The Tesla Legacy

Chapter 21

Vivian dragged herself out of bed. She stumbled into her clothes as quietly as she could so as not to wake Lucy. Lucy shared her apartment with her, and she had an early class in the morning. Lucy woke up like a grizzly bear, a good reason to let her sleep.

Vivian made it to Grand Central Terminal right before two a.m. The place had just closed up for the night, and a few people still milled around on the front steps. If she was lucky, Tesla’s credible threat might have hung out in the terminal until closing time, hoping to get another glimpse of him. If so, she intended to follow him home, maybe get his identity. Then she could turn the information over to Tesla and recommend that he give it to the police to follow up. He might not ask them for help, but she’d at least give him all the information she could.

She hadn’t been waiting long when a man matching Tesla’s description and photo — tall, Asian, coordinated, wearing black — strolled out the front doors. She was across the street, half-hidden by the doorway of Pershing Square. Lots of men might fit that description, but she had a hunch that this was the guy.

He looked both ways, then turned left. She intended to let him get a good lead on her, but he went right into the Chrysler Building. Interesting.

She jogged over. She didn’t need to get close, because the lobby was lit up. Her guy chatted with the security guard as if he knew him, then swiped a card and headed for the elevators. So, he worked here. Even if she lost him, she could come back and stake out the building. Good. While she waited for him to return, she typed what she’d found into an email and sent it to herself. Nothing looked more natural than someone standing around texting these days.

The man returned a few minutes later. He loped down the street like someone with no place to be. As the streets emptied, she had to leave more and more space between them. She was reaching the point where she’d have to close up the distance and risk being caught, or let him go.

She decided on the latter. A few expensive cars were on the streets, but this wasn’t a friendly neighborhood. She cut over a block and headed back. She had a couple of miles to put behind her before she was home.

The deserted streets kept her from dropping her guard, and she saw his shadow from half a block away. He’d doubled back, too. She slipped into an empty doorway, but she knew the game was up. Not a good place for a fight either. Nothing stirred on the street except for her and the man she’d been following.

Near as she could tell, he hadn’t been carrying a gun, except maybe something small in a shoulder holster. It was too warm outside to wear a jacket without looking conspicuous, and he was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that was too tight to hide anything underneath.

She had a gun. She wore a loose blouse with a ruffle along the bottom that was the perfect size to hide a flat gun tucked into the back of her waistband. Cop-fashion, her sister called it. Vivian hated to use the gun, but she wasn’t going to take any crap either.

With one sweaty hand, she reached back and pulled it out. She released the safety. He hesitated at the sound. He knew what it meant. Hopefully that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

He kept coming, but he raised his hands in the air. “I don’t know why you’re following me, lady.”

He had a slight accent she couldn’t place. East coast, at least. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re following me.”

He moved closer. “I’m trying to get home.”

She stepped out into the light so he could see the gun, assess her stance, and know she meant business. She was in the middle of the sidewalk now, the streetlight full on her. “I think you’d better find a different way home.”

He glided forward another step. If he came in any closer, she’d have to shoot. Life wasn’t like the movies where you could let someone get an arm’s length away from you before shooting. A gun was most useful as a distance weapon.

If she pulled the trigger, she wouldn’t have time for a warning shot. She’d have to hit him. And, if he kept coming after that, she’d have to kill him. He didn’t look like someone who’d let a gunshot stop him from killing somebody. He looked like somebody who might just get pissed off.

She kicked out, and her quarry slowed in surprise. He wasn’t close enough for her to kick him.

But she wasn’t aiming for him. Her foot crashed against the side of a blue BMW M5. Its alarm wailed. People mostly ignored car alarms these days, but this was a damn expensive car on a street where its owner was probably nervous.

Her assailant looked up when lights went on in the building next door. She could see him weighing his options. He might take her before she shot him, but he might not, and the appearance of someone else on the scene changed the odds.

He shrugged and backed away. She didn’t lower the gun until he was around the corner. Then she stepped away from the BMW and tucked the gun under her shirt.

A man in silk pajamas appeared in the doorway she’d just vacated. He brandished a baseball bat.

“I saw the guy who kicked your car,” she said. “Do you want me to stay so you can file a police report?”

His eyes flicked to the dent she’d made in his fender. She felt a pang of guilt, but better his insurance company covered the damage than that she had to shoot the guy she’d been following.

“Did you get a good look at him?” he asked.

“Better than you did.” She called a cab while he thought that over. At least he’d lowered the bat.

She gave him a quick description of the guy. Maybe she’d get lucky and the cops would pull him in for damaging the car. Yeah, and maybe Santa Claus would give her a ride home in his sleigh.

She took the cab.