Distant Waves (6 page)

S
eventeen hours later, Mimi and I were in the palatial lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in New York City.

We had taken a ride to Buffalo with Aunty Lily in her new automobile, a crank model of which she was very proud. Mimi misled her to think we were going with Mother's blessing. Mother was in the midst of another heartfelt letter to W. T. Stead and paid no notice of anything else when she was involved in this correspondence. We wrote her a hasty note that we left on the front porch table, assuring her we'd be fine.

We'd slept for the whole trip down, so we weren't feeling too tired when we arrived. Even if we had stayed awake the entire time, we were so high-strung with excitement we'd have barely noticed the fatigue.

We encamped on two of the velvet-upholstered chairs in the Waldorf-Astoria's lobby. We had decided that Tesla had to come down at some point to eat; we would connect with him when he did.

I didn't exactly mind waiting there, fascinated as I 
was by this grand hotel. The lobby couches and square chairs were exquisitely rich and vibrant in color, their walnut-wood arms and backs gleaming with high polish set off by their gold details. The elaborate wooden moldings on the ceiling were illuminated by the glowing white globes of chandeliers set in a long row. A mixture of cinnamon and rose petal fragrances infused every inch of the lobby.

An hour passed quickly as Mimi and I goggled at the parade of high-fashion guests who passed by, dressed in the latest styles. Not far off, the desk manager started stealing suspicious glances in our direction. My stomach growled. We'd eaten cheese sandwiches on the train, but it was getting close to lunchtime. "I don't think they'd let us eat here, but maybe I could sneak a snack in," Mimi proposed. "You watch for Tesla. I'll go see what I can find."

I was once again observing the dazzlingly rich saunter through and marking each face to make sure Tesla didn't slip past unnoticed when a young man rushed by. I guessed him to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties. He caught my attention because ... well, to be absolutely honest, it was because he was so good-looking. He had short, sort of tousled, light brown hair and a slim, athletic build. His pants were gray and his summer jacket was light blue. Although he was neat, his attire did not bespeak the kind of wealth that typified the place.

He hurried to the front desk, and his words put me on full alert. "Could you tell Mr. Tesla that Thad is on his way up?" he requested.

Instantly, I was on my feet, frantically wondering what Sherlock Holmes would do at such a moment as this.

Follow him! Of course.

It was difficult to hang back inconspicuously, as Holmes would have done, since Thad was heading for one of the elevators. If I let him get on and go up without me, I'd have conducted the briefest tail in the history of all detective work. So I picked up my pace and scooted into the car alongside him, just as the white-gloved elevator operator closed the gated door.

"Floor?" the operator inquired, looking first to me.

My mind raced. I had no idea what to reply. Then it came to me. "Top floor, please," I said, trying to sound confident. If I went all the way to the top, I could claim to have changed my mind and jump off when Thad got out.

The operator nodded and looked to Thad. "Mr. Tesla's room?" he inquired.

"Yes, thank you, Charles," Thad replied.

As we began to move, I turned my attention to Thad. I gazed up at a set of vivid blue eyes, beneath a forehead that bore a faded white scar, which I felt gave just the right note of character to a face that might have been too blandly handsome otherwise.

He nodded and smiled slightly. "Hello."

"Hello," I said, relieved that he had spoken first since it wouldn't have been seemly for me to have started speaking to him.

A moment of silence passed between us during which I felt consumed with panic and had not a clue as to what to do next.
Do what Holmes would do; observe something,
I thought. "That looks heavy. What's in your package?" I asked, noticing that he clutched to his chest a parcel wrapped in brown paper.

He laughed lightly. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Let me guess," I ventured. "Will it light all of Manhattan?"

His smile faded into a look of startled suspicion. "No."

"Will it contact alien life on other planets?"

Thad tightened his grip on the parcel, as though fearing I might snatch it away from him. His eyes darted nervously to the lights on the ascending elevator, no doubt checking to see how long it would be until he could escape me. "No," he replied.

"Is it an earthquake machine?" I persisted.

"Charles, forgive me, but I think I'll get out here on the fifth floor," Thad said abruptly.

"As you wish," Charles complied.

The elevator doors slid open and Thad stepped out quickly.

"I've changed my mind, too," I said as the doors closed once more. "Please let me out on the next floor."

Charles hid whatever annoyance he must have felt beneath a mask of polite professionalism. "Very well."

On the sixth floor I hurried out, my eyes darting frantically around the quiet, elegant hallway in search of stairs to take me back down to the fifth floor. If I was fast enough, I could continue to follow Thad, though now that he was onto me, I would have to hang back even more than before. This wouldn't be easy but I was determined to find Tesla.

At the end of the hallway was a stairway and I ran to it. I was only a few steps down when I came face-to-face with Thad, who was running up.

"Who are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Jane Oneida Taylor."

"Mind telling me how you know so much about my parcel?"

Talking fast, I told him everything, starting with that day back in 1898 when we were caught in the Tesla-induced quake and continuing with how I'd avidly followed Tesla's career. I finished up by telling him about the
Sun
contest. "And what better person to write about than someone I've been researching all my life -- so if I could only meet him and get a quick interview ... Do you think you could get me in to see him?"

I don't think Sherlock Holmes would have been impressed with my approach, so completely lacking in subtlety or cleverness. Just the same, Thad was much more relaxed once he heard my story. "An aspiring journalist, huh?" he said, seeming impressed as he leaned against the banister and looked me over. "You sure picked a great guy to write about. Tesla's the smartest guy alive, even brainier than that Einstein, if you ask me."

"Can you get me in to see him?" I pressed.

"Maybe," he said. "Come back here in an hour. I'll meet you."

"Can't you just tell me what room he's in?" I asked.

He shook his head, still studying me as though he hadn't yet decided if I could be trusted. "No. If he says it's all right, I'll come back and take you to him."

He continued on up the steps, and I went with him. He stopped at the top step and faced me. "You can't keep following me," he said.

"Is it wonderful being his assistant?" I asked.

He shrugged. "He's a weird guy. Brilliant. But sort of nuts."

"In what ways?" I asked, a little disturbed at this. He grinned mischievously. "You'll find out." He turned to leave, but I found it hard to let him go. "You never told me what's in the parcel," I reminded him. He glanced at it, then back at me. "You're right. I didn't."

***

In exactly one hour, Mimi and I were standing by the stairs on the sixth floor waiting for Thad. "He's not coming," I fretted.

"He'll be here," Mimi insisted optimistically, but I noticed she was twirling a curl at her neck that had fallen from her thick, upswept hair.

Just when I was despairing of Thad's ever arriving, the elevator door opened and he stepped out. He spied us and, with a quick wave of acknowledgment, headed our way.

"He's handsome, isn't he?" I quickly whispered to Mimi.

With a sly smile she pinched my waist. "Jane's in love." I pinched her back. "No!"

In the next moment Thad was standing in front of us. I introduced Mimi and then asked the burning question: "Will he see us?"

"Yes. I'll bring you to him but you can't say a word until his meeting is over."

At the same time, Mimi and I both put our index fingers over our lips in a gesture of assured silence.

"Come on," Thad said, waving for us to follow him. We went into the elevator and Thad directed the operator -- no longer Charles -- to take us to the private floor. Mimi 
and I exchanged darting, thrilled glances -- the
private
floor!

We got out at the very top of the Waldorf-Astoria. There were many fewer doors -- only about four -- than in the hallways of the lower floors, and the ceiling was easily three times the height. I clutched Mimi's wrist as we followed Thad down to the farthest of the doors. "Is this where Tesla lives?" I whispered to Thad.

Thad shook his head. "It's Astor's guest suite. He uses it for meetings," he answered quietly.

My heart bounced with excitement the moment I spied Tesla sitting at the end of a long dining room table in the spectacularly lavish suite. The two-story-tall windows beside the table framed Tesla in a field of blue sky that made him seem to be sitting in some heavenly realm. After so many years of seeing him frozen in newspaper photos, it hardly seemed possible that he was a real, moving, living person. But there he was.

Tesla was deep in quiet conversation with an elegantly dressed, middle-aged man in a suit. The man's hair and beard were close-cropped. Frameless pince-nez glasses were propped on his straight nose, attached with a black silk cord. "That's George Boldt," Thad whispered to us. "He runs this place for the Astors."

We couldn't hear their low-pitched conversation, but I deduced it wasn't going well from all the head shaking 
going on. After another terse exchange, Tesla rose abruptly and headed straight for us.

My mind went blank. This was the moment I'd waited so many years for... and I hadn't prepared anything to say! What had I been thinking -- or
not
thinking?

I stood there smiling eagerly like an empty-headed fool, but Tesla did not seem to even notice Mimi or me. Instead, he spoke only to Thad. "I am having one of my flashes," he stated in a dull, lifeless voice, not at all the animated man I remembered from so long ago. With that, he returned to the suite.

"What was he talking about?" Mimi asked Thad.

"He gets these flashes, where everything kind of overloads. He feels like he hears smells and sees sounds," Thad explained, keeping one eye on Tesla as he disappeared into one of the bedrooms. "This day has probably been very stressful for him. Astor was supposed to be here to talk to him, but he hasn't shown up yet."

"Will he be all right?" I asked.

Thad nodded. "He'll lie down in one of the guest rooms until the flashes pass. When they're over, most likely he'll have a brilliant idea."

"How long does that usually take?" I asked.

"As long as it takes," Thad said with a shrug.

"Hours, days, months?" I pressed him for some kind of parameter. "Should we return home and come back in two years?"

"He's usually knocked out for two to four hours," Thad estimated, which was a bit more helpful.

Someone rapped on the door and Thad opened it. A somewhat heavyset man in his late thirties with black, slicked-back hair entered. Behind him was a much younger woman, with curly brown hair swept up onto her head. She was slim and beautiful; her dress was a floral crepe de chine adorned with a black lace collar that climbed up her neck all the way to her face. She wore rouge and red lipstick. I guessed she was about twenty-five.

The man strode past us and went directly to Mr. Boldt, who still sat at the table.

"Mr. Guggenheim!" Boldt greeted him in a heavy German accent, surprised to see him.

Guggenheim! It had to be Benjamin Guggenheim, one of the richest men in New York, if not the world. I had seen his picture in many papers. And now here he was, in the same room as me! I was glad Mimi was there, because there was no way Amelie, Emma, or Blythe would have believed it without a witness.

"What's this? I arrive to find my suite is in use," Mr. Guggenheim said. "Aren't I Jack's favorite guest?"

"We weren't expecting you," Mr. Boldt explained.

"Does that make a difference? Jack said I could always count on having this room."

"By Jack does he mean John Jacob Astor?" I whispered to Thad.

"John Jacob Astor
the Fourth,"
Thad replied with a nod. "He owns the place."

"I know," I whispered, remembering the newspaper article I'd read.

"Why is this person so important that he got my suite?" Benjamin Guggenheim demanded.

"Mr. Tesla had some business to discuss with Mr. Astor, and I thought this suite was available. Regrettably, Colonel Astor has been delayed in Rhode Island."

Guggenheim snickered as if he knew some secret about John Jacob Astor that was too embarrassing to mention. "I'll bet he's been delayed. Say no more. Tell this Tesla that Benjamin Guggenheim has arrived and he has to clear out!"