However, Nikola was just as unused to moving through a public place at night in full “daylight” as any of them. The bright overhead lighting exaggerated people’s facial expressions, and the hunger on their faces made it impossible to tell if he was placating them or not. The only thing he knew for certain was that he intended to get back to the safety of his quiet laboratory as soon as he could manage it.
He was barely able to dodge a young woman who stepped free of her escort to stare an open invitation at Nikola. He kept moving without returning her gaze, but that put him straight in the path of three young men from his work crew, locals hired to do heavy labor.
He had already spent much of the past several weeks ignoring the dire predictions for this lighting system that each one of these fellows had made in Nikola’s presence. They always seemed to be speaking just loud enough to guarantee he heard it. The game appeared to be for them to make increasingly bold and disrespectful remarks about the job in Nikola’s presence. Now under the bright lights of fresh proof, they clearly sensed how foolish they looked.
The taste of their energy was sour enough that Nikola decided to avoid eye contact. There wasn’t time to form a plan. So when an elderly woman next to him reached toward her companion to accept a glass of champagne, Nikola seized her hand in mid-air and pressed it to his lips. He followed with a deep bow. She flushed with such pleased surprise that she was not aware of him gently spinning her in a half circle while he pressed his lips to her knuckles, which allowed him to avoid the three crewmen by departing in the opposite direction.
This new direction set him on a course that now made the town Mayor an inevitable encounter; the man’s head floated unswervingly through the crowd, moving toward Nikola like a high-riding river log. Nikola sensed that the politician would not be too difficult to handle at the moment; all traces of the hostility and suspicion that the man had embodied for the last year were gone from his wax-fruit imitation of a smile.
In the next moment the Mayor had Nikola by the hand in excitement, giggling like a teenage boy on his first trip to a brothel. He pumped Nikola’s arm and shouted congratulations over the music, the laughter, the crowd—something about how this was a great night for Rahway and oh yes, Nikola should see him soon about investments that could offer a real opportunity to an up-and-coming something or other. Nikola smiled and replied in German, which was garbled by the music well enough to leave the Mayor thinking that he didn’t hear it right.
Inspiration struck him; he could avoid the admirers for those who did not exist. Every time someone stepped in close enough and attempted conversation, he pretended to recognize someone else just over that other person’s shoulder. He was nearly at the edge of the crowd and almost within the safety of darkness when his peripheral vision picked up the sight of a matronly woman headed toward him. He might not have noticed her but for the shy beauty of a daughter she escorted in his direction.
The young woman’s party outfit revealed enough skin to identify the mother as a husband hunter. The daughter on display was a voluptuous delight, wide through the hip, perfectly built for churning out healthy babies, one after another after another after another.
Panic stabbed at him while the woman and her young charge closed in. The enraptured crowd closed off all the ready escape routes. He had no idea how to talk to a mother about her daughter in that daughter’s presence, especially while the young woman was being pushed toward him. Surely he would offend one or both of them no matter what he tried to say. Would she start shouting at him right there in front of the others? She could damage the evening’s positive tone and somehow limit future opportunities if he offended her.
Inspiration only saved him at the last possible moment. At the instant before mama could latch onto his sleeve and set a sale in motion, he began slapping his hands at his pockets as if he had just realized his wallet was missing and he was hurrying to retrace his steps. The illusion of urgency gave him the excuse to bolt past them and make his escape without causing personal offense. It appeared to work.
He kept moving until he made it out of the light, then continued with long strides toward his temporary Rahway lab. At such a late hour, the deserted work space offered the luxury of a safe place for solitude. There he would be safe to do what he really wanted, really needed—wait for Karina to come to him, as she surely must do now.
After all, he had made the system possible only by perfecting arc lamps to a far higher efficiency than ever before, and in spite of the ridiculous mandate placed by fearful town authorities to use the weaker direct current. Nevertheless his first inventive and engineering project in America was complete, less than two years after his arrival. Satisfaction soaked so deeply into him at that moment that the old stomach fire of self doubt had no power over him at all.
He was aware of little else, practically nothing else besides his strong hunger to be with Karina. The need was so intense that it surrounded him like a magnetic field. It radiated from him in every direction while he walked on through the darkness. It passed as easily through the earth as through the sky.
Chapter Nineteen
The Next Night
New York
He sat unmoving on a simple wooden chair under the open skylight, bathed in a fog of moonlight and dust. Nothing so far, but she was coming. He knew she was coming. And because it was only a matter of time, he did not stop the vigil. He remained in the same spot long after the shaft of moonlight moved completely off of him and traveled several feet across the floor. He got up once to relieve himself in the back house facility, but quickly returned because she would be there at any second.
He was still waiting by the time the patch of moonlight had traveled high up the wall. By then, with his body slumped over and nearly asleep, he saw no reason to leave. Surely Karina would not spurn him after such a night like this. He lowered himself off the hard chair and sat on the floor to continue waiting. If she was real, she would arrive.
* * *
Somewhere inside of himself, Nikola was aware that he was asleep and dreaming. He knew of no reason why he should not sleep or dream. He had a vague sensation of pressing his entire body sideways, as if trying to push himself through a wall. The wall’s cool surface flattened the side of his face, the left shoulder, hip, knee, and ankle.
In his dream, he felt vibrations buzzing through the wall, felt them on the side of his face, his left shoulder, hip, knee, and ankle. Next he seemed to hear stomping noises. They sounded like heavy boot steps. Those sounds were accompanied by voices, adult male voices approaching him and growing louder.
One voice seemed particularly loud, while others spoke out in subservient tones. Sharp knocking sent waves of vibration through the wall. Their impact rapped at the side of his head. Within a single dream-moment, the sound became that of a pummeling fist striking a large door. In the next dream-moment, the pounding vibrations were capped by a splintery crash. Even within the dream, Nikola had no trouble identifying the noise as that of a door being kicked open.
That was when he woke up. And in the moment of waking, the cool wall rotated sideways and became the laboratory floor. Nikola opened his eyes and squinted hard. A bright morning glare filled the room. He knew in the first instant that everything was wrong. As if to confirm, the sounds of stomping boots now seemed to be approaching. He heard that voice again, the big one: harsh, commanding.
“Anybody else worried about us not having a key, say so right now! The new owners are taking over the whole place plus everything in it, so we can do whatever we—”
The speaker stopped cold the instant he entered in the room and saw Nikola in the middle of the floor. The man was big, and did not seem intimidated or even particularly surprised by the sight of Nikola rising from the floor and staring at them in shock.
“What— what are you doing here?” Nikola stammered.
“Not so fast!” the big man hollered. “What are you doing here, might be the real question. This is priv
ate property, right here!”
“It certainly is! This laboratory is owned by my company and you gentlemen are trespassing! I must insist that all of you immediately—”
“Wait! You’re Tesla? The inventor! You’re the inventor?”
Nikola felt a small sigh of relief. “I am. I was, ah, working all night and apparently fell asleep on the floor.”
“Ohh!” the big man beamed as if the mystery was solved, the situation explained, the mistake cleared up at last. “That’s why nobody got the message to you, even though you would think somebody would have thought to look here.”
He turned to the other men and called out, “All right you guys, get started on the small stuff until we make enough room to get the big things out.”
“Stop!” The word seemed to leap out of Nikola’s mouth on its own.
“Look Mister, ah, Tesla. Mister Tesla, I don’t usually have to go to work until the bank has already had other people come and explain the situation, move everybody out, you know, clear the work space.”
“What are you— please, what are you talking about?”
“I mean you can talk to a lawyer. I would. But that’s not my concern here, you understand. They pay me to hire a crew and collect up all the—”
“Enough! It does not matter what you say—this is my lab. Get out of here at once! All of you! I am willing to have the door fixed myself, but if you do not leave you will pay the costs of repair—”
“Hey! Hey! Hey! You can’t threaten me—not any of us! All I know is your company was sold to the bank by the financiers about thirty minutes after the lights went on last night. To pay off all the debt. We got to clear out everything in here so the bank can rent out the space.”
“These machines are mine.”
“Bank says your company owns them.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“So it’s not your company, Mister Tesla. Your creditors owned the title. They sold it. All legal.”
“These devices are of no use to anyone except—”
“Well yeah that’s what they figure, but there’s good scrap value and the bank is claiming their right to sell it off.”
“Scrap value? Scrap value?” Nikola grabbed an iron measuring bar in sheer panic and began swinging it at the men like a long sword. “Get out! Get out of here! No one is going to steal—”
The big man gave out a shrill whistle; the entire crew responded at once. In an instant he was tackled high and low, pulled to the floor, buried under the pile. The men held him down so tightly he barely was able to breathe.
When the big man spoke, he sounded like a man trying to remain calm and collected. “Mr. Tesla. What can I say to you? The ‘promoters’ of your work not only sold the building and all its contents to the bank, they also closed the company account. And unless you have got personal funds to cover the bank’s price, your situation is impossible.”
He gestured to the men. They helped Nikola back to his feet, but remained close on either side of him.
Nikola straightened up, still panting. “Impossible is the word, sir. Much of the proceeds of this company are deeded to me, as payment for my work.”
“Way I understand it, your share was only in profits.”
“Yes, but after last night you understand that profit will absolutely—”
“It’s sold, Mr. Tesla. Maybe your promoters just wanted to play it safe. Who knows? The bank owns all this now. You can still have your shares of stock or whatever it is. You can keep the company name if you want it. But all this stuff, well now, if you want to keep it you’ll come up with the bank’s price for the building plus all the contents. And that amount is, uh…” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and checked it. “Three thousand, one hundred, forty-one dollars and fifty-nine cents.”
Nikola gave a peculiar laugh. The big man looked up at him with a surprised expression, so he explained, “That amount is the first six digits of the numerical value of pi.” “Have to be a pretty big pie.”
Nikola brightened for one quick moment, “No, no, circumferences! You know: three, point one, four, one, five nine, etcetera, or in this case, three thousand, one hundred, forty-one…”
The smile left his face. “I wonder how they could arrive at any figure without knowing what these machines actually do?”
“Who knows? Maybe somebody on the board of directors. One of their friends. Who knows?”
“Well sir, they are no doubt already aware that I have no funding of my own! My salary has barely been enough to live on.”
“Oh hey, that’s no surprise. Lots of people can’t get work at all, Mr. Tesla. I tell ya, a guy sees everything in a job like mine, so listen to me—times are not good. Just be thankful you don’t owe the bank any extra—”
“They owe me! And as for not notifying me about this, that makes no sense at all! My partners are well aware that if they want to contact me they should look here to pay me for the value of my—”
“To pay you? Mr. Tesla, do you hear yourself? Contact you to pay you?” The big man exhaled in frustration. He shook his head and turned to the men. “Better take him outside so we can get started.”
Nikola’s eyes widened as the men grabbed him again to hustle him out the door.
“Gently!” the big man cautioned the others. They used softer motions but continued pulling Nikola toward the exit. “I know it’s a hard way to start your day, Mr. Tesla. This is absolutely not personal. For me, anyway.”
Nikola planted his feet at the door, stopping the men long enough to steady himself and ask, “Is it personal, then—for someone else?”
The big man simply stared at him with an even gaze that revealed nothing.
“Tell me!”
The big man turned away without a word.
“Tell me!”
The other men wrestled Nikola out of the building before he had the chance to hurl another question. They tossed him out through the doorway with enough force to make it clear that he could not re-enter. Then just to be certain that the message got through, one of the men stopped on the way back inside and reached up over the doorway to the painted sign, “TESLA ELECTRIC LIGHT COMPANY.” He tore it off of the wall and tossed it onto the ground.
“I built everything in this place!” Nikola rasped at him. “All of it is mine.”
The man stepped back inside and pushed the broken door closed.
* * *
Nikola’s knuckles were already stinging from knocking on his landlord’s door by the time a grubby man opened up, bare-chested under denim overalls and holding a roasted turkey leg in one hand. He wiped his greasy mouth with the back of the other, then poked his grim face at Nikola with a look of experienced boredom.
“Sir,” Nikola began, “please! I spent the entire day searching for my partners. They are not making themselves easy to find, but I am sure that I can—”
“Your rent is due yesterday.”
“I know this. But as I told you this morning, my entire monthly salary was also due at the time that they sold the company! Now, I have almost twenty dollars in cash, which I could give to you as proof that—”
“I changed the lock already.” The landlord picked a sliver of turkey from between his front teeth. He spit the turkey so that it struck the front porch a polite three feet away.
“Sir!” Nikola whispered with fierce urgency. “All of my clothing, my books, even my personal effects, they are all—”
“Yes!” the landlord yelled. He continued like a man trying to make himself understood by a deaf simpleton. “The law says I keep every single thing right here, until you pay what I’m due. What, don’t they do that wherever you come from? Don’t people pay their bills, there?”
The landlord sneered with the self-satisfaction of a man who has justly prevailed over one of the scum who make life needlessly unpleasant. “This isn’t your Old Country, eh, you European piece of shit?” He chuckled and leaned halitosis-close. “Go
find some money.” He stepped back inside and flipped the door closed.
For a moment Nikola could only stand in baffled silence. Finally, he turned and shuffled away into the failing daylight. The hours since that morning had passed in a frenzy of activity while he ran around town trying to resolve this catastrophe. Now the condition of disbelief that protected him in the first few hours had faded, and the emotional shock set in. He saw with cruel clarity that in the wake of his first triumph in America, even after proving the value of his new lighting system, he had nevertheless been reduced to abject poverty by base trickery.
Every time he attempted to focus himself and reason his way through the situation—the likely effects or any possible course of action—he was reminded that his intellectual ability was useless with this problem. It was as if he became a simpleton in the face of questions about business procedure and financial planning. Surely there was an answer, most likely a simple cause-effect product. But every time he tried to plod his brain through the mind-numbingly dull analysis, the feeling of confinement was so intense and suffocating that it took all of his physical discipline to refrain from panic.
So far the responses from everyone he spoke to about his crisis indicated that he must have brought it all on himself. The throbbing ache under his stomach that his father used to be able to create with such ease was back in full force.
Night descended while he pushed deeper into the city, block after block. Every fear of failure that had ever crossed his mind reappeared to torment him. He passed the entire night in motion until he was so hungry that he felt like a hollow balloon. But still too disturbed to hold down solid food, he kept walking along the paved streets toward the northern end of Manhattan, then zigzagged through the neighborhoods in a generally northern direction. Hours later, when he finally reached the top edge of the island, he turned around without pausing and headed south again, back toward the downtown financial district, a distance he estimated at about twenty-one kilometers or thirteen miles.
In the Matter of Nikola Tesla Page 16