Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 04 - A Deadly Change of Power

by Gina Cresse

  I sat down at the kitchen table, frustrated. The familiar sound of toenails clicking on the tile floor distracted me. The puppy trotted to me, carrying an envelope in his mouth.

  “What’ve you found to pack around?” I said, pulling the paper out of his slobbery grip. I wiped it dry. It was our phone bill. It must have fallen off the table in the entryway when I tossed the stack of mail on it. The puppy just stared at me, wagging his tail.

  “What?” I asked, curious about his eagerness.

  He let out a bark. I looked at the envelope, then back at the dog. I opened the bill. One of Ronnie’s calls to Jake Monroe’s home was listed among our calls for the month.

  I gaped at the huge puppy at my feet and recalled those silly episodes of Lassie where the brilliant collie communicated complicated messages to her dim-witted humans. I took the puppy’s head in my hands and kissed him on the top of his nose. “You’re a genius!” I said, dialing Jake’s number.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Ronnie?” he blurted into the phone, sounding as though he were expecting her call.

  I hesitated a moment, surprised by his greeting. “No. Devonie,” I finally said.

  “Oh. I saw your number and thought maybe Ronnie was at your house,” Jake replied.

  “Why would she be here? She’s supposed to be in hiding.”

  Jake was silent.

  “You know she’s missing?” I pressed.

  After a long pause, he finally spoke up. “She called me last night, after the news of the shooting in front of the courthouse. She was scared. She said she wanted to run away.”

  I felt a dull headache starting at the base of my skull. I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed the back of my head. “What did you tell her?” I asked.

  “I told her to stay put. She was safe where she was. She didn’t buy it. If the authorities couldn’t protect those low-life murderers, how could they protect her?” he said. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, “She’s probably right.”

  “Did she say anything about where she was going?”

  “No. Just that she’d call me when she felt it was safe. I think she was at a payphone. She’s paranoid about using phones now. Calls are so easy to trace.”

  “What else? Did she say anything about what she was thinking?”

  “Just that she thought she might reconsider an offer someone made her months ago.”

  “Offer? You think she’s talking about Jack Pearle’s offer? A partnership?” I speculated.

  “Maybe. She wouldn’t elaborate.”

  “Because he’s disappeared too,” I added.

  “What?”

  “He’s gone. Poof. All his equipment moved out of his shop in the middle of the night. No one at the complex knows anything about it,” I explained.

  “This is crazy. I’m booking a flight out there tonight,” Jake insisted.

  “And do what? Go where? We don’t know where either of them are,” I said.

  “What about those guys who found her before? You know, Caper and Lawless?”

  “I tried to call them. They’re on location in South America. Won’t be back in the country until next month.”

  “I have to do something. I can’t just sit here.”

  “There’s not much you can do, Jake,” I said, fully aware that there actually was one thing he could do, but was not willing to. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that even if Jake did take Ronnie’s engine to the decision makers at World Motors, he’d probably never get them to agree to tool-up for it.

  “Maybe there is something I can do,” Jake said, as if he’d just come up with an idea.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I can’t say. It’s probably crazy, but it’s a shot. I gotta go. I’ll keep in touch,” he said, then the line went dead.

  “Jake?” I repeated into the phone. Too late. He was gone.

  Weeks passed. No word from Jake or Ronnie. I tried everything I could think of to locate Jack Pearle. I got his home address from one of the other tenants in the industrial complex where his shop used to be. He hadn’t been home since the night he loaded up all his machines.

  I kissed Craig and sent him off to work early on a Monday morning. Albert had an appointment to get his puppy shots at the veterinarian’s office at nine. Finally, the puppy had a name—Albert, as in Einstein. I told Craig the story of how he brought me the telephone bill and we both agreed he deserved a name that reflected his obvious intelligence. I think we might be like those parents who are sure their babies are far ahead of all the other infants their age.

  Albert sat up in the back seat of the Explorer and gazed intently out the window at the passing sights. I smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. “Maybe next time, I’ll let you drive,” I said. He gave me a look that made me wonder if he actually understood what I told him.

  I slowed to a stop at a signal and waited for the light to turn green. A workman was busy putting the finishing touches on a new billboard across the intersection. I read it, and my heart picked up an extra beat. “Fed up with the high cost of energy? Don’t get mad—get independent.”

  I scribbled the telephone number from the billboard on a piece of scrap paper I dug out of my purse. Cars behind me honked because the light had turned green. I finished writing, tossed the pen and paper on the seat next to me, and pressed my foot on the accelerator.

  I hurried home and rushed to the phone, punched in the number and waited. I was greeted with a recording that requested I leave my name and telephone number, and someone would call me back. I breathlessly blurted my information into the phone, then hung up. I frantically searched for Jake Monroe’s card and called his office. Instead of hearing his voice, or even his recorded voice-mail message, I was put right through to the switchboard operator.

  “Can I please speak to Jake Monroe?” I requested.

  “I’m sorry. Mr. Monroe is no longer with World Motors,” she said.

  “What? When did this happen?” I asked, baffled.

  “I can’t say any more than that. I’m sorry. Is there someone else who can help you?” she offered.

  Stunned, I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  I tried Jake’s home phone, but there was no answer there, either.

  I sat at the table and tried to think of what to do next. I didn’t want to wait for someone to return my call. That could take days for all I knew. I pulled the phone directory from a drawer and found the section for outdoor advertising. I called all the billboard companies in the area and finally found the firm that owned the one I’d seen on my way home from the vet’s office. After some convincing, the girl surrendered the address of the client who belonged to the billboard. They were, after all, an advertising agency. She had no special instructions to withhold the information to potential clients. I thanked her and hung up the phone.

  I gathered up my purse, let Albert out into the back yard, and rushed to the front door. I yanked it open and nearly jumped out of my skin when the face of the man standing on the porch startled me.

  “Jake! What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  No time for explanations, I dragged Jake out to the Explorer parked in the driveway and told him to get in. On the way to the address I’d received from the billboard company, I told him my theory. I suspected that Jack Pearle was the man behind the message on the billboard because I’d heard him say it before—the first time I met him.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked him as we cruised down the freeway.

  “I have to help her. I don’t care what happens to me. It’s my fault she’s in such deep trouble. If I hadn’t encouraged her to file that patent…”

  “But how can you help her? You don’t even work for World Motors anymore.”

  “How’d you find out?” he asked.

  “I tried to call you this morning. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I tried to get Ronnie’s engine on the drawing board. Onc
e I realized floating the idea was like trying to launch a lead balloon over the Grand Canyon, I also grasped the reality that my life wasn’t worth a plug nickel. I dropped out of sight, and the next thing I knew, I was on a flight to the last place I’d seen Ronnie.”

  We pulled into the industrial complex and searched for the unit number I’d noted with the address.

  “There. Unit C,” Jake said, pointing out the window toward the huge building.

  I parked the Ford and we both jumped out, hurrying for the door. It was locked. We could hear pounding and machine noises inside. I pushed a button next to the door that was marked “Ring bell” and waited. I glanced up and noticed the security camera aimed at us. I nudged Jake and pointed at it. “Smile for the camera,” I said.

  We waited nearly a full minute before the door slowly eased open. Jack Pearle reached his hand out and pulled me in by the arm. Jake followed.

  “I got your phone message this morning,” Jack said. “I tried to call you back, but there was no answer.”

  I nodded. “I couldn’t wait. I tracked you down through the billboard company,” I explained.

  Troubled, Jack made a note to call the advertising company. “I don’t want them giving out this address.”

  Jack squinted at Jake. “Who’s he?”

  “Jake Monroe. I’m a friend of Ronnie’s. Is she here?”

  Jack shook his head. “No.”

  At that moment, Ronnie appeared from behind a closed door. “It’s okay, Jack. He’s a friend,” she said, stepping to the center of the small office we stood in. The relief on Jake’s face was unmistakable. He rushed across the room and wrapped his arms around her. She melted in his embrace.

  Jack’s eyes met mine and his eyebrows lifted. “Guess they’re friends,” he said, grinning.

  After the reunion, Jack and Ronnie took us on a tour of the plant. Dozens of crates were stacked near some sort of loading dock. “What are they?” I asked.

  “Generators,” Ronnie announced, proudly. “Like the one I built for my house. We have a website on the Internet and put up those billboards. We’ve got orders for hundreds of them, so far.”

  Jake and I exchanged worried glances. “And how long do you think it’ll take before they find you here and put a stop to your enterprise?” Jake asked. “Look how easy it was for us to find you.”

  Ronnie stuck her chin in the air. “Then they’ll stop us. But not before we get as many as we can of these units out to the people. Once it starts, there’ll be no stopping it. I may not live to see it happen, but at least I’ll die knowing I started something big—really big.”

  Jake turned his attention to Jack. “And you’re willing to risk your life, too?”

  “Darn right I am,” Jack assured him. “Someone’s got to have the guts to stand up to them.”

  Jake took Ronnie’s hand and led her to a chair. “Sit down,” he said. “I want to help. I have an idea. It’s a long shot, but it just might work.”

  We all perked up our ears to hear Jake’s plan.

  “I tried to sell your engine to my bosses at World Motors. They shot me down,” he explained. “After making that daring move, I knew there was no way to turn back. I approached every major auto manufacturer in Detroit. They all had the same reaction. The same force controls them all.”

  Worry lines appeared in Ronnie’s forehead. “Then you’re in as much danger as I am,” she concluded.

  “Looks that way,” he confirmed. “But I have an idea. Japan.”

  “Japan?” Ronnie questioned.

  “Your operation here is not big enough to take off. They’ll stop you before you get enough units out there. They’ll stomp out your little spark of a flame before it can turn into a blazing wildfire,” Jake said.

  “So, what’s in Japan?” Ronnie asked.

  I was already up-to-speed with Jake’s suggestion.

  “Competition,” I offered.

  Jake pointed a finger at me. “Exactly. And auto companies that are much more willing to develop and market cars with superior efficiency and cleanliness. I don’t know why they seem not to be intimidated by the oil and gas industry, but they always lead the pack when it comes to new technologies in fuel efficiency. Maybe it’s that kamikaze mind-set left over from the war.”

  Jack pulled a chair up to a desk and sat down. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “We put together three demo engines. Ship them over to Japan. I’ve got contacts with the three major manufacturers over there. I’ve already contacted them. They’re all very interested.”

  I smiled. It could work. “And if the engines perform as we all know they will, they’ll probably develop a new model—the ‘free to run’ car,” I suggested. “There’d probably be a pretty good market for it.”

  Jake shook his head. “We don’t want some new little weird-looking car that looks like it came out of a bad Woody Allen movie. This engine doesn’t have the weight restrictions that we see with electric cars. It can go right into existing models—models that already have a huge following. Imaging how many Honda car owners would trade in their V-six Accords for an identical car, equally priced, that delivers the same horsepower but doesn’t cost anything to drive.”

  Jack slapped his hands on the desk. “American car makers wouldn’t have a choice. If they want to stay in business, they’ll have to follow Japan’s lead. I don’t care how dedicated the public is to buy American. When it comes to saving that much money, and that much pollution, and gaining that much independence, no one in their right mind would choose otherwise.”

  Ronnie’s excitement turned to a worried frown. “But what if we go over there and they turn out to be just like the car makers here. They can be intimidated. I don’t care who they are. I’ve seen what these people can do.”

  Jake took her hands into his. “It’s possible, I admit, but I think we have a pretty good chance. You said yourself that you’re willing to risk your life to get this technology out to the people. This way, we have a better chance of getting that wildfire started before they can stomp it out. What do you say?”

  Her frown turned into a smile. “How soon can we get three demo engines put together, Jack?”

  Jack looked at his watch. “I’ve seen the drawings. We have all the equipment here to do it. I think we could have them ready to ship by next week.”

  Ten days later, Craig and I picked up Ronnie and Jake from the non-descript machine shop that was busily working to build as many ‘free-to-run’ generators as it could manage without drawing too much attention to itself. Jack stayed behind to make sure all the orders would be filled.

  We dropped Ronnie and Jake at the San Diego airport. They had a flight out to Japan, and from there, Jake’s contact, a man he trusted without hesitation, guaranteed their safety once in the foreign country.

  We watched the plane take off and each said a little prayer that the trip would be successful. On the way home, Craig pulled into a gas station to fill the gas tank in my Explorer. I grimaced at the price posted on the sign. “Look at that. This’ll cost a fortune to fill,” I complained.

  Craig took a deep breath and turned his head my direction. Then he beamed a huge smile. “No worries, honey. I have a feeling things are going to be changing for the better real soon.”

  A shiver if excitement raced up my spine. I felt the anticipation of what was in the works, and felt a little bit proud that I could say I played a small part in a history-making event that would change the world.

  Epilogue

  Craig and I lounged in the comfort of our backyard, soaking up the last bits of warmth from the sun as it slowly dropped on the horizon, barely touching the surface of the Pacific. Albert, now fully grown, galloped around the yard, carrying a toy duck in his mouth. I sipped on a concoction I made in the blender—grapefruit and pineapple juice, fresh organic strawberries, and ice. As I perused through the probate and foreclosure notices in the newspaper, Craig read the latest issue of Popular Mechanics.

  “Liste
n to this!” Craig said, nearly dropping his fruit-juice smoothie in his lap. He began reading from an article printed in the magazine. “Last week, representatives from the top three Japanese auto manufacturers held a press conference to announce a new engine technology they plan to incorporate into their most popular models as early as next year. The companies admit that it’s unusual, since they are in direct competition with each other, that they would join together in this daring move. When questioned about this strategy, they admitted that the engineer who designed the engine, who, surprisingly, is an American, and even more surprising, a woman, refused to sell the patent, but negotiated a deal which would allow the Japanese companies permission to use the technology in their products. The agreement requires that all three manufacturers participate, that the engine has to be offered as an optional feature on their top three selling models, and the price for a car with the engine must be the same or less than an otherwise equally equipped model. Since the cost to manufacture the engine, once the initial tool-up costs have been absorbed, is less than that of a conventional engine, the companies agreed to this rather unusual stipulation.”

  I smiled and took another sip through the straw. “She really did it. She pulled it off.”

  “Wait, there’s more,” Craig continued. “Absent from the press conference was Ronnie Oakhurst, the woman who designed the technology. A member of our staff was able to catch up with her and get a brief interview. Miss Oakhurst is currently negotiating with another division of one of these Japanese automakers, a division that produces, among other things, generators. Apparently, the applications for this engine go far beyond just automobiles. One day, according to Oakhurst, every home in the free world will be completely independent from power utility companies. A generator, about the size of an existing air-conditioning unit, will be a standard fixture in every backyard. Unsightly webs of electrical power lines will be a thing of the past. Air pollution will be something our children only know about because they had to study it in history class. Everyone will be able to afford to heat and cool their homes, light their rooms, irrigate their crops, and run their businesses. With all the money people save from not having to support the lifestyles the oil company executives have grown accustomed to, they can actually afford to take time to enjoy their new-found freedom, new-found health, and an Earth that may regain some of the beauty that existed before the days when the burning of fossil fuel was necessary.”