Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (8 page)

Mavis Washington’s
Memorial Service was lovely. Phillip eulogized his grandmother. He spoke
eloquently, shared tender moments from his childhood and some as recent as the
day they cleaned the attic together. He talked about the pink tricycle his
grandmother saved all those years, and the goals she held for him. He asked for
their prayers that he might achieve those goals. And in closing, he took
comfort in the belief that his grandmother was in heaven with her husband and
daughter. “I hope I’ll be worthy to join them someday.”

Aunt Edna bawled.

Carrie and Turbo
smiled from the back row of the church.

“It was a
beautiful service.” Carrie gave him a hug. As she looked over his shoulder, she
noticed two men in black suits standing against the wall. Many of the men there
wore black suits; but these two were noticeably out of place. They wore white
sneakers. Carrie didn’t want to bring up any new conspiracy theories there at
the funeral, so she let it go. And Phillip, too.

“You did a great
job with the eulogy.” Turbo added.

“Thanks for
coming, I really appreciate it.”

“I only wish I had
gotten the chance to thank her.” Turbo said.

Aunt Edna came up
from behind them. “Now Phillip, there’s plenty of food over in the hall and
make sure your friends try some of my world famous potato salad”

“I’d love to, Aunt
Edna.” Turbo hooked her arm. “I’m with you, show me the way to the potato salad.”

Phillip hooked
Carrie’s arm and they followed behind. “Have you heard from Rudy?” He asked.

“No, his number is
disconnected again.”

“That doesn’t
surprise me; we may have to make another trip to DC.”

“We better save Turbo
from your Aunt Edna first.”

After the funeral,
they decided to go over to Carrie’s apartment for a while to plan their next
move. The message indicator on Carrie’s answering machine flashed the number
14. “Make yourself at home, I better check these messages.”

Turbo and Phillip
sat on the sofa.

Beep.
“Carrie,
it’s me, call me.”

Beep.
“Carrie,
it’s me again, I’ll try your cell.”

Beep.
“Hey
babe, I can’t reach you on your cell, you must be back in the stockroom, call
me back.”

Beep.
“Carrie,
I called your work and they said you called in sick, hope you’re okay, call me
back.”

Beep.
“Did I do
something wrong, call me back, I hope you’re okay.”

Beep.
“Damn it,
Carrie, call me back.”

“I think Buddy’s
pissed off.” Phillip nudged Turbo and smiled.

“Very funny.” Carrie
pressed the button to hear the next message.

Beep.
“Carrie,
this is childish, please call me back.”

Beep.
“Why
won’t you answer your cell phone?”

Beep.
“This is
ridiculous.”

Beep. “
Carrie,
please call me, at least let me know you’re okay.”

“You should really
call him back.” Turbo said.

“I will, if I ever
get through all these messages.”

Beep. “
It’s me
again, hope you’re okay, call me.”

Beep.
“Carrie,
I can’t believe you’re so childish. Fucking call me.”

“Yep, he’s
pissed.” Phillip elbowed Turbo again.

Beep.
“I guess
Rudy told you about Melissa. It was a one-time fling, I swear, but you
obviously don’t want to talk about it. I won’t call you anymore.”

A long silence
engulfed the room. Carrie stood frozen, her finger still on the machine.

Turbo broke the
silence. “He probably just said that so you call him back.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he
has an explanation.” Phillip walked over and pulled her arm away from the
answering machine. “Come sit down for a minute.”

Carrie sat on the
sofa, but didn’t speak.

“It’ll be okay.” Turbo
said. He thought about Maria.

“Hey look, there’s
one message left.” Phillip reached for the button.

“Don’t push that
button.” Carrie jumped up from the sofa. “I don’t want to hear anything else
that son-of-a-bitch has to say.”

Phillip pulled
away from the machine. “What if it’s important?”

She hesitated. “Fine,
do it.”

Phillip pressed
the button.

Beep. “
Carrie,
it’s Rudy. Sorry about the restaurant, but I had to get out of there. I’ll
explain when I see you. I can’t call your cell because I’m sure they have it
tapped by now. When you get this message meet me at Aquaduct Racetrack, I’ll be
in one of the personal handicapping stations on the second floor of the
clubhouse. I’ll wait until the last race is over, then I’m hopping a flight at
JFK. I have to get out of the country for a while. Make sure Turbo and Phillip
come with you and don’t tell anyone else where you’re going, not even Cosmo.”

“What time is it?”
Turbo asked.

Phillip looked
down to see the time displayed on the answering machine. “It’s three-thirty.”

“Shit. We gotta
go. The last race starts around five.” Turbo jumped up.

Carrie grabbed her
purse, went over to the answering machine, deleted the last message, and headed
for the door.

“Why’d you do
that?” Phillip asked.

“I don’t want
leave a trail. In case anyone comes looking for us.”

“Wow.” Phillip was
impressed. “You’re getting good at this secret agent stuff.”

***

Turbo tapped on
the door of the first personal handicapping station. “Having any luck?”

A grumpy old man
chewing on an unlit cigar told him where to go. The responses from the
occupants of the other stations were similar. They told him where he could stick
it, what bridge to jump off, and what part of their anatomy he should kiss. And
several people suggested he have sex with himself.

The bell rang to
start the eleventh race. The crowd cheered and watched with anticipation until
the number 3 horse crossed the finish line first. There was one race left,
thirty minutes to find Rudy.

Carrie took on the
task of tapping on the handicapping station doors. Her responses were much more
hospitable and included offers for drinks, dinner, unprotected sex, and even
one marriage proposal. Time was running out so she screamed, “RUDY.”

Rudy stepped out
of the station to her right. “Don’t yell. I’m right here.”

They sat down at a
window-front table in the clubhouse. The servers cleaned and re-set their
tables, dusted crumbs off chairs, ran the sweeper over the carpet, and other
tasks necessary to close the dining room. They ignored them, which was
perfectly fine with Rudy.

“Listen, I have to
make this quick. The other day at the restaurant, Alex was in the kitchen.”

“How could that
be?” Carrie’s mouth hung open.

“I don’t know; the
only person who knew we’d be there was Cosmo.”

Turbo took
offense. “You think Cosmo ratted on us?”

“I don’t know what
to think?”

“Why did you run
away?” Phillip asked. “And what made you think he’d contact us in the first
place.”

“Alex Gaye is a “Menshevik,”
a contemporary communist. Leon Trotsky betrayed the Menshevik’s back in 1904
when he joined the Bolshevik faction. Today the Mensheviks are the new
communists of Russia. They spend most of their time and energy tracking down
wayward nukes and other top secret Soviet technology.”

“What’s this got
to do with us?” Turbo grew impatient.

“Alex asked me to
help me him access some top secret files at the agency.”

“Did you?” Carrie’s
mouth hung open in disgust.

“I tried, what he
wanted was level-ten stuff.”

“What sort of
files?” Phillip asked.

“It was something
related to “Star Wars”

“The movie?” Carrie
asked.

“No, the Strategic
Defense Initiative.”

“But I thought the
government scrapped that program after Reagan died.”

“Officially, they
did, Phillip, but I think it continued overseas. Alex’s father worked on the
British version of the project. His father died mysteriously, along with
twenty-one other scientists who worked on the project. That’s why he wants
those files.”

“Okay, so why run
from him?” Turbo asked.

“Well, it’s a lot of
money; I had to deliver the files he wanted.”

“But you said they
were level ten.” Carrie jumped as the bell rang to start the last race.

“The files he
wanted were level ten. The files he got were level two.”

The noise
throughout the track made it hard to hear. “Okay, so he wants his money back.” Turbo
talked louder. “Where do we come in?”

“Well, I found
someone who worked on the S.D.I. during the Eighties. His name is Mike Armaly. Doctor
Mike Armaly. He’s retired now and lives in the Bahamas. I’m flying there
tonight.”

“I still don’t see
where we come in.” Phillip said as the last race ended.

“Phillip, you
wouldn’t be involved if your grandfather’s file didn’t ping my iPhone.”

“What about me?” Turbo
asked. “Alex came to see me before I ever met any of you.”

“Turbo,
unfortunately you are involved, more than you know.”

“How? What did I
do?”

“It’s not what you
did, it’s who you are.”

Turbo appeared
even more confused.

“You’re related to
Tesla. That puts you right in the middle.”

“What does my uncle
have to do with this?”

“Doctor Armaly
told me that the Strategic Defense Initiative and Teleforce are one and the
same.”

Turbo’s jaw
dropped.

“And that’s not
all, he knows about Electrostatic Deuterium Oxide, too. He was too afraid to
talk about it on the phone. Hey, I have to go. I’ll contact you in a few days.”
Rudy joined the crowd of people heading for the exits.

Turbo, Phillip and
Carrie sat there for a minute or two digesting what they had learned. Then they
headed for the exits, too. Gunshots rang out and the crowd turned into a
stampede. Philip grabbed Carrie and shoved her into a small covey in the
corroder. Turbo disappeared into the wave of people frenzied for the exit. When
the crowd thinned, Phillip and Carrie made their way out of the racetrack. They
searched for Turbo as they left. A horde of police officers had gathered near
the main exit. As they approached that area, Carrie screamed.

Rudy was on the
floor in a pool of blood.

The apartment was
located in an affluent section of Belgrade and overlooked the Danube River. The
seventeenth floor unit was one of only five that had a view of the river, a
view afforded by fate, not architectural design. The building’s owner could not
have known that the twenty-five-story building across the street would one day
be bombed, demolished, and later replaced with a smaller building. Had he
known, he may have built taller. At the very least, he would have priced the
top floor apartments at a premium.

Sava Kosanavic had
lived in that apartment for the past forty years. He loved to watch the daily
activity on the Danube. Even more so than the other river in town that bore his
name. Old and feeble, the former henchman for the Yugoslavian Communist Party
started his day as usual. He watched the sunrise as boats traveled along the
river and waited for a visit from his granddaughter, Mika, who stopped by
almost every day.

That morning, one
boat in particular caught his eye. A speedboat, long and sleek with a wide red
stripe down its side and two massive engines. It was idle then, adrift with the
tide as his mind drifted, too. There was a time when, like the speedboat, he
had all the power necessary to cruise up and down the river. His influence and
intimidation made things happen. He longed for those days, his memories were
vivid and his mind was still sharp. But his body was unwilling and his cause
had diminished. His brand of communism died with President Tito.

A knock on the
door brought him back to that day.

“Mika, you’re
early” He opened the door and backed up immediately.

A young man with a
gun entered the apartment. “Are you Sava Kosonavic?”

“Who are you? What
do you want? I don’t have any money.”

“I don’t want
money. I want answers.”

“Answers? About
what?”

“Teleforce.”

Sava invited the
young man in and closed the door. “I thought you were my granddaughter.” He
offered the young man a seat. “You can see the Danube from this one.” He
pointed to his chair by the window.

The young man sat,
his gun still aimed at the old man.

“How do you know
about Teleforce?” Sava asked.

“That’s not
important. 22 scientists are dead and I want to know why.”

Sava pulled up a
chair and placed it near the window. “Do you mind? I like to watch the boats.”

The young man
didn’t respond.

Sava faced the window,
his back to the young man’s gun. “I’m an old man. I don’t know anything about
any dead scientists.”

“You know about
Teleforce.”

“Teleforce is a
myth. Science fiction.”

“Don’t insult my
intelligence old man, my father was one of those scientists.”

“Your father?”

“Alexander
Gaeshenko.”

“Never heard of
him.”

“He developed
radio communication systems.”

“I said I don’t
know him.”

The young man rose
from his chair and pressed the gun into Sava’s back. “That’s funny old man,
especially since you helped us defect from Russia.”

Sava didn’t turn
around. He continued to stare out the window at the speedboat. “You should pull
the trigger, Alex. I can’t help you.”

“You know who I
am?”

“You were a small
boy the last time I saw you.” There was another knock on the door.

“That’s my
granddaughter, Mika. Would you let her in?”

Alex put the gun in
his coat pocket and opened the door. Mika was stunning, tall, blonde, and
athletic.

“Who are you? Is
my Desa okay?”

There was a loud
thud and Alex fell to the floor.

“I’m fine, Mika. Help
me get him to the sofa.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, just
unconscious.”

“Who is he? Why
did you hit him?”

“It’s a long story.”
Sava retrieved the pistol from Alex’s coat.

“Desa, did he hurt
you?”

“No, Mika, I’m
fine. Help me tie his hands and feet.” Sava grabbed the lamp he had hit Alex
with and yanked the cord from its base. With the intruder bound, he sat down in
his chair by the window.

“Should we call
the police?”

“The police would
never come to this apartment. They prefer me dead.”

“Well, I prefer
you alive. Why don’t you stay with me for a few days?”

“Thank you, Mika,
but my guest and I have much to talk about when he awakens.”

“If you wanted to
talk to him, why did you knock him unconscious?”

“He held the gun,
and I prefer to hold the gun.”

“Maybe I should
miss work today and stay with you.”

“No, Mika, I’ll be
fine, go to work.”

“Okay, but I’ll
stop by on my way home.”

The river bustled
with activity, although the speedboat still hadn’t moved. Sava figured it
belonged to drug-runners still asleep after a wild night, oblivious to the
world around them, as was the uninvited guest on his sofa. Sava had already
gone through his pockets in search of another weapon, and through his billfold.
Alexander Gaeshenko, Jr. had American credentials. A New York driver’s license
with his picture issued to Alex Gaye. An American Social Security card and a
Voter’s Registration. The voter’s registration didn’t surprise Sava. Alex was
probably an idealist like his father. Alexander Gaeshenko and his two children
defected from Soviet Russia with dreams of American democracy and the
unalienable rights they would receive, among them the right to vote. His wife
stayed behind.

The sun hung high
above the river, but still no movement from the speedboat. There was movement, however,
from his guest on the sofa. Movement accompanied by grunts and moans. Sava went
into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Alex was awake.

“Great, you’re
awake. Let me give you some aspirin to help with that headache.” Sava struggled
with the childproof cap.

“I don’t need
aspirin, I need answers.”

Sava helped Alex
upright, pushed three aspirin into his mouth, and placed the glass of water up
to his lips.

Alex hesitated
then took a drink, he immediately spit out the water and the aspirin.

“I’m sorry the
water in Belgrade tastes terrible, but I refuse to buy those bottles of water. One
day the earth will be covered with empty water bottles.”

“It’s okay, I
don’t need aspirin.”

Sava left the open
bottle of aspirin on the coffee table and went into the kitchen. He returned
with a glass of red wine. “This will make it easier.” He pushed the aspirin
into Alex’s mouth and placed the glass of wine to his lips.

Alex drank the
wine without hesitation. “That’s much better.”

“Glad you like it.
Merlot. From France.”

“So, what are your
plans? If you were going to kill me you would have done so by now.”

“Why would I kill
you, Alex?”

“Because, I’m
gonna kill you, that’s why.”

“That may be true,
but not today. I’m too valuable, you need me or you wouldn’t have come all this
way from America.”

“If you don’t
think I’ll kill you, then why tie me up?”

“That was a show
for my granddaughter, so she would go to work and not worry.”

“That was some
show; I should kill you just for the bump on my head.”

“Sorry about that,
but it was necessary. Don’t worry you’ll have a chance to return the favor when
you realize that I really can’t help you, that I don’t have the answers you
seek, and that I’m not that valuable after all---I never was. Only then will
you kill me. Please remind me to thank you in advance.”

***

Alex had no idea
what was on his plate and he didn’t care. He was hungry and it tasted good. Besides,
whatever it was went well with the wine. Unbound, he drank without any help,
the red marks from the chord still visible on his wrists.

“Would you like some
more Musaka?”

Alex offered his
glass for a refill.

Sava laughed. “Musaka
is what’s on your plate, not in your glass.”

Alex set the glass
down. “Either way, I’d love some more.” He handed Sava his plate. “What’s in
Musaka?”

Sava answered from
the kitchen. “Beef, eggs, and potatoes mostly. Mika made it---she comes over on
Saturday and makes all my meals for the week. All I do is put them in the
oven.” Sava returned with a plate of food and the already opened bottle of
wine.

“Well, she sure
can cook. Is she married?”

Sava didn’t
answer.

“How old is she?”

“Do not concern
yourself with my granddaughter, she has been through enough.”

Alex put down his
fork. He wanted to ask what she’d been through, but realized that he was better
off without that information. The last thing he needed was to get involved with
a woman. He couldn’t afford the distraction. He had his mission. Still, she was
beautiful, intriguing, and judging from the Musaka, a wonderful cook, too.

Sava poured the
last of the wine into Alex’s glass. “So, have you thought it all the way
through?”

“Thought what all
the way through?”

“Your plan.”

“What do you know
of my plan?”

“It’s obvious,
isn’t it? You’re out to avenge your father’s death.”

“You figured me
out old man. I can’t hide anything from you.” Alex chugged the last of his
wine. “Thanks for lunch.” He placed his napkin on his plate and rose from his
seat.

“That’s it. You’re
giving up already?”

“What else can I
do?”

“At least stay for
dinner. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

“Oh, what is it, now
we’re friends?”

“Your father was
my friend.”

“Yeah, well my
father is dead.”

“Mika will be back
soon.”

Alex sat back down.
“So, friend, what do you want to talk about?”

“There is much to
talk about, but I must warn you, you won’t find the answers you seek. You will
leave Belgrade angry and full of disgust.”

“I’ll take my
chances.”

Sava suggested
they move over to the sofa. “Okay, ask your questions.”

Alex hesitated; he
didn’t know where to begin. The reason for his father’s suicide had eluded him
for years. He’d badgered the British Government for answers, begged journalists
to uncover the truth, hired countless private investigators to find the facts,
and even paid thousands to a former CIA agent for top-secret intelligence that
he never received. So, why did he think the old man sitting next to him had any
answers?

Because Sava Kosonavic
was the last person to see Nikola Tesla alive, which gave him unfettered access
to Tesla’s notes and papers before the United States Government seized them. “What
was your uncle like?” Alex finally asked.

“He was a great
man, odd, but great. You have to understand he had already experienced Dementia
when I arrived in America.”

“Yes, but some of
his most brilliant concepts originated during that period.”

“True, but some
were so outrageous it made it hard to distinguish the prudent ones.”

“Can you give me
an example?”

“Sure. Hypersensitive
Vacuum Tubes could be used to detect the presence of ghosts.”

“Okay, a moment of
folly.”

“The man had
conversations with Pigeons.”

“He was
eccentric.”

“Not eccentric, crazy.
He spoke to Martians!”

“That’s not crazy,
I’ve done that. Although, I’ve listened more than I spoke. ”

***

Mika returned
early that afternoon with a bag of groceries under each arm. Her grandfather
and Alex were still on the sofa when she tapped on the front door with her high
heel.

“Alex, would you
open the door for Mika.”

“Oh, no, I’m not
falling for that again.”

Sava opened the
door and stumbled trying to help her with the grocery bags. “Mika what is all
this? It’s not Saturday.”

“I know, I just
thought I’d cook dinner for you and your friend.”

Alex looked over
at Sava and smiled, he introduced himself to Mika. “Hi, I’m Alex, I think we’ve
met once before, but I really can’t remember. I’ll try to stay conscious this
time.”

Mika smiled and
shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Alex.”

“Same here, I’m
sure.” Alex watched her walk into the kitchen. He grabbed the bag of groceries
from Sava and dashed into the kitchen. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“It’s a surprise,
besides, you wouldn’t know it if I told you. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Alex gazed into
her eyes. “I trust you already.”

“Good, then get
out of the kitchen.”

Back in the living
room, Sava looked out the window. “Why won’t it move?” He muttered.

“Why won’t what
move?” Alex asked.

“That speedboat, it
has the power to go anywhere, yet it just sits there all day.”

“Maybe they like
it here, I know I do.” It was hard to miss the sarcasm in his voice.

“To have all that
power and not use it is a waste. Believe me, I know.”

Alex changed the
subject. “So, are you gonna tell me about Teleforce before or after dinner.”

“We mustn’t talk
about this in front of Mika.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, she
has been through a lot.”

“Yes, but what
does Teleforce have to do with---

“Teleforce,
Teleforce, Teleforce---that’s all you talk about. Forget Teleforce---that’s not
what you should be concerned with.”

“Desa, are you two
okay out there?”

“We’re fine Mika.”

“Dinner will be
ready soon.”

Alex lowered his
voice. “What should I be concerned with?”

“Not Teleforce.”

“Then what.”

“I can’t tell
you.”

“Listen old man, I
know you have my gun, but I’ll kill you with my bare hands, right here in front
of your granddaughter.”

“Alex, let it
go---it will kill you just like it killed your father.”