by Jen Greyson
He steps away, creating the usual safe space between us. “I know it with every bit of my being, but my tests to recreate the pulses have failed. I’m so close.”
Too close.
I stiffen, mimic his posture, and manage to stare down my own nose. “Then wouldn’t it be smart to stop pissing me off? I can handle this.”
“Fine.” He breaks the standoff and I force myself to stay passive.
He flickers out.
I groan and return to the couch.
Another flickering light intercepts me before I can sit. This time, it’s Penya.
“Evy,” she says. “Keep doing what you’re doing. I found a secret stash of papers. This kidnapping is becoming a blessing.”
“Tiana thought so, too.”
“You told her?”
I twist my braid between my hands and lower myself to the couch, curling my feet beneath me and readjusting until the hard edge of my boot doesn’t cut into my leg. “We had quite the family gathering.”
“Oh no.”
“No. It was good. Papi wants you to train him, and Tiana, too.”
A coquettish smile curls her lips. “Really. Glad to see he’s come around.”
“Tiana and I may have ganged up on him.”
“Two females… I never would have imagined.” She claps her hands. “We can make a plan for their training later. For now, we have to focus on stopping Ilif. I’m very close.”
“I wish you’d tell me what you’re looking for. What if it’s something Nikola already has available? Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask for it instead of hunting through Ilif’s papers for something he might not even have?”
“Yes, yes. But no time.”
Why is it that when I’m the one in need of answers, she’s in a hurry. I rub my braid across my chapped lips. “What do I need to do?”
“Keep him away from those patents.”
“Oh good, because I was worried this was going to be easy.”
“And Evy?” She leans forward. “Ilif thinks there are other patents. Ones Nikola did not have on him when he died. Those are the ones we need.”
I tug my braid. “Got it. You have to find out where you are, though. I know this is turning into a mini-vacation, but seriously, you have to—”
“He comes.” The light surrounding her evaporates and I’m alone again.
Convenient.
CHAPTER 27
I ARRIVE JUST inside the main doors of Wardenclyffe. Shadows are long and darkness is falling beyond the high windows. The clatter of tools and scratch of paper is coming from a far corner, but most of the lab is deserted.
“Evy,” Nikola calls from the back.
“Coming.” I still don’t understand how he knows when I’m going to be here. But I don’t understand how he’s making lightning either.
I weave my way through the room, noting a few missing pieces, and new ones. He’s been busy. There’s an aged quality that stiffens his movements, but otherwise he’s spry and his mind hasn’t dulled a bit. More of his dark hair has faded to a beautiful silver, and he’s become a distinguished old man in the time I’ve been gone.
“Six years you’ve been gone this time,” he says, smiling and waving me into the room.
I do quick calculations. “What day is it?”
“March third.”
Air rushes from my lungs and I try to get a hold of myself. Today is the day he dies. I’m not here at this moment by accident. Death could take him at any second. Every cell in my body yanks itself to attention and I’m on high alert. Even my breath is clipped and ready. “Good to see you.”
“Come.” He waves me closer, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’ve made changes. I am certain of success.
I smile and peek around his arm, searching for anything deadly as well as something I recognize that will ensure he’s telling the truth. “I’m glad.”
He makes a note in his notebook and turns. “I timed your arrival perfectly so I’d be at a fine point to stop. Join me for dinner?”
I cock my head. There’s an exuberance about him tonight. “Alright. Where’s George?”
He lifts a jacket from a nearby hook and shrugs it on. “With his fiancée. He’s quite fond of her.”
I smile. “Good for him.” George is such a great guy and it pleases me immensely that he’s finding success.
“Come.”
I spread my arms and glance down at my typical uniform of jeans and tee. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”
“Lucky for you I care not a whit what women wear to dinner.” He shudders. “Except earrings. I dislike those a great deal.”
We cross the street and he holds the door of a small deli. After ordering simple meals, we carry our paper-wrapped parcels to the back and I slide into a small booth. I tug the tape holding mine closed and barely unwrap my turkey on rye before taking a big bite, but Nikola carefully removes his cup of soup from his bag, folds the paper precisely, and sets the bowl on his makeshift placemat. With his spoon and napkin arranged, he lifts the lid and dips his spoon into the amber liquid.
I take another bite to hide my smile. Even with his eccentricities, he’s still one of my favorite people.
“I’d like to thank you,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows, fearful of spitting a single crumb on the table if I try to talk.
“Your knowledge of the future—of what happens to my inventions—has inspired me to think beyond this limited slice of time. My only hope has been to leave a legacy, something that will live beyond my final hour. I believe I’ve accomplished it with my free energy, but there are so many more that I simply won’t have time to complete.”
I swallow and wipe my mouth. A cold hand encircles my heart and squeezes until my pulse trips. “You’re not planning on dying soon, are you?”
He swirls his spoon in his soup, once clockwise, once counterclockwise. “Of all the things I’ve been able to foresee, the hour of my death is not one of them.”
Thankfully, I can.
With a steady hand, he lifts the spoon and sips. “I want you to protect my legacy.”
I set my sandwich down and slide it to the edge of the table then fold both hands in the vacated spot. They tremble no matter how tightly I squeeze.
Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.
“I’ve gathered ideas ready to patent, as well as my existing patents, and I want you to have them.” He holds up a hand to stop my interruption. “I know you’ll see they get to the right person. There’s no one else I can trust. There’s George, but he’s limited to his own timeline, as am I. Only you can get my work where it can be of the most use.”
“But why now?” I say, unable to keep from blurting it out, even if there’s a chance it will make him reconsider.
“A few things. During my last defense meeting it became increasingly obvious that they’re less inclined to pay for my participation, and would prefer I serve my country with the gift of my work. If they showed any inclination for pursuing my desire for free, wireless energy, I would donate the rest of my time to see it successful. Unfortunately, they’re focused only on my creations that can be weaponized.”
Even though I’m getting what I think I want, it still breaks my heart that he’s never found the recognition or support he so richly deserved. Such a brilliant man—a gift wasted in this lifetime that couldn’t appreciate him or his contributions. “Sounds about right.”
“They’re focused only on a select group of my patents, and I do believe they’re ignorant to the sheer volume of my work. If I patent everything, the FBI will easily know what I have and will confiscate the papers and working prototypes, should I step out of line, or upon my death since I have no heirs. If I’ve learned anything from them, it’s that a scared government can figure out how to turn anything into a weapon.”
I laugh uneasily. His brilliance is truly boundless.
“My work can’t be utilized now.” He sighs heavily, and it’s the only time I’ve seen him defeated. He quickl
y shakes it off, and when he stares at me, it’s with a laser intensity that burns straight through me. “You will move it forward to the right time. More important that my work be used as intended than for me to see it.”
His generosity for people who will never appreciate him—who may never even know who he is—blows my mind. If there’s one thing I should learn from him, it’s this unbelievable lack of ego. I still have so much to learn in that department.
For now, I focus on him. “What about Westinghouse and J.P. Morgan? Wouldn’t they be able to protect them?” The last thing I want is to lose my shot at protecting him, but I really do want to make sure this is what’s best. Maybe the alteration isn’t about me having the patents, but about me redirecting them.
“I don’t trust these rich men. Had I not given Westinghouse the patents, he would have found another way to keep from paying me.” He wipes his spoon and aligns it with the bowl. “Not on purpose, mind you, but his own investors don’t think any royalty is worth paying. And J.P., well, I would scarcely trust him with anything. He torments me with the funds he withholds, and though I’ve written him tirelessly over the last few months, I’m uncertain if he’ll be sending me any more money. I’ve heard he’s buying copper mines, which would make it seem he’s far more interested in making people pay for their electricity, than funding my attempts to make it free.”
He sighs and slumps against the back of the chair. “Sadly, my choice to release Westinghouse from the patent payment and royalties cost me the funds I could have used to finish. I wish I could have foreseen J.P.’s change of heart.”
“I’m—”
“No matter!” He waves his hand and jerks upright, filled again with a buoyant energy. There’s no keeping up with the rapidity of his moving thoughts as they ricochet from one place to the next. “I’m nearly done. Your concerns are the other patents. The free wireless energy is important, but there are others as vital.”
“How many others?” I don’t know how many I can hide. If there are a lot, I might have to get creative.
He shifts in his seat long enough to make me fidget and glance around the deli. We’re alone, but I understand his unease about discussing it here. “You can show me later,” I say. “And yes, I will see your patents to the right person, and I’ll protect them with my life.”
He sighs. “Thank you. Most of them are in the lab, but there’s one in the hotel safe. You’ll need to get it from the clerk. I’ve left it under your name.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice cracking. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“You’ve earned it.”
We toss our trash and walk back to Wardenclyffe. The moon is rising behind the main building, and from this angle it looks like a giant halo, bathing both the man and laboratory in spotlight. I drink it in, wishing it true. Wishing for just this moment that the world really could shine a light on everything he’s done, everything he still has yet to do.
The scene is ethereal, but in a beautifully expectant way, not with a sense of foreboding. Not with the sense of doom that should accompany the last night of this man’s life. Nikola pauses at the entrance. “I’m going to work through the night. You don’t have to stay—”
“I’d like to,” I rush forward. That may be the only way to keep him away from anything taller than an overturned bucket.
He puffs and stands straighter then leads the way into the lab. I mingle among random experiments and study his indecipherable notes while he works. After a while, I situate myself in a chair and watch a genius create. His movements are precise, nothing wasted, no extraneous motion. Finally, he closes his notebook and looks up. “Finished. I’ll grab the patents.”
I stand and follow him into the office. I didn’t come this far in my wandering today. A simple wooden chair sits behind a spotless utility desk. Precise paper stacks lean against a large, arched window, freakishly clean and stretching to the ceiling. A visiting chair faces the front of the desk, and bookcases line the wall behind, filled with scientific journals. The room is barely bigger than a broom closet. Clearly, he never planned on doing much real work here.
“Unfortunately, Stanford’s attention to detail on the structure didn’t rub off on my ability to accessorize it.” He pulls out the chair and extends his hand.
I sit and think of Papi’s overflowing office. “Some men create in offices, others, the world.”
“I prefer the world.”
“Me, too.”
It’s then he grabs a long ladder from behind the door and leans it against the wall beneath a small access door to the attic. I rush to hold it, and he smirks. “I may be a scientist, but I do know how to ascend a ladder.”
“I… um… right.” I clench my fists and take a half step away.
He shakes his head and starts up the ladder. It sways and pops away from the wall. He gives an embarrassed laugh, readjusts the legs, and steps on the first rung.
With each step, my nerves fray more. I shuffle closer and wrap one hand around the rail.
As he nears the top, I wonder if I’ve gotten this wrong.
Snap! The rung breaks, and he slips sideways. The ladder pulls away from the wall in a slow arc. I try to predict where he’s going to land, arms raised as I follow his slow-motion fall. One hand punches through the open spaces and tangles me in the ladder. He crashes against me. I twist at the last moment and jam my hand between his head and the desk before they collide. Pain radiates up my arm as we collapse on the floor.
“Nikola!” I shout. “Are you okay?”
He knees me in the stomach in his attempt to get up, and I hold his arm until he’s stable. Groaning, he holds a hand against his bloody temple.
I scramble upright and lay a hand on his back. “Are you okay?”
Wobbling unsteadily, he closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. “I think so.”
With shaking fingers, I make him sit and press the hem of my shirt against his forehead. I can’t step away from him. “You’d have hit the desk… ”
“Most likely knocking myself out.”
Or worse.
He straightens and presses the side of his head. The bleeding has slowed, but his eyes are dilated and he’s a queasy shade of green. “Evy… I—”
“I know.” Oh wow, do I know.
I hug him to me and I can’t keep my hands steady. He squirms, but then pats my head.
“Sorry, I know you don’t—” I step away, but his fingers linger, cupping the back of my skull.
We finally shake off the effects of his near-death episode, and he lifts his face to the attic opening. “There’s another ladder.”
I hold up a hand. “Sit. I’ll get it. Keep that against your head. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
He staggers around the desk, falling into the chair.
In the next room, I fill a coffee cup halfway. I could puke right now, and I fight back the nausea threatening to cripple me. I splash water on my face and twist off the water.
I shudder and hand the cup to Nikola. “Okay?”
He sips the water. “In a moment.”
The green pallor subsides and he doesn’t look like he’s going to pass out anymore. He sighs and settles deeper into the chair. My own unease quiets, but not completely. If the alteration were done, I wouldn’t still be here.
“I’m fine,” he whispers.
I hesitate, then search for a ladder and find one in a corner near the main entrance. I pause and try the door, uncomfortable when it opens freely to the empty courtyard. Surely, he doesn’t always leave it unlocked, but I wouldn’t put it past him either. Already feeling unsteady, this doesn’t help, and I flip the lock then hurry back to the office.
After I move the broken one, I prop the new one in the same spot and take a big breath.
Nikola leans forward in his chair. “Do you want me—”
“No.” I wrap my fingers around the sides and climb up.
I make it to the top without incident and push aside the trap door. I ascen
d a few more rungs until my head and shoulders are in the darkened space. There’s not much up here, a few boxes, buckets of paint, a coil of rope. Pushing myself over the lip, I balance on a board crossing the space. The pitch of the roof doesn’t leave me any room to stand, so I crouch and ease my way farther down the attic. I should have made him describe the container. I call down to him. “What am I looking for?”
He clears his throat and his chair squeaks.
“Nikola?” I scramble back to the opening and peek over the edge, praying I won’t see him slumped over at his desk. He’s drinking the water, one finger raised for my patience. I exhale. I’m going to be a wreck now until he really does die. A dark cloud passes over my thoughts. Unless I’m done and won’t get to see him again after I have these papers. I bite my lip and grasp at a way to trust the alteration, but it slips through like water.
“On the left side, there are two trunks. You’ll have to lower them on the far side, through the other access door.”
I scan the small attic and see what he’s talking about. There’s a door that opens into the lab, just big enough to fit the trunks.
“I have an idea.” I climb down the ladder and wipe my hands on my pants. “Instead of manually moving them, when I’m ready to leave, I think I can arc them.”
“Are you certain?”
There’s no guarantee the yellow lightning will work like I want it to. “No, but it’s worth a shot.”
He moans.
“First, let’s get you home.” I round the desk.
“Here, let me,” a voice calls from the door.
CHAPTER 28
A WELL-DRESSED man stands just beyond the threshold of the office. Thinning gray hair rims a shiny head. Beneath a bulbous nose, his bushy mustache conceals his lips, but the pleasant voice is accompanied by tight skin around his eyes and a crease in his forehead. Mixing his short, wide stature with the huge mustache gives him all the appeal a walrus.
“J.P.,” Nikola says, leaping from the chair. I steady him and help him around the desk.
My back tightens. This is the illustrious J.P. Morgan, financier extraordinaire? Everything about him sets my hackles rising, and it takes all the self-control I have to keep my lightning from flaring. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have cared for him, simply because of how he strings Nikola along, but today of all days, my belly roils with whatever energy he’s putting out. He steps into the office, consuming the remaining space, looks me up and down, and, clearly finding me lacking, turns toward Nikola. “My car’s right outside. Always a pleasure to aid you.”
