Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel (17 page)

Doctor Armaly
walked out of Professor Trump’s office and headed down the corridor. With the business
card still in his hand, he stared at the phone number. The professor suggested
he call that evening. Was he being sincere? Perhaps he wanted to talk after
working hours, somewhere discrete, off campus. Then again, perhaps he was
merely patronizing him. As he approached the lobby, he remembered the promise
Millard made on his behalf. Although he wasn’t up for any lively conversation,
he would stop at the desk and autograph whatever meaningless parchment Missy found.

When he pushed
open the swinging door to the lobby, Missy was nowhere in sight. The lobby was
noticeably empty, except for the eight men in full S.W.A.T. gear with automatic
weapons aimed at his head.

***

Doctor Armaly
starred at the two-way mirror in the interrogation room. He’d been there for
nearly an hour and grew tired of waiting. Why didn’t they put him in a holding
cell? He hadn’t even been booked. No fingerprints. No mug shot. And he still
had all of his belongings, even his cell phone. The only thing he didn’t have
was a signal.

Tired of waiting,
he called out for someone, anyone. “Hey, I’m still here. Hey, remember me?”

A few minutes
later, an officer entered the room with a foot-long sub and a fountain drink. “I
hope you like turkey and Swiss?” The officer placed the food on the table. “I’m
Sergeant Mallory.”

“I never knew the
Boston PD was so hospitable. Do you treat all your prisoners this way?”

“Well, technically
you’re not a prisoner.”

“You could have
fooled me. I guess those guys with the automatic weapons were from the Welcome
Wagon.”

“Well let me
rephrase that, you’re not our prisoner. We’re just holding you till the C.I.A.
gets here.”

“That’s why you’re
not questioning me?”

“Yep, we have
strict orders not to ask you anything.”

“Well, if you’re
not gonna interrogate me, why am I in this room?”

“Because you’re a
VIP, would you rather be in the holding tank?”

“I’d rather be at
the Celtic’s game.”

“Oh, are you a
fan?”

“No, I’d just
rather be there than here.”

“That’s funny
Doc.”

“So how long
before the C.I.A. gets here?”

“Relax Doc, it
could be awhile. We called the local boys, but they’re too busy for a small
fish like you. We’re trying to contact the agents in New York who issued the
APB in the first place.”

“APB?”

“All Points Bulletin---

“I know what it
means. I just didn’t know they were looking for me.”

“Anyway, make
yourself at home, I’ll bring you a pillow and blanket after awhile.”

“Thanks Mallory.”

“Don’t mention it,
Doc.”

***

Agents Lawson and
Arnold had just gotten on the New Jersey Turnpike headed toward Philly. Lawson
drove while Arnold was on the phone with Langley.

“I don’t know her
last name, how many sisters named Edna could Mavis Washington have.” The junior
agent on the other end of the phone frustrated him. “I got another call, keep
searching, I’ll call you back.” Arnold didn’t recognize the incoming caller’s
number. He answered the call. “Corey Arnold.”

“This is
Sergeant Mallory, Boston Police; we got your APB in custody.”

Arnold turned on
the speaker. “You do? That’s great news. Was there a woman with him?”

“No, just him.”

“Where did you
find him?”

“M.I.T., he was
bothering a professor. The receptionist called us.”

“Good job,
Mahoney---

“It’s Mallory.”

“Right, good job,
Mallory. We’re on our way. Probably take four or five hours.”

“Why so long, you
on horseback?”

“Very funny, we’re
almost to Philly, but we’re turning around. See you in a few.”

Lawson slapped the
blue light on top of the Escalade and whipped a u-turn across the median.

“What about Aunt
Edna? Arnold asked.

“Aunt Edna can
wait.” Lawson stomped on the gas pedal.

***

Officer Mallory
returned to the interrogation room with a pillow and blanket in hand. “You
might want to get some sleep.” He tossed the pillow and blanket over to the doctor.
“Those C.I.A. boys won’t be here for awhile.”

“Okay, thanks.” Doctor
Armaly placed the pillow behind his head and put his feet up on the chair next
to him.

“If you need to
use the rest room or something just give a yell, I’m on duty all night.”

The doctor tossed
and turned in the chair trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t possible. The
table wasn’t much better, but he endured for the better part of an hour. Then
onto the tiled floor. The floor was cold and hard, much like the table. Nonetheless,
exhaustion had set in, and the doctor fell asleep.

Only minutes later,
Officer Mallory awakened him. “Hey Doc, wake up.”

Still exhausted,
Doctor Armaly was bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

“It seems you’re a
big fish after all, the N.S.A. is here to pick you up.”

“N.S.A.? I thought
you said the CIA was coming?”

“I did, but the N.S.A.
got here first. It don’t matter to me, they’re all government jerks.”

“That’s
reassuring.”

Officer Mallory
handcuffed him and led him out of the interrogation room. “You’re gonna be
fine, Doc, tell them what they want to know and they’ll go easy on you.”

Doctor Armaly
wasn’t reassured. “Thanks for the sub and the drink. And the pillow and
blanket.”

“Don’t mention
it.”

Halfway down the
long corridor that led to the lobby, officer and prisoner went silent. Doctor
Armaly’s thoughts, however, were boisterous. A rock concert in his mind. How
did the N.S.A. know he was there? And why did they care? And what about the C.I.A.?
Will they be mad that they missed him? Officer Mallory advised him to tell them
what they wanted to know. Therefore, they would go easy on him. Could he do
that? Even if he wanted to?

In the lobby, Officer
Mallory introduced the doctor to the NSA agent. “Doc, this is Special Agent
Nicholas. You’re in his custody now.”

Doctor Armaly hesitated.
“Are you sure he’s N.S.A.? Did you check his credentials?”

The Agent grabbed
the doctor by the arm and ushered him out the door.

***

Officer Mallory
had just returned to his desk when Agents Lawson and Arnold rushed into the
lobby.

“Where is he?” Lawson
banged on the desk to get the officer’s attention.

“Pardon me.” Obviously
not knowing the men were C.I.A. agents, Officer Mallory bowed up. “Didn’t your
mother ever teach you any manners?”

Agent Arnold, who
noticed the officer’s name badge, pushed Lawson aside. “Officer Mallory, you’re
the officer who called us. I’m Agent Arnold and this is my partner, Agent
Lawson.” Both men showed their credentials.

“Oh, yeah, C.I.A.,
from New York, right?”

“Yes, from New
York.” Lawson wasn’t in a good mood. “We just drove five hours to get here. Where’s
my prisoner?”

“Oh, you’re too
late; the N.S.A. picked him up a few minutes ago.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, they just
left. You probably passed them on your way in.”

Lawson bolted out
of the lobby.

Agent Arnold
thanked the officer for his help and left in a hurry. He headed for the parking
garage where Lawson was already screaming like a mad man. “You N.S.A. pussy, get
back here with my prisoner.” He fired a shot across the parking deck.

“Why are they
shooting at us? Don’t you all work together?”

“Not exactly.” The
agent fired back then turned and pointed his gun at Doctor Armaly. He fired,
shattering the driver side window of the police cruiser parked next to him. “Doc,
can you hotwire this thing?”

“I’ll try.” Doctor
Armaly crawled into the cruiser and reached under the dash. There, he found a
spare key hanging on a bolt under the steering column. Thankful that the
officer had the foresight to be prepared for such a situation, he started the
car and screamed at the Agent to get in. Crouching low in the seat, they drove
right by Lawson and Arnold who emptied their clips into the cruiser as it
passed. Still, the old car did exactly what the motto painted on its rear
quarter panel proclaimed. Protected and Served.

Lawson and Arnold
rushed back into the Police Station. There was a different officer at the front
desk.

“Where’s Mallory?”
Agent Arnold flashed his badge.

“Down the hall, Interrogation
Room.”

Lawson took off
running.

Officer Mallory
was tidying up the room, trying to fold the blanket he had given the doctor.

“You get release
paperwork signed by that Agent?” Lawson asked.

“Of course, I’m
not a rookie.”

“Great, let’s see
it.”

They walked back
to the front desk where Agent Arnold was already studying the document. “Agent’s
name is Nicholas, never heard of him, already called Langley.”

“Mallory, did you
get a look at his ID?” Lawson asked.

“Of course I
looked at his ID.” Mallory was obviously agitated.

Just as Arnold
told everyone to calm down, his cell phone rang. “It’s Langley.” He flipped the
phone open. “Corey Arnold.”

Lawson knew from
the one-sided conversation that it wasn’t good.

Arnold folded the
phone. “Nobody named Nicholas at the N.S.A.; they’re still checking Homeland
Security and other agencies.”

“You idiots.” Lawson
began lambasting the officers.

Arnold cut him off
right away. “Officer Mallory please put out an APB for Dr. Armaly and Agent
Nicholas. Suspects are armed and dangerous and could be in Boston Police
Cruiser number 16-485; unit has multiple bullet holes along the right side of
the vehicle.”

“Wow, you got the car
number.” Lawson thought he could learn something from his partner’s attention to
detail and calm demeanor, still he wanted to hit somebody for losing his
prisoner.

Back in the
Escalade, Lawson looked at the occupants of every vehicle they passed on the
interstate back to New York. Certain that whoever took his prisoner was smart
enough to ditch the shot up police cruiser.

Arnold was on the
phone again with Langley. “I don’t care what level clearance you need, find out
who that son-of-a-bitch is.” He hung up the phone.

Lawson glanced
over to his partner, a proud look on his face. “That’s how you do it.”

Phillip rushed
into Aunt Edna’s house without knocking. Carrie followed close behind.

“Aunt Edna, it’s
Phillip. Aunt Edna, are you here?” He raced through the kitchen and up the
stairs to the bedroom.

Carrie stayed
behind in the kitchen, still calling her name. “Aunt Edna.”

“What’s all the
commotion up here?” Aunt Edna emerged through the basement door carrying a
laundry basket.

Phillip rushed
down the stairs and gave her a huge hug, squashing the empty laundry basket
between them.

“Phillip dear,
what happened to you, where are your shoes?” She dropped the laundry basket to
the floor.

“Oh, I got into a fight,
but I’m okay. I’m just glad to see you, Aunt Edna.” He figured that if she was
doing laundry, the C.I.A. hadn’t been there yet. “You remember my friend,
Carrie.”

“Of course, hello,
Sugar.” She kicked the basket out of her way and grabbed the teapot from the
stove. “If I knew you were coming I would have cooked something.” She filled
the pot with water.

“That’s okay, Aunt
Edna, we can’t stay long, we just need to pick up the trunk.”

“The what?”

“You remember the
trunk I gave you to keep for me?”

“Oh yeah, Mavis’s
trunk. Of course I remember.”

“Great, where is
it?”

Edna placed the
teapot on the stove and lit the burner. “We’ll have some tea in a minute,
dear.”

“Aunt Edna, we
really can’t stay. Can you tell me where you put the trunk? Please.”

“Trunk? What
trunk?”

“The trunk I gave
you to hold for me.”

“Oh yeah, Mavis’s
truck. Now what did I do with that truck.”

“Not a truck, a
trunk---a big suitcase.”

The teapot
whistled. Phillip was obviously flustered. Carrie grabbed the teapot from the
stove and suggested they all sit down at the table. Phillip helped Aunt Edna to
her seat while Carrie looked in the canister labeled “Tea” for the teabags. When
she couldn’t find any teabags, she opened the refrigerator in search of an
alternate beverage. She chose apple juice over the Colt 45’s and Muscadine Wine
that dominated the top shelf.

“Maybe we should
try the beer or wine.” Phillip said. “Might jog her memory.”

Carrie gave him a
stern look.

“There’s nothing
wrong with my memory young man. Are we having tea or not?”

“You’re out of tea
bags?” Carrie said.

“Why that’s
nonsense, dear. Did you look in the coffee canister?”

“No, I didn’t
think to look in that one.”

“Aunt Edna, why do
you have teabags in the coffee canister?”

“Well, I stopped
drinking coffee a few years ago because it was too expensive. And I buy the
teabags by the gazillion at that darn wholesale club, and they all won’t fit in
the little tea canister. I use the coffee canister instead. Is that bad?”

“No Edna, that
makes perfect sense to me,” Carrie said. “Have a cup of tea.”

Two cups of tea
later, after a rant about how the Mayor of Philadelphia worshiped the devil. A
few ramblings about the snotty women in her book club. And a story from back in
the day when she worked at the University and one of the white professors had a
mad crush on her. Aunt Edna was once again lucid enough to tell the whereabouts
of the trunk. “Oh yeah, Mavis’s trunk. Of course, I remember. It’s down in the
basement inside the furnace.”

“The furnace!” Phillip
cringed then ran downstairs.

“Why did you put
it in the furnace?” Carrie asked.

“Didn’t think
anyone would look in there. Darn thing hasn’t worked in years. Put in a heat
pump a few years ago.”

Phillip returned
with the trunk in hand, the lock still attached.

The ride back to
Brooklyn was quiet. Aunt Edna’s deteriorating health had saddened Phillip. Did
she have Alzheimer’s disease? She was his only living relative, when she’s gone,
he’ll be all alone.