Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (7 page)

She didn’t
respond.

He tried again, a
little harder. “Grandma, I’m home.” Phillip lifted her head up from the table
and then gently put it back down. He sat next to her, released the coffee cup
from her hand, and bawled.

Turbo entered his
repair shop and screamed at Cosmo. “Why can’t you pull the damn string?” He had
already walked over to the sign before he noticed that Cosmo already had
customers. Two men wore dark suits, one man thin, and the other man stocky.

The stocky man
spoke first. “Are you William Trbojevic?”

“Who wants to
know?”

The thinner man
showed credentials. “Agent Lawson, F.B.I.” He flashed his badge quickly, as if
it was a bother, a waste of time. “This is my partner, Agent Arnold.”

“We need to ask
you a few questions about Alex Gaye.”

“Who?”

“The kid with the
shortwave.” Cosmo came from behind the counter. “You remember. He watched G.H.
with us.”

“What's G.H.?”
Agent Arnold asked.

“General
Hospital.”

“Yeah, I remember,
nice kid, I fixed his radio.” Turbo took off his coat and went behind the
counter. “What about him?”

“Do you have a
work order or a repair record? Something with an address or phone number?”

“No, it was only a
transistor, I didn’t charge him.”

“Mr. Trbojevic,
you expect me to believe that you fixed his equipment and didn’t charge him.”
Agent Arnold took notes.

“It was only a
transistor, he waited a long time.”

“Yeah, Sonny’s son
got shot,” Cosmo added.

“With a bullet
meant for Sonny.”

“Wait a minute, who's
Sonny?” Agent Arnold looked up from his notebook.

“They’re talking
about General Hospital. The soap opera.” Agent Lawson grew agitated.

“Hey, you, it’s
Cosmo, right?”

Cosmo nodded.

“We need to talk
to Mr. Trbojevic alone, would you excuse us?”

Cosmo mumbled and
walked over to the sofa.

The questions
continued. “Have you ever met Alex Gaye before that day?’

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where
he is now?”

“No.”

“Do you know how
to contact him?”

“No.” Turbo
considered telling the agents they were looking for a lunatic, someone who
talked to Martians, but he decided not to mention it.

“If Alex Gaye
contacts you, make sure you call us right away.” Agent Lawson tossed his card
on the counter.

***

Phillip’s Aunt
Edna had driven up from Philly to help with the funeral arrangements. Carrie
stopped by to check on Phillip.

“Aunt Edna, meet
my friend, Carrie.”

“Pleased to meet
you, Carrie.”

“Same here, I’m
sorry about your loss.”

“Mavis was a good
woman. We’re gonna miss her.” Edna cleared her cup and saucer from the table.
“Would you care for some coffee, dear?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, you’ll have
to excuse me; I have to get some clothes together for the funeral home.”

Phillip hadn't
paid much attention to the small talk until then; suddenly he jumped up from
his seat. “Aunt Edna, wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Grandma’s dress.
She showed me the one she wanted. I'll get it down from the attic.”

“The attic?”

Phillip rushed up
to the attic. He opened the trunk and retrieved the dress. He held it up and
shook off the dust. When he turned to close the trunk, he saw them. Tesla’s
papers. He wanted to scream, but he knew that would startle his aunt. He wanted
to call Carrie up to the attic and celebrate, but he didn’t. He simply closed
the trunk, and walked downstairs and gave the dress to his aunt.

“It’s beautiful.
How come I’ve never seen it before?”

“I’m not sure.”
Phillip answered. “You better get going now, I'm sure they close soon.” Phillip
nudged his aunt out the door, and watched through the kitchen window until she
had gone. Then he grabbed Carrie’s hand and pulled her upstairs to the attic.

“What are you
doing, you nearly pulled my arm out of its socket?”

“Wait till you see
this.” Phillip opened the trunk. “They were here the whole time.”

Carrie smiled. “I
can’t believe we drudged through all that garbage for nothing.”

“We should call
Turbo.” Phillip closed the trunk.

“Better yet, let’s
go see him. Grab the trunk, I’ll drive.”

***

Heavy traffic on
Linden Boulevard slowed their progress. Cars strayed from their lanes and
jockeyed for better positions. Pedestrians flooded the sidewalks and
crosswalks. Many jaywalked, ignoring the flashing red hand, unafraid of traffic
cops. Carrie stayed calm and remained in her lane. She drove at tortoise
speeds. With each passing mile, the crowds thinned and traffic sped up. Turbo’s
street had no traffic whatsoever. Carrie had no problem finding a place to
park. The only other vehicle there had to belong to the man taking pictures
outside Turbo's shop.

“Turbo, we’re
here.” Phillip called out as they entered the shop, the trunk by his side.

Turbo rushed
around the counter. “Hello. Hello. Cosmo, come meet my new friends.”

Cosmo waved from
the sofa.

Turbo shook
Phillip’s hand and hugged Carrie.

“You’re gonna hug
me, too. Once I open this trunk.” Phillip unlatched the clasp.

Curiosity got
Cosmo up from the sofa. “Hey, I’m Cosmo.”

Turbo apologized
and hurried the introductions. “Phillip, what’s in the trunk?”

Phillip hesitated.
He pointed to the portrait. "Is that him?"

Turbo nodded.

“That sumatabitch
is here again.” Cosmo stormed outside. The front door swung open, recoiled, and
slammed shut. The reattached bell survived the ride and rang violently. They
could hear Cosmo cursing outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from here,
next time I’m gonna shove that camera up your ass.”

Turbo called Cosmo
inside. “What was that all about?”

“That’s the second
time I catch him taking pictures of the shop.” Cosmo panted.

“Do you know him?”
Carrie asked.

“First I’ve heard
about it. Cosmo, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I forgot.”

“Maybe he’s with
the government,” Phillip said.

“Nah, I doubt it,
besides, they were already here.”

“Yeah, the F.B.I.
stopped by yesterday,” Cosmo said.

“The F.B.I. What
did they want?” Phillip re-latched the clasp.

“They were asking
about one of my customers. I fixed his radio.”

“He wasn’t a real
customer.” Cosmo pointed out. “You didn’t charge him anything.”

“Why were they
looking for him?” Carrie asked.

“Don’t know, he was
just a kid, Twenty-something; he didn’t look like a terrorist or anything.”

“No, but he talks
to Martians.” Cosmo went back over to the TV. “You’ll have to excuse me; “All
My Children” starts now.”

“They’re after the
wrong man,” Turbo said. “Besides, whoever heard of a terrorist named Alex
Gaye?”

“Alex Gaye?"
Carrie yelped.

“Yeah, do you know
him?”

“No, but Rudy
does.” Carrie pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled through the twenty-three
missed calls from Buddy, still upset with him about the strip club, until she
found the call from “Brad Pitt.” Unsure it would work, she pressed send. She
didn't expect anyone to answer, but she prayed for his voicemail. Her prayer was
answered. She left a message. “Rudy, it's Carrie, please call me right away,
we’re at Turbo’s shop and the---

Phillip grabbed
the phone before she accelerated to full speed. “Hey, Rudy, its Phillip, please
call us right away, it’s important.”

“How does Rudy
know Alex Gaye?” Turbo asked.

“I’m not sure,”
Phillip said. “But he doesn’t want Alex to know that we know him."

“If Alex ever
contacted us,” Carrie added.

“This doesn’t make
sense. Why would Alex Gaye contact you?” Turbo scratched his head. “He seemed
like such a nice young man.”

The bell on the
door rang softly. “He
is
a nice young man, if you like terrorists.” Rudy
entered the shop.

“What are they up
to now?”

“Marco just got
there.”

“Goddamn it. I
always miss the good stuff.”

“If you didn’t
drink so much Mountain Dew, you wouldn’t have to piss all the time.”

Agent Lawson sat
down and adjusted his headset. “This van stinks, we need a new one.”

“Shhhh. I can't
hear.” Agent Arnold adjusted the receiver.

“. . .
no, I’m not related to Valentino.”

“Are
you sure, because you favor him a little.”

“That Cosmo annoys
me.”

“He’s harmless. He
thinks Marco is Rudolph Valentino.” Agent Arnold chuckled.

“He may be
harmless, but he still bugs me---

“Shut up and
listen.”

“Rudy,
is Alex Gaye a terrorist?” The voice was undoubtedly Carrie.

“He
sure is. The F.B.I. is hot on his trail.”

“They
were here yesterday.”

“Doesn’t he ever
shut up?”

“Just listen.”

“Were
they? Well, they’re cold. Alex went to Miami.”

“How
do you know?”

“He
called me. He’s staying at the---

Static.

“Goddamn it, he
found the bug. You didn’t hide it very good.”

“I couldn't find a
good spot with Cosmo up my ass the whole time.”

“Forget about it.
Call Langley and order a trace on Marco’s phone and notify Miami to be on the lookout
for Alex.”

***

Turbo was fuming.
“I can't believe those bastards bugged my shop.”

Rudy told him to
relax. “It’s not safe to talk here, we need to leave.”

“But you just
found the bug.” Carrie pointed to the tiny device in Rudy’s hand.

“That’s the C.I.A.’s
bug---

“You mean F.B.I.,
don’t you?” Carrie asked.

“No, I mean
C.I.A., but I’m sure Alex has one here, too. Although, it won’t be as easy to
find.” He motioned for them to follow him outside.

Cosmo offered the
use of his apartment, but Rudy said they should meet somewhere in public.

Phillip suggested
the Barnes and Noble.

“No, way too
quiet. Why do you think I do business in strip clubs?”

“If you want noisy
then go to Tony O’s.” Cosmo suggested.

“Tony O’s?” Rudy
had never heard of it.

“Italian restaurant
over on Montauk Avenue---they make a mean Scungilli fra Diavolo.”

“Yeah. That place
gives me a headache every time I eat there.” Turbo rubbed his temple.

“Great. Meet me
there in one hour.” Rudy hopped in his Corvette convertible and peeled out. He
stopped halfway down the block, jumped out and banged on the side of a paneled
van parked there. Then he jumped back in the Vette and peeled out again.

Carrie asked Turbo
if he wanted a ride to the restaurant.

“We’d love one,”
Cosmo answered for him.

“Oh, no you
don't.” Turbo grabbed Cosmo’s sleeve. “You have to stay here and watch the
shop.”

“Why? We haven’t
had a customer in forever.”

“What if that
photographer comes back? Remember what you told him.”

Cosmo went back
inside.

Turbo left with
Carrie and Phillip. They hadn't gone far when Phillip shouted. “Stop.” He got
out and ran back to the shop. He returned with the trunk. “With all the
excitement I almost forgot the trunk.”

“For the last
time, what’s inside the damn trunk?” Turbo asked.

“Oh, shit---Aunt
Edna.”

“Aunt Edna’s
inside the trunk?” Turbo seemed puzzled.

“No, but I forgot
all about Aunt Edna, she worries about me.”

“I’ll swing by
your house on the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Is anyone gonna
tell me what’s inside the trunk.”

“You’re not gonna
believe this.” Phillip opened the trunk.

Turbo’s eyes grew
big and filled with tears. He stared at the papers, afraid to touch them. “They
were at your house the whole time?”

“Yes.”

Turbo sifted
through the papers. “I’ve waited for this my entire life.”

“What do you
mean?” Carrie asked.

“Proof.” He could
tell that Carrie didn’t understand. “Proof that the government stole my uncle’s
ideas.”

***

Tony O’s was
always crowded. Although, a twenty-dollar-bill would get you a table quick. The
Maitre’d apologized for seating them close to the kitchen; they could watch the
cooks through the door's porthole window.

“We don’t need
menus,” Turbo said.

“You already know
what you want?” The Maitre’d asked.

“No, we’re not
hungry.”

The Maitre’d
frowned. “You won’t be dining with us?”

“Bring us your
best champagne.” Rudy reached for his wallet and handed the Maitre’d a Platinum
American Express Card.”

The Maitre’d
glanced at the card. “Right away, Mr. Hanks.”

“Champagne. What’s
the occasion?” The tall neck Chianti bottle on the table blocked Carrie’s view.
She moved it aside.

“No occasion, I
figured we better buy something if we’re gonna sit here.”

“Good idea.”
Phillip nudged the Chianti back to the center. “What did you find out?”

“Well, my contact
said the agency divided Tesla’s files into different categories. Declassified
files, those already proven or in production went to the Tesla Museum in
Belgrade. Some received lower level classifications to allow government
agencies and privileged corporations to access them. A few outrageous concepts
received level nine classifications, just in case. But only two warranted level
ten. Teleforce and Electrostatic Deuterium Oxide.”

Before anyone
spoke, the waiter arrived with the champagne. Pop. He filled the glasses. Rudy
waited for him to leave. “We're tracking down anybody that worked on either
project. They’d be retired by now, or dead.”

“What good are
they if they’re dead?” Carrie asked.

“They may have
told family members about their work, or better yet, kept a journal or diary.”

“What about Alex
Gaye?” Turbo sipped his champagne. “That’s good champagne.”

“Glad you like it.
Alex Gaye isn’t a terrorist. He’s a Communist. I fabricated the terrorist stuff
to throw off Lawson and Arnold.”

“The F.B.I.
agents?” Carrie asked.

“They’re not F.B.I.
They’re C.I.A.”

“But they said
they were F.B.I. They had F.B.I. badges.” Carrie sipped her champagne.

“How many F.B.I.
badges do you want? I'll get them for you, and C.I.A., and K.G.B. for that
matter. Believe me, those guys are C.I.A.”

Turbo scratched
his head. “I don't understand, maybe I'm stupid. I fixed this guy’s radio over
a week ago, before I ever met any of you.” He sipped his champagne.

“Yeah, so why did
you think Alex would contact us?” Phillip asked.

“Let me explain.”
Rudy took a big sip of champagne. “Turbo, you’re right, that's good champagne.”
He took another sip, threw the glass against the kitchen door, and bolted out
through the emergency exit.