“I’ll be coming along,” Vivian said. “If that’s OK.”
“I was thinking of Central Park,” Andres said. “First, we walk to the park, and then we run around inside looking for squirrels to chase.”
“Sounds like a great afternoon.”
“Every afternoon is great if you have a dog.” Andres took the leash, and they walked across the polished marble to the 42nd and Park exit.
After they crossed the street, she looked back at Grand Central’s lovely entrance topped by the winged statue of Hermes. Tesla might never see this view again. She and Andres had stepped out through the door like it was nothing, but Tesla hadn’t been able to do that for a long time. Now he wasn’t even able to haunt the tunnels.
Dirk was right that she didn’t want to trade places with Tesla, even if she could have. Maybe he was right about other things. Maybe she ought to step back, accept the new jobs Mr. Rossi had lined up, and get back outside.
“How is Mr. Tesla?” Andres asked.
“Fine.” He’d awoken at the crack of dawn and been glued to his computer ever since. He hadn’t showered or eaten. She wasn’t even sure he’d noticed when she left with the dog.
“Not so fine, I’m thinking.”
She shrugged. She wasn’t going to divulge any information about a client, even to his other employees.
“I heard that Miss Maeve and he have parted company.”
Vivian had heard that, too, from Dirk. “Maybe.”
Andres dropped the subject, and they enjoyed a long romp in the park. Edison chased his tennis ball, sniffed for squirrels, and made friends with a giant Schnauzer named Jake. He and Jake wrestled on the ground, play-growling, until Jake had to go home.
“You’re quiet.” Andres flopped down on the grass next to her. A strand of blond hair fell across his forehead.
“Edison has a second life with you.”
“I try to give him things to sniff, dogs to meet, and a long run.” Andres lay flat on his back and looked up at the sky. His eyes were an extraordinary shade of blue. “Dogs need such things.”
She wished Tesla could see Edison now. “So do people.”
“Is Mr. Tesla happy down there?” Andres asked. “I know he can’t come out to play like Edison, but these past days seem worse. I haven’t even seen him.”
She wasn’t sure how to answer.
“See that cloud?” He pointed south. “It looks like a hen with little chicks.”
She looked where he was pointing, but didn’t see the cloud.
“Put your head where mine is.” He rolled to the side.
She positioned herself where he’d been. A cloud hen with a raised comb and sharp beak came into focus. Smaller clouds around the hen’s feet looked like chicks. How long had it been since she’d lain in the grass and watched the clouds?
“You pick a cloud. Tell me what you see,” Andres said.
Edison dropped the wet tennis ball on Andres’s chest and collapsed between them as if he wanted to look at the clouds, too. She felt like the dog was somehow cheating on Tesla. That she was cheating on him, too.
“I need to be getting back.” She sat up and dusted grass off her shirt.
“Just a few clouds,” Andres said. “Then maybe a coffee after?”
Was he flirting with her? If so, he was doing an admirable job. He looked adorable with the dog next to him, grass in his wind-blown hair, and a smile with dimples.
She leaned back and pointed at the sky. “That looks like a sailing ship.”
“I see the sails and even some rigging.” Andres had moved his head next to hers.
“And that’s a giant kraken underneath trying to sink it.” She wanted to keep him there, talking.
“Or a wave buoying the ship up, moving it along to its destination.”
It did look more like a wave than a kraken. “The optimistic version.”
“What harm is there in that?” He laughed. “Gloominess is not to be courted lightly. The sun, the sky, they are bigger than that.”
She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but it sounded good.
“That cloud will turn a delicious shade of pink soon, when the sun decides to rest for the day. Shall we wait for it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s wait.”
It was dark by the time they got back to Grand Central. Even though she’d offered to take Edison back on her own, Andres had insisted on coming, and she hadn’t put up much of a fight.
“My art opening, you will come?” Andres asked. “In a fancy dress to entice buyers in off the street to look at the art?”
“I’ll come.” She walked down the corridor toward Vanderbilt Hall and loosened the strap on her cast. “Can’t guarantee any enticing.”
“If you come,” he said, “the enticing will take care of itself.”
From anyone else that would have sounded corny, but for Andres it worked. Maybe it was the accent.
Edison tugged at the leash, practically dragging them back into the main concourse with its starry ceiling.
“He wants to see his master, don’t you, boy?” Andres crooned.
He sounded good when he crooned.
They had almost reached the round information booth that led to the elevator to Tesla’s home when something brushed her casted arm.
Edison jumped into the air and hit her hard in the chest. She fell right onto her ass. Her casted arm hurt when she landed. An open-mouthed Andres looked down at her.
She rolled to the side, reaching for her gun. Edison didn’t knock people around for no reason. She scanned the huge room. A few people looking at her in surprise, a few more walking by like nothing had happened, and a man leaning against the wall playing with his phone. Nothing suspicious.
“Are you injured?” Andres helped her up by her good arm.
“I’m fine.”
A crunching sound came from Edison’s mouth as if he had a spring in there. He spat something out onto the marble.
“You naughty dog.” Andres shook his finger at Edison and bent over the pile of dog spit. His face changed, and he scooped the wet object up with a handkerchief and pushed her toward the information booth so fast she almost fell over.
“Inside,” he said. “We must get inside.”
Evaline saw them coming and had the door open before they even got there. Andres closed the door when they were barely through.
“Are you OK, Miss Torres?” Evaline asked.
“Fine.” Vivian watched Andres.
He was looking out through the glass like he expected to see an army. She looked, too. Nothing unusual.
“What’s going on?” Vivian asked.
“Into the elevator,” he said. “We talk there.”
Evaline looked like she wanted to know what was going on, too, but she only said, “Give my best to Mr. Tesla.”
“Will do.” Vivian barely had time to answer. Andres rushed her down the hatch and the spiral stairs to the elevator.
Once they were inside the elevator’s cage and moving down, he took the handkerchief out of his pocket. “This thing. I have seen something like it before.”
She studied the wet object laid out on the white cotton: a collection of tiny gears, microchips, and something that looked like plastic wrap. “What is it?”
“First, we go to Mr. Tesla’s Faraday cage.”
“OK.” How did he even know what a Faraday cage was? He was supposed to be a simple artist and dog walker.
He gave Edison a treat out of his pocket. “You’re a good boy. A smart boy.”
Edison wagged his tail.
She examined her cast where the object had touched her. The cast didn’t look any different.
Officer Chan and Officer Fitzgerald met them at the elevator door. Chan had experience — a few white hairs threaded through his black hair, and he was careful about his job. Fitzgerald was his opposite — young and ready to jump. Parker was the only one unaccounted for. He was another bodyguard from Mr. Rossi’s office. He was probably inside with Tesla.