Free Deadly Powers (Tapped In Book 2) by Mark Wayne McGinnis Page A

included as well. You’ll be traveling so don’t forget to grab the suitcase in the closet.
    Meet me in the Quill.
    Baltimore.
    I glanced into the partially opened closet and saw an upright case waiting there.
     
    * * *
     
    I dragged the rolling suitcase behind me and left it with a porter in the Jefferson’s lobby. I backtracked, climbed three steps, and headed down an adjacent hallway—airy, with bright-white painted walls and high-up crown moldings. I passed by the small library, with its collections of hundreds of hardbound books, and overstuffed chairs and couches, and entered the Quill .
    There are few places that provide such an immediate impact. To me, this is the quintessential man cave—with its indirect lighting, dark wood flooring, mahogany bar and tables—the lounge exudes comfort and luxury. I spotted Baltimore at the far side of the room, sitting at a small table by a window.
    I sat across from him, noticing he too was business-dressed in suit and tie.
    “You smell better.”
    “I’m having the overalls sent to your home as a special gift.”
    He ignored my comment, only looking up from his laptop to acknowledge an approaching waitress.
    I pointed to Baltimore’s glass. “Same as his.”
    She did an about-face and headed off toward the bar.
    “I need to talk to you,” I said.
    He nodded and finally brought his attention across to me. “Look, I suspect you have more questions. Maybe you feel we haven’t been completely honest—”
    I cut him off and leaned in: “Just shut the fuck up.”
    He looked at me, startled. “What … what’s wrong?”
    “Earlier today, I watched a video clip—watched as Pippa was nearly decapitated. Let me ask you, Baltimore, have you ever watched someone you cared about being garroted from behind? Watched their eyes bug out, blood seep from between their fingertips as the flesh of their throat rips apart?”
    His face grimaced. There was true concern in his eyes. “Oh my god. Is she …”
    “Dead? No … I don’t think so. It was a demonstration meant for my benefit.”
    The waitress returned with my drink and a replacement one for Baltimore’s empty tumbler. I took a sip of the aged whiskey, slowly swallowing the smoky alcohol, which delightfully burned all the way down my throat.
    I continued, “Pippa has been taken hostage by Heidi Goertz.”
    “As in Leon and Heidi Goertz?”
    “Don’t play dumb. This is where you start leveling with me … or so help me—”
    Baltimore held up a palm in mock surrender. “Hey, no need for threats. I suspected you’d have questions at this point. I’ll tell you what I can, but first you need to tell me everything that happened. Start at the beginning.”
    I sat back and let out a breath. “I need to speak to Calloway. This all revolves around Calloway.”
    “That’s not going to happen. He’s … let’s just say he’s dealing with his own set of problems. He’s gone to ground.”
    That jived with what Alberto Boccaccio spoke of. Calloway was being hunted.
    “You knew that WZZ was back in the picture?”
    He nodded.
    “You knew about this Order? This power-broker consortium?”
    Baltimore’s expression alone said I was stating the obvious. He pursed his lips and seemed to be weighing what he was about to say. “What you’re calling the Order is referred to by ten or twenty other names, as well. It’s not talked about openly. Not if you want to keep breathing.”
    “Seriously?”
    “The problem is, you never know who it is you are really talking to. Perhaps you’re being tested by someone within the organization itself.”
    “So what if you are?”
    “I don’t know what you were told, Rob. But now that you are aware of this … this … Order … you are at risk. We’re talking about a group so powerful, so influential, that having you—or anyone else—sanctioned is a very simple matter for them. Only a little blip in the organization’s everyday operations.”
    “I was told they control