Week, which is going on now, and started several days ago. The festival consists of six race days … I believe there are nine races run per day, but don’t quote me on that.”
“What’s the plan for getting us close to the Goertzes?” Pippa asked.
“My good friend, William Genz, has agreed to let us share his box seats. This is no small measure, I assure you. Genz has a thoroughbred running today. Genz’s and Leon Goertz’s horses will be racing against each other. Their rivalry, although kept friendly for the most part, goes back many years.”
I thought about what Ingrid was telling us. “Can you get us back into the stalls, pre-race?”
Ingrid stared at me blank-faced for several seconds. “I suppose. Let me check.”
She reached for the limousine’s mobile phone, thought for moment, and said, “I think I know his number …” She dialed and held the phone to her ear. “Willie?” She laughed at something he said and then spoke quickly, “Yes, you must be frantically busy and I’m so sorry to be a bother. Would it be possible to see A Grand Dream? Get into the stables?” Ingrid smiled and nodded several times while listening to whatever Genz was saying. “You are my prince in shining armor. Yes, you can think of something special as your reward.” She immediately flushed, looking over at Pippa and me, and hung up the phone. “It is all set.”
Chapter 36
This was no small affair. The traffic was backed up for several miles before we could enter the racetrack grounds. Manfred maneuvered the big diesel Mercedes past bright orange cones and was waved through by officials into a smaller lot at the back of the park.
Ingrid was in high spirits and took both Pippa’s arm and mine as the three of us made our way to the stables.
Horses and trainers and owners and stable boys and members of the press, along with hundreds of others, moved about the intersecting cobblestone paths. The clip-clop of iron-forged horseshoes echoed off concrete walkways, as some racehorses were led from their freshly painted, white clapboard stable stalls. In contrast, the strikingly colorful silks worn by jockeys boosted up onto their mounts added to the already exciting and festive, parade-like atmosphere.
“Let’s find William,” Ingrid said above the noise. “He’ll want to show us around—be the consummate host. Ah, I think I see him!” Ingrid waved a white-gloved hand high in the air, shouting, “Willie! Willie!”
A robust-looking man in his early seventies—wavy salt and pepper hair, tan, and exuding a powerful presence—broke away from a small throng of people. He was dressed similarly to myself, though his blazer was dark green, and complemented Ingrid’s green and white attire.
“Oh, Willie, you look so dashing!” Ingrid gushed to her friend in German.
“And you … the most beautiful creature here,” he said back, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.
She gave his u
pper lapel a little slap and smiled. “I want to introduce you to my beautiful niece, Pamela, and her husband, David.”
William took Pippa’s outstretched hand and held it between two of his own. “So nice to meet you,” he said, in heavily accented English. “Should I call you Pam, my dear?”
“Yes, please do.”
William turned to me and we shook hands. It was a powerful grip from a man that weighed other men by the temper of their shake. He stepped in and said, “David, very nice to meet you. Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to talk more, later on.”
“I’ll look forward to it, sir,” I replied.
William took my place between the two women and, arm in arm, directed them toward a top-half-open stall door. “This is A Grand Dream,” William said proudly, presenting his open palms in the direction of the thoroughbred standing within the confines of the stall. Shiny, black, and muscular, the racehorse stood tall, as if posing for a photograph. His ears twitched and his head nervously rose into the air with a snort.
“Oh my God, he is magnificent!” Pippa exclaimed enthusiastically. She moved to the gate and, as if on cue, A Grand Dream came forward. Pippa rubbed his long nose and looked over to me. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she asked, waving me in closer.
I took her place in front of the horse and was instantly in his mind.
Do you mind if I talk to you?
I don’t mind.
Can you win this race today?
I want to win.
What horse or horses stand in your way?
Obvious Choice, Bingham, and Charlie’s Wish …
Well, you go ahead, run your best race, and I’ll see what I can do about those other three …
The inner stable door clanked opened. William and the trainer were ready to bring A Grand Dream out of his stall.
* * *
Mad Powers (Tapped In) Page 17