Free Mad Powers (Tapped In) by Mark Wayne McGinnis Page B

accordingly. Can you do that?”
     
    * * *
     
    Pippa wondered if Assistant Director Hayes had deliberately paired her up with Giles just to spite her. Who wears aftershave like that, anymore? She’d scrambled for the window seat, hoping he’d opt for the aisle seat and not take the cramped middle one. But he’d plopped himself next to her, releasing another waft of his sickeningly sweet cologne. Why was he even here?
    By the time Pippa and Giles had checked their bags, and then their weapons, Pippa felt she needed a shower after his fawning closeness. There was nothing about the way she was dressed—a plain navy suit, white shirt, and sensible flat-heeled shoes—that should evoke such attention. At five feet, nine inches, she was on the tall side. But it was her Scandinavian features—blue eyes, blonde hair and delicate bone structure—that inevitably got men’s attention. Not a positive in her line of business. Looking unremarkable, forgettable, would be an advantage. Subsequently, she’d had to work harder to prove herself.
    “All right, let’s get down to business, Pippa. You up for a little business talk?”
    Pippa just looked at him. What other kind of talk would there be? “I imagine we’ll head on over to the Kingman PD. Until we know any more details, what’s happened so far, it’s senseless to start planning too far ahead, don’t you think?” Pippa asked back, her eyebrows slightly raised, letting him know the obvious scenario.
    “Oh, of course. I just meant our overall strategy: you know, the thirty thousand foot perspective,” Giles responded, back peddling. He turned back forward and retrieved a comb from his shirt pocket. He gave his thick black hair a quick couple of strokes and then, eyes closed, hunkered down for a nap.
    Pippa had had little time to think about Chandler since the morning’s briefing. For several years she and Rob had often been paired together—playing well off each other’s strengths and compensating for each other’s weaknesses. Not that Chandler had many of those. She’d heard all the rumors about the two of them. How they’d been intimate for years, undercover lovers. It wasn’t true. They’d never gotten intimate. But that had been about to change that just days prior to Chandler’s disappearance. She had decided to leave the Agency and see if it was possible to start a new life. He was an idiot if he didn’t know her feelings. Then he was gone. After several months he was presumed dead, but Pippa didn’t buy it. She also didn’t buy into the whispered speculation he had turned. She noticed her palms were wet. She was nervous at the prospect of seeing him again … even more nervous of the possibility that she wouldn’t be able to bring him in. The assistant director had been perfectly clear: Chandler could not be allowed to disappear again.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 13
     
     
    First feelings of loss, and now raging anger, filled my thoughts. My only concern: could I show enough restraint to hold back and question the bald-headed man, or would I just kill him on sight.
    I crossed over to Sycamore Avenue and passed the Cornerstone Mission off to my right and Firefighter’s Park off to my left. It was still early, but the buses were running, making frequent stops, off in the distance. I felt their presence even before I looked up and saw them. A gang of bikers. The rumble of their Harleys filled the air. Black leather, long hair, an assortment of tattoos, and the distinctive emblem—a cigar-smoking bull dog riding a motorcycle—left little doubt that Russell’s gang had arrived on the scene.
    And there was Russell himself—middle of the pack; he’d come to a stop ten feet in front of me. He had a cast on his wrist on which someone had scrawled something, though from this distance I couldn’t quite tell what. He and his friends, obviously, had been scouring the streets for me. All told, there were ten motorcycles holding eleven bikers. They’d