The Tesla Legacy

Chapter 10

Joe tugged the suitcase behind him through the concourse. Edison walked on his left to stay out of the way, and he felt hemmed in. He shook his head. It wasn’t Edison’s fault that he was cranky because his mother had always known he wasn’t a Tesla at all and had still let him be tortured because he hadn’t been Tesla enough.

Now she’d brought him a box of secret papers from his paranoid father. They were probably Nikola Tesla’s grocery lists, or notes about pigeon care and feeding.

Still, he was intrigued. His father had never given him presents, relying on Tatiana to remember birthdays and Christmases. This might be the first real present he’d ever received from his father. A present wrapped in all the mystery of Nikola Tesla himself.

Joe hurried toward the elevator, and his heart beat faster with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to open the suitcase and see what was inside. She’d have known that, too, just as he’d known that she would love the house when she saw it. She’d thawed after she saw his pictures, agreed to come visit as soon as he could add her to the list of people cleared to use the elevator. He’d get Mr. Rossi to file the paperwork, and she’d be on the list in a few days.

Rush-hour travelers pushed by on either side. Grand Central, busiest place in the world, a cliché because it was true. He dodged left to avoid a gaggle of nuns in tennis shoes. They weren’t exactly jogging, but they made a fast-moving undulating wall of black cotton.

His suitcase was yanked out of his hand — a quick, sharp pull, gone before he could react. Edison’s reflexes were sharper. The yellow dog lunged forward and sank his teeth into the case’s fabric. He braced his sturdy legs and pulled.

Joe had played enough tug-of-war with him to know he was deceptively strong. The guy stealing his suitcase hadn’t. He slowed and tugged back. Joe charged him, but the man dodged, punching Joe in the side of his face as he went by. Joe saw a blur of black spandex, a black baseball hat, and sunglasses.

He lay sprawled on the marble. His cheek throbbed, and his hip hurt where he’d landed, but he scrambled to his feet, hands up.

Edison held on to the suitcase. Joe swung at the guy’s face, but just a feint, instead using his real force to knee him in the groin.

But he hit air. Black Spandex was damn fast. Even more humiliating, he was fighting Joe while still holding on to the suitcase — basically winning with one (cyan) hand tied behind his back.

“Police!” shouted someone.

Joe didn’t turn to see where the sound came from, and neither did his opponent. The man slid into a crouch, shot his leg out, and swept Joe off his feet. Again, he hit the floor hard.

From his new vantage point, he saw three men in military khaki and two cops in blue heading for them, a man and a woman. He stayed down. Better to make it obvious that he was the victim when they got here.

His attacker whipped his head around as if to take them all in, then let go of the suitcase. Edison held on to his end, growling. The cops closed in first — a tall blond guy and a shorter woman with black hair.

The guy in black went into a spinning frenzy, like an actor in a martial arts movie. He hurled himself straight at the pair of cops, striking with elbows and arms, bouncing from one to the other with a choreographed grace that impressed the hell out of Joe, even as he lay on the ground with the wind knocked out of him and his cheek throbbing.

The man knocked the largest cop down and spun to take out the second, but she had dodged to the side and was fumbling for her nightstick. She was quick, ducking and weaving expertly.

The soldiers had almost reached them when the attacker hurdled the fallen cop and sprinted toward the outside doors, dodging between commuters as if he’d rehearsed it.

The soldiers took off after Joe’s attacker, but Joe doubted they’d catch up. He’d been attacked by freaking Bruce Lee.

Which didn’t help his ego all that much. Especially since the female cop had held her own.

Edison dragged the suitcase over to Joe. He licked his bruised cheek. Joe gritted his teeth and pushed the dog away. Even such light contact hurt.

“Good boy,” he said. “Give me some space.”

Edison sat next to him and looked up to the woman reaching a hand down for Joe. She had shiny black hair and a nice smile. “I’m Detective Bailey. Are you OK?”

“I think so.” He took the hand and pulled himself up, then grabbed the suitcase’s handle.

He ran his tongue across his teeth. A couple felt loose, and blood filled his mouth. He wanted to spit, but couldn’t exactly do that on the polished marble floor. He swallowed the blood and reached for a tissue in his pants pocket. “Thanks for your help.”

“You should have let him have the suitcase,” she said. “Nothing in there worth getting hurt for.”

“Just some papers.” He tightened his grip on the handle. He hadn’t looked inside yet. What if his father had put some cocaine in there, for old time’s sake? Surely his mother would have checked, wouldn’t she?

His mother.

She’d had the suitcase first. What if the guy who’d come after him went after her?

“Need to call a friend,” he said.

“We need to take a statement,” said the cop who’d been knocked down. His truculent expression clearly showed that he held Joe at least partially responsible.

He had already speed-dialed Vivian.

“Torres,” she answered.

“Tesla,” he said.

The bloody-nosed cop glared at Joe, but the female cop put her hand on the guy’s arm and said something in a low voice, hopefully calming him down.

Joe kept talking. “I need you to find my mother, make sure she’s safe, and stick with her until you hear from me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “What’s the nature of the threat?”

“Someone tried to take a suitcase she just gave me, and he was willing to use force.” He hung up and texted his mother’s phone number to Vivian. His mother was in the safest hands he could imagine — he’d watched Vivian take out a guy six inches taller than she was and armed with a knife without even breaking a sweat. But he wished he could go outside and look after his mother himself.

“We’re going to need you to come down to the station.” The male cop held a white tissue under his nose. “Give us a statement.”

“That won’t be possible,” Joe said. “I can give you a statement here.”

Detective Bailey reached for Joe’s elbow. “It’ll be quick.”

His heart rate soared, and Edison stepped up next to him, his nose nuzzling against Joe’s palm. “I will not leave this concourse.”

“I understand you’re upset, sir,” she said. “You’ve had—”

“Mr. Tesla,” called a voice from behind him. “Are you and that dog all right?”

Miss Evaline from the information booth hurried over. Commuters parted to make way for her round form. He bet even the nuns would have let the clerk through.

“He’s fine, miss,” said Detective Bailey. “He needs to come with us.”

The cop with the bloody nose stood straighter. “He does.”

“He most certainly does not,” said Miss Evaline. “This is Mr. Joe Tesla, and he’s not going anywhere.”

Detective Bailey let go of his elbow and gave him an appraising look instead. “We don’t need to leave the building, Mr. Tesla, if that’s too uncomfortable for you.”

Turned out, being a famous recluse, even if you weren’t related to Nikola Tesla, had its perks. Joe felt angry everyone knew about his agoraphobia, even when it worked to his advantage.

“Thank you,” he said. “How about we take a statement in the lobby of the Hyatt? It’s quieter.”

“That would do fine,” she said.

“You all right, Mr. Tesla?” Miss Evaline asked again.

He realized he was shaking. All that adrenaline had no place to go. “I’m fine.”

She knelt next to Edison and ran her hands over the dog, making sure he hadn’t been hurt, something Joe should have thought to do himself.

“What a brave boy!” she crooned. “A good, brave boy.”

Edison’s tail wagged. He knew he was a good dog. Joe wished he could say the same about himself. He fished out a treat and gave it to the dog.

As Detective Bailey led the way toward the Hyatt, Joe trundled after her with his suitcase and Edison. He couldn’t help but notice the detective’s simple grace. She was coordinated and surefooted, walking with easy confidence and without a trace of her partner’s swagger. She tilted her head to the side, her glance saying that she’d caught Joe looking.