She considered bonking him on the head and taking command of The Green Meanie, but she didn’t want that on tape. “I’m not comfortable with this course of action.”
“Noted,” he said. “And I’ll take responsibility.”
Like that had helped her out during the Tesla crash.
Clearly searching for something, he pivoted his navigation lights in a straight line, moved them a few inches, and did it again.
“What’re you looking for?” she asked.
“The batteries.” His spotlight stopped on a black box. “Gotcha.”
“If you pick that up, you’re disturbing a crime scene,” she said.
“I don’t see any yellow tape.”
“The scene needs to stay intact,” she said.
“Not as much as the ocean needs to not have toxins leaking all over the place.”
She couldn’t argue. “What do you need me to do?”
“Take the controls. I’ll use the grappling arm to bring the battery on board.”
She followed his instructions. Her hands shook for a few seconds, but then she was all right. Her jaw ached from clenching it, but she’d get through this.
Wright had the first battery inside when she spotted something that looked like a black pipe.
“That’s not part of the sub.” She maneuvered closer. The camera was still rolling, and Wright was distracted bringing the battery into his collection box.
“I’ll take the controls back.” Wright snatched them away. He was the snatching type.
“We need to pick that up, too.” She pointed to it.
He squinted through the cockpit window. “Why?”
“Because it’s an assault rifle.”
Chapter 21
Avi had new pets. He held out his palm, and something that looked like a housefly landed there. Close observation revealed it wasn’t a natural creature, but rather a tiny robot with six tiny metal legs, a pair of wings made of a tough plastic film, a miniature camera where its eyes should be, and a stinger at the end of its abdomen, like a bee. Such a cunning little creature.
He’d managed to procure only three, and he shuddered to think of the cost. This purchase would eat up most of his profit on the job, but it was a necessary expense. Unlike most targets he’d been assigned, Tesla was difficult to track by regular means. So far, he’d stayed holed up in his underground bunker.
Avi had tried to send a fly down the tunnels, but they were too ill-lit for the creature to see, and the wakes of the passing trains had knocked the fly around so much he’d almost lost it. He’d thought of exploring the tunnels himself, but the police presence had increased since his unsuccessful attempt on Tesla’s life at the museum.
So, he and his little flies had to try something else.
He slipped one creature into his pocket and left his room. He made it to the elevator without any trouble, then cut across the lobby to enter Grand Central Terminal without going outside. Tesla must have followed this route from the hotel many times when he first arrived in New York and developed agoraphobia.
Avi wished Tesla would follow it now.
But he hadn’t expected this to be easy. He pushed through a heavy glass door and entered the bustling station. He’d waited for rush hour, for the safety in crowds.
The green ceiling soared above his head, the cold marble felt smooth under his feet, and a kaleidoscope of people moved and turned around him. Such beauty to be found in this place. Resisting the urge to look around to see if he was being observed, he dropped a fly behind the paper train schedules displayed outside the information booth and picked up a schedule. A round black woman inside the booth looked at him for a split second, but her eyes moved on. Nothing unusual about picking up a schedule.
He called up the control app on his phone. With everyone always playing games on their phones, his movements were expected. The little fly climbed out from behind a blue and white pamphlet and stepped off the edge. It dipped toward the floor, then caught itself and tipped up toward the vast ceiling. He flew it in a large circle well above the heads of the crowd, monitoring their actions on his tiny camera.
In his peripheral vision, he kept an eye out for the two pigeons who lived in the station. A pigeon might eat a fly, and he wasn’t convinced they’d be able to distinguish between a real fly and a robot one, or at least not until it was too late.
The fly landed atop the opal-faced clock on the information booth. This was sometimes called New York’s favorite meeting place, and it had a perfect view of Joe Tesla’s front door. It might be a while before he went through it, but Avi would have a clear view of him when he did.
He closed the control app on his phone and wandered downstairs to the food court, releasing another fly. Like everyone else, he was sure he could walk while controlling the tiny drone. Like everyone else, he bumped into someone, said “Excuse me,” and leaned against the wall to finish his phone nonsense.
The second fly found a perch on the roundabout that announced Irving Farm. Avi bought a cup of coffee and wandered around to see exactly where to position his drone. He’d have to keep turning the fly in a circle to keep an eye on everything. Still, that was better than having it fly around. That used up too much energy. The coffee was excellent, and he took a long sip while he thought. No point in denying himself the pleasures in life just because he was working.
Now he had two screens open on his phone. One showed the concourse, the other the food court. With any luck, Tesla would visit one or the other. If not, perhaps a fly could hitch a ride on the back of someone who could carry it down to Tesla. The key was remaining patient and undetected.
The third fly slept in his pocket, and he didn’t take it out until he was back upstairs. His last little friend flew to Pellucid, Tesla’s offices, and landed across the hall on a bin full of umbrellas. Avi turned the corner and went into an eyeglass shop with his coffee to wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. A blond woman in a sleek blue suit approached Pellucid’s front door, and Avi ambled out of the glasses store and leaned against the wall. The woman fumbled in an expensive purse and produced a key card.
Avi’s little fly took off. Yellow and black umbrellas were quickly left behind. It aimed straight for the bag and alit on the back handle. The woman was too busy swiping her card to notice.
The fly rode into the office, past a giant glass brain, and dropped off onto the gray carpet when she set down her purse. It scuttled into the darkest recesses under her desk. After she left, he’d bring it out and hide it somewhere the cleaning crew wouldn’t find it, but for now it was safe.
He finished his coffee and threw away the cup. He had his little creatures guarding the portals to Tesla’s world — his home, his restaurants, and even inside his office. It would be only a matter of time before Tesla appeared.
Then, Tesla would feel his sting.
Chapter 22
Vivian slid into a red booth at the Russian Tea Room. On the forest green wall, in a beveled gold frame, a yellow cat looked back at her menacingly.
The woman Vivian had come to meet, Marina, smoothed her metallic blue dress. She reminded Vivian of a wasp — thin, shiny, and dangerous. “That picture is Tiger by Franz Marc. Early Cubism.”
At least it didn’t have fish in it.
“Nice,” Vivian said.
Marina poured them both tea into glasses set into silver holders, her movements so fluid and graceful Vivian felt like a lumbering bear. “It is delightful to see you, Miss Torres.”