Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (10 page)

Agents Lawson and
Arnold went back to the C.I.A. office in New York City. Not the main office on
Reade Street, but their secret satellite office behind the Men’s Department on
the third floor of Bloomingdales on Lexington Avenue and 59
^th
street.
Lawson sat with his feet on his desk. “I can’t believe he’s gone, what an
idiot.”

Arnold was
sprawled across the small sofa they had absconded from the furniture
department. “Marco was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.”

“Then why’s he
dead?”

“That’s the part I
can’t figure out. He would’ve never been that careless---hell, we’ve been
chasing him for months and couldn’t find him.”

“Well, somebody
found him.”

Lawson went over
to the micro-fridge they had borrowed from the appliance department and grabbed
a Mountain Dew. He didn’t like cola much and didn’t drink coffee. Mountain Dew
was his main source of caffeine. Arnold preferred the high-dollar energy drinks
when he needed a jolt. “You want a Red Bull?”

“No thanks.” Arnold
obviously preferred to remain un-stimulated on the sofa. “I can’t believe he’s
gone. And what was he doing at Aquaduct? Marco’s not a gambler.”

“I know. I figured
he’d be at Scores.”

Agent Arnold rose
from the sofa and went over to the fridge. “On second thought, I will take a
Red Bull.” He popped the top on the can and drank it down in one breath. “That’s
better, now what do you say we head over to Aquaduct and see what the boys in
blue have found?”

Agent Lawson
grabbed another Mountain Dew and they made their way through the Armani suits
to the elevator.

***

The racetrack
parking lot was barren, other than a few cars interspersed throughout the ten
or twelve police and fire vehicles. Lawson and Arnold showed their credentials
to the officer at the door.

“Who’s the officer
in charge?” Lawson asked.

“Mackey---Sergeant
Mackey. Over there.” The officer pointed to a short, stocky, bald officer.

Lawson went over
to talk to the Sergeant while Arnold looked around the crime scene. “Sergeant
Mackey, Agent Lawson, FBI, where’s the body?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? Already?”

“Yeah, Coroner got
him---fastest I ever seen them get to a crime scene.”

“Gunshot wounds?”

“Yep. Two
shot’s---one in the forehead and one in the neck. Severed the Jugular---that’s
why there’s so much goddamn blood everywhere.”

“You get the
Perp?”

“Nope, 20 thousand
people and nobody saw nothing.”

“Weapon?”

“Nope, vanished
into thin air.”

Irritated by the
Sergeant’s cavalier attitude, Agent Lawson suggested he have his men search the
premises again. “That weapon is here, find it. And I want the security camera
footage from when he pulled into the parking lot until the coroner took him
away.”

The sergeant
radioed the order for another sweep of the building and surrounding area.

“What about
personal effects?” Lawson asked. “Did you have enough sense to get them before
the coroner’s body snatchers arrived?”

Before the
Sergeant could reply, Agent Arnold came up from behind where the men were
standing. “I’m one step ahead of you partner---got it right here.” He held up a
large Zip-lock bag.

The bag held
Rudy’s iPhone, an airplane ticket, and a large amount of cash. “It’s not like
Marco to have so much cash. He usually has someone else’s credit card.” Lawson
carefully removed the plane ticket from the bag.

“That’s true---
where’s his billfold?” Arnold called out to the officer who gave him the
property. “Hey, Smitty, he didn’t have a wallet on him?”

The officer shook
his head, no.

Lawson retrieved the
plane ticket from its envelope. “Nassau? The Bahamas?”

“Why would Marco
go to the Bahamas?” Agent Arnold asked. “He hates the beach.”

“Somehow, I don’t
think it was a vacation.” Lawson returned the plane ticket to its envelope and
placed it back in the bag. In doing so, he palmed the iPhone and stashed it in
his coat pocket. Then he zipped up the bag and tossed it to his partner. “Give
that back to Smitty and let’s get out of here.” He handed the sergeant a
business card. “Gimme a call when you have that footage ready or if you find
the gun.”

***

Back at
Bloomingdales, Lawson sat on the sofa and powered on the iPhone. Agent Arnold
sat at his desk using his laptop to check that evening’s flights to Nassau from
LaGuardia. His computer had access to flight plans, passenger lists and crew
assignments.

Lawson hooked the
iPhone to his laptop and ran a sequence to access the call history. “In the
past twenty-four hours, Marco made three calls to a Doctor Mike Armaly in
Nassau and one call to a Carrie Lockwood in Brooklyn.”

Before Lawson
could say anything further, Arnold began typing away at his laptop. “Michael
Armaly, Ph.D. Retired Astrophysicist. The agency has a file on him, level
nine.”

“Well call Langley
and get an access code.”

Arnold folded his
laptop shut. “I’m not calling Langley---you call Langley.”

Lawson sat
upright. “You know I can’t call Langley and ask for level-nine clearance---not
after that Lewinsky thing.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll
never understand why you wanted to see that damn blue dress anyway.”

“I keep telling
you---it was a bet. That’s all.”

“Well, it’s still
kind of creepy if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked
you.” Lawson leaned back against the sofa. “We don’t need any damn clearance
anyway, let’s just do what Marco was gonna do. Let’s go to the Bahamas.”

Arnold nodded in
agreement. “But what about Carrie Lockwood in Brooklyn? Maybe we should check
her out first.”

“There’s no time,
book us on the next flight to Nassau, I’m gonna hit the men’s department and
get us something to wear. And the luggage department, too.”

Arnold was
hesitant. “Maybe we should clear it with Langley first.”

“There’s no time,
you know they’ll want us to go through the travel department so they can save a
few dollars on airfare. We don’t have that much time; we’ll just have to
expense it. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if
Carrie Lockwood knows something that can help us?”

“I promise we’ll
find your precious little Carrie Lockwood as soon as we get back. Book the
flight, I’ll be right back.” Lawson headed for the exit, stopped, and then turned
back toward Agent Arnold. “What are you about a 34 waist and large shirt?”

“38 waist,
extra-large shirt.”

“It’s them damn
Red Bulls, they’re full of sugar. You’re going on a diet when we get back.”

Lawson and Arnold
took the redeye to Miami. They had a 4-hour layover until the morning flight to
Nassau. Arnold tried to catch a nap on the bench outside the airport lounge where
Lawson sat making a fool out of himself. The middle-aged cougar on the barstool
next to him didn’t appear to be interested in his days as an all-state high
school running back. As far as Arnold could tell from his vantage point, she
was more interested in the athlete polishing the floors out in the terminal. Although
she listened politely, her gaze was fixated on the young man and his machine.

Once aboard the
plane, Lawson passed out. Arnold couldn’t have planned it better. He placed a
pillow under Lawson’s head and retrieved the dossier he had printed on Doctor
Armaly from his bag.

Doctor Mike Armaly
was highly regarded as one of the most brilliant minds in the world. Especially
in the field of Astrophysics. Over the years, he had proven and disproven many
difficult theories for N.A.S.A. and other governmental and world agencies. According
to the dossier, Doctor Armaly was the “go to” person for answers to all the
tough questions. Until February 18, 1987 when he abruptly resigned from N.A.S.A.
and moved to the Bahamas.

The short flight
from Miami made it necessary for Agent Arnold to do something he really didn’t
want to do. Wake up Agent Lawson. “Lawson, wake up, we’re about to land.”

“Land---land
where?” Lawson leaned forward from his seat, but then lunged backward in a
hurry. “Where are we---what happened?”

“You got into a
fight with a guy named Jack, and he won.”

“Jack?”

“Yes, Jack
Daniels.”

“Ughhhhh.” Lawson
covered his face with his hands.

***

Lawson stood under
the stream of cold water fully clothed. His partner had been kind enough to
remove his wallet and cell phone from his trousers before he tossed him into
the shower.

“You need to sober
up quick, I want to see this Armaly cat and make the evening flight back to
Miami.”

“I’ll be fine in a
minute.”

Arnold placed
Lawson’s bag on the bed nearest the bathroom and placed his bag in the corner. If
all went according to plan, he wouldn’t need to open it. Then he called the
front desk to arrange a taxi.

The Parrot
Taxi-Cab Company’s vehicles weren’t yellow, more a baby-shit green to hear
agent Lawson describe it. Regardless, they got into the cab.

“Where to, Meesters?”

“Adelaide.”

“Adelaide? That’s
way over on other side of island---what you want go there for?”

Arnold glanced at
the driver’s name badge on the dash. Tevin Saunders. “Listen here, Tevin---did
I pronounce that right---like Kevin only with a T, right?”

“Right.”

“Great, anyway Tevin,
my friend here has a monster hangover and he’d rather you didn’t make small
talk or ask any questions. With that said, if you can take us to Adelaide
without a lot of noise that would be great, if not, we’ll find another
taxi-driver that will.”

“No, Tevin no say
another word.”

“Great.” Arnold
leaned back to enjoy the silence. Lawson was already snoozing.

“Meester---

“Now Tevin, we
have a deal---Shhhhh,”

“But Meester---

“Shhhhh.”

Tevin faced
forward and sat quietly.

It took Arnold a moment
to realize they hadn’t moved. “Tevin buddy, why are we still here?”

“Meester no tell
me the address where to go.”

“Tevin, just drive
toward Adelaide, I have the address in my bag, I’ll get it in a minute.”

“Meester, I hope
you got fifty-dollars in that bag---American Dollars”

“Don’t worry, Tevin,
you’ll get American Dollars, now would you stop talking and drive.”

Tevin burned
rubber when he pulled out of the hotel driveway, which, by itself, probably
wouldn’t have been enough to startle Agent Arnold. However, when Tevin sped
down the wrong side of the road with other vehicles approaching, Arnold broke
the silence with a loud shriek. “TEVENNNNNNN.”

The approaching
vehicles zoomed by, each in their lawful lane. Tevin drove along in his lawful
lane, and Agent Arnold regained his composure, leaned back in his seat and
breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing bad had happened. Well, if you don’t count
his scream waking up Agent Lawson.

***

Doctor Armaly’s
house was marked only by a small placard at the entrance and was not noticeable
from the main road. A small dirt road led upward along a rocky overhang. Tevin
would not drive it. “I stop here, Mister---American Dollars---you say American
Dollars.”

“Yes, Tevin. American
Dollars---how much did you say it was?”

“Fifty Dollars,
Mister---American.”

Agent Arnold pulled
a hundred-dollar-bill from his wallet. “Here’s a hundred, Tevin.”

“Tevin no have
change.”

“I don’t want any
change. You can keep the hundred dollars and if you stay right here until we
come back, I’ll give you another hundred to take us to the airport, okay?”

“Okay Mister, Tevin
wait right here.”

“No matter how
long it takes you wait here, right?”

“Yes Sir.”

Arnold and Lawson
started up the dirt road.

“I’ll bet you a
fucking hundred that idiot won’t be there when we get back.” Lawson had little
faith in his partner’s tactics. “I would have snagged his keys and handcuffed
him to the fucking steering wheel.”

“Yeah, that would
be great; and he could just tell the Bahamian Police to follow the dirt road
right up to Doctor Armaly’s house.”

“Fuck the Bahamian
Police; those assholes don’t even carry guns.”

“Relax partner, we
need to do this inconspicuously if possible.” Arnold noticed a large metal
building ahead. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

At the top of the
hill, a young man stood waiting with a shotgun. “Turn around and go back now.” The
man said in an unfriendly voice.

“Sorry, but we’re
looking for Mike Armaly.” Arnold said.

“Turn around and
go back now.” The young man raised his rifle.

“Sir, we don’t
want any trouble, but it’s very important that we talk to Mike Armaly,” Arnold
said.

“Turn around and
go back now.”

“Is that all you
can fucking say?” The young man pointed the shotgun at Lawson. “Go ahead and
shoot, I don’t care. I just flew all the way from the states with a fucking
hangover, so either shoot me or get Mike Armaly.”

“You’re from the
states?” The young man lowered his gun. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Cause you had a
fucking shotgun pointed at my head you little---

Lawson lunged
toward the young man.

“Wait.” Arnold grabbed
Lawson’s shirt and reined him in. “Don’t mind my partner, please, it’s
important that we find Mike Aramly.”

“Well, you found
him---the only one left, anyway.”

“You’re Mike
Armaly?”

“Yep.”

“Doctor Mike
Armaly? The world renowned astrophysicist?”

“Nope. He was my
dad.”

“What do you mean,
was
---don’t you mean he is your dad?”

“Nope, buried him
yesterday.”