Mad Powers (Tapped In) (22 page)

“Hold out your left hand,” she said.

I did as I was told. Carefully, without disconnecting any of the electronic leads, she picked up a small gold band and slid in onto my ring finger. She looked up at me and smiled self-consciously. Apparently this was a more intimate procedure for her than putting that wet shit all over my body.

“These rings are amazing. The technology packed into these things is decades beyond anything available commercially. They’re also expensive.”

“How expensive?”

“Twenty million dollars. Each,” she said.

The wedding band was average in every way except it had numerous leads extending out from the ring’s inside edge. Bigalow was back at the oscilloscope and making some adjustments. She powered on another small electrical device, perhaps a frequency generator. I felt a small tingle around my finger.

“Okay, you’re matched,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means this ring is configured specifically to your body’s frequency wavelength. It won’t operate unless it’s on your finger. Or toe. I guess that would work, too.”

She smiled at that and continued: “Watch carefully.” She removed the tiny alligator clips from the leads at the edge of the ring. It was then I noticed the ring was actually octagon-shaped—with eight distinct sides. She touched two of its sides in her fingers and pressed them simultaneously. The small leads disappeared into the ring. Then she pressed three sides, using her thumb and two fingers. One of the sides turned black.

“Cool, look at that,” I said.

“While in this mode, your ring becomes a highly sensitive data-transferring device. Simply by touching it to the surface of any USB connector, you can transfer and store substantial amounts of data.”

“Can the electronics be detected? Picked up by a scanner?”

“No, only by pressing the three sides simultaneously will the device even activate. Any other time, it’s totally inert. If the ring’s removed from your finger, it cannot be activated at all.”

I nodded my approval. Bigalow smiled, holding up both her palms. “Oh, that’s not all it does …”

Chapter 34

Baltimore picked me up at the townhouse in Georgetown at seven the next morning. Apparently, Pippa had remained in Maryland overnight and would meet us on the plane.

“
So you
’
ll be there too?
”
I asked him.

“
Not far, the Armenian Consulate in Karlsruhe, in Baden W
ü
rttemberg.
”

“
Armenian?
”

“
They owe us a favor. As we covered, we also have an asset within the Verfassungsschutz. If things start to unravel, we
’
ll have your six.
”

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 Wertpapierb
ö
rse
, FWB) is the world
’
s 10th largest
 
stock exchange. Located in Frankfurt,
 
Germany, the Frankfurt Stock Exchange is owned and operated by
 
Deutsche B
ö
rse
 
(
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 W
ü
rttemberg. 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.