Read Deadly Powers (Tapped In Book 2) Online
Authors: Mark Wayne McGinnis
Tags: #Paranormal Thriller
Deadly Powers (Tapped In Book 2) (27 page)
While waiting for the last man to enter, she counted them off. So far, there were a total of forty-eight men, all wearing several days’ stubble on their faces. Dressed as cowboys, some were young, some in their late sixties. What seemed a cavernous space to her just moments earlier now seemed near-claustrophobic—hot and sour-smelling, from co-mingling body odors. The men looked at her with anticipation. She wondered what they were told about her—about Heidi Goertz. There was no sure way of knowing—but if their rapt faces were any indication, their expectations were high.
Palmolive looked at her and nodded. If there was some kind of special oath she was supposed to deliver, she had no idea what it was. She hadn’t thought of acquiring that bit of information from Heidi.
Crap!
Times like this, she really wished she had Rob’s mind-reading capabilities. She looked over to Palmolive, as an uncomfortable stillness fell over the space.
Another man entered the cavern, approached the lectern, and stood beside her. Mr. Taffy nodded to Pippa, to Palmolive, and then gazed out at the group of men.
Pippa, although somewhat rusty, was fluent in German. Taffy, with his numerous syntax and pronunciation mistakes, obviously was not. Not that any of the men there noticed the difference. But there again … this was not Mr. Taffy … it was Curt Baltimore, who had undergone his own last minute set of facial injections. The real Mr. Taffy was German—a discrepancy Palmolive had not seemed to notice. Pippa chastised Baltimore with a glare. His shrug was subtle enough to go undetected by everyone else. What Baltimore spewed forth was an oath to God—swearing unconditional obedience to Heidi and Palmolive—the joint Fuhrers of the Tenth Reich.
Now, having a better idea what words needed to be expressed, Heidi said, “Please repeat this oath after me: I swear to God, my unconditional obedience to Heidi Goertz and Rudy Palmolive, supreme commanders of the armed forces of the WZZ, and that I shall, at all times, be prepared—as a brave soldier, to give up my life to protect this oath.”
The men swore their obedience, line by line, repeating the oath aloud. Now, looking somewhat bewildered, they silently waited for what more was to come.
Palmolive said, “Now you will be led into another tunnel, where you will hike a mile further into the mountain, to a cavern similar to this one. There, you will wait for the arrival of the second group, who will join you within the hour. At that time, each of you will be provided with your individual leadership position within the organization.”
The excitement in the room was palpable and there was a low murmur of voices as the men congratulated each other. Palmolive and Heidi moved out from behind the lectern to shake each man’s hand. Jude slowly slid open the hanging metal door and ushered the men forward. “Keep going along this tunnel, all the way to the end,” he said, repeating over the same words several times as the first group of men filed past. He waited a full minute before re-sliding the door closed, and latching it securely with a locking mechanism.
Palmolive, looking exhilarated, caught Jude’s eye. “Go ahead and fetch the rest of them.”
Pippa interjected, “But wait five minutes before you bring them in.”
Jude looked back to Palmolive, who gave him a nod: “You heard her … go!”
Palmolive noticed Taffy, standing off to the side of the lectern. “You too—out with you. Give us some damn privacy.”
Palmolive waited for Mr. Taffy—
Baltimore
—to leave before turning back to Pippa. “What is it? I would have thought you’d be ecstatic by now.”
“I told you, I need to know all the specifics before this goes any further.”
“Right now? It’s a lot of information … subterranean deployment of combat teams and military assets throughout the country. I assure you, everything is just as we discussed. All that awaits is for me to give the final order to deploy.”
“Well, I need to know everything—”
Palmolive cut her short by drawing his Colt and pointing it at her. “Let’s dispense with the charade, shall we, Ms. Rosette?”
Pippa looked at him blank-faced. “What … what are you doing …”
“Come on, now. I knew you weren’t Heidi Goertz the second I laid eyes on you. I admit the resemblance is remarkable. But there were subtle giveaways, the least of them being your height. I’m guessing you’re at least two inches taller than Heidi. And your voice … close, but not the same.” Palmolive eyed her up and down. “I’ll enjoy determining other subtle differences between the two of you in private.”
Pippa didn’t respond.
“The truth is, I was forewarned about your presence here. Especially, since your partner’s true identity was confirmed earlier today—Rob Chandler. After witnessing, first-hand, capabilities not found in your usual entrepreneurial nerd, I had his prints lifted from a whisky glass. Surprise surprise, his prints didn’t match the real Troy McAlister’s. Perhaps even more telling was that our imposter’s prints didn’t show up in any database. As you and I know, clandestine operatives’ fingerprints, as well as other personal details, are often redacted. I had to go so far as to use one of my own high-level NSA contacts to come up with a match. Once we nailed down who Rob was—a decorated war vet, then a CIA agent of almost infamous acclaim—stemming first from suspicion he was a Russian double agent, from which he was later exonerated, then his subsequent induction into SIFTR. The one notable person tied to Chandler throughout his career, as well as in his personal life, was one Pippa Rosette … also a SIFTR agent.”
For a moment Pippa continued to glare like she didn’t know what he was talking about, but they both knew she’d been made. She shrugged.
“So I have one question for you: What have you done with Heidi Goertz?”
Pippa shrugged, “I’m sorry to inform you she’s dead. I actually shot her myself … in the head … between those conniving, bitchy eyes of hers.” She smiled, seeing the alarm on Palmolive’s face.
After composing himself, his smile returned. “You know, I don’t think she is dead, and let’s be frank—when one has the kind of influence I have over virtually every clandestine organization on Earth, finding that out will not be difficult.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Pippa replied with confidence.
“In any event, I have you … remember? I can be very convincing. Sure, you may hold out for a time, but rest assured, everyone has a breaking point. I’ll personally enjoy exploring just where your breaking point resides.”
Pippa’s last hope of turning things around evaporated, upon seeing Baltimore being manhandled into the cavern by Jude. Clearly, they knew he too was not who he’d represented himself to be. With a monumental shove from behind, Curt Baltimore was sent sprawling to the ground with a grunt.
Palmolive cocked his head sideways at the disguised Curt Baltimore and said, “Three little piggies captured with ease, and now one of them must pay the price.”
With surprising speed, his arms outstretched, Baltimore sprang toward Palmolive. In a blur, the bird-like man drew his weapon and fired once. The sudden impact from the round catapulted Baltimore backwards, head over heels, where he dropped, dead, near Pippa’s feet. A circular blotch of dark red blood had replaced his left eye socket. Palmolive holstered his pistol and raised his eyes to Pippa.
Pippa didn’t even try to hold back tears as she stared down at the body of her friend and colleague, Curt Baltimore. When she glanced up, she saw both Jude and Palmolive looking pleased with themselves. Jude approached her, found the wireless remote in her pocket, and handed it over to Palmolive.
“Please don’t … there’s no need to kill anyone else,” she pleaded. “I’ll help you. Do whatever you ask … just don’t—”
But his hand was already moving—Palmolive depressed the button: “Click.”
Pippa didn’t hear an explosion—didn’t feel the ground shake beneath her feet. Perhaps the device hadn’t worked? Maybe something malfunctioned?
With an index finger pointing into the air, Jude said, “Wait for it … wait for it … wait for it …” and then it came: The sound of a distant explosion, quickly followed by flickering lights, billows of dust, and what seemed like an 8.0 earthquake. Pippa lost her balance, falling atop Baltimore’s lifeless body, and thought about the forty-eight men who’d just lost their lives.
… And here I am—back where this story began—precariously perched outside on the Tombstone saloon’s top floor balcony. The noosed rope around my neck is still affixed somewhere above me, and I’m still awkwardly canted forward, waiting for my feet to slip out from under me. Of course, the rain has started coming down in buckets and I’ve come to the conclusion I’m pretty much fucked.
Jordan’s two-handed blow to my head with the butt of his rifle at the silver mine knocked me out cold for what I’m guessing was several hours. Then came the dream: Actually, calling it what it really was—a nightmare—would be more accurate. It was the first time the entity infiltrated into my everyday life. What once was relegated only to my tapping in states had, somehow, crossed over, and it was more than a little disconcerting. The theme of the dream was similar to those before, but the scene was playing out in a different location, right here in the high mountains of Colorado. I was lying face down on a flatbed wagon. There was a repetitive chirping sound, coming from one or more wagon wheels in need of grease. My body bounced as we hit a large pothole on what I guessed was a downward sloping trail. Not more than a foot from my nose was Taffy. I knew instinctively he was dead—his eyes glazed and fixed as he started to speak. I needed to wake up.
Why can’t I wake up?
My heart raced and I tried to move away from him.
I watched Taffy’s lips move to speak, but instead heard the voice of that awful inner presence.
“It’s my turn, Rob. It is time.”
“No. That will never happen. You need to find someone else to help you.”
“I saved you. Plucked your essence back from the wrangling grip of death herself. I pulled you into the vastness and there I nurtured you for a lifetime. You were mine. I should never have put you back … back into that dying body.”
“You saved me? The car wreck?”
“Yes … and now I share your life. I see what you see, feel what you feel. It is my turn!” Taffy reached out a limp hand toward my face—cold fingertips brushed my cheek. I tried to pull away. The wagon hit another pothole and I awoke. The presence was gone, and my heartrate settled down.
The body of Taffy still lay there—obviously dead. Around me, I heard the sounds of multiple horses trotting and the rustling of tree branches, somewhere high above. I inhaled deeply, then let out my breath. I wondered why Heidi Goertz’s bodyguard, or whatever the hell he was to her, would be lying dead next to me?
I tried to sit up and immediately discovered my skull was in no shape for any kind of movement at all. Also, my hands were bound behind my back. Using my similarly bound feet for leverage, I scooted my body around in such a way that I could see out the back of the wagon, and witnessed a second startlingly strange sight in as many minutes.
Rudy Palmolive was sitting atop his chestnut, Ticker, who was periodically doing his best to nip at the man’s legs. Riding next to Palmolive, on my horse, Gunner, was Heidi Goertz. Her button-down shirt was partially ripped to the waist, leaving her ample breast semi-exposed, and, like me, her hands were bound behind her back.
Whoooa … almost lost it there.
My left boot slipped from the railing and I watched several large, splintered-off pieces of railing free-fall toward the muddy street below. Feeling nauseated, I retched again and felt hot bile at the back of my throat. Just one of a thousand dry heaves I’ve been experiencing over the last three or four hours, while stranded helplessly up here on my narrow perch. I
really
need to tap in.
Back to Palmolive and Heidi and me, lying in the back of the flatbed wagon. In addition to the nipping chestnut mount, Heidi’s semi-exposed boobs, her bound wrists—there was something else that was odd. While Palmolive was preoccupied with Ticker, yanking the reins this way and that, Heidi tilted her head to one side and made an exaggerated, wide-eyed, expression in my direction. Finally, I looked into her mind.
I AM PIPPA, DAMN IT! Are you getting this? I’m cosmetically altered to look like Heidi.
Her thoughts, directed at me, were received loud and clear and I was dumbfounded. I stared at the woman, who looked so much like Heidi Goertz. And then, I could see the real Pippa Rosette behind the series of what must have been extremely painful, face and body altering, injections.
Reassessing her torn shirt and partially exposed breasts, I inwardly prayed she hadn’t been violated. I inserted that mental picture into her mind.
Did he …?
She shook her head.
No—not yet anyway.
I gave her a nod and hoped my expression conveyed my regrets at how things had turned out. I looked again at the dead man lying next to me, Taffy. Suddenly, adrenalin began coursing through my veins. A part of me knew this was not Taffy. I looked back toward Pippa and peered again into her mind.
I’m so sorry. Palmolive killed Curt Baltimore.
My eyes locked on the man sitting next to Pippa. He was looking back at me, a bemused smile on his face. Only a few other times in my life had I wanted to destroy someone as much as I wanted to kill this pompous little fuck. His smile broadened as he saw the hatred on my face. The world around me was spinning and I felt on the verge of losing consciousness. I needed to tap in; my mind-reading capabilities were failing fast. But I did have sufficient time to insert one more, subliminal, suggestion into Palmolive’s mind before blacking out:
Doc Holliday will kill Billy the Kid.