Deadly Powers (Tapped In Book 2) (6 page)

Mind-reading is invasive at an unparalleled level. For the most part, I tend to skim someone’s mental playbacks—I’m not interested in someone’s darker compulsions or addictions. To be honest, I don’t want some other folks’ shit taking up residency in my own mind. Like flipping through the pages of a book, I often let the images flash by so quickly that much of what I see is nothing more than a blur. That is, until something catches my attention at a subconscious level. And that’s what just happened: My heart had begun to race, my breath catching in my chest before I knew why.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Chandler? You’ll be coming along with me. You don’t want to try anything. There is far more at stake here than your own life, I can assure you.”

I tried to swallow. I tried to speak.
What did I see inside his head?
I backed out of his mind, no longer wanting to look into anyone’s thoughts ever again.
What the hell did I see?

Albo stepped further into the small office, and two men—both heavily armed and dressed in black—took his place at the doorway. Albo transferred his gun to his other hand and reached into his inside breast jacket pocket. An iPhone, one of the near tablet-sized models, appeared in his big fleshy hand.

“I have something to share with you, Rob. It’s important that we start our relationship with everything placed on the table. There should be no secrets … no hidden agendas, between friends, Rob.”

What did I see?
Suddenly, I felt sick. The office was spinning around me—I reached a hand out to steady myself. The two men at the entrance raised their automatic weapons.

Albo was at my side now—aftershave and garlic filled my nostrils. I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, Rob? Do you need some water?”

His face showed real concern, which was surprising in light of …
in light of what?

I shook my head. My eyes were on the screen of his iPhone, which was now held out in front of me, as if a friend were showing me pictures of his family; or perhaps, vacation pics, maybe someplace warm and humid, like Cancun or Tahiti.
I don’t want to see his vacation pics.

“Rob … prepare yourself. I apologize in advance for what you are about to see. It’s startling, to say the least, but again necessary …” He let his words trail off—maybe, at this point, realizing the futility in saying anything more. He pressed the video play button and the black screen suddenly filled with a familiar scene. A scene I’d glanced at only seconds earlier, inside Albo’s organized mind.

Pippa, dressed in white skinny jeans and a light blue button-down blouse, was sitting in what had first appeared to be an airplane cabin, but these surroundings now showing on the screen looked more like a plush train car—but, then again, round, porthole-type windows could be seen, off to the side. Pippa was staring back at whoever was holding the camera. She looked tired, her hair somewhat disheveled, but she was also beautiful, and did seem fine, perfectly healthy.
See … all that worrying for nothing!
I found myself smiling as Pippa, a sardonic expression on her face, flipped the bird at the photographer.
That’s my girl.
I heard a familiar laugh and then the camera was flipped around to show the one holding it: Heidi Goertz. She waved and nodded, and then flipped the camera back around to show Pippa.

Again, I felt sick.
I don’t want to watch this anymore.
I turned my face away, only to feel strong hands on my head and chin. One of the armed men at the door was now inside the office and standing by my side.
When did that happen? How could I have missed that?

The video continued to play and I watched Pippa adjust herself in her seat, move her blonde hair away from her face. Movement. It came in from behind her in a blur. An arm … no, two arms crossed, reaching around in front of her. It all happened within a second. The garrote was over her head and then around her neck.
I don’t want to watch this!
Pippa’s fingers were prying at her neck, her face already turning red. Legs kicked out—she was flailing hopelessly now. A dark stain spread at her crotch as she wet herself. Blood covered her fingers.

I no longer tried to look away. In fact, I wanted to watch every second … I wanted to remember this scene for the rest of my life. The attacker’s face briefly appeared behind Pippa—handsome and relaxed; to him, this was just business. I burned his features into my memory, vowing never … ever … to forget his face.

The garrote came away from her neck nearly as quickly as it had been placed there. Pippa lay still, slouched forward. I hadn’t seen this part of the video yet … hadn’t made it this far, looking within Albo’s mind. I no longer felt sick—the room was no longer spinning around me. All that had been replaced with a steely determination: to make them all pay. I was going to kill Heidi Goertz, and I knew exactly how I was going to do it.

The hands on my face remained, but I glanced away. I’d seen enough.

Movement.

Pippa swayed. Perhaps it was just a shifting … a relaxing of the dead, as I’d seen some bodies do more than once in the past. But the dead don’t move their arms and sit up.

Her hands were at her throat and her eyes remained closed, but she was definitely alive. Someone was handing her a cup of water—the same man who had nearly killed her. The same man I was going to enjoy sending straight to hell. Pippa slapped the cup away—sending it flying out of view.

The camera was pointing now at Heidi, her expression serious. “Hello, Rob. That must have been very upsetting to watch. Disturbing. I’m sorry for that, truly I am. But you now know the seriousness of the situation. The importance of following my instructions to the T. There will be no second chance for Pippa—no last-second reprieve, allowing her to live. Do what you’re told and you will see your beautiful Pippa again. Don’t, and you’ll watch another video … with a completely different outcome. Mr. Boccaccio has all the information—everything necessary for you to accomplish your next mission. Welcome to the WZZ, Rob. I’m excited at the possibility of having someone with your unique capabilities working for me.”

The video stopped playing: her face, frozen—her cold, psychopathic, emotionless eyes stared back at me. Sometime, soon, she’d be wearing a different expression. I was going to make damn sure of that.

“Take a breath and let me tell you what is needed from you,” Albo said.

I said nothing but evidently the expression on my face said tons.

“Hate me all you want … I understand. I’ve been in your shoes. What you, as I, too—and many others—have come to realize is the futility in fighting this. The organization always wins … always prevails.”

“The organization? You’re talking about the WZZ?”

Albo looked confused, then shook his head. “No … the WZZ is but a flea, riding on the back of a much, much larger animal. What I’m talking about is the Order: a multi-national consortium of the fucking super rich. The Order is the real power behind everything … behind mega-corporations, behind world commerce, and behind super-power governments. The Order is the great Oz behind the curtain, man.”

I shrugged. “That’s nothing new to me … to most anyone. Yes, big money players have a lot of control that transcends geographical borders. So what? That doesn’t mean there is only one huge, united, Empire-like organization running world governments. I think you’re exaggerating.”

Albo plopped his bulk down onto the armless chair in front of the drafting table. He made a motion with his chin and the armed man in black left the cramped office. Moments later, I heard both men descend the stairs out of our sight.

Albo continued, “I’m not only not exaggerating, it’s been like this for over a hundred years. The power brokers began wielding their influence in the late eighteen hundreds … the turn of the century. You’ve heard of Tesla? The socially awkward genius who discovered AC electricity; not to mention things like the radio … even lasers. Did you know both Tesla and Edison were vying for patent approval for dispersing electricity … light … to the masses? Both had their own unique concepts. Edison advocated for direct current, DC, while Tesla fought for alternating current, AC. Here’s the kicker … Tesla’s methodology was far superior, a much more elegant and efficient approach. He also got his paperwork into the patent office before Edison.”

“I know all that. Tesla was screwed; ended up dying in obscurity—a broken man.” I was still reeling from what I’d seen Pippa go through and was having a hard time concentrating on anything else. It occurred to me that Albo was yammering on to settle me down.

“Yes, but why? He had the far better technology … I’ll tell you why,” he continued on, “Tesla wanted to give electricity away to the masses … for free. Was adamant that electricity was a natural phenomenon that could no more be regulated than the very air we breathe.”

I nodded my head; I’d heard all this before.

“Keep in mind, Edison was backed by J. P. Morgan, the wealthy investor; Tesla was backed by George Westinghouse. Now, J. P. Morgan was an interesting character and perhaps that is where things first went awry. Did you know that Morgan escaped military service, during the Civil War, by paying a few hundred bucks for a stand in to take his place … to fight for him? Then, during the same war, he purchased thousands of rifles for $3.50 each and sold the lot of them for $22 apiece? Here’s the kicker … the rifles were defective. Hell, some shot off the thumbs of the soldiers firing them! Some time later, a congressional committee convened on the matter, but a bought-off federal judge upheld the deal and Morgan was totally exonerated. That should tell you the type of person that young titan of industry was, and it was only the beginning. Ingeniously, Morgan backed Edison, using Tesla’s AC electricity to power a new-fangled, corporal punishment device—called the electric chair. Only it didn’t quite operate as intended, and the poor, death row son of a bitch was slowly roasted alive. His head caught on fire in front of a crowd of onlookers. It was a well-staged spectacle that ended up being front-page news across the country. The populace was aghast—immediately afraid of Tesla’s alternating current application. That was that … the end of Tesla’s AC, and free electricity for the masses. Edison, and his multi-million-dollar backers, prevailed; but something more important arose from all that: the early beginnings of a consortium. Having experienced, first hand, how easily they could manipulate both business and public perception to their own needs, this consortium of power brokers went underground, at least, partially. And that was the beginning of the Order. It exists today and is far more powerful than any one government. It is the great manipulator, behind all things on planet Earth.”

“That’s all very interesting, but I don’t care about any of it. What is it you want from me? What do I need to do to get Pippa back?”

“You join them. You don’t resist the inevitable, and just
maybe
the two of you will be allowed to live.”

“Live to serve the Order?”

“Yes.”

“And what is it that the Order holds over you, Albo?” I glimpsed into his mind and saw fire. I didn’t understand what I was viewing for several moments—what I was witnessing was too up-close. Flames and smoke and sounds of someone, presumably Albo himself, frantically calling out to someone. But then I saw these same images from a different angle and knew it was a car on fire, and I also knew that it was Albo’s brother who had gone up in flames, from a planted car bomb, more than ten years earlier.

“Let’s just say I have a large family and the Order will stop at nothing, have a hold on anyone important to you, as a looming threat for you to comply. Mr. Chandler, no one is safe … no one is beyond the reach of the Order, if they want something from you.”

Albo was doing his best, unsuccessfully, to not think about his wife and three children. He feared for their lives and had done terrible things to ensure their ongoing safety—their very survival.

“What you viewed … with Miss Rosette was more than a threat to you and her; it was also an initiation, of sorts, for the Goertzes. Heidi and Leon have been trying to win the Order’s favor for years. To merge the WZZ into the far larger, and more influential, Order consortium.”

“So this has all been orchestrated by the Order?” I asked.

“Of course it has. With few exceptions, clandestine agencies, from nearly all governments—the CIA, FBI, the SVR, in Russia; the DGSE, in France … are all pawn players at the beckoning of the Order’s latest directives. If it suits them, if it gains them profits or power, or both, you’ve witnessed firsthand the lengths they’ll go to—from manipulation, on a personal level—to full-out war between countries, on a global level.”

“Why me … why Pippa?”

Albo smiled, but his eyes showed no humor. “Come on, Rob. Do I need to spoon-feed you here?”

I thought about it and knew why: “SIFTR?”

Albo let out a breath: “SIFTR—a miniscule, pathetic really, organization, compared to its sister and counterpart agencies—has become somewhat of a problem.”

I thought about my boss, Calloway, and suddenly I felt a new respect for the man. Without a doubt, he was well aware of the Order, but he had resisted their manipulations. I wondered at what cost to himself … to his family?

Albo shrugged and raised his bushy brows. “Thus far, Calloway’s been impossible to get close enough to … to … take out. Recently, we’ve even taken down one of his SIFTR G5s, only to discover he wasn’t actually on board.”

“And what if I am willing to sacrifice Pippa? Not go along with you … with the Order?”

For the first time, I saw real compassion in Albo’s eyes. “I’d certainly admire your convictions. A part of me would love to see it happen. Let’s see … well, first of all, I’d be terminated for failing to make good on the Order’s directives. The same would go for some, or most, of my family members. The Order always makes good on their threats. But you won’t do that, Rob. I saw your reaction to the video. Your horror, then your overwhelming relief at seeing your dear Pippa was still alive. They own you now, just as they own me, and many thousands of others.”