Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack

by Daniel Ganninger

  She reached for me and gave me a long hug. I smelled her hair and felt her body pressed against mine in a long embrace. I considered it to be a piece of heaven.

  “Bye Roger, see you soon.” She walked away and turned back, giving me a slight wave of her hand. I garnered the strength to give a wave back.

  I watched her get a place in line and she checked her ticket, ready to hand it over to the gate agent, but then she whirled around and headed back for me, a serious look in her eyes.

  “Did you forget something?” I had barely gotten the words out of my mouth when she planted a warm, soft, long kiss on my lips while holding me tightly. My head swirled and she slowly pulled back and looked into my eyes.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said softly, and turned back to get on the plane.

  I stood smiling, my body energized, but my legs felt like two gigantic pieces of licorice. I didn’t dare move from that spot and watched her disappear down the jetway giving me one last minute wave. I stood in that position for what seemed like hours, reliving the moment in my mind with a goofy grin plastered on my face. Suddenly, I felt a slap on my back from Galveston that shocked me back into existence.

  “You got Jane off okay?” He asked.

  “I’ll say,” I replied, still gawking at the jetway.

  “Huh?” He said looking confused. “Hey, we got a flight. The 4:40 to Memphis. Hello. Hellooo,” he said waving a hand in front of my face. I didn’t dare tell him what had happened. I didn’t feel like getting a ribbing for the next few days.

  “Yeah, I heard you. Four-forty to Memphis, right.” I broke out of my trance and followed him over to Elizabeth who had set up camp in a chair overlooking the tarmac.

  “So I know you guys are wondering why we’re going to Memphis,” Galveston said to Elizabeth and me, practically reading my mind.

  “I was certainly wondering why,” I said.

  “There was something odd in Dr. Sloan’s message to his daughter, and I don’t think she picked up on it.” He began to pull out the papers with the messages. “This is the problem I’m having. Why would an organization like Black Bear spend the money, the time, or the risk to break into Margaret’s house? Why go to all the trouble if they’ve kidnapped Dr. Sloan?”

  “Maybe he’s refusing to talk to them,” I interjected.

  “No, they would get him to talk. We’re not dealing with people that believe in waiting. These guys play hardball. They would stop at nothing to get the information.”

  Elizabeth pecked away at her laptop. “What if they have Dr. Sloan and he can’t reproduce the battery without these plans? It is a complex device.”

  “But it really isn’t that complex.” Galveston looked at her. “Alex said he could put it together with the right supplies in under four hours. I think the facts are this: they don’t have the final plans, they don’t have Dr. Sloan, and I think they knew Margaret had the final design.”

  “Then why Memphis? How do we know that he didn’t just drive off somewhere when he got off the plane? Maybe he went home.” I threw out all the possibilities I knew.

  “I believe he’s in Memphis from the message he sent to Margaret.” Galveston looked at the message and ran his finger down the page until he found the sentence he wanted. “This line. I don’t think it’s a typo. I think he was trying to tell her where he would be.” He began to read the line. “’I can’t wait to see the Memphis Parkland’. Elizabeth, do a search on the Memphis Parkland.” Elizabeth began typing in the words on her phone.

  “Memphis parks and recreation, Parkland Hotel, parks in Memphis,” she read aloud.

  “That’s it. The Parkland Hotel. Open that one.”

  “Parkland Hotel, downtown Memphis, yes there it is,” Elizabeth announced.

  “Now check what the area code for Memphis is,” Galveston instructed her. Elizabeth searched for the answer.

  “901,” she replied after finding it.

  Galveston ran his finger over the paper again and began reading aloud. “’Or you can call me, I think the Memphis area code is 272’. I think that is where our Dr. Sloan still is. The Parkland Hotel, room 272, Memphis.”

  I sat dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe it could be that easy.

  “I think you have something here, it still seems like a long shot, but plausible,” Elizabeth said.

  “Why don’t we call him then, see if he’s there. It would save us time,” I asked, thinking the sooner I got back to San Diego and Jane, the better.

  “No way,” Galveston sneered, “that’s all we need; he gets spooked and then we have to find him all over again. We need to be in that hotel and at his door, that’s the only way. I don’t know why he would wait it out, but I have a feeling he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. I don’t know how long he might stay there.”

  We had our plan, but calling it a long shot was an understatement. Surely Galveston wasn’t this smart.

  -Chapter 28-

  We arrived in Memphis without a problem, having passed the time on the plane trading those tiny liquor bottles between the three of us.

  We traveled Interstate 240 to the city center, until we located the Parkland Hotel, a large glass tower with a large interior atrium. I wouldn’t have minded being here for a few weeks either, preferably with Jane.

  The elevator took us to the second floor, and Galveston and Elizabeth plotted intricate ways to get Dr. Sloan to answer the door. They bantered about such ideas as stealing uniforms and posing as the housekeeping staff, posing as the Memphis police, or making the fire alarms go off. I proposed an even zanier idea. They would stay out of sight, and I would knock on the door.

  “It just might work,” Galveston conceded.

  We didn’t know what we would tell Dr. Sloan, if indeed he was there, or if we would just barge in and force him to listen.

  Luckily, the halls were empty as we stepped off the elevator and followed the placards to room 272. I motioned for them to stop, walked up to the door of the room, and knocked loudly.

  I heard rustling inside followed by the unlocking of the door lock. The door cracked opened and there stood a short, balding man with a grey beard, and wearing glasses.

  “Can I help you?” He asked me nervously but politely. I hadn’t even thought of finding out what Dr. Sloan looked like, but this man sure looked like a professor and the older men I had spent the last year of my academic career loathing.

  “Hello sir, are you Dr. Sloan from Dartmouth University?” He appeared noticeably uneasy at the question, but a covert specialist he was not.

  “Why, yes, I’m Dr. Sloan.”

  “Nice to meet you sir. I know your daughter, Margaret. My colleagues and I just came from seeing her yesterday and she gave us this.” I handed him the message he had sent her.

  He looked at it quickly and I could tell he was not pleased. He began to inch his feet backward with one hand still on the door.

  “How did you get this?” He demanded angrily holding up the piece of paper, his eyes burning from behind his glasses.

  I was taken aback from his reaction, figuring he would have been grateful for the information. I decided to choose my words wisely, but couldn’t find any.

  “Who are you and why won’t you people leave me alone?” He demanded. I turned around wondering if there were others standing behind me.

  “You people? Uh, Dr. Sloan we have been looking for you.”

  That was obviously the statement the good doctor had not wanted to hear because he nervously began to slam the door. Luckily, Galveston was standing out of sight and as the door began to close he jumped in front and stopped its closure by jamming his foot against the door jam. Like a flash, Galveston kicked the door open with his foot, Chuck Norris style, as Dr. Sloan raced into the bathroom.

  “That went rather well, I think,” Galveston said turning to me.

  “Yes, very smoothly,” I answered.

  “Dr. Sloan, we are working for the FBI, but we are not federal agents, we work privately. Th
ey hired us to find you. We know about what you’ve invented and we’re here to protect you. We’ve already made Margaret safe, and she wanted us to make sure you were safe.” There was no reply to his statement. “We need to know who is after you. Someone already tried to hurt Margaret, and we stopped them. We don’t want the same to happen to you. If you come out, I promise we’ll get her on the phone to talk to you directly.” Elizabeth pulled out a folded envelope of paper and began to dial on her cell phone.

  “Just give him this,” she said to Galveston. He looked at it, and slid it under the door.

  Moments passed until we heard the ripping of paper as the doctor opened the envelope. Elizabeth had thought ahead for such a moment. It was a letter from Margaret, and it explained who we were and why he needed to help us. The door slowly opened and Dr. Sloan crept out with tears in his eyes.

  “She’s not hurt, right?” He asked distraughtly.

  “No, she’s fine, just a little shaken. They took her to a safer place,” Galveston answered. Dr. Sloan went to the bed, sat at the edge, and wiped his eyes with his hand.

  “She’s all I’ve got, and I never get to see her. I can’t believe I’ve gotten her involved in this.” Elizabeth brought the phone over.

  “Here she is. She’s doing well.” She handed him the phone and he reached for it shaking.

  “Margaret?” He asked sheepishly and immediately he showed signs of relief when she answered.

  We moved to the other side of the room like a herd of cattle, giving him some room to talk. The room was large and unusually immaculate, unexpectedly tidy for someone living out of a hotel room and suitcase. The only thing out of place was an array of electronic equipment and a small black box that sat on a corner table.

  As he continued his conversation we quietly discussed our next move of getting him out quickly. We needed him safe until we had some answers. At least the professor had checked into the hotel under an assumed name, a smart move for someone without experience in such matters. Dr. Sloan finished on the phone and gave it back to Elizabeth.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just afraid of what to believe,” he said to us.

  “It’s understandable. I’m just glad you didn’t try to club us or something,” Galveston joked, lightening the mood.

  “A few more minutes and I would have. Margaret explained how you all put her at ease and I thank you. Now what the heck is going on?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us that,” I said.

  “First, I’m impressed you found me from my message. I was hoping Margaret would figure it out and call me, but I guess its best that she didn’t.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. We’re just glad we got to you first,” Galveston told him.

  “Do you know who is after me?”

  “We have a good idea who it is, and they’re not trying to find you to give you an award. They definitely want what you have.” The words seemed to put Dr. Sloan at ease. He knew now that his instinct was right, and things weren’t as they appeared. His fight or flight response was correct, and his choice of flight was the most appropriate of decisions.

  “What tipped you off to a problem?” Galveston asked as he sat down across from him.

  “As you probably know from my message, I had strange men making inquiries into my work.”

  “How could anyone have found out what you were working on?” I asked.

  “It must have been about a year ago. I was approached by a group of specialists that were interested in the current research I was doing. I was developing and testing materials that could reduce the ionization potential between a distinct subset of materials, thereby increasing the capacitance and reducing the electrical loss, while keeping the amplitude and resistance at a level that would provide a normalization of electron flow through the medium in which it was tested.” Dr. Sloan had just entered the professor mode and our eyes and brains began to glaze over.

  “Uh, yeah. You know doc, uh, we’re not that bright. How bout in English?” Galveston retorted.

  “Oh, sorry. I was researching how I could make an electrical circuit very efficient without reducing the electrical output or degrade the current.”

  “Thanks, and you were looking at different materials?” Galveston inquired

  “Yes, mostly the standard ones you’ve probably heard of, nickel, cadmium, lithium, zinc, copper, along with some synthetic insulators. I was basically looking for a combination that could be used in industrial applications like electric transmission lines. I was able to come up with a mix that reduced the loss of electricity during transmission by almost 20%, a huge number in today’s world.”

  “And why is that important?” I asked stupidly.

  “Well when you have an electrical current that flows from a power plant, about 7% of the electrical current is lost out of the power lines. If those lines carrying the electricity were made more efficient they could transmit the same amount of electricity a further distance. This would result in a decreased loss of electricity, a significant reduction of corona discharge, and the elimination of a transformer at the output point to step down the voltage. Basically we could send more energy with less effort. This means less cost and need to produce as much energy.”

  I felt as if I had just finished a college level physics class, what it had to do with our present problem, I had no idea, but I felt I was a slightly smarter person because of it. Galveston seemed to understand it all, and forged ahead with his line of questioning.

  “But who were these people in this group?” He asked, rather astonished.

  “Oh, they were just other researchers, mostly in the private sector. They heard me give a talk about it at a conference in Chicago about the future of energy production. They wanted to look at how my applications could be used in their work.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “Of course. I’m just a researcher. Most academics never get to see their work used in real world applications. I was ecstatic.”

  “Then you were able to help then?”

  “To a point. Unfortunately the costs were too high. I mean, the materials I’m talking about would probably take decades and millions to implement into the energy grid, or even longer. They knew this too.”

  “What was the group called?”

  “It was called the Energy Conservation Consortium, but the company that wanted to fund my research was Global Energy Enterprise.” Galveston looked at Elizabeth who was already writing down the names.

  “Had you heard of this group before?”

  “Yes, many times, and I was glad to be associated with them. They are a non-profit company that tries to bring energy solutions to third world, second world, and underdeveloped countries, with no political expectations or reward. I was honored to be working with them.”

  “So you basically did what you could for them, but it sounds like it didn’t work out.”

  “Well, yes, but it did help their body of knowledge. The consortium is a think tank on how to bring energy to people who really need it and possibly change lives.”

  “And they have had successes?” Galveston continued his questioning.

  “Oh yes, many. They’ve set up power plant operations in Africa and South America, as well as some rural areas here. It’s not on a large scale, but it has created far reaching changes in these areas. They focus on renewable sources, since those aren’t influenced from outsiders and quicker to build. They have implemented solar, wind, hydro, even geothermal in a few locations.”

  “Interesting.” Galveston stroked his chin as Elizabeth scribbled on her notepad. “Now when did the battery come into play?”

  “I felt badly that I wasn’t able to help the consortium’s cause further, but they got my intellectual juices flowing. I thought, if not on a large scale, why not a small scale. There are many others smarter than me looking at the same thing, some for their entire careers. I figured what better thing to try developing than a highly efficient battery. If it didn’t succeed, I could at least share my
failures in the hopes of helping another researcher. I wish I would have failed completely, though.”

  “Why is that?”

  “As you can see, I’ve been living as a recluse in a hotel for the past few weeks.” Galveston recoiled from the biting report and understood his point.

  “How did it come to this then?” He asked.

  “I took my work from the transmission lines and decided to incorporate the materials into a battery. I started to work on the problem and by a stroke of luck one night I used a new mix of materials and put together a rather rudimentary battery with the circuits I had already developed. I set up a crude experiment to establish a baseline to work with. I hooked my cell phone up to the battery and I left for the night. I came back the next day and my phone was still fully charged. I was shocked, so I left it for another day, then another. Two weeks passed before it finally ran out. I went through all the numbers and made a cleaner version. I got even better results each time until after the tenth revision I came up with that.” He pointed to the table and the black box.

  “So you kind of stumbled on it?” Galveston asked, surprised.

  “Not just stumbled, I fell over it, and over it again. I decided to let the consortium know my results, but not before I had a full working prototype. That was my goal. I wanted them to be able to take it to Global Energy in full working order. I thought that would be my contribution.”

  “And you took it to them?”

  “Yes, after I felt I had most of the bugs worked out. They were as shocked as I was, but many were scared over the implications of such a device. I agreed to show the rough plans to the head of Global Energy.”

  “Who is the head of Global Energy?”

  “I don’t know. I never met him. I know he’s a private businessman and it was his money that had started the organization.”

  We looked at each other, thinking of the same thing. This could be our man, the root cause of all this chaos, and the man that may have started the ball rolling.

  “Then what happened?” Galveston asked.