The Steel Shark

Chapter 17

Vivian wanted to go home. Her arm ached, the view from the little drone made her dizzy but she couldn’t seem to stop watching it, and Tesla was about to go onstage. The only worse thing for a bodyguard would be if he stepped into a war zone.

Mr. Rossi had hired her and Dirk to watch over Tesla, but Dirk was off chatting up some blonde over by the whale’s tail. Meantime, she was by the whale’s head, standing behind the curtain on a makeshift stage, basically just a raised platform. She looked across a sea of overdressed partygoers. The attendees seemed focused on each other. The waiters busily serving overpriced appetizers and Champagne she couldn’t drink on duty. Nothing threatening.

But her gut told her something was off.

Maybe she was still keyed up from the sub accident, and it didn’t mean anything. She wished Dirk was down here and that she had two arms. And that Tesla wasn’t about to step out in front of the crowd and become a giant target.

Tesla fiddled with his tie. The dog had picked up on his nervousness and leaned against the knee of his expensive tuxedo. Yellow dog hairs clung to the black fabric.

“You’re pulling it off center.” Maeve reached up and straightened his tie, smoothing it into a credible bow. “You’ll be great.”

“Why can’t I make the announcement via email?” Tesla asked.

“Maximum impact,” Maeve said. “It’s kind of a PR gesture, so you have to do it publicly.”

“I’m not doing it for PR.” Tesla shifted from foot to foot, like he was about to sprint away. He touched his jacket pocket, where Vivian bet he kept a couple of index cards with notes for his speech like some kind of security blanket. She knew he had it memorized. Tesla memorized everything.

Maeve gestured for him to bend down and whispered something in his ear. Tesla gave her a wicked grin, and Vivian was glad she’d missed whatever that was about.

She glanced down at her wrist to give them privacy. The drone flew along the back of the whale toward them, ready to film Tesla’s speech. Maeve was right about the dust. Vivian’s mother would have insisted on climbing up there and riding the whale with a feather duster to clean it before the party.

That image made Vivian smile. They’d get through this. She was probably just keyed up because the last time she and Tesla had gone out anywhere, it had ended in a submarine crash and they’d both nearly died. Just an echo of worry.

Tesla stepped into the spotlight, and polite applause greeted him. Vivian stood next to Maeve, who peeked through the curtain to watch Tesla. Vivian ignored her boss and scanned the crowd. Everything looked fine. So why did she feel like it wasn’t?

“Thank you all for turning out tonight.” Tesla held on to the podium in the same way she’d grabbed on to the escape ladder. Not a natural performer. “Tragedy has touched our event, an endeavor of exploration and charity.”

She checked the drone’s view. Pretty handy having eyes in the sky. Nothing to worry about from the drone’s point of view either — most people were listening, a few checking their watches like she was. Nobody tense or reaching for a weapon. The drone seemed sluggish. Maybe it was running out of battery power. It had been circling them all night.

“…and so, I’m withdrawing from the competition,” Tesla announced.

Of course he was. His submarine lay in pieces at the bottom of the ocean. But the crowd still looked surprised. Maybe they had two submarines for this kind of emergency and couldn’t believe Tesla didn’t.

“And I’d like to donate my entrance fee to the family of Hector Connelly.”

That was the first time Vivian had even heard the bodyguard’s name. All part of the bodyguarding job — live and die anonymous. At least Tesla had found out his name and mentioned it in public. That was something.

Vivian studied the applauding crowd. Nothing amiss. A waiter stood next to the buffet table by the stage holding a tray of Champagne flutes, probably for Tesla when he finished. Maybe he was going to drink a toast to Mr. Connelly. If she died, would he drink a toast to her? Donate money to her mother? Probably.

She glanced back at her wrist. The drone lumbered along the sweep of the whale’s head and dropped straight down. On her watch, Tesla’s form grew larger. The drone was coming in for a close-up.

Doing a close-up made sense, but instinct propelled her out from behind the curtain. She shielded her eyes from the spotlight and searched for the drone. She heard it — its tiny engine sounded like a hive of angry bees. It had to be close.

Tesla spotted her and half turned. He had a puzzled expression, but she didn’t have time to explain. She squinted at the drone.

White, with two sticks hanging from the bottom and four rotors keeping it aloft. As expected, a camera was tucked under its belly. Below the camera a familiar black shape lined up with the lens.

“Gun!” Vivian was halfway across the stage. “Down.”

Tesla dropped behind the podium. The only cover on stage. Edison streaked from backstage straight to his master’s side.

She swore. She hadn’t been allowed to bring a gun into the museum. She had exactly zero weapons. She had a sling for her arm. A jacket. Sensible shoes.

The drone shot the podium. Splinters flew. The recoil knocked the drone back, and the next shot went wide behind the podium. A scream echoed around the hall. The drone rose up to go over the podium so Tesla would be in the gun’s sights.

She sprinted past Tesla, snagged the waiter’s metal tray, and winged it right at the drone. A person might have seen the movement in his peripheral version, maybe ducked. But the electronic device could see only what its camera saw, and it stayed still, firing more rounds at the stage.

The tray clipped a rotor. The device slewed to the side. The tray fell, cracking some guy in a tux right on the head. He folded to the ground. Hopefully he’d be OK.

Like a fool, Tesla had come out from behind the podium as soon as the gunshots stopped. He ran for Vivian, probably thinking he could help. The dog followed close behind.

The crowd was shrieking and ducking and running. No way she could get through that scrum to get to the drone. And the drone was lurching closer to Tesla.

Tesla had almost reached her. Right out in the open like a target. She was about to get very fired, but there was nothing for it.

She shouldered him off the stage, and he hit the carpet hard. But at least he wasn’t such a target. The dog leaped after him. She was glad Edison hadn’t decided to bite her for knocking his master around.

The drone tried to rise, but couldn’t. It looked like the rotor she’d hit wasn’t turning. Score one for the tray.

Still, the drone wasn’t fully incapacitated. It wobbled toward Tesla as he tried to sit up. Edison stood between his master and the gun, growling. Too high for the dog to reach, but she bet he’d have snatched it out of the air if he could have.

She jumped off the stage and landed next to Tesla, bending her knees to take up the shock. The drone dropped another foot.

“Get under the stage,” she yelled. “Underneath.”

Tesla rolled under the stage, but Edison stayed next to her. He was a warrior, that dog.

She snatched the tablecloth off a nearby table. Glasses and shrimp cocktail crashed to the floor. The drone dropped down almost to floor level, going after Tesla under the stage, as she’d planned.

Flaring the tablecloth like a matador, she whipped it around and dropped it over the drone. Before the drone had a chance to move, she jumped on top. Something made a satisfying crunch. The machine struggled under the tablecloth, and she stomped on it until it was still, then a couple more times because she was mad.

She spotted Dirk by the exit, helping people through, looking calm and unruffled. A quick glance at the whale’s tail confirmed the drone operator was gone. She scanned the crowd, but nobody seemed suspicious. If only she’d taken more notice of the drone operator, but all she remembered was a black suit and a white shirt, rounded glasses, and a mop of blond hair. Probably a wig.

Tesla climbed out from under the stage.

“Are you OK?” Tesla asked.

Her arm hurt like hell. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Again.”

Edison licked her sore arm.

“Don’t send me any more kitchen appliances,” she told Tesla.

He was already over by the wreckage, stomping on the drone. She was pretty sure it was out of commission, but she hated to stop him. She liked hearing the sounds of the damn thing breaking.

But there might still be danger. She grabbed Tesla’s arm and hustled him toward the door. She wouldn’t feel better until Tesla was someplace secure. Dirk jogged over.

“We have to leave, sir,” said Dirk.

“Maeve!” Tesla shook free of Vivian’s grasp and jumped back onto the stage.

Vivian flanked Tesla on one side, Dirk went to the other, and they ran next to him. Her arm twinged every time she moved. She hoped she hadn’t knocked something important loose. Time for that later. First, they had to get Tesla and Maeve to safety.

Faster than they were, Edison had reached the blue curtain. He howled. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

Tesla sprinted to him, and she and Dirk kept pace. Tesla yanked the curtain back so hard it fell off and dropped onto the stage, blue material mounding up behind him. She looked up for a threat. Nothing. Dirk looked behind them.

Tesla let out a moan and dropped to his knees. Maeve sat with her back against the wall. Her face was paper white, and one hand touched a wet wound in her chest. Red blood ran across the sparkly silver beads on her dress.

Tesla tore off his jacket and balled it up before pressing it onto the wound. Maeve groaned.

“It’s OK,” he said. “It’s OK.”

“I’ll get a doctor.” Dirk hightailed it off the stage.

Vivian applied direct pressure to the makeshift bandage so Tesla would have his hands free, and also because she wasn’t sure he knew how. Warm blood soaked into the shirt and wet her fingertips. She gritted her teeth and kept the pressure on.

Tesla wiped the blood off his palm on his pants and stroked Maeve’s face. Her eyes drifted closed, eyelashes casting shadows down her ashen cheeks.

“She can still hear you,” Vivian said. “Talk to her.”

She’d read that hearing was the last thing to go when a person died, but she didn’t tell Tesla.

Tesla murmured something to Maeve, and her lips twitched into a tiny smile.

Dirk was back with a white-haired woman in a floor-length green satin gown.

“I’m a doctor,” she said. “Let me see.”

Vivian stepped back, and the woman bent over Maeve. Vivian flicked another look around the room. Everyone was heading away from them, the drone operator long gone, probably halfway to New Jersey.

“Let’s get her lying down,” the doctor said. “On her side.”

That probably meant she was afraid Maeve would choke on her own blood. Vivian hoped Tesla didn’t understand. She helped the doctor ease Maeve flat on the stage. Maeve’s eye makeup glittered in the overhead lighting. She was so pale. Tesla held her hand against his chest. Her blood streaked his white shirt. Edison cuddled up to her back, probably sensing she needed his warmth.

Dirk was back with a tablecloth. He wrapped it around Maeve’s legs. “Ambulance will be here in three minutes.”

Tesla twitched, and the dog whimpered.

She looked down at Maeve’s anguished face.

It was going to be a long three minutes.