Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (16 page)

I laugh. “You know, for a guy who can’t arc, you sure do seem to think it’s simple.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. Pretty sure it’s his turn to bite his tongue.

“I’ll tell you again, there’s a finesse to gaining someone’s trust. It’s not an overnight job.” Clearly, he’s never had to earn any. Not that anyone would willingly spend that much time around him.

He huffs. “Nonetheless, trips to see Constantine and your father are not parts of this alteration. That is time you could be spending earning Tesla’s trust.”

I lift one of the crystal goblets from a tray on the left-hand side of the counter and fill it with water from the accompanying silver pitcher. “I think I’ve earned the occasional coffee break.”

Pausing to take a drink, I watch his face contort and relax.

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do?” he asks.

I choke on the water and set the glass down. No way is he about to tell me.

Carefully, I wrap my fingers around the cool marble and keep my face passive. “Keeping me in the dark makes it hard to know if I’m making the right decisions.”

He folds his hands at his belt and ponders my statement, hopefully hearing only the truth and not my own agenda. “You have been deprived of the general training I afford the riders. That knowledge would help you.”

“So maybe you should share it.”

He sneers.

“Whatever.” I shrug. “You’re only hurting our changes at success.”

His lips pull closed and I’m sure a battle of epic proportion is raging inside.

“If these papers are that important, how do you know someone won’t try to intercept them before I can get them to you?” Or all the other things I’m freaked about.

“That may be my biggest concern. Not only will there be a large quantity, but Tesla’s notoriety doubles the attention that will surround his work at his death.”

“So tell me.”

“I’ve found a way to recreate Tesla’s greatest invention, free wireless energy. There is one calculation I’m missing, and—unfortunately—it is the one that begins the process. I’ve tried everything, to no avail. I need his papers.”

“Aren’t most of them published by now?”

He shakes his head. “Some of them, but when he dies, trunks of his work are confiscated, and some never resurface. I need them before that happens.”

“So, free energy, that’s it?” I don’t buy it for a second.

His eyes widen and he paces back and forth across the thick parlor carpet. “
It?
At one time, Tesla had a completed version of a device that used the earth’s atmosphere to hold vast amounts of energy. Do you realize the impact?”

I shrug to irritate him and keep him talking.

“Power plants would be obsolete. Power grids would be ancient technology. Every home could access as much or as little energy as they needed, using the same type of adapter you use now. Only without the power bill.” His pace speeds up and his arms gesticulate. “No more limits to access. The deepest hut in the Congo could have power. Powered wells for water. Lights for schoolrooms. Cars. Refrigeration.”

I know why Telsa wanted it, but this seems too… I search for the right word…
altruistic
for Ilif. Since the first moment I met him, he’s been anything but. Sending light to schoolkids isn’t his thing. Fame, maybe. Fortune, definitely. I need to know the real story. I still don’t know what he wants.

And Ilif
always
wants something.

Let’s hope I’m not the missing link like I was for Nikola. “Is energy so short in the future?”

“Also expensive. Most are rationed. Though Tesla’s creation of free energy would have always made an impact, the world is finally ready to receive it. If I can reproduce his results, it will be profound.”

“And you’ll be recognized.”

The skin at his collar pinks. “I suppose.”

Earning him even more international contacts. I narrow my eyes. There’s still more he’s not telling me.

“How does this fit in with all the lightning riding? It seems like chasing Tesla’s work matters a lot to you.”

“More than I can ever explain. In college, I actually expanded on a few of his ideas. The night before I was set to publish and present, there was a—” He looks away and swallows twice. “A fire destroyed my lab, and all my work. The similarities to the fire that consumed Nikola’s lab did not go unnoticed.”

I balk. “You think they were related?”

“I cannot be certain, but the timing—and those involved—set me back years. Most of my work was never recovered. Later, someone else published the results.”

I straighten. “Then you know who was responsible.”

He’s silent for several moments, and the muscle in his jaw clenches. “It doesn’t matter. This does.”

I don’t get him. I never have. I might never. He’s kidnapped Penya for who knows what reason, is working to recreate the most valuable invention in the history of science, and finding a person who destroyed his life’s work doesn’t matter. Sometimes—when I see these moments of sanity—I find myself wanting to be on the same team. Too bad I know he’s keeping things from me. He did this to me once before.

I’ve got to stop letting him tell me stories.

“I guess I don’t understand how this correlates with riding—with your involvement.”

“They’ve always been related—”

A knock at the door interrupts him.

“Evy? Are you alright?” George asks.

I wave Ilif farther into the room. “Yeah. Just taking a sec to freshen up.”

“Okay. Tesla is on his way up.”

“Be right out.”

Ilif wrings his hands, and I can tell he wants to stay.

“Go,” I spit. “I can’t have you hanging out here. You almost ruined everything last time.”

“I could stay in—”

“Get.”

He straightens and nods. “You’re right. Please don’t forget what I’ve said tonight. Stay on task.”

I look away so I don’t roll my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” He vanishes.

I finish in the bathroom and pause with my hand on the knob before I go meet Nikola. No matter what happens from here on out, no matter how many flashes of sanity I see, Ilif can never get those patents.

C
HAPTER
17

I
N
THE
OTHER
room, Nikola and George are at the door, waiting.

“Good to see you,” Nikola says.

“Glad to be here.” I smile and resist the urge to hug him. He nods and we follow George out. The New York air is crisp, and I pause beyond the hotel doors. Gray clouds hang low, obscuring the building tops. A black car pulls up, dragging my attention off the sky. Nikola holds the passenger door open and I climb in the front.

George hands a slip of paper to the driver and gets in the back with Nikola. I turn around. “Where are we going?”

George points at the driver and puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. I shift and stare at the driver, who keeps his attention straight ahead. But he has to know where we’re going…
 

Without taking his eyes off the road, he slips the paper in his front pocket.

I shrug and watch vintage New York slip by outside my window. I rarely get the chance to really look at where I’ve landed during this whole alteration… It’s nice to have a moment to take it all in. Rain patters against the street, sending pedestrians scurrying inside glass-walled delis and stone archways. Everyone is so well dressed compared to home. Here, there’s a pride in getting dressed. A woman walks by in a pencil skirt and strappy heels, hair swept up in a tight bun beneath her umbrella, lips precisely lined and colored. She passes a man in a long wool jacket. He smiles and tips his hat, genuinely pleased to see her. Such a different time.

As we pass street after street, my lids grow heavy. Behind me, George and Nikola whisper. Water splashes up on the fenders and running boards of the car, adding to the soothing lullaby.

Ahead, a large brown building looms astride the street, and the driver maneuvers the car between three others parked in front. George hops out as a doorman rushes forward with an umbrella. In silence we move into the building. I peek around the umbrella and make out the name of the building through the drops.

Westinghouse.

I scowl and try to put pieces together. Pretty sure I remember Westinghouse being a huge supporter of Nikola’s, but that doesn’t explain why he’d bring me. Even knowing I was coming today, why not change this meeting, or do it before coming to meet me? I shake off my sleepiness. There’s something here he wants me to see. I slow my pace and catalog everything.

The front of the building is typical administrative offices, and three secretaries cluster toward the back corner, ignorant to our arrival. The driver and doorman peel off, leaving George, Tesla, and me to find our own way. George walks half a pace ahead of Tesla, and I bring up the rear, tucked behind them like they’re purposely shielding me from view. We wind our way through a huge warehouse, past rows of turbines and tables. At a door in the recesses of the building, we pause. George stays at the door, arm and hand extended back, palm splayed. Getting the message, I tuck in further behind him. Since he’s a few inches taller than me, I’m completely hidden, but on high alert.

“Westinghouse,” Tesla says.

“Nikola, we have a problem.”

I peek through a small space between George’s arm and body. The two men square off, and a large man I assume to be Westinghouse stands behind a metal desk covered with papers, tools, and random configurations of small machines. Westinghouse is fidgeting with a wrench and pacing. “I’m losing my investors, Nikola. Morgan is spreading rumors. I’m going to lose my investors because of the royalties in your contract.”

“Then destroy it.”

“What?” Westinghouse halts and his face reddens.

“Destroy the contract. But commit the workers needed to finish. The importance of this cannot be hindered by something as insignificant as money.”

“Nikola, I—”

“Send me a new contract if you like, or we can shake on it.” Nikola extends his hand across the desk. I flinch, hoping Westinghouse understands both the gesture of the contract and Nikola’s willingness to press flesh.

Westinghouse looks at Nikola’s hand for a few moments and nods. “I’ll revise the contract.”

Nikola pulls his hand back. “Do let me know when the workers are ready.”

Westinghouse smiles.

George takes a step back, pushing me farther into the hallway. Tesla steps out and George closes the door, hiding me from Westinghouse’s view, and we retreat to the front of the building. Again, we move in silence and climb in the car, and I assume we’re headed back to the hotel. I jam my fingers beneath my thighs and clamp my jaw to keep from bursting out with the thousand questions I’m dying to ask. A heavy cloud of silence hangs over the car. None of this makes sense. The driver knew exactly where we were going, but can’t talk about it. Nikola and George know what’s going on.

Then there’s me.

In the dark again.

I’m still not sure I figured out what he wanted me to see. Surely more than just a witness to the insane deal, he had George for that. But the alteration needed me here for that meeting, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it back in time. A pinprick of pain starts behind my right eye. Killing someone was a thousand times easier than figuring this out. Last time Constantine and Penya handled all the details… I was just the weapon. This time there are layers upon layers.

At the hotel, I barrel out, before anyone can open my door, and stand beneath the overhang, waiting, studying. George climbs from the other side, crosses the street between two speeding trucks, and motions me over. Splashing through the wide puddles, I jog across the street where we trade one black car for another. “What—”

George silences me with a strong hand on my upper arm. People wade past us on the sidewalk, and this new driver cants his head toward us, ears perked. I nod and climb in the back next to Tesla. He pats my knee. George circles around the front and climbs in. The driver speeds away from the hotel and I’m lost in more confusion.

I’m not collecting memories during this arc either, and I don’t know what to think of that. Or, are they there but not barraging me at every turn? Was there a memory of Westinghouse’s I was supposed to steal? This is irritating. I clench my hands tight in my lap.

All this silence and subterfuge is grating on my nerves. One of them had better spill details. First, I want to know what all that was about with Westinghouse. Things can’t have changed so much that Nikola doesn’t need financial support for his science. And giving away
all
of the royalties… that just doesn’t make sense. George glances back and I raise my eyebrows. He gives a slight shake of his head and turns forward again.

We leave the city and I lean my forehead against the glass. Beyond the pane, the entire world is gray-washed and muffled. Though I fight it, my eyes grow heavy again. I pinch the tips of my fingers and shake my head, but the moment I stop moving, the heaviness returns. Nikola is preoccupied, writing and diagramming in a leather notebook. George is discussing physics with the driver. Since I have no idea how far we’re going, I let my eyes drift shut.

Dreams of storms and secrets dissipate as the car slows, and I blink myself back to reality.

We’re at Nikola’s lab. While I slept, the blue sky pushed the clouds away and the sun is shining. Puddles line the road, but the high middle is dry.

Nikola puts his writing away and is leaning forward with a childish expectation. “Here is fine.”

George nods, and the driver stops outside the entrance gates.

I shake off the sleepiness and meet George and Nikola in the road. As the car pulls away, I blurt, “What the hell is going on?”

Nikola turns and George unlocks the gates.

“Why did you do that, Nikola”—I point back the way we came—“that deal with Westinghouse?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says over his shoulder as he strides quickly toward the lab.

“Doesn’t matter?” I jog to catch up. “Nikola, those were worth a ton of money.”

“I have something to show you both.”