Mad Powers (Tapped In)

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Heidi smiled. “I’ve already dispatched your driver; it’s Manfred, isn’t it? Anyway, he’s bringing your clothes, everything, back here as we speak.”

  “Then I guess we’re your house guests for the weekend,” Pippa said.

  “Let me,” Heidi said, reaching up and zipping Pippa’s dress the last few inches.

  * * *

  Curt Baltimore needed to meet with Chandler one-on-one, right now. Seeing him at the bar, there wasn’t a chance to slip him a message. Unfortunately, talking on the phone or even texting was no longer a secure option. Their mission may be compromised. Baltimore had already suspected Goertz was on to him, that his cover had somehow been blown. But how?

  He told the barmaid he needed to take a piss—be right back. He made his way to a nearby restroom but wasn’t sure if he was followed by any of Goertz’s security goons. Once inside, he rinsed his face with cold water and tried to think straight. He watched as the handle of the bathroom door jiggled.

  There was a knock. “Ist jemand da?” Is anyone in there?

  He’d have to chance it. Baltimore brought out his phone but before he could text, the bathroom door slammed opened. Two security guys, one tall, with a passive, indifferent expression, and the other, who had a mole on his cheek and looked angry, was pointing a pistol at Baltimore’s head. They rushed in and closed the door behind them. Baltimore’s phone was grabbed away and pocketed.

  “Come with us. Make any commotion, and you will be dealt with on the spot. Understood?”

  Baltimore nodded.

  The security goon with the gun stood behind him, while the tall one opened the door and looked out. “Okay, it’s clear,” he said.

  Baltimore was shoved from behind to follow. The three moved deeper into the castle, away from the courtyard and the partying going on outside. They made a left and then a right and then started to descend a long, steep, staircase. Even with the layout memorized, Baltimore was becoming somewhat disoriented.

  Baltimore slowed his pace, which brought the swift response of a gun muzzle jabbed into his lower back. He picked up his pace for several steps, only to slow again. This time Baltimore was ready. Anticipating another poke in the same spot, Baltimore spun, grabbed the guard’s outstretched arm and pulled. The guard’s center of gravity shifted forward. Baltimore moved out of the way as the guard toppled down the stairs and into the back of his partner’s legs. They both continued in a tumbling squall of arms and legs. The guard dropped his gun and it came to rest ten steps below Baltimore. He leapt three steps at a time but mole-face was already recovering and moving to retrieve his weapon. Mole-face got to it first. As his fingers tightened around the gun’s grip, Baltimore was in the air, leaping off with both feet. Baltimore drove his heels—heels assisted by two hundred-plus pounds of momentum and gravity—into mole-face, who took the brunt of the force on his nose, driving it straight back into his skull. Splintered cartilage and bone shot into his brain, killing him instantly.

  Baltimore tucked and rolled, coming to rest at the bottom of the stairs, where the other guard still lay unconscious. Moving to get up, he realized he’d cracked at least one, maybe two of his own ribs. He retrieved the gun, still tightly gripped in the dead guard’s hand.

  He took in his surroundings. Dimly lit by a single light bulb further down the corridor, he determined he was standing on the landing where the stairway and two corridors intersected. He needed to get these bodies hidden. The taller, living, guard was coming around. Baltimore moved in behind him, crouched down and took his chin in one hand and the back of the man’s head in the other. In a rapid, twisting motion, Baltimore snapped the guard’s neck.

  He searched the body and came up with a gun, which he placed in his jacket pocket, a wallet, a small flashlight, and some communication gear wired to the man’s ear-comms. A quick check of the guard’s wallet revealed nothing other than the man’s name: Brian Gaertner, and he lived in Frankfurt. He retrieved his cell phone.

  Baltimore used the flashlight to search behind the back left side of the staircase. Nothing. He moved around to the other side and found a door. Unlocked, he discovered it was a broom closet. Within two minutes, both guards were stacked at the back of the closet beneath a bundle of rags and several mop buckets. He needed to get back but wanted to take a quick look around first.

  There was a door twenty paces down the main corridor that looked to be open. As he approached he saw a flickering light coming from inside. After the racket he’d made on the stairs, he doubted there was anyone close by. He peeked into the room. It was an assembly hall of some kind. Flags, draped from beams high above, were all the same—black swastikas, upon white circles, on backgrounds of vivid red. Three men sat in high-back chairs on a raised platform at the front of the room.

  “Come in, Mr. Baltimore.”

  Chapter 41

  The band had stopped playing and large circular tables and chairs had been brought in. Servers were carrying trays with platters of hot food.

  I saw a hand waving in the air in the distance from a table close to the stage. Pippa was signaling me. She was seated next to Heidi. Another woman sat on her other side. Leon and I joined our respective wives.

  “I hope you’re not driving our guests crazy with too much business talk on my birthday,” Heidi said, reprimanding Leon.

  We sat down on the chairs across from our wives. Pippa was smiling but her eyes were serious. She also was casually tapping a finger to her temple. I was a bit slow on the uptake; she obviously wanted me to read her thoughts. Her mind was reeling.

  I hope you’re reading this: this woman knows Pamela. We’re apparently friends and I have no idea who the hell she is. She’s getting suspicious. Our cover is about to be blown!

  As I began to answer her I saw her visibly relax.

  Next to you is Rosie. She and her husband Carl are old friends of David and Pamela Craft. Hold on … let me see what’s on her mind.

  Rosie was definitely suspicious. She was also hurt that Pamela was acting so distant. Okay, now I was getting more, as sentimental thoughts and images appeared. They had been best friends in college; Pamela was also maid of honor at Rosie and Carl’s wedding. And something else … Rosie was thinking about divorcing Carl. She’d confided this to Pamela recently in a letter and now wanted to talk about it.

  I was back in Pippa’s mind.

  Lean over and whisper in Rosie’s ear. Let her know you’re going to have to get alone with her later to talk about her and Carl’s marriage problems.

  Pippa’s eyes met mine. Seriously?

  As our dinner plates were filled, casual table talk halted for a moment. I nodded in Pippa’s direction. Pippa leaned over to Rosie. I lingered in the background of Rosie’s consciousness and heard Pippa whisper to her while I observed Rosie’s conscious reaction. I caught Pippa’s eyes and smiled.

  That worked. She’s relieved—has no doubt that you are her old friend Pamela.

  “David, I think you know this old dog here …” Leon said.

  A man returning from the bar came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “David! Good to see you, old buddy.”

  I watched as a montage of images flashed across his mind: teenagers playing basketball—Chargers, written across their jerseys; a funeral in the snow—attendees wearing black coats, with collars turned up against the wind; David and this man racing together on a catamaran.

  I’d listened to audio of the real David Craft. Our voices were similar but uniquely different as well. Mine was somewhat deeper and had a subtle accent from my Chicago upbringing. I did my best to sound like the real David Craft. “Certainly didn’t expect to find you here,” I said, grasping for some indication of what his name was. I stood up as he came closer.

  “Seems we have a mutual friend in Mr. Goertz. We were in Berlin on business when we got the call,” the man said, pushing away my outstretched hand and giving me a bear hug instead. With two hands still on my shoulders, he pushed me away and looked at my face. “You loo
k good … Pamela must be taking good care of you.” But there was concern in his eyes. Something seemed odd to him. He was looking for a scar. A scar that should be on my right cheek below my eye.

  I touched my face where he’d been looking. I pictured his instant recall of a sail, suddenly caught in the wind, and an aluminum boom whipping into David Craft’s cheek. There had been lots of blood and deep feelings of guilt from this man.

  Rosie said, “Why don’t you sit down, Carl? It’s time for dinner.”

  Oh, so this is Rosie’s husband, or soon to be ex-husband.

  “I had it removed,” I said. “One of those things I now wish I had just let be. You don’t still feel responsible for that, do you, Carl?”

  Carl shrugged. “Maybe a little bit.”

  Dinner was fairly uneventful. Much of my time was spent talking with the other men at the table, while periodically helping Pippa converse with Rosie and Heidi. The mental multi-tasking was taking its toll. Then something Leon was saying grabbed my attention.

  “This property is completely self-sufficient. Going off the grid here would not be a problem. We have our own water supply from natural springs, and the same hydro-thermal conditions that heat our underground spas also generate the necessary kilowatts to power Weilerbaden Castle’s complex.”

  “Sounds like you put a lot of thought into this place,” I commented. “So you have a power station on the premises?” This was news to me, since none of the architectural drawings I’d reviewed indicated one. From what I had gathered, the property got its power from the same municipal sources other Baden-Baden residences or businesses did.

  Leon shoveled in a forkful and spoke with a mouth full of orange candied carrots before he answered me. “All underground. What you’ve seen is but a fraction of Weilerbaden Castle. If you play your cards right, I’ll give you the complete tour tomorrow.”

  “Your wife’s already had a bit of that tour, didn’t you, Pamela?” Heidi asked, with more than a little tease in her voice.

  Pippa smiled and nodded but said nothing.

  The band was back and taking their places on stage. I saw Pippa eye the dance floor and then glance back toward me. She looked somewhat self-conscious; no doubt from the growing male scrutiny focused on her from around our table, and from tables beyond. It wasn’t just her figure—her ample cleavage; she was strikingly beautiful tonight. As an active agent, Pippa had gone out of her way over the years to downplay her looks, often not wearing any makeup at all. But now, seated across from me, her gown shimmering in the soft lights from above, I was as captivated as the rest of the men.

  The music started up and couples from around the courtyard moved toward the dance floor.

  “Would you mind if I asked your wife to dance?” Carl asked.

  “No, be my guest,” I said.

  Carl stood and walked around to where Pippa was seated. He held out his hand to her, but I couldn’t hear his voice over the music. Pippa smiled, nodded, and got up. There it was again, a quick tapping gesture toward her head.

  What am I supposed to do now? This guy knows Pamela. He’s expecting me to chitchat with him.

  Before I could reply, Heidi threw her napkin across the table at me. She looked at me, eyebrows raised. “What does a girl have to do to get asked to dance around here?”

  I pointed to myself. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you,” she said.

  “Well, come on then, let’s show them how it’s done, Heidi,” I replied, getting to my feet. I looked over to Leon for his approval.

  “Go right ahead … have fun, kids.” His eyes never left his plate; what was left of his half-devoured steak was being cut into small, cube-like pieces.

  Heidi took my hand and led me to the dance floor. She moved gracefully and swung herself under my arm and then came in close. Small and compact, she moved seductively. She pressed in against me and looked up into my eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this all evening.”

  I peered into her thoughts. She was excited to be dancing. She was curious about me—was attracted to me. There was a deep hunger in this woman … for attention … for sexual gratification. Now her thoughts were being pulled back to an earlier event. Almost identical to the thoughts I’d observed in Leon’s mind at the racetrack, hers, too, were dark, incongruent, fuzzy jumbles—mostly nonsensical: there was darkness, lit only by a nearby burning torch …death, involving a sacrifice for someone … although in Heidi’s mind the death had already occurred. She appeared naked, blood on her hands and face, and in a frenzied, disoriented state of mind. The expression on my face must have alerted her.

  “What’s going on in that mind of yours, David?” Heidi asked, her own expression now one of concern.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of something I’d forgotten to do. There’s someone I need to contact.”

  “Well, hopefully that can wait. Leon isn’t much for dancing. I guess I’m fortunate he doesn’t mind me dancing with others.”

  From the way she was pressing herself into me, she was more than a little accustomed to dancing with others. I foxtrotted us over to where Pippa and Carl were dancing and telepathically asked her how things were going.

  Fine. I told him I just wanted to dance, save the chatting for later.

  Carl looked to be enjoying himself. He spun Pippa around and glided smoothly beside her. She moved with him to the music as if they’d practiced their dance steps together for years. I certainly wasn’t the dancer Carl was, but that didn’t stop me from stepping it up a little with Heidi. We danced until the band announced they’d be taking another break.

  Leon was up on stage and tapping the microphone. “This on?” His voice boomed from speakers on both sides of the stage. “I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. You’ve made this a very special evening for both Heidi and myself. I’d like to take a moment to present my wife with a very special birthday present from me.”

  Heidi and I moved closer to the stage, along with Pippa and Carl. Others were getting to their feet and joining us. From somewhere high above, a spotlight turned on, instantly bathing Heidi in a swath of bright white light.

  Behind Leon a large movie screen lowered. Nighttime shots, taken from above New York City, filled the screen. Sinatra’s “New York New York” played softly in the background as camera footage zeroed-in on several Manhattan skyscrapers. Soon, only the Chrysler building, with its one-of-a-kind art deco architecture, remained. The video screen zoomed in—showing stainless steel ribbed cladding, next to large, triangular windows; it all came together in the building’s dramatic sunburst pattern. One of my favorite buildings, not just in New York, but the world. I was somewhat perplexed why Leon was showing this to us.

  “It wasn’t that long ago when we were on our final approach to JFK, with the city’s lights shining up from below. Do you remember telling me how much you loved that building?”

  Smiling, Heidi nodded her head, still looking as confused as the rest of us.

  “As of three o’clock yesterday afternoon, the building now belongs to you,” Leon Goertz told his wife. “Happy birthday, sweetie, I hope you like it.”

  Heidi screamed with excitement, jumping up and down on the dance floor. Applause erupted from the guests as a wheeled cart was rolled over to where she stood. Easily six feet tall, her birthday cake was a detailed replica of the Chrysler building.

  I looked toward the stage and saw Leon staring at me. The message was clear: before long, nothing in this world would be beyond his reach.

  Chapter 42

  Pippa and I sat on the edge of the stage and ate our cake. We watched Heidi continue to hand out plates of cake—piece by piece, small sections of the Chrysler building were slowly being cut away. In the distance, the bar was still somewhat crowded with partygoers getting drinks, but I saw no sign of Baltimore.

  Leon joined us at the stage. “That was quite a gift, Leon,” Pippa said.

  “It will be a nice project for her. We’ve been talking about getting a p
lace in New York,” Leon replied. “Pamela, I’m going to steal David away one more time … show him my offices, introduce him to some business associates of mine. Word got out that David would be here in Baden-Baden. He’s something of a celebrity, you know. I promise to return him in several minutes.”

  “No problem,” Pippa said, jumping off the stage. “It looks like your wife could use some help.”

  Together, Leon, Carl and I walked into the main building. “Let’s take the elevator,” Leon said, gesturing toward a stone wall. It was only when I stood right in front of it that I realized the wall was actually an elevator door. The wall separated and revealed a car waiting for us. The doors shut. Leon was prompted to provide an optical scan.

  “Confirmed,” said a woman’s voice.

  Carl and I exchanged a quick glance.

  Leon pressed the button for the third floor and the car started to ascend.

  “That’s quite a bit of security for a private residence. Impressive,” I said.

  “I do far more business here than in my offices downtown. Perhaps it may seem like excess, but there are organizations around the world hell-bent on acquiring our technology. In fact, we discovered a covert intruder earlier tonight. One that I will deal with personally, later on,” he replied.

  That could explain Baltimore’s disappearance from the bar. Was this mission in the process of unraveling? I tried to keep my expression neutral, while considering the implications.

  I’d been monitoring Leon’s thoughts since we’d left the courtyard. His heart rate was elevated. He was making his move into international markets. By early next week he would control enough of the world’s most influential corporations to be virtually unstoppable. What I was not prepared for were the tumultuous emotions brewing inside him: love of country, zealous dedication to the memory of his parents and grandparents, and continuing on their legacy. The phrase Blut und Ehre, blood and honor, was like a silent mantra Leon repeated over and over again in his mind. I’d also seen he was questioning my authenticity. Preliminary investigations had not been one hundred percent conclusive. Both Pippa and myself were to be further vetted this evening: me by Leon, Pippa by Heidi. He was prepared to do something he’d only done twice before: bring non-German nationals into his organization. Simply put, he needed high-profile American executives to join his ranks. The days of separatism were over. A one-world economy was not only inevitable, it was close at hand.