Carrie took another sip of water, but didn’t speak.
“Unlike my partner, I’m the calm level-headed one. You can trust me.”
“I’d like to trust you, but Rudy---I mean, Marco---told us not to trust anyone.”
“Carrie, how well did you really know Marco?”
“Not well.”
“Did you know he was a double agent?”
“What?”
“Yes, that’s why he was kicked out of the CIA.”
Carrie swallowed hard.
“I mean he didn’t sell top secret documents to our enemies, nothing like that. But he did use his influence and the agency’s technology to help the drug cartels know where our DEA agents were concentrating their efforts. Stuff like that. Marco was always about the big bucks. The agency never brought him up on charges, for publicity reasons.”
“Why does this matter now? He’s dead.”
“I just thought you should know about the man who has your loyalty.”
Carrie finished her water with one gulp. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You could start by telling me about the trunk.”
“This whole thing is over some formula that Tesla gave to Phillip’s grandfather.”
“Is this formula in the trunk?”
“Yes, along with a few hundred other formulas.”
“Wow, where is this trunk?”
“Philly.”
“Philly? Why Philly?”
“Phillip’s aunt lives there.”
Agent Arnold escorted Carrie back into the living room. Lawson was still in Phillip’s face. “Lawson, let’s go.” Arnold opened the door.
“I’m not done here.”
“Yes we are, let’s go.” Arnold waited.
“I’ll be back for you later.” He pushed Phillip aside and left the apartment.
Phillip plopped down on the couch. “I don’t know how you did that, but thanks.”
“Get up.” Carrie screamed.
Phillip jumped up. “What’s wrong?”
“Put your shoes on, we have to leave right now.”
Phillip started to the bedroom for his shoes and then stopped. “I don’t have any shoes. Those men kept them.”
“C’mon, we’ll get you some on the way.” Carrie was already in the hall.
“On the way where?”
“Philly. We have to go to Philly right away.”
CHAPTER 39
Doctor Armaly walked out of Professor Trump’s office and headed down the corridor. With the business card still in his hand, he stared at the phone number. The professor suggested he call that evening. Was he being sincere? Perhaps he wanted to talk after working hours, somewhere discrete, off campus. Then again, perhaps he was merely patronizing him. As he approached the lobby, he remembered the promise Millard made on his behalf. Although he wasn’t up for any lively conversation, he would stop at the desk and autograph whatever meaningless parchment Missy found.
When he pushed open the swinging door to the lobby, Missy was nowhere in sight. The lobby was noticeably empty, except for the eight men in full S.W.A.T. gear with automatic weapons aimed at his head.
***
Doctor Armaly starred at the two-way mirror in the interrogation room. He’d been there for nearly an hour and grew tired of waiting. Why didn’t they put him in a holding cell? He hadn’t even been booked. No fingerprints. No mug shot. And he still had all of his belongings, even his cell phone. The only thing he didn’t have was a signal.
Tired of waiting, he called out for someone, anyone. “Hey, I’m still here. Hey, remember me?”
A few minutes later, an officer entered the room with a foot-long sub and a fountain drink. “I hope you like turkey and Swiss?” The officer placed the food on the table. “I’m Sergeant Mallory.”
“I never knew the Boston PD was so hospitable. Do you treat all your prisoners this way?”
“Well, technically you’re not a prisoner.”
“You could have fooled me. I guess those guys with the automatic weapons were from the Welcome Wagon.”
“Well let me rephrase that, you’re not our prisoner. We’re just holding you till the C.I.A. gets here.”
“That’s why you’re not questioning me?”
“Yep, we have strict orders not to ask you anything.”
“Well, if you’re not gonna interrogate me, why am I in this room?”
“Because you’re a VIP, would you rather be in the holding tank?”
“I’d rather be at the Celtic’s game.”
“Oh, are you a fan?”
“No, I’d just rather be there than here.”
“That’s funny Doc.”
“So how long before the C.I.A. gets here?”
“Relax Doc, it could be awhile. We called the local boys, but they’re too busy for a small fish like you. We’re trying to contact the agents in New York who issued the APB in the first place.”
“APB?”
“All Points Bulletin---
“I know what it means. I just didn’t know they were looking for me.”
“Anyway, make yourself at home, I’ll bring you a pillow and blanket after awhile.”
“Thanks Mallory.”
“Don’t mention it, Doc.”
***
Agents Lawson and Arnold had just gotten on the New Jersey Turnpike headed toward Philly. Lawson drove while Arnold was on the phone with Langley.
“I don’t know her last name, how many sisters named Edna could Mavis Washington have.” The junior agent on the other end of the phone frustrated him. “I got another call, keep searching, I’ll call you back.” Arnold didn’t recognize the incoming caller’s number. He answered the call. “Corey Arnold.”
“This is Sergeant Mallory, Boston Police; we got your APB in custody.”
Arnold turned on the speaker. “You do? That’s great news. Was there a woman with him?”
“No, just him.”
“Where did you find him?”
“M.I.T., he was bothering a professor. The receptionist called us.”
“Good job, Mahoney---
“It’s Mallory.”
“Right, good job, Mallory. We’re on our way. Probably take four or five hours.”
“Why so long, you on horseback?”
“Very funny, we’re almost to Philly, but we’re turning around. See you in a few.”
Lawson slapped the blue light on top of the Escalade and whipped a u-turn across the median.
“What about Aunt Edna? Arnold asked.
“Aunt Edna can wait.” Lawson stomped on the gas pedal.
***
Officer Mallory returned to the interrogation room with a pillow and blanket in hand. “You might want to get some sleep.” He tossed the pillow and blanket over to the doctor. “Those C.I.A. boys won’t be here for awhile.”
“Okay, thanks.” Doctor Armaly placed the pillow behind his head and put his feet up on the chair next to him.
“If you need to use the rest room or something just give a yell, I’m on duty all night.”
The doctor tossed and turned in the chair trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t possible. The table wasn’t much better, but he endured for the better part of an hour. Then onto the tiled floor. The floor was cold and hard, much like the table. Nonetheless, exhaustion had set in, and the doctor fell asleep.
Only minutes later, Officer Mallory awakened him. “Hey Doc, wake up.”
Still exhausted, Doctor Armaly was bewildered. “What’s wrong?”
“It seems you’re a big fish after all, the N.S.A. is here to pick you up.”
“N.S.A.? I thought you said the CIA was coming?”
“I did, but the N.S.A. got here first. It don’t matter to me, they’re all government jerks.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Officer Mallory handcuffed him and led him out of the interrogation room. “You’re gonna be fine, Doc, tell them what they want to know and they’ll go easy on yo
u.”
Doctor Armaly wasn’t reassured. “Thanks for the sub and the drink. And the pillow and blanket.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Halfway down the long corridor that led to the lobby, officer and prisoner went silent. Doctor Armaly’s thoughts, however, were boisterous. A rock concert in his mind. How did the N.S.A. know he was there? And why did they care? And what about the C.I.A.? Will they be mad that they missed him? Officer Mallory advised him to tell them what they wanted to know. Therefore, they would go easy on him. Could he do that? Even if he wanted to?
In the lobby, Officer Mallory introduced the doctor to the NSA agent. “Doc, this is Special Agent Nicholas. You’re in his custody now.”
Doctor Armaly hesitated. “Are you sure he’s N.S.A.? Did you check his credentials?”
The Agent grabbed the doctor by the arm and ushered him out the door.
***
Officer Mallory had just returned to his desk when Agents Lawson and Arnold rushed into the lobby.
“Where is he?” Lawson banged on the desk to get the officer’s attention.
“Pardon me.” Obviously not knowing the men were C.I.A. agents, Officer Mallory bowed up. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”
Agent Arnold, who noticed the officer’s name badge, pushed Lawson aside. “Officer Mallory, you’re the officer who called us. I’m Agent Arnold and this is my partner, Agent Lawson.” Both men showed their credentials.
“Oh, yeah, C.I.A., from New York, right?”
“Yes, from New York.” Lawson wasn’t in a good mood. “We just drove five hours to get here. Where’s my prisoner?”
“Oh, you’re too late; the N.S.A. picked him up a few minutes ago.”
“WHAT?”
“Yeah, they just left. You probably passed them on your way in.”
Lawson bolted out of the lobby.
Agent Arnold thanked the officer for his help and left in a hurry. He headed for the parking garage where Lawson was already screaming like a mad man. “You N.S.A. pussy, get back here with my prisoner.” He fired a shot across the parking deck.
“Why are they shooting at us? Don’t you all work together?”
“Not exactly.” The agent fired back then turned and pointed his gun at Doctor Armaly. He fired, shattering the driver side window of the police cruiser parked next to him. “Doc, can you hotwire this thing?”
“I’ll try.” Doctor Armaly crawled into the cruiser and reached under the dash. There, he found a spare key hanging on a bolt under the steering column. Thankful that the officer had the foresight to be prepared for such a situation, he started the car and screamed at the Agent to get in. Crouching low in the seat, they drove right by Lawson and Arnold who emptied their clips into the cruiser as it passed. Still, the old car did exactly what the motto painted on its rear quarter panel proclaimed. Protected and Served.
Lawson and Arnold rushed back into the Police Station. There was a different officer at the front desk.
“Where’s Mallory?” Agent Arnold flashed his badge.
“Down the hall, Interrogation Room.”
Lawson took off running.
Officer Mallory was tidying up the room, trying to fold the blanket he had given the doctor.
“You get release paperwork signed by that Agent?” Lawson asked.
“Of course, I’m not a rookie.”
“Great, let’s see it.”
They walked back to the front desk where Agent Arnold was already studying the document. “Agent’s name is Nicholas, never heard of him, already called Langley.”
“Mallory, did you get a look at his ID?” Lawson asked.
“Of course I looked at his ID.” Mallory was obviously agitated.
Just as Arnold told everyone to calm down, his cell phone rang. “It’s Langley.” He flipped the phone open. “Corey Arnold.”
Lawson knew from the one-sided conversation that it wasn’t good.
Arnold folded the phone. “Nobody named Nicholas at the N.S.A.; they’re still checking Homeland Security and other agencies.”
“You idiots.” Lawson began lambasting the officers.
Arnold cut him off right away. “Officer Mallory please put out an APB for Dr. Armaly and Agent Nicholas. Suspects are armed and dangerous and could be in Boston Police Cruiser number 16-485; unit has multiple bullet holes along the right side of the vehicle.”
“Wow, you got the car number.” Lawson thought he could learn something from his partner’s attention to detail and calm demeanor, still he wanted to hit somebody for losing his prisoner.
Back in the Escalade, Lawson looked at the occupants of every vehicle they passed on the interstate back to New York. Certain that whoever took his prisoner was smart enough to ditch the shot up police cruiser.
Arnold was on the phone again with Langley. “I don’t care what level clearance you need, find out who that son-of-a-bitch is.” He hung up the phone.
Lawson glanced over to his partner, a proud look on his face. “That’s how you do it.”
CHAPTER 40
Phillip rushed into Aunt Edna’s house without knocking. Carrie followed close behind.
“Aunt Edna, it’s Phillip. Aunt Edna, are you here?” He raced through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom.
Carrie stayed behind in the kitchen, still calling her name. “Aunt Edna.”
“What’s all the commotion up here?” Aunt Edna emerged through the basement door carrying a laundry basket.
Phillip rushed down the stairs and gave her a huge hug, squashing the empty laundry basket between them.
“Phillip dear, what happened to you, where are your shoes?” She dropped the laundry basket to the floor.
“Oh, I got into a fight, but I’m okay. I’m just glad to see you, Aunt Edna.” He figured that if she was doing laundry, the C.I.A. hadn’t been there yet. “You remember my friend, Carrie.”
“Of course, hello, Sugar.” She kicked the basket out of her way and grabbed the teapot from the stove. “If I knew you were coming I would have cooked something.” She filled the pot with water.
“That’s okay, Aunt Edna, we can’t stay long, we just need to pick up the trunk.”
“The what?”
“You remember the trunk I gave you to keep for me?”
“Oh yeah, Mavis’s trunk. Of course I remember.”
“Great, where is it?”
Edna placed the teapot on the stove and lit the burner. “We’ll have some tea in a minute, dear.”
“Aunt Edna, we really can’t stay. Can you tell me where you put the trunk? Please.”
“Trunk? What trunk?”
“The trunk I gave you to hold for me.”
“Oh yeah, Mavis’s truck. Now what did I do with that truck.”
“Not a truck, a trunk---a big suitcase.”
The teapot whistled. Phillip was obviously flustered. Carrie grabbed the teapot from the stove and suggested they all sit down at the table. Phillip helped Aunt Edna to her seat while Carrie looked in the canister labeled “Tea” for the teabags. When she couldn’t find any teabags, she opened the refrigerator in search of an alternate beverage. She chose apple juice over the Colt 45’s and Muscadine Wine that dominated the top shelf.
“Maybe we should try the beer or wine.” Phillip said. “Might jog her memory.”
Carrie gave him a stern look.
“There’s nothing wrong with my memory young man. Are we having tea or not?”
“You’re out of tea bags?” Carrie said.
“Why that’s nonsense, dear. Did you look in the coffee canister?”
“No, I didn’t think to look in that one.”
“Aunt Edna, why do you have teabags in the coffee canister?”
“Well, I stopped drinking coffee a few years ago because it was too expensive. And I buy the teabags by the gazillion at that darn wholesale club, and they all won’t fit in the little tea canister. I use the coffee canister instead. Is that bad?”
Two cups of tea later, after a rant about how the Mayor of Philadelphia worshiped the devil. A few ramblings about the snotty women in her book club. And a story from back in the day when she worked at the University and one of the white professors had a mad crush on her. Aunt Edna was once again lucid enough to tell the whereabouts of the trunk. “Oh yeah, Mavis’s trunk. Of course, I remember. It’s down in the basement inside the furnace.”
“The furnace!” Phillip cringed then ran downstairs.
“Why did you put it in the furnace?” Carrie asked.
“Didn’t think anyone would look in there. Darn thing hasn’t worked in years. Put in a heat pump a few years ago.”
Phillip returned with the trunk in hand, the lock still attached.
The ride back to Brooklyn was quiet. Aunt Edna’s deteriorating health had saddened Phillip. Did she have Alzheimer’s disease? She was his only living relative, when she’s gone, he’ll be all alone.
CHAPTER 41
Dr. Armaly knew right away that his rescuer wasn’t with the N.S.A. Once out of the city, they abandoned the Police Cruiser and set out on foot. “You can take off that fake mustache and beard now.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A little, so what should I call you? Marco or Rudy?”
“What?”
“I know we haven’t met, but I recognized your voice.”
“Wow, then call me Rudy.”
“Well Rudy, I was expecting you last week.”
“I’m real sorry about that, how do you know my real name?”
“You’re not the only one with connections.”
“I’m sorry I stood you up, but something came up that was beyond my control.”
“Well, I suppose I could forgive you, especially since you just saved my life. You did just save my life, didn’t you?”
Rudy didn’t answer; he kept tapping on his iPhone trying to get a signal.
“How did you know I was in Boston?”
“A friend called me. Millard Jones.”
“The M.I.T. student?”
“That M.I.T. student is a special agent with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, well, a top-secret task force that falls under their jurisdiction. Millard is posing as a student to investigate Dr. Trump. He was our best chance to figure out the formula until you stumbled in.”
Alternating Current: A Tesla Novel Page 17