Chasing Hindy

by Darin Gibby

  “So is that how electric cars work?”

  “Unfortunately not. Most of them forgo the fuel cell and simply store electricity in batteries. That’s where we are different. We’re going to be making electricity on demand—when you press the gas pedal.”

  “Well, if it’s that easy, why don’t we all have fuel cell cars?”

  “It’s a good question. NASA’s been using fuel cells in space for over thirty years, so we know they work. The problem is producing the hydrogen from water.”

  Janice smiled a wry smile. “So that’s why you call yourself WTG. You’re not turning water into gold, but into hydrogen.”

  Quinn smiled and held up his finger. “And hydrogen is just like gold when it comes to making electricity. We use the water to get the hydrogen, and that’s our big invention.”

  Janice cocked her head. “Why don’t you just have gas stations that sell hydrogen?”

  “I wish it were that easy. Producing and storing hydrogen is a big problem. You need a huge tank or some kind of storage mechanism to hold it.”

  “Think of Hindy,” Addy said.

  “You used that blimp-like balloon to store the hydrogen? I can’t see how it is practical for cars to drive around pulling blimps,” Janice said with a smile.

  “You’re right,” Addy said. “The balloon was just for show to make a point about how difficult it is to store hydrogen. Hindy had a metal tank filled with compressed hydrogen, which has its own set of problems, like how dangerous it can be driving around with a compressed gas.”

  “That’s right,” Quinn continued. “Our challenge was to find a way to get the hydrogen atoms out of the water molecule so we can fill the car’s tank with a few gallons of water—not hydrogen.”

  “Is that hard?”

  “Not hard, but it takes a lot of energy, and usually a big factory.”

  “So how are you going to do that underneath the hood of a car?” Janice asked.

  “That’s where you two come in. We’ve invented a way to do it, and we need the patents to protect our intellectual property.”

  Janice nodded. This was familiar territory.

  “And the cost?” Janice asked. Addy studied Quinn’s reaction.

  “If we made millions of fuel cells like we do internal combustion engines, the price will be comparable. Starting off, it will be more. But you could make the same argument about the car versus the horse at the turn of the twentieth century. A new Winton touring car cost twenty-five hundred dollars, and a decent horse went for only eighty.”

  Janice picked up her cup and took another sip. “I’m on board. Let’s hear how you do it. I want to get these patent applications filed.”

  Quinn hesitated. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?” Janice said. “You’re doing such a good job. I really want to know what’s so secret.”

  Quinn scowled at Addy.

  “She’s playing you,” Addy said. “I already explained. She can help me with the filings, but only I can read the applications.”

  “I can take a hint,” Janice said pushing her chair back and standing. She turned for the door, then paused. “But thanks for telling me why I’m here.”

  “That was nice of you,” Addy said when she disappeared. “Ready to get down to business?”

  “Ready. I’ve uploaded all the applications on your computer. You’ll see we have twenty-two so far. A few cover various improvements to our fuel cells, but most are about how we use the catalyst when producing the hydrogen from water. Without the catalyst, we don’t have a business. It’s the key to cost-effective production of hydrogen. We’ve not only described the catalyst, but also our new extraction process, along with how we are going to implement this in a car. There’s a lot here. My suggestion is that you spend the rest of the day going through this, then we can talk strategy.”

  Addy crossed her legs. “So now’s when I find out how you aren’t violating the laws of thermodynamics?”

  “It’s all in there. You’ll see what we’ve done. Then you’ll understand why you’re the only person who can know. And why I’m so anal about security. Remember, nothing leaves this computer. Nobody gets your passwords, and you can’t download any files. If you do, Sung-soo will let me know immediately.”

  Addy frowned. “You don’t trust me.”

  “Don’t be offended. I don’t trust myself. But I do trust you. I’m trusting you to work your magic and figure out a way to get these patents granted. We’ve invested hundreds of millions of dollars. I picked the best person in the world to do the job, and now I’m counting on you to deliver.”

  Addy swallowed. Quinn was right. He was placing a huge load on her shoulders. She looked into his dark eyes. “I’ll deliver.”

  “Good. I’ll have Sung-soo come in and show you how to access the files. Unfortunately, there’s going to be a retina scan and you’ll need your passwords to decrypt the files. If you need to make any modifications to the applications, Sung-soo will show you how to save them as new documents.”

  “He’s not going to be hovering over my shoulder.”

  “Just by camera,” Quinn said nodding to a camera mounted in the ceiling.

  17

  A WALL OF fog from the Pacific Ocean was just rolling over the mountains to the west. The cool breeze flowing over Addy’s body helped relax her mind. After twelve hours in her stuffy office, reading dozens of patent applications containing detailed descriptions of WTG’s secret technology, the exhilarating, cool breeze on her face as she raced for home was a welcome relief. She peered over her shoulder, noting the ever-present black Audi S4—Quinn’s security detail.

  She couldn’t quit thinking about what she’d just read. For more than a week, she’d fretted over making a giant mistake when she left Wyckoff. Worry that she’d been played for a fool nagged at her constantly.

  Now she’d studied the technical details, she was positive Quinn and WTG were for real. The technology was sound. They’d not only discovered a catalyst that would make hydrogen production economically feasible, but they’d invented ways to allow a car owner to fill their car’s tank with distilled water to produce the hydrogen. From a marketing perspective, it was brilliant. Television ads could tout that all a person needed to do was to grab a gallon of distilled water from the grocery store and pour it into their car’s tank.

  When she wasn’t gloating about this extraordinary invention, she was combing her brain for strategies to get the Patent Office to give its stamp of approval. If it was true that they had suppressed two of Quinn’s earlier applications, it was conceivable that they would slap a secrecy order on these as well. She’d seen it happen before. The Patent Office was only supposed to keep patent applications secret if they potentially impacted national defense or nuclear energy, subject to a release from the Department of Energy.

  Quinn’s ideas didn’t fall into either of these two categories, and Addy wondered why his earlier cases were suppressed. Rumors were always rampant that the federal government routinely perused the Patent Office files to steal ideas that were important to the national interest, but Addy was sure it couldn’t be true. Still, small inventors always thought the world was out to steal their ideas. Addy was beginning to wonder if there might be a sliver of truth to it.

  She smiled as she pedaled even faster. Let them try. She had ways to ensure her patents would be granted without governmental meddling.

  Addy made a sharp right turn to cross a set of railroad tracks, passing behind a set of abandoned warehouses that were being remodeled into office space for the ever-growing tech industry in Silicon Valley.

  From behind, she heard the revving of a motorcycle engine. Addy veered toward the shoulder to give the motorcyclist more room to pass. The scream of the engine intensified, and she heard the gears shift. When she turned to look, the motorcycle swooped down on her, and a man dressed in black and red riding gear leaned into her. He threw out his forearm, catching her in the chin. With astounding force,
he leaned in further, throwing her from her bicycle. She flew headlong into the gravel, then rolled head over heels down the embankment, where her head struck a culvert drain.

  Stunned, Addy gazed into the drifting layer of fog spreading across the heavens. She felt a stinging sensation in her right elbow, and her hip felt like it was on fire. But she was more worried about the pinging in her head, just above her eyes. She reached up and felt a goose egg above her right eyebrow.

  Where’s my security detail? Addy wondered. They’d been right behind her the entire way. She worried that if they didn’t show up, the rider would come after her—to finish the job. Relief came when headlights from a car beamed down the embankment. It wasn’t her escort, but at least there was someone to rescue her, Addy guessed. In the distance, she could hear sirens. A man and a woman skidded down the slope, their arms flailing as they tried to keep their balance. In the brilliant light, she was unable to make out their features.

  “Ma’am, are you alright?” a female voice asked. Addy relaxed. With the headlights blazing down, Addy couldn’t make out anything but the shape of their bodies.

  Addy sat up, and a wave a dizziness crashed over her. “I think so. Not sure if anything is broken or not.”

  “Here, let me help you up,” the woman continued. From behind, she slipped her forearms beneath Addy’s armpits and hefted her upright until she was on her feet. The sharp pain in her hip escalated.

  “Are you alright?” she asked again.

  “I think so,” Addy said. “Lots of cuts and bruises, but nothing seems to be broken.”

  Suddenly, the woman clenched her arms about Addy’s chest. Before Addy could resist, her colleague stepped forward, momentarily blocking the beam from the headlights. His dark skin was framed by close-cropped, coarse dark hair that matched his beard. He delivered a swift punch to her abdomen, so hard that it felt like her stomach was forced into her throat. She struggled to breathe. The man’s fist crashed into her ribcage on her left side. She felt a rib crack. She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs.

  The wailing of the police siren was getting louder, and Addy prayed someone would save her. Where are my bodyguards?

  “We warned you to stay away from Quinn and you wouldn’t listen,” the man said. “This is your last warning. Next time we’ll make sure you never walk again. And if you want to eat, you’ll need a set of dentures.”

  With that, the woman flung her to the ground. And now Addy knew where she’d seen her assailant. He was the man with the tattooed arm, the same thug who’d fired the flare into Hindy’s balloon and held her tight while in Vietnam.

  Addy screamed as the two dark figures scurried up the embankment and zoomed away in their car. She began sobbing. Every breath brought excruciating pain. She hadn’t wept out loud since she was a junior in high school, when she won the award for the best science student in the district and was honored at a special dinner. She was the only student without a parent until her drunken mother, hair ratted and wearing tight jeans and a crop top, sauntered in and plopped herself down beside her.

  The police car screeched to a halt and the beam of a spotlight flashed in her eyes. She wiped her nose with the back of her arm.

  The next several hours were a blur: a scratchy blanket thrown about her shoulders, an ambulance ride to the hospital, poking and probing by too many nurses and doctors, and finally questions from the two officers who had been called to the scene by an unidentified good samaritan.

  They had asked her for details, and she explained that the blow to her head had made everything fuzzy. Still, she’d remembered a motorcycle getting close, then something about her front tire going off the shoulder into the gravel, which made her lose control. She didn’t mention the punch to her gut.

  It was nearly ten o’clock before the questioning was over and all the medical tests were completed. She’d sustained a concussion, the skin on both her elbow and hip were rubbed raw, and her lower left rib was cracked.

  Finally she was moved to her own private room. Addy was quietly resting when Agent Long appeared in the doorway. Although he’d seen her from afar, he’d never formally introduced himself.

  Long found her with her head elevated and a heart rate sensor clipped to her index finger. A breathing tube was taped below her nostrils. Her normally clipped-back hair fell limply on her shoulders. Her breathing was labored.

  “I’m Agent Jesse Long from the FBI,” he said. “You okay to speak?”

  At this late hour, Addy was annoyed at the appearance of yet another law enforcement officer. Still, she nodded and adjusted her oxygen tube, but when she tried to speak all that came out was a gasp. She held her hand over her rib.

  “I see,” Long said. “I understand you already told the officer on scene what happened, and I’ll let him debrief me a bit later. For now, I just need a quick description, if you can.”

  “A man and a woman,” Addy breathily replied.

  Long scribbled a note.

  “Ages, ethnicity, distinguishing features? ”

  Addy paused. “Pretty sure he was Arabic, heavy dark whiskers. She looked Caucasian.”

  Long raised his eyebrows. His hunch was right about one of the assailants, but the addition of a white woman threw him. “Seen them before?”

  Addy grimaced, and Long wondered whether it was her rib or whether she was hiding something. “He could have been the guy who shot at Hindy,” she finally said, “but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Hindy, that’s your car, the one with the large balloon?”

  Addy nodded.

  “What makes you say that?”

  This time Addy responded quickly. “He looked at me the same way, this look of hate, both when he shot the balloon on my car, and right before he ran me off the road.”

  Long wrote another note. “Any tattoos?”

  “It was too dark, and I wasn’t actually paying attention to his body art.” Addy grimaced again.

  “Okay. Let’s let you get some rest. We can talk more later.”

  “Thanks,” Addy whispered.

  Long stood to go, then stopped. “One more question. Why didn’t Quinn get you a car? I’m sure he knew something like this could happen.”

  How did Long know about Quinn? Addy wondered. Addy raised up to say something but then clutched her stomach and laid back down. Long left and Addy was furious, but at least she was finally alone. Despite her pain she wanted to speak with Quinn—now. She asked the nurse for her phone, claiming she needed to call her mother. The nurse reluctantly sorted through her clothing and located her phone, handing it over to Addy once she’d extracted a promise to keep it short.

  When the nurse left, Addy whipped off a text message. Quinn replied immediately. He was in the lobby, but didn’t dare come up. Visiting hours were over except for immediate family. He asked if she was okay, and said he would spend the night in the waiting room. He would come up as soon as visitors were allowed.

  Morning brought another round of tests before the doctors approved her release. Quinn was still on the first floor, patiently waiting to take her home. Addy debated whether that would be wise. If she were seen in his car, who knew what might happen to them both?

  She could call Janice, but that was out of the question. Janice would be hysterical and assume the worst, that someone wanting to steal this new technology had attacked Addy. The only other person was Perry, her former partner. Addy dismissed that as well. She couldn’t bear yet another lecture right now.

  She texted Quinn and asked him if he had an armored vehicle to take her home. Quinn texted back an emoji of a smiling face and said she’d be safe with him.

  A nurse wheeled Addy to the front desk, where she was released and escorted to a set of sliding doors. Addy wasn’t the least bit surprised when Quinn pulled up in a Range Rover with tinted windows. She suspected it was bulletproof glass. The shock of the fall, the medical testing, and probing by police officers had now sunk in, and Addy was burning to let it all out.r />
  The passenger side door had barely shut when Addy let loose. “What have you gotten me into?” she screamed, shoving his shoulder, and then gasping at the pain in her ribcage. Quinn quickly swung back the wheel before the SUV veered into a parked car. “You did this to me! I had the perfect career, everything I ever wanted, and now this.”

  Quinn clenched his fingers around the steering wheel, but kept his cool.

  “You knew I’d be attacked. You knew what happened to me in Vietnam, and you let this happen. Where in the hell was my bodyguard? I’m done. Do you know what they told me would happen if I don’t stop working for you? They said they’d break all my bones and smash in my face. How would you like that on your conscience?”

  Quinn waited her out, listening to a five-minute tirade while he headed north along the 101 Freeway, then exited toward Half Moon Bay.

  “Are you finished?” he said.

  She folded her arms and pursed her lips.

  “Need I remind you that you’re the one who insisted on riding your bicycle?”

  Addy turned and slapped him in the face. “Don’t give me that crap. You knew. You could have protected me. Your security guys are incompetent.”

  “That’s not true. We kept our distance so we wouldn’t blow our cover. By the time we caught up, the police were arriving. We had to stand back or risk being caught.”

  “Caught doing what? Trying to protect me? That’s bullshit and you know it. Are you saying your guys sat around and watched as I got the crap beat out of me?”

  Quinn looked up to the ceiling. “It’s extremely complicated. Let’s get you home, and I’ll explain then.”

  “Pull over,” Addy insisted. “Now. I want an explanation. Your guys don’t know what they’re doing. Admit it.”

  When Quinn hesitated, Addy shot her hand out for the wheel. Quinn blocked the attempt, but pulled over anyway.

  “Hand me your cell phone,” he said.