Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (15 page)

“Who wants me?” Turbo’s
voice cracked. For the first time since this all started, he was scared. “Who
are these men, and if they want me so bad, why did they take you?”

“I’m not sure, I
think they’re with the NSA---National Security Agency---either that or Homeland
Security. They didn’t show me their badges.”

“But why did they
beat you?” Carrie held her hand up to her mouth as if she already knew
Phillip’s answer would shock her.

“Because that’s
what they do, Carrie.” Phillip raised his voice. “They ask you questions that
you can’t possibly answer and then they beat the shit out of you.”

Carrie moved her
hand away from her mouth. She didn’t ask another question.

Turbo did. “What
kind of questions? What couldn’t you answer?”

“Stupid shit like
which division are you with?”

“Division?”

“That’s what I
said. They thought I was C.I.A. at first. Of course, I denied it. That made
them mad as hell.”

Carrie cringed,
but still didn’t say anything.

“Once my lungs filled
back up with air, they asked if I was F.B.I. Of course, I denied that, too. They
beat me again. This went on for a while.

“K.G.B.?”

“No.”

Right cross to the
jaw.

“A.I.A.?”

“No.”

Double kidney
punch.

“Army Intelligence?”

“No.”

Upper cut to the
jaw.

“Once they put me
back onto the chair, they continued with a slew of other agencies. N.R.O.? N.G.A.?
D.I.A.? I had never heard of them. Finally, they asked, D.E.A.? At least I had
heard of that one. But they never mentioned the N.S.A. or Homeland Security.”

“That’s who you
think they were?” Turbo asked.

“Maybe, who
knows?”

Carrie finally
asked a question. “How did you get them to stop?”

“Well, after they
had gone through all the government agencies they started asking about private
groups like the Mafia. Of course, I denied those, too. I didn’t say anything,
however, when they asked about the Black Panthers. They stopped beating me
after that.”

“They think you’re
a Black Panther?” Turbo couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know. I
only know they stopped beating me for a while.”

“What happened
next?” Carrie sat up in her chair.

“They asked more
stupid questions.”

“Like what?” Turbo
grew impatient. “Get to the part about me.”

“Well, they were
asking all sorts of questions about Tesla and my grandfather.”

“How did they know
about your grandfather?” Carrie asked.

“I don’t know. That
stuff was in our attic for forty years and nobody cared. Now, all of a sudden
everyone wants to know about my grandfather.”

Turbo agreed. “That
is kind of odd.”

Carrie jumped up
from her seat. “It pinged, that’s why.”

“What?” Turbo and
Phillip spoke in unison.

“The file pinged, don’t
you remember, at the strip club. Rudy said your grandfather’s file pinged.”

“That’s right.” Phillips
eyes opened wide.

“Ping. Schming.” Turbo
was lost. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Carrie told him
what happened the night they met Rudy at the strip club. “That was the same
night we met you.”

Turbo drifted off
for a second. He thought about Maria, the last time they’d made love, and how
he left her bed to go sift through garbage. Would he do it again? Probably. Still,
he missed her tremendously, although he hadn’t realized it until then.

“Turbo. Turbo.” Carrie
nudged him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Go
on, Phillip.”

“Well, there’s not
much more to tell. They asked me how my grandfather knew Tesla, and I told him
that he worked at the New Yorker. Then they asked me if Tesla had ever given my
grandfather anything to hold or keep safe for him.”

Carrie gasped for
air.

“Don’t worry,
Carrie. I didn’t tell them about the papers. But, when I told them that my
grandfather didn’t have anything of Tesla’s, they started beating me again. They
wouldn’t stop.”

A tear fell from
Carrie’s eye.

Phillip continued.
“The questions that followed were bizarre. They asked about my grandmother,
about her jewelry. Did she have any gold jewelry? Any necklaces or medallions? They
even asked if she had any gold fillings in her mouth.

“Each time I said
no, they hit me harder. The questions continued. Did my grandfather have any
medals or medallions, any trophies? No. No. No. I kept saying no.

“I fell off the
chair several times, but they just put me back on and kept punching away at my
face. Somehow, I found the strength to raise my hand in front of my face and
they finally stopped hitting me.”

Carrie gasped. “Oh,
thank God.”

Turbo still didn’t
know where he fit into the picture. He waited, although impatient.

“It took me a few
minutes to catch my breath. But I mustered up enough air to ask them what they
were looking for. I guess they were tired of hitting me, because they actually
told me.”

“They did?” Carrie
was astonished.

“Well, what is
it?” Turbo couldn’t wait any longer.

“Believe it or not,
they’re looking for Tesla’s Edison Medal.”

“Edison Medal?” Carrie
asked. “But I thought Tesla didn’t like Edison.”

“He didn’t.” Turbo
added. “And I don’t either.”

“That may be
true,” Phillip explained, “but he accepted the solid gold Edison Medal in
1916---

“Yeah, I know all
about it. The FBI stole it from my uncle’s safe after he died. My cousin Sava
tried for years to get it back.”

“Well the men who
beat me up believe someone else has the medal. According to them, it’s worth
millions of dollars on the black market. They thought Tesla might have given it
to my grandfather, until I assured them that wasn’t the case.”

“And they believed
you?” Turbo was shocked. “Just like that they let you go?”

“Well, not
exactly.” Phillip went over to the far side of the room.

“What do you mean,
not exactly, why’d they let you go?”

“Because.”

“Phillip you’re
confusing me, because why?”

“Because, I told
them you have the medal.”

Turbo left
Carrie’s apartment in a hurry. She chased after him, but he was already in the
Lexus by the time she caught up with him. She called out for him to stop,
waving her arms in the air. He sped away and didn’t look back.

He thought about
staying at his vacant house for the night, but thought better of it. The
address was in the phone book. He knew he couldn’t stay at the shop, they
definitely knew where it was. And he thought about staying with Cosmo, but
there was still some mistrust there. His apartment was probably the safest
place, hopefully Phillip didn’t tell them about it.

He parked Cosmo’s
car one block over and hurried through a dark alley to the apartment. Once
inside, he double locked the door, didn’t turn on any lights, and went to bed. Unfortunately,
like many other nights in that bed, sleep didn’t join him.

The next day,
Turbo arrived at the shop late. Much to his surprise, the neon sign was on, and
Cosmo had even tidied up the place.

“Are you feeling
okay?” Turbo walked over and handed him the Lexus fob.

“Yes, I feel
good.” Cosmo noticed Turbo’s bloodshot eyes. “But you don’t look so good.”

“I didn’t get much
sleep last night.”

“It’s okay; go
take a nap on the couch. I’ll watch the shop.”

Turbo had a
horrible thought. Maybe Cosmo was selling drugs and doing drugs. “You’re awful
chipper this morning.”

“Hey, why not be
happy, you should really splash your face with cold water or something. Just to
bring the color back.”

“Quit worrying
about how I look. We probably won’t have any customers today.”

A customer entered
the shop. Although, Turbo knew at once that he wasn’t a real customer. His customers
didn’t wear nice suits like that. Or alligator shoes, still he was thankful the
man wasn’t wearing sneakers. And his customers didn’t carry leather briefcases,
either.

Cosmo tried
pushing down the cowlick in Turbo’s hair with his hand. Turbo pushed him away
and greeted the customer. “Did you need some help?”

“Yes. Are you
William Trbojevic?”

“Wow, you’ve been
practicing. Nobody gets it right the first time. Please, call me Turbo.”

“Well thank you,
Mr. Trbojevic. My name is Arthur Jansen, and I’m an attorney with Dumbowski,
Jansen, Turner, Stut, and Bumgardner.”

“Oh, an attorney, Cosmo,
he’s an attorney, pleased to meet you Mr. Jansen. What can I do for you?”

“Well, Mr.
Trbojevic, I’m glad you asked that. You see, I represent a client who would like
to purchase this property.”

Turbo wasn’t sure
he had heard him correctly. “This property?”

“Yes, your shop. My
client will pay two-hundred-thousand-dollars. I believe that is more than twice
the assessed value.”

“Yeah, at least, but
why would they want to pay that much for this piece of shit building.”

“Unfortunately,
Mr. Trbojevic, I am not privy to their reasoning, I am merely the messenger.”

“Wow! Cosmo what
do you think?”

Cosmo was eager to
enter the conversation. “You should take it, what are you crazy, you’ll never
get an offer like that again.”

“Yeah, you’re
probably right. But who would want to buy a building in this neighborhood, who
did you say your client was?”

“I didn’t, Mr.
Trbojevic. I am not at liberty to say.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, but my
client must remain anonymous.”

“You can’t tell me
who he is?”

“No. I’m sorry I
cannot. However, it’s a very generous offer.”

Turbo put his
finger up to his temple. He didn’t know what to make of all this and he didn’t really
need the distraction right then. He had much more important things on his mind.
Besides, how could he sell the building his father had worked so hard to
purchase?”

“Turbo, it’s a
no-brainer.” Cosmo chimed in. “Two-hundred-thousand-dollars, you can move to
Florida and be with Maria and the kids.”

Cosmo was right,
it was a no-brainer, and Turbo knew he should take the money. Still, in the
back of his mind he believed he would make ten times that if the formula for
Tesla Water worked. But what if it didn’t? Could he take that chance? He needed
some time to think. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Jansen. I’ll take your offer, just
as soon as your client presents it to me in person. Have a good day.”

Turbo went into
the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. When he came out, he saw
Cosmo outside talking to the attorney. Turbo confronted him. “Cosmo, what the
hell are you doing talking to that buffoon?”

“Nothing, I was
saying goodbye.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I was
talking to him, big deal.”

“What are you on
his side?”

“No, I’m not on
his side, but you should take the deal. It’s a lot of money.”

“That’s exactly
why I didn’t take it, something’s fishy. It stinks to high heaven.”

“Oh, I forgot,
it’s another conspiracy. You’re a fucking moron.”

Turbo started to
say something, but didn’t.

Cosmo kept the insults
coming. “You’re too stupid to know a good deal when you see it. You’d rather
sit in this hellhole and wait for somebody to buy a fucking fuse than be with
your wife and children.”

“You know that’s
not true.” Cosmo’s remark hit Turbo hard. “You know that’s not true, you should
take it back.”

“Fine, I take it
back. It’s just you make me crazy. What are we gonna do when were the only
business left on the entire block?”

“What do you
mean?”

“That attorney
told me they already bought the shoe store and they’re negotiating with the
deli right now. What do we do then?”

“I guess we’ll
have to start brown-bagging it.”

Cosmo left the
shop in a tiff. Soon after he was gone, Agents Lawson and Arnold came in. Turbo
jumped at the sight of more men in suits, but relaxed when he realized who they
were.

“It’s been a rough
day already, what the hell do you two want?”

“William
Trbojevic, you’re under arrest for the murder of Marco Fagan. Turn around and
put your hands behind your back.”

In January 1943, Doctor
John G. Trump’s day job was Assistant Professor at the Massachusetts Institute
of Technology. He moonlighted as a technical aide for the Office of Scientific
Research and Development, a division of the O.S.S.

Doctor Trump was the
main government official who examined Nikola Tesla’s secret papers after his
death. The papers from his safe, along with two truckloads of papers and apparatus
stored for years in the basement of the New Yorker Hotel. He also participated
in the examination of 75 packing crates and trunks in storage at the Manhattan
Warehouse and Storage Company.

Trump reported
afterwards that no examination was made of the papers taken from the hotel’s
basement or the storage facility. The only papers examined were those in
Tesla’s immediate possession at the time of his death. Trump concluded in his
report that there was nothing that would constitute a hazard in unfriendly
hands.

Doctor John G.
Trump went on to an illustrious career at M.I.T. Although, some would argue
that much of his work incorporated Tesla's ideas. Tesla had written extensively
on many subjects and his views were widely known in the scientific community. In
1938, he had written a non-flattering critique of Doctor Trump’s work on
M.I.T.'s huge Van de Graaff generator. The generator was comprised of two
thirty-foot towers and two fifteen-foot diameter balls mounted on railroad
tracks. Tesla showed how the generator could be out-performed, in both voltage
and current, by one of his tiny, two-foot-tall, Tesla Coils.

Doctor John G.
Trump died in 1985. No government agency seized any of his belongings, which
was exactly why Doctor Armaly was in Boston.

From his room on
the third floor of The Liberty Hotel he could see the campus. Doctor Armaly sat
on the bed fingering the week’s worth of stubble on his face. He hadn’t grown a
beard in years, not since the months after his wife died. He didn’t remember
how itchy it could be. He sat on the bed awaiting the arrival of his dinner.

The room was
silent, well insulated. The television could change that, but the doctor
decided against noise for the sake of noise. The vibrating cell phone dancing
across the desk would have to do.

He opened the phone,
but waited for the person on the other end to speak first.

“Yes, I’m here . .
. the flight was good . . . oh really . . . did they buy it . . . are you sure
. . . good then, goodbye.”

Doctor Armaly
tossed the phone onto the bed. The silence returned, but only for a moment.

Knock, Knock,
Knock. “
Room service.”

The following
morning, his taxi stopped in front of the Department of Electrical Engineering
and Computer Sciences on Massachusetts Avenue. Doctor Armaly gave the driver a
ten-dollar-bill for a four-dollar fare. “Keep it.”

The driver was
thankful.

Inside the EECS building,
he walked over to the reception desk. The receptionist, an older woman with
grayish-blue hair, wore much younger makeup. The name on her badge was much
younger, also. Doctor Armaly did not believe her to be Ashley.

“Hello, Miss
Ashley.” The doctor smiled a devilish grin. One that might indicate he was on
to her.

“Sir, may I help
you?”

“Yes, Ashley, you
may help me.” Again, the devilish grin.

“Listen, here
bucko, you keep looking at me like that and I’ll call security. And stop
calling me Ashley. My name is Eleanor; I forgot my name badge at home. Ashley
works the evening shift. Keeps her badge in the drawer so she won’t forget it. Smart
girl.”

“Eleanor, what a
lovely name.”

“Thank you.”

“Somehow I knew
your name wasn’t Ashley. You don’t look anything like an Ashley. Eleanor,
however, fits you well, so elegant, even regal.”

“Mister, I don’t
know what you want, but I don’t have keys to any of the labs.”

“No, Eleanor, my
dear, I would never ask such a thing. I do need directions to Doctor Trump’s
office.”

“Doctor Trump? Why
he’s been dead for years.”

“Oh, no, Eleanor. Not
that Doctor Trump, John G. Trump Jr.”

“Oh, his son?”

“Yes, his son.”

“Then why are you
in this building?”

“He’s a professor here,
isn’t he?”

“Oh, sure he is,
but not in this building. He’s one building over in ChemE.”

Doctor Armaly was
befuddled. “ChemE?”

“Yeah, Chemical
Engineering, that’s usually where the chemical engineers hang out.”

Doctor Armaly
thanked Eleanor for the information.

Befuddled, he
turned to leave. He knew Doctor Trump’s son was a professor at M.I.T., he
automatically assumed Electrical Engineering, same as his father. He would’ve
never guessed Chemical Engineering. He turned back to Eleanor. “Did you work
here when Doctor Trump was alive?”

“He had just
retired a few months before I started, but he still worked some as a
consultant, came in all the time.”

“What was he
like?”

“He was an ornery
old goat?”

“Is that so?”

***

The ChemE Building
was a few hundred yards north on Massachusetts Avenue. The receptionist was
young, dark hair and no makeup as far as Doctor Armaly could tell. Her name
badge was missing.

“Hello, Mister.” She
said.

Doctor Armaly
paused for a second, expecting her to say more. She didn’t. After a few seconds
of awkward silence, he spoke. “Hello, I’m looking for Doctor Trump’s office.”

The young woman
picked up a clipboard. “Your name please.”

“My name isn’t on
there.”

“You don’t have an
appointment?”

“No, I’m sorry, I
don’t.”

“Doctor Trump
doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”

A young man
stumbled into the lobby carrying a load of books. “Hey Missy.” He said as he
walked by the front desk and dropped the books on a nearby table. He made an
awful racket.

Missy. Doctor
Armaly felt better now that he knew her name. “Missy, I know I don’t have an
appointment, but Doctor Trump is an old friend. I have come a long way to
surprise him.”

“Let me call up to
his office.”

“Missy, you’ll
ruin the surprise.”

“Well, at least
show me some identification, that way I can tell the police who you are, if there’s
a problem.”

“That’s a smart
idea.” He reluctantly turned over his driver’s license.

The receptionist
read his name aloud. “Doctor Michael Armaly, wow, do you really live in The
Bahamas?”

The young man had
just organized the books in his arms making them easier to carry. Upon hearing
the doctor’s name, he let them fall to the floor.

“Millard, are you
okay?” Missy went over to help pick up the books.

Millard walked
over to Doctor Armaly. “You’re Doctor Armaly? The Astrophysicist?”

“You’ve heard of
me?”

“Of course, Star
Wars wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for you.”

Missy got up from
the floor. “You were in Star Wars? I knew you looked familiar, you’re Obi Wan
Ketobi, right?”

“That’s Obi Wan
Kenobi, Missy,” Millard played along.

“My father loves
that movie. I have to get your autograph.” She fumbled for a pen and paper.

“Missy, I’m gonna
take Obi Wan to see Professor Trump, he’ll give you an autograph on his way
out, okay?”

They were out of
the lobby before she knew it.

“Thanks Milton”

“It’s Millard”

“Sorry, thanks
Millard.”

“Don’t mention it
Doc. It was my pleasure. I can’t believe it’s you. You do know a lot of people
think you’re dead, right?”

“Yes, I prefer it
that way.”

“Cool. Doctor
Trump’s office is at the end of the hall. So, you two are old friends?”

“Not exactly.” The
doctor felt bad about lying to a young man who obviously looked up to him. “Actually,
I’ve never met him.”

“Well, I’m sure
he’ll be happy to meet you.”

“What makes you
think so?”

“Because, you’re a
legend, like I said earlier, Star Wars wouldn’t exist without you.”

“Millard, I don’t
know how to tell you this, but Star Wars doesn’t exist. The government scrapped
the program after Reagan died.”

“Oh, yeah, I know
all that. I know the government’s official stance regarding the Strategic Defense
Initiative. I also know it wouldn’t exist without you.” Millard winked. “This
is Doctor Trump’s office.”

He knocked on the
door.