Shattered Sky (30 page)

Dillon chuckled at the thought. “If you saw me in the graveyard, then you should know I'm not a man of steel.”

“There are substances more useful than steel.”

Useful
, thought Dillon. Yes, for a man like Tessic everything had to have utility. There would always be something for him. “So what do you want from me?”

Tessic pondered the question, but didn't respond quite yet. “Come, I'll give you the grand tour.” They strode back into the grove, taking a different flagstone path that led to an artificial stream. Hidden speakers pumped the sounds of birds and other wildlife into the air, adding to the illusion. By the time they reached the steam, there was no telling they were on the roof of a skyscraper.

“Until a few years ago,” Tessic said, “I was arrogant enough to think I was the greatest man of our time. Then you appeared on the scene.”

“Jealous, Elon?”

Tessic shook his head. “No. Envy never brings a man true success. Certainly there are men like Bussard in the world, who are threatened by anything more powerful than themselves. But I am not Bussard. To me you are not a threat. You are . . . an opportunity.”

The path wound them back to the garden where the two lounge chairs sat. But this time, Dillon saw the vine-covered wall behind it, and the opening that led to an elevator. “Opportunity for what?”

Tessic paused, picking up his bowl of fruit, popping a few grapes. “I have so much money, I can't find enough things to do with it—and the curse of wealth can be as potent as its blessing. You see, when money ceases to be an issue, a man can either become a slave to his passions, or buy his freedom from them, seeking more worthy objectives.”

“Meaning?”

Tessic patted Dillon on the cheek, and offered up a wry smile. “Simply put, Dillon, I am helping you because you're good for my soul.”

Dillon glanced at the oasis around him. There was something tempting about it, and somehow that made it feel dangerous.

Sensing Dillon's reluctance, Tessic reached over and twisted a twig from the tree beside him. “This has always been a symbol for hope and peace,” he said. “I hope you'll accept my olive branch.”

When Dillon didn't take it, Tessic placed it on a boulder beside them, and turned the key that opened the elevator doors.

T
HE MULTI-STORY PENTHOUSE WAS
part office and spa, part museum, and part spiritual sanctuary. “Not exactly Hearst
Castle,” Tessic commented. “I like to think my tastes are not so garish.”

Perhaps not, but every last amenity seethed excess, from a reading room that featured a priceless collection of medieval Jewish artifacts, to a four-story indoor rock-climbing wall, which towered above Tessic's personal gym. Maddy clung to the top of the wall, focused on her climb; “entertaining herself,” as Tessic had said. Dillon chose not to disturb her.

The sixty-second floor, the lowest floor of the penthouse complex, was set aside for what Tessic called his “professional hobbies.” It housed his private office; an uncharacteristically modest space, with some shelves and a simple cherrywood desk, within a larger gallery of high-tech toys. Some projects were complete, others still works-in-progress. In one corner sat an elaborate model train that ran on magnetic levitation. Nearby was a drafting table overflowing with schematics for a large-scale version, that Tessic was clearly drafting by his own hand.

“The stuff of dreams,” Tessic told him. “Or at least my dreams.”

There was a workbench full of computer viscera, reminding Dillon of the hands-on inventiveness that was Tessic's calling card, even before he became known for his business acumen. It was comforting to see that the man was still elbow-deep in nuts and bolts.

“Let me show you my latest interest.” Tessic led Dillon to a Lucite-covered display case that held a matchbox city. Row after row of three-inch high-rise apartment buildings.

“Another dream?” asked Dillon.

“Reality,” Tessic answered. “We're already on the third phase.”

“I didn't know you were a developer.” Dillon's eyes blurred
as he looked at the three-dimensional grid of towers. “There's got to be a hundred buildings here.”

“A hundred and twelve. The largest single housing complex ever conceived—and it's just one of several I have planned.”

Dillon moved around the box, to view it from another angle.

“It interests you,” observed Tessic.

“I'm just a little stunned. I mean, it must cost billions. No matter how rich you are, I can't believe you can afford this.”

“I have no one to leave my money to. So I intend to exit this world penniless.”

“This is a good start.”

“Besides, money's not quite the same over there.”

“Over where?”

Tessic drew Dillon's attention to a map on the wall, pinned up between artists renderings of one of the buildings. “I have purchased several large plots of land in Belarus and Poland. The labor's cheap, and so are the raw materials. Some leverage with a few friendly European banks, and my out-of-pocket expense is under fifteen million.”

“Oh, is that all,” Dillon scoffed.

“Of course they're not the most beautiful of structures, but form follows function. The goal is to get them up quickly. We can always beautify them later.”

“What's the rush?”

“I'm nothing if not efficient,” Tessic answered, then added, “And besides, as you're the author of world chaos, you should know how little constructive time is left.”

Dillon shifted uncomfortably. Tessic was prodding him, gauging his reaction. “I may be responsible for what's happening in the world,” Dillon said, “but I won't take credit as its author. I never intended it.”

“You have plans to repair it, then?”

Dillon found he couldn't look Tessic in the eye.

“Hopes, then,” Tessic prompted. “Hopes in search of a plan.”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Perhaps I can help you there,” offered Tessic. “Strategy is one of my specialties.” Tessic exuded confidence like a musk, and Dillon found himself half believing Tessic really could help. He wondered whether or not it was just wishful thinking.

Dillon studied the lattice of model buildings, which was more like a starburst than a grid, the buildings radiating outward from an octagonal park in the center. A bold design, like the man who conceived it. “So, are these housing complexes part of some strategy?” Dillon asked. “These people obviously can't afford this type of housing, unless you give it away. What could you possibly get in return?”

Tessic paused. “Always with you, I must have some angle.”

Dillon waited, and Tessic looked away. “The great wall of China is the only man-made structure visible from space,” Tessic said. “I intend to add to the tally.”

Dillon nodded, but knew that Elon Tessic was not so shallow a man. He served more than just his ego. “That's a nice cover story. Now tell me the real reason.”

Dillon refused to back down, and, cornered, Tessic sighed. “You read me too well.”

“One of
my
specialties.”

Tessic looked at his miniature city, and gently stroked its Lucite lid, as if it were a lover. “You can call it my
mitzvah
project,” Tessic said quietly. “A holy deed in a faithless world.” Reflexively, Dillon's thoughts ricocheted to Deanna. It irritated him that the mere mention of faith could bring her to haunt
his thoughts. But if nothing else, it helped to sober him.

“We could go there,” Tessic offered. “I could show you the site.”

“Why would I want to go there?”

Tessic had no immediate answer.

Dillon looked around the workship. If this was Tessic's sandbox, Dillon didn't want to play. “I appreciate your hospitality, Elon,” he said. “But I can't accept it. I'll be leaving in the morning.”

Although he thought Tessic might deflate with the news, he showed no signs of it. “That is, of course, your choice to make.”

Dillon nodded. “I'll tell Maddy.” He turned to leave, but Tessic called to him.

“You've always spoken of your desire to pull back your energy field—contain yourself. Do you still believe you'll ever be able to do that?”

“Yes, I do.” Although he was no closer now than he had been in Hesperia.

“Has it occurred to you,” said Tessic, “that perhaps I was brought to you as your means of containment?”

Dillon hadn't considered that. It was a seductive thought, for it implied a grand design, and if there was anything that Dillon longed for, it was grand designs. Perfect patterns. An ordered universe.

“From the moment I was brought in to build your prison,” Tessic said, “I knew that our meeting was
bashert
. Fated. I built you this sanctuary, knowing fate would bring you here.”

Dillon maintained his distance, keeping a buffer zone between himself and Tessic's persuasive intensity. “Fate didn't bring me here;
you
did,” Dillon reminded him. “In a helicopter, backed up by your own personal army.”

“If it wasn't meant to be, I would have failed.”

Dillon laughed. “What? Elon Tessic? Fail?”

Tessic hesitated, becoming quiet. “It has happened more often than you know.”

There was deep sorrow to his words. Dillon found himself trying to decipher the source of the sorrow, and found the path convoluted and clouded. Dillon knew if he pushed himself, he could decode Tessic's complex patterns and truly know the man, but Dillon didn't have the heart to do it. He much preferred Tessic as an enigma.

“Do you know how I became successful, Dillon?” he asked.

Dillon shrugged. “You're a genius. Everyone knows that.”

“Most geniuses starve,” Tessic reminded him. “I succeeded because I took the time to listen. I learned to be still. But you—you spend your time running. Running away, running toward, but always running.”

Tessic paused, perhaps waiting for Dillon to defend himself, but there was no defense. Tessic was right.

“Be still,” Tessic said, his voice soothing and calm. “You are like some beacon that is never in the same place twice. What good is that to anyone? What good is that to you? Imagine yourself, for once at the center of the universe, Dillon, and the shadows you chase, your purpose here—everything you seek will be drawn to you. And in that stillness, when your fate does come to you, you will be ready to seize it.”

O
N THE ROCK-CLIMBING WALL,
Maddy was already seizing what Tessic had to offer. She had earned it. Years of busting her ass to gain admittance to a military machine that stuck her with the likes of Bussard, then created a backspin of lies that turned her into America's Most Wanted. AWOL and disgraced; a fugitive only six months after a high-honor West
Point graduation—yes, she had earned the right to luxuriate in Tessic's penthouse.

As she scaled his magnificent rock-climbing wall, she thought back to easier times; Bryce Canyon, two summers before, when the only challenge in her life was the stone faces of the rocks she climbed, and her stone-faced instructors come fall. This had once been a predictable, rational world she could sink her teeth into.

She reached up, deftly inching her way higher, trying to block out everything but the wall. Tessic called it his climate-controlled Everest. He called the entire penthouse complex his “urban cottage.”

“You'll find it pleasant,” he had told her while their helicopter was still en route. He took pride in his ability to understate.

She didn't know what to expect of the place before she arrived. Somewhere in the back of her mind were images of a pleasure dome replete with large-breasted, iron-thighed amazons running the whole operation. But instead she found, to some disappointment, a staff no more exotic than any other. A plump Midwestern woman ran the penthouse staff, and went on about how the military had stonewalled her husband after Desert Storm, “so I can sympathize, honey.” Maddy wasn't sure how much she knew of their situation, but she knew enough. It could have been a security problem, but the woman's loyalty to Tessic was unwavering. “Elon paid all of Jimmy's medical bills, when the Pentagon SOBs were still denying Desert Storm Syndrome,” she had told Maddy, as she led her to a lavishly appointed bedroom suite.

She was introduced to the gardener, a small Asian man with a nominally effective artificial eye that Tessitech Labs had designed. It appeared that for everyone here, Tessic had
descended upon their particular misery, assuaging it with some well-conceived act of kindness. It was the most effective security measure she had ever seen.

While Dillon still slept off a massive sedative, and before she attempted to climb the wall, Tessic had visited her in her room.

“I wasn't certain of your sleeping arrangements,” he told her, “so I prepared you and Dillon separate rooms.”

“That will be fine,” she said. If he were fishing for the state of her and Dillon's relationship, he would not find out from her. She briefly wondered if he might try to seduce her—after all, he did have a reputation as a playboy, but there was nothing in the penthouse to suggest he was a womanizer. “So, are we your guests, your prisoners, or your experimental subjects?”

Tessic laughed and wagged a finger at her. “Still you only trust me as far as you can throw me.”

“Actually, I can throw you farther.”

“Well, perhaps I will give you that opportunity in the gym later on.”

She hated that he was always so disarming, deflecting her barbs with the facile skill of one of his weapons systems. “Good,” she said, trying hard to hide a smirk. “I think I'd enjoy putting you in traction.”

Tessic opened the blinds, bringing in the afternoon light, and a spectacular view of Houston. “I must confess, I've taken a liking to you, Lieutenant Haas.”