Mad Powers (Tapped In) (29 page)

Pippa joined me at the concrete railing. “With Baltimore taken prisoner, our mission has gotten much more difficult,” she said.

“Our orders are specific in that regard. We’re to complete our primary objective first, before anything else, including any rescue attempts,” I reminded her.

Pippa used my shoulder for balance as she leaned backwards to study the other windows facing out along our side of the building. “Okay, there’s Leon’s office,” she said, pointing to a set of windows to the left, one floor below. “If you can’t gain entry via the elevator, you could try jumping from balcony to balcony. Or I could do it,” she said, making a face … “At least I could have, before I got these puppies added to my anatomy.” Pippa pointed toward her ample chest. “God, I’ll be happy when these things get back to normal size.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, but I was only half listening to her. Pippa was right; maybe balcony jumping was the best means to enter Leon’s office.

She punched my arm. “You didn’t have to agree with me.” Brow furrowed, she continued, “There’s a good eight feet between balconies, Rob. You’ve been out of circulation for over a year, are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure I can manage,” I said. “The problem isn’t so much getting down there, but getting his patio door open.”

Pippa stepped over to the room’s French doors and examined the latch and locking mechanism. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Like all doors in the castle, they’re electro-mechanical. Once initiated, your ring will generate the necessary code string.”

I’d forgotten about the ring’s capability to unlock electronically controlled door latches. She was right; I had been out of commission for a long time. Perhaps too long?

“I’m going after Baltimore while you’re playing Batman.”

I wanted to argue with her, tell her to wait until I had secured the Spatz code. But once I entered Leon’s office I was fairly sure alarms would sound … we’d have only a few minutes to find a way out of the compound.

We needed to wait another two hours before people went to sleep. We changed into jeans, dark T-shirts, and tennis shoes. Periodically, I looked over the banister and, eventually, one by one, room lights turned off. Everyone had retired.

“I’ll give you a few minutes head start,” I said.

Pippa nodded and said, “Thanks. Don’t kill yourself hopping around out there.”

“I’ll try not to.”

She stepped in close and kissed me hard on the lips. We held each other tight for several moments—neither wanting to break the connection. Eventually, she turned away and headed for the door. She looked back over her shoulder, smiled, and opened the door to our suite, making sure the hallway was clear before stepping out and closing the door again.

I waited fifteen minutes before climbing onto the foot-wide ledge of the railing. I’d need to cross over three balconies, and then lower myself down one level to gain access to the balcony off Leon’s office. I’d also have to accomplish this standing up. There was no way I’d be able to leap across the eight-foot expanse without getting a running start.

Standing upon the ledge, I let my eyes drift down to the cobblestone courtyard, seventy-five feet below. My balance wavered. Dumb idea. I moved back several steps, took a deep breath, ran and leapt high in the air. I landed two inches in on the opposite ledge and reached for something to hold on to. There was nothing there to grab but air. I felt my momentum pulling me forward, over the side, and only by lowering myself to my knees was I able to regain my balance in time. I held myself there, perched on the narrow ledge, for what seemed like minutes. The noise of my shoes hitting the concrete railing seemed deafeningly loud.
How could someone not have heard that?

Slowly, I rose to my feet and positioned myself for another leap. I’d barely cleared the last ledge so I decided to add an extra step to get some momentum going. Again, I took a deep breath, ran, and leapt high in the air. This time I’d cleared the ledge with more than enough room. But halfway into my airy leap to the next balcony, lights came on—the balcony was flooded in light.

I came down on the ledge, knees bent, on the balls of my toes, absorbing the weight of my landing somewhat more quietly than before. I stuck my landing like an Olympic gymnast. Sheer curtains allowed just enough visibility to see a woman moving around inside. I was fully illuminated and perched there like a statue in a museum.
Can she see me?

Then I remembered to do the obvious. My eyes locked on her, standing behind the curtains. I reached into her mind. She was hungry. Hungry and mad.
They couldn’t save even one piece of cake for the fucking mayor?

I remembered seeing a fully stocked minibar in our own suite at the back of the kitchenette. I projected a suggestion into her mind.

Check the minibar. Lots of goodies in there …

The mayor quickly padded off toward the kitchenette. I heard the sound of the minibar opening. She’d likely be there a while, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I ran and leapt again. Another perfect landing. I held there for several moments to ensure I hadn’t been heard.

Getting down to the balcony below was going to be a challenge, to say the least. I knelt down and looked over the railing’s ledge. It was close to twelve feet down. I slid down on my stomach and let my legs hang down over the banister. First with one hand, and then the other, I grabbed at concrete-pillar balustrades. Thick and rounded, they were difficult to get a grip on. I felt my fingers slipping. I let go and grabbed the bottom edge of the balcony. My body was now hanging in the air. I kicked my feet backward, and then foreword, creating a pendulum-like effect. Another deep breath and I let go.

In my mind’s eye I had totally missed the balcony below and was falling to my death. Then I felt my feet touch down and I was able to breathe again. I’d landed on the balcony itself, versus the railing’s ledge. I moved to the French doors. They looked identical to those on our own suite. Inside, I could see soft-blue illumination coming from the server room. I needed to unlock the door. I held up my hand and looked at my ring. My mind went blank.
Had Bigalow shown me how to use this feature?
Then I remembered. I positioned my fingers and pressed down on three sides—three times consecutively. I felt a quick flutter. The mode had been initiated. I reached for the metal door handle and waited. A moment later there were two more rapid flutters. I turned the handle and the door opened.

Except for the server room, the office was dark. I knew I had to move fast. Security—hell, Leon himself—could be here in minutes. In the conference room, Leon had accessed the graphical representation of the Spatz program from the laptop. I’d start there. The laptop was still open just as Leon had left it. The graphical program was still running.

My ring finger fluttered. It was repeating the same damn message as before.
Yes, I know Baltimore has been captured.
Then I realized the fluttering message was not in regard to Baltimore. It was now Pippa who had been captured.

Chapter 45

I wanted to forget the mission and go and find Pippa. I’d just have to hurry up and find what I’d come here for. I spent several minutes looking through the files on the laptop. As I’d expected, the graphical representation Leon had shown us was merely that: a simple graphical representation, not the actual Spatz program. I got up and moved over to the server room. The glass door was locked and required a cardkey to gain entry. I didn’t think my ring would work opening cardkey devices, but to be honest, I wasn’t even remotely sure.

Again, I positioned my ring finger and pressed down on three sides—three times consecutively. I felt the quick flutter that told me the mode had been initiated. I placed my ring atop the small card reader and was surprised when a little LED flashed green and the door unlatched. When I got back, if I got back, I’d have to give Bigalow a big kiss.

The room was cool and the noise from all the whirling CPU fans was distractingly loud. I’d been wrong; these weren’t simply servers, they were Cray XK7 super computers. Each one was the size of a large refrigerator, and there were at least ten of the beasts chugging along in the room.

There was a workstation terminal with a keyboard off to my left. There was also a metal pipe affixed to the desk along with a set of handcuffs hanging from it. I sat down and moved the mouse. The screensaver disappeared and I saw the Linux Operating System desktop screen. Not an expert programmer by any means, I wasn’t a total slouch either. I clicked on the icon to bring up the Terminal window. There are two methods for searching for files with Linux—
find
and
locate
.
Find
is a better, more extensive way to search a directory structure;
locate
is faster—and that’s what I chose. Unlike Windows, where applications would typically have a .exe extension, Linux works quite differently. I ensured I was at the root directory and typed in
locate
and the word
spatz.

The screen scrolled with thousands of listings. I’d hit pay dirt. I noticed that all associated files were in a subdirectory, called
spatz prog
. Next, I located the I/O ports at the back of the terminal. At the screen prompt I typed in the command function to initiate a total file transfer to the specified USB port. I then configured my ring as Bigalow had directed me. The ring fluttered and was ready. I placed the ring atop the port and used my other hand to hit the Enter key. The file transfer process started immediately.

After three minutes only 8% of the files had transferred. That’s when the lights came on in the outer office. I ducked my head down and watched two men enter; both were carrying handguns and both were freakishly tall. One at a time, I peered into the thoughts of both men. Having witnessed others who were sociopaths, such as Harland, I was surprised at the ruthlessness these two were capable of: inflicting pain and prolonged torture were what these two got off on. And it was definitely them who’d captured Baltimore and Pippa. All I could discern from their thoughts were quick images … flashes of events … Baltimore being jabbed with a red-hot poker.
Had they done something similar to Pippa?

With my face inches from the workstation screen I watched as the transfer continued at an excruciatingly slow pace. 12% turned to 13%. They’d searched the office and were heading back in the direction of the server room. They still hadn’t noticed me, crouched down at the far side of the room. I picked up their names were Heimi and Lance. Heimi, the goon with thicker, more pronounced lips, tried the door and found it locked. Neither had an access card to get inside. Lance turned, confident no one was there. Heimi turned away as well—then jerked his head back in my direction. We made eye contact. I smiled up at him. His eyes bore into me as he talked into the comm unit at his sleeve.
Leon was on his way
.

The file transfer had jumped all the way to 76%. Encouraging, but I needed to do something—anything—fast. I popped back and forth between Heimi’s and Lance’s minds and finally settled on Heimi, who had spotted me first. He seemed the denser, more simple-witted of the two.

I have complete control of your mind.

Heimi pulled his hand up and touched his ear, as if he’d heard my voice over his comms.

I am in your mind, Heimi, and you will do as I instruct you to do.

He was now looking at Lance. “Did you say something to me?” he asked, perplexed.

“What the fuck you talking about? I’ve been talking to you all day.”

“No. I mean just now?”

“No,” said Lance.

If you want to live, you’ll point your gun at Lance and shoot him in the head.

Heimi shook his head and looked around.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Lance said.

I put all my concentration on giving Heimi a headache, something I hadn’t thought of trying in the past. I picked a location right behind his eyes and envisioned a drill bit, spinning and churning out bits and pieces of his brain. The effect was instantaneous. Heimi dropped his gun and was down on all fours, his head buried in his hands. Lance was startled and looked around. He wasn’t sure if Heimi had been shot or what was happening. He looked in my direction, then back at Heimi.

Heimi. Do you want the pain to stop?

I heard his scream through the glass door.
YES! Stop the pain.

Pick up the gun, point it at Lance’s head, and pull the trigger. Do it now.

Keeping one hand on his head, Heimi searched the floor for his gun.

It’s to your right, Heimi.

Heimi’s hand brushed against his gun. He picked it up while rising up off the floor. His eyes were clenched shut in agony. He was shrieking and saying things that were pretty much unintelligible.

I’m waiting, Heimi.

Heimi pulled the trigger and kept pulling the trigger until he’d emptied the clip. Lance had taken two rounds to his head and the rest went wild into the office walls. I glanced at the terminal. 100% file transfer complete. I had one more thing to do. At the prompt I entered the command,
rm –rf/.
Everything, on all hard drives and all attached media, began erasing—nothing of the Spatz program or anything else for that matter would be left.

It was then that I realized my mental powers were gone and I was totally spent. Heimi was sitting back on his haunches, staring at his dead partner. I swung open the server door with all my remaining strength. The metal handle hit Heimi between the eyes and catapulted him backwards into the office. His dead body lay even with Lance’s. Both had their eyes open as if they were stargazing together.

I scooped Lance’s gun off the floor and shoved it into the back of my pants. I heard running feet and voices coming from the hallway. The thought of jumping between balconies again made me consider just shooting it out, here and now. But then I thought of Pippa and I knew I had to do whatever was necessary to rescue her.

By the time I was halfway over the balcony, the office door opened and men with guns were piling inside.