Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 04 - A Deadly Change of Power

by Gina Cresse

  I watched it bump into the leg of the coffee table and change direction again. “Cool. Sounds like a great idea. Why do you want to rethink it?”

  “There are still some bugs to work out. I’ve come home a few times and found it had spent the entire day vacuuming the area under the kitchen table because it couldn’t find its way out of the maze of chair legs. Then there’s the time I got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. It had picked up a pair of jeans I’d left on the bathroom floor and strung them across the hallway where I don’t have a nightlight. I tripped over them and nearly broke my leg.”

  We watched the contraption disappear into another room. “I used the same concept on a solar powered lawn mower. It works a little better. I put a boundary wire around the perimeter of the lawn that keeps it from mowing my flowerbeds or running away from home. It’s quiet and it mows continuously,” Ronnie explained.

  We turned our attention back to the plans in front of us. Bundles of papers scattered on the desk looked like sketches and drawings for other interesting devices. I noticed one titled, “Fiber Optic Light.” Ronnie noticed my interest. When I turned my attention back to the unusual lights in the ceiling, she smiled proudly. “Those are fiber optic lights. I came up with the idea one night while I was over at Lance’s watching ESPN. He has one of those colored starburst lights sitting on top of his TV.”

  I nodded. “I’ve seen them in stores. They’re usually next to the lava lamps.”

  “Exactly. Anyhow, I liked the idea of a single light source being transported to wherever the light was needed. The light at the tips of the fibers wasn’t too bright, but I did a little research. I let the idea stew for a while, wondering how I could ever magnify the light enough to make it a feasible means of lighting an entire room. Then I made a trip out to the Old Point Loma Lighthouse. I read about the special lenses made for lighthouses. They could make it possible for a light as dim as a candle flame to be seen for miles. That was my answer. I had a friend in the glass business make me up a few different shapes for the lenses and came up with those,” she said, pointing toward the tubes protruding from the ceiling.

  I shook my head in awe. “So you have one light source somewhere in the house and you send light to all the rooms over fiber optic cables?”

  “Yes. I have a dimmer switch in all the rooms. Each switch is wired to the main light source, to turn it on when light is needed anywhere in the house. The dimmer switches control lens covers in each of those bulbs to allow the light into the glass chambers, much like a camera shutter.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, turning my attention back to the pile of papers on the desk. I pulled one to the top of the stack. “Is this your design?”

  She studied it briefly. “Yes. It’s an idea I had for a steam engine when I was in college. It’s a closed system. See? The steam is re-condensed and returns to the chamber as water, so you don’t have to keep refilling it. It doesn’t saturate the atmosphere with water. It only requires enough fuel to burn a small flame to heat this chamber,” she said, pointing to a box on the drawing. “This engine could provide hundreds of horsepower and probably travel a hundred miles on a gallon of kerosene or diesel, or whatever fuel you wanted. The best part is that it doesn’t require a boiler.”

  “Why is that good?” I asked.

  “Because anyone can operate it. You don’t need a special license.”

  “Do you have a patent on this?” I asked.

  Ronnie shook her head. “I had a patent search done. I wasn’t the first one to think of it. Some guy came up with the idea years ago.”

  “Years ago? Who was it? Why don’t we have cars using it now?” The questions came faster than she could answer.

  Ronnie pulled a folder from the bottom of the stack. “His name’s in here, along with a bunch of others. I get lots of ideas, but I’ve learned to do patent searches first. Most of my ideas have already been registered by someone else.”

  I took a long look at Ronnie. The ramifications of what I’d seen tonight were just starting to sink in. I needed a little time to process what I’d seen and heard. “Did you get everything you want to take back with you?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I looked at the folder she held in her hand. “Why don’t you bring that along too,” I suggested.

  She gave me a curious look. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a hunch, but there may be some answers in there.”

  Chapter Four

  Craig stood at the island in the middle of our kitchen. He was busy filling a cookie jar with puppy treats when I posed my question to him. “What do you think would happen to a person who came up with an idea that could potentially eliminate the need for gasoline?”

  He chuckled and continued pouring the dog biscuits into the goose-shaped canister. “You mean after the oil companies got through with him?”

  “Her,” I corrected.

  Craig set the box down on the counter. “You mean Ronnie’s engine?”

  I nodded.

  “Come on, honey. People come up with ideas all the time, but there’s always some catch. There’s some reason why it won’t work. There’s got to be. You can’t draw more energy out of a process than you put into it. I just know there’s something she’s not telling us. Her explanation breaks all the rules.”

  Ronnie walked into the kitchen with the puppy on her heels. “It doesn’t break any rules. It just bends a few.”

  Craig gave her an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to imply—“

  “It’s okay. I’m used to the skeptics. I don’t really care what people think. I don’t even know why I let Jake talk me into filing the patent in the first place.”

  “Jake? You’ve mentioned him before. Who is he?”

  “Jake Monroe. He heads up the Research and Development Department for Engine Technology at World Motors.”

  “World Motors? Are they considering putting your engine in their cars?” I asked.

  Ronnie let out a half-hearted laugh. “Are you kidding? The day Jake Monroe, or anyone in a position to let something like that happen, will be the day the temperature in the devil’s house falls below thirty-two degrees.”

  “But why? I thought the whole world was scrambling to come up with more efficient engines,” I said.

  Craig met Ronnie’s glance. “I think I can probably answer that,” he said. “More efficient isn’t as much of a problem as too efficient. Is it?”

  Ronnie shook her head. “No. Since the introduction of the automobile, the number of cars has doubled every twenty-five years. Fuel efficiency hasn’t. As long as engines require fossil fuel, oil companies will remain the most powerful entities on the planet.”

  I was getting the picture. “But since your engine is free to run—“

  Ronnie finished my sentence. “Then the oil companies would essentially be on their way out of business. There are a lot of people making sure the Jake Monroes of this world don’t let anything like that happen.”

  “But this Jake, he convinced you to patent your engine? Why would he do that if he knew it would never be allowed to materialize?” Craig asked.

  “I don’t know. Most of the time, I see him as just another ‘Company Man,’ the corporate equivalent of a kept woman. He’s wined and dined by all the oil company executives on a regular basis. But once in a while, he does something to make me think he’s tired of prostituting himself—like he knows he’s in a position to make a real change, if he just had the guts.”

  I looked at Craig, who was reaching into the bottom of the box to retrieve a stuck doggie treat. “You don’t suppose Jake had anything to do with Ronnie’s accident?”

  Craig looked at Ronnie. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  Ronnie shook her head. “Not Jake. He’s…he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  I thought about her response. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s taking some heat from all those special interests for encouraging you to file your patent. When you really
stop and think about what’s at stake, it’s mind-boggling.”

  Ronnie frowned. “It’s not Jake.”

  We were all silent. The puppy sniffed the toe of my shoe, then sat on my foot. I reached into the cookie jar and pulled out one of the puppy treats. “Here you go,” I said, putting the biscuit in front of his nose. He sniffed it cautiously, then licked it three times before he finally took it from me and dropped it on the floor so he could inspect it further. “I think he grew since this morning,” I said, studying his large frame.

  “Sure he did,” Craig said. He reached down to pat the puppy. He playfully tugged on his ears. “This guy’s growing all the time. Look at the size of those feet. He has a long way to go to grow into those number twelves.”

  I chuckled. “Did you get his stable finished today?”

  “I did. We just have to come up with a name so I can paint it on the sign over the gate.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said.

  My thoughts returned to our original conversation. I felt Craig was still skeptical about the potential for Ronnie’s engine. “I want you to take a ride in Ronnie’s car,” I said.

  “Me? Okay. I’d love to take it for a spin. Can I drive?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Ronnie replied.

  “Good. I’ll put the puppy in his new yard,” I said.

  “You mean now?” Craig asked.

  “Unless you have something else you have to do. I want to take you over to see Ronnie’s house. There’s more potential for her idea than just car engines.”

  Craig eyed me. “You went to Ronnie’s house?”

  I nodded, guiltily. “Yes.”

  “After Sam told you not to?”

  “Since when did that stop me? She needed to get some of her things. You know how inconvenient it is when you don’t have your own stuff.”

  “Did you see anyone suspicious?” he asked.

  “No. Not a soul. Have Ronnie show you her drawings of the engine while I put the puppy out. At least you can get an idea of how it works.”

  Craig, Ronnie, and I stood in the driveway using the lights from the garage to illuminate the engine compartment of her car. She had raised the hood to show Craig the workings.

  “How much of the car is still stock Lexus?” he asked.

  “All but the engine and a couple minor changes.”

  “Really? The transmission? Drive train?”

  “All stock.”

  “Must have been a bear to retrofit your engine to work with the existing mechanisms. Probably not practical to expect the engine to go into cars already on the road,” Craig speculated.

  “It wasn’t hard at all. Just a standard engine replacement. Oh, sure, there are a few little tweaks here and there. I wanted the car to operate like any other car, from the driver’s perspective. Mostly it required redesigning the accelerator mechanism.”

  Craig shoved his hands in his pockets. “But I bet the cost is restrictive. How much to manufacture it?”

  “A lot less than a conventional engine, as a matter of fact. It’s mostly aluminum and steel. Mass production costs would be a fraction of current costs,” she stated.

  I watched Ronnie shoot down every one of Craig’s arguments. He studied the engine for a few more moments, then put the hood down. “Well, let’s see what she’ll do,” he said, anxious to get behind the wheel.

  Craig got in the driver’s seat. I slid into the back, and Ronnie took the passenger seat. Craig backed out of the driveway and headed for the nearest freeway. “Sure is quiet,” he commented.

  I leaned forward to get a look over his shoulder. As we started up the on-ramp, I watched the speedometer. “Go ahead. Give it some gas,” I said.

  “There is no gas,” Craig responded.

  “Oh, right. Push the pedal. It works just like a regular car,” I said.

  Craig pushed his foot into the pedal and the car surged forward without effort. Within seconds, we were up to speed with the freeway traffic. “That’s impressive,” he said.

  “Virtually the same horsepower as the stock engine I took out of the car,” Ronnie explained.

  I could see the surprise in his eyes in the rear-view mirror. I grinned. “There’s more, you know.”

  “More?”

  “Ronnie’s entire house is powered by the same technology. She has a small version of the engine that runs the pump on her water well. She’s never out of electricity and it’s totally free to run.”

  “Let me guess. It plugs right into the existing wiring like a conventional generator would?”

  Ronnie nodded her head. “Just the same as putting a generator on your house, except without the diesel.”

  Craig let out a low whistle. “Add another industry to the list of those who’d go to great lengths to stop Ronnie Oakhurst.”

  “Are you starting to see the big picture?” I asked.

  Craig changed lanes to pass a string of cars. “I’m convinced. Independence from oil and power companies? Who wouldn’t jump on that bandwagon? People would be knocking her doors down to get their hands on the engine. Can you imagine? Oil companies wouldn’t have the power to manipulate people’s lives. Gas prices wouldn’t matter. High transportation costs wouldn’t raise the price of everything people buy. People wouldn’t have to worry if they’d be able to heat their homes in the winter, or cool them in the summer.”

  All those thoughts had gone through my head already. “How do you fight a power like that?”

  “Quietly,” Craig answered.

  Ronnie stared out the window into the darkness. “I should never have filed the patent. They’d never even know about it if I had kept it to myself.”

  “I’m surprised nobody has tried to buy your patent. I thought that’s what usually happened when someone came up with an idea that threatened the big industries. Make a rich man out of the inventor and bury the idea so deep it won’t stand a chance of seeing daylight,” I said.

  Ronnie turned around in her seat. “Someone did call me a few weeks ago. He said he was from a small manufacturing company up in L.A. He wanted to know more about the engine and if I’d consider a partnership. When I said no, he asked if I’d consider selling the patent. He didn’t have a lot of financial backing and couldn’t offer a big price. He didn’t seem too upset when I told him no. We chatted for a while. Somehow, he knew about my father’s inventions and asked if I was Melvin Oakhurst’s daughter.”

  Ronnie pointed out the window at an upcoming street sign. “You want to make a left there,” she told Craig.

  “Anyhow, I never heard from him again.”

  “Doesn’t sound like anyone from an oil company,” I said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Craig said.

  Ronnie pointed to another street sign. “Make a right there. I’m just about a half mile down on the left.”

  As we rounded the corner, a dozen flashing red lights caught our attention. As we got closer, we could see they were fire trucks.

  “What’s going on?” Ronnie blurted, staring at the fleet of big red trucks.

  “Oh my God,” I said as we rolled to a stop in front of what used to be Ronnie’s house. All that remained was a pile of burning embers and a few charred two-by-fours left standing.

  Chapter Five

  The firemen at the scene told us the neighbors reported an explosion at Ronnie’s house, followed by the fire that engulfed it within a matter of minutes.

  Ronnie stood, dazed, in her driveway, watching the last of the embers turn black with the stream of water from the fire hoses. Craig and I gave her a few minutes to be alone, then we gradually coaxed her back to the car so we could take her home.

  The drive back to Del Mar seemed endless. I finally broke the silence. “You have insurance to rebuild. Right?”

  Ronnie sniffed. “Yes. That won’t be a problem.” The tears started flowing again. “It’s not the house that I’m crying about. It’s everything that was inside the house. All the memories. My projects. The model train—that took m
e forever to build. The pictures. All those pictures of my mom and dad and Lance and me—I can never get those back.”

  Craig drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Any idea what should cause the explosion? Did you use any flammable materials in your projects?” he asked.

  “No. I didn’t even keep a gas can around. Anything like that I kept out in the shop. Nothing in that house was prone to explode.”

  “No methane experiments? Anything like that?” Craig pressed.

  “No. Why would I be experimenting with fuels? I have no reason to.”

  “I don’t know. I just had to ask. I was hoping there’d be some logical explanation. If there’s not, then I suspect someone destroyed your house on purpose,” Craig said.

  When we arrived home, I called Detective Wright to see if he’d had any luck locating Lance Oakhurst. He hadn’t found him yet.

  Ronnie sat on the floor in the corner of the living room, tears streaming down her face as she stroked the puppy’s ears. He’d fallen asleep in her lap, thankful that someone finally came to his rescue and let him out of his new prison.

  When I finally hung up the phone with Sam, after listening to his ten-minute lecture about disobeying his orders by going to Ronnie’s house, I sat down on the floor next to her.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but everything’s going to be okay,” I said. How could I tell her such a thing? I had doubts that her life would ever be the same again. If our theory was right about the powers that might be after her, she’d never be safe.

  Ronnie nodded her head and continued petting the puppy.

  “Where did you put the folder you brought back from your house? The one with the copies of the patents?” I asked.

  Ronnie raised her chin and nodded toward the kitchen. “They’re on the table. I was showing Craig the drawings for the engine before we left tonight.”

  I retrieved the folder from the kitchen and returned to our spot on the floor in the corner. I opened the folder and began taking out one page at a time. There were half a dozen copies of patents for different engines—some similar to Ronnie’s, but not nearly as advanced. Some were for other types of engines—steam and fuel cell. I noted the applicant names. “They don’t put the phone numbers on these?” I asked.