Gorman waved him to the chair beside Lash. “Lynn Lash, meet Gill Thomas.
As the reporter sat, Lynn spoke. “I was curious, Thomas, how you got a name for the victim who died in my office. I was not able to find anything on him.”
Thomas looked down and then over to Lash. “Well, I had overheard a mention of a name for the burning man when I and the other newshounds were up at your office as the police were leaving, so I used it.”
Lynn waved him to continue. “That was…”
“Holman, Roger Holman,” Thomas stated matter-of-factly.
Lynn looked thoughtfully at the reporter. Mentally, Lynn made a quick note. “Roger Holt,” he corrected the reporter.
Gill Thomas cleared his throat. “Ah yes. Holt. It was a rather quick mention.”
“Who mentioned any name?” Lash asked. “I was in the vicinity the whole time, and no one mentioned any name?”
“It was on the way down the elevator,” Thomas replied. “One of the press guys mentioned it, from The Gotham Times I think. I did make notes.”
Lash nodded. “Thanks, I may need those if you don’t mind. I tried tracking the dead man from my office, and it seemed that no one was really paying attention. He appeared out of nowhere and ran to my office. Only a gentleman in the elevator really had any tangible evidence.”
Gorman motioned toward Thomas. “Gill, give Mr. Lash all possible cooperation. Lynn, do you want the international clippings we did not use for stories? I kept those aside thinking we might have some use of them someday.” Gorman reached back to grab a file folder atop his bookshelf.
“Please. That would be useful,” Lash replied, taking the files from the publisher. “If you would both excuse me, I must be off to my lab. Research calls, you know.”
*****
Lash left the office quickly and hailed a cab from The Daily Gazette. The conversations he had with the man in the elevator and Gill Thomas replayed through his head. Once those stopped, the voice of the dead man, whomever he really was, echoed.
“Stop….research….stop.”
Then there were the words of Gorman, and the file folder in his hands. The question resonated through his mind…and finally expressed itself aloud.
“Research….what if it was my research that triggered the visit????”
By the time he reached his office, he was bouncing out of the cab and into his Park Avenue laboratory. The sixth floor was dedicated exclusively to Lynn Lash and his work. While he owned a prestigious location and dressed immaculately, he was not averse to disappearing for weeks at a time to research topics that read like science fiction.
He stepped into the elevator and anxiously tapped his foot.
“Faster, damned elevator….faster.”
The other occupant looked at him tersely. “You know, Mr. Lash, I have a husband like you. Always rushing somewhere.”
Lynn sheepishly grinned. “Sorry. “
The woman smiled grandmother-like. “Just like my husband…”
The cage door opened and Lash sped out. “Goodbye, Mrs. Dent!”
Lash rushed down the hall and, slowing, walked into his office. Rickey greeted him and took his over coat and hat, hanging them on the coat rack.
Lash walked over to a conference table beside the desk and laid the files out, then swept his hands across the row of papers emphatically. “Research. These flaming men all died in laboratories, or where research was being done on electricity by my colleagues. But what exactly were they researching?”
Lynn paced the floor, his hands behind his back, and walked to the window. Looking over the city of New York, and Central Park, he turned back to Rickey and smiled. “There are probably forty scientists who work in the electrical research field. But,” the smile broadened, “only a few of us attended a symposium together recently. A symposium that featured Nikola Tesla!”
*****
Three hours later Lynn looked over at Rickey. They’d spent all that time reviewing and researching. They’d built a list of all the scientists working on electricity and its possible uses and then cross referenced that with the list Lash pulled from his own memory of those who’d gathered the previous May upstate to share ideas with a man many considered a genius, while others called him a crackpot.
“From what I can conclude, all of these scientists were indeed conducting some kind of secret electrical research. The articles mention only that their labs were entered by flaming men with no identities, and that the men died quickly. Just like the man who came to our office, no obvious tracks were left behind. In one case, the grass was burning for a short while, but the man was otherwise untraceable. Each of those scientists, Rickey, attended the Symposium with Tesla, just as I did.”
Rickey nodded in agreement.
“Even the bodies went unclaimed, and no spouses or parents came forth to identify them.” Lynn reached over, picking up a steaming cup of coffee. Taking a drink, he continued. “Other than issuing warnings, why were these scientists,“ he waved at the list compiled in front of him, “and myself, for that matter, targeted? Did each get the same warning? There may only be one way to find out, and that, my dear, will take time.”
Rickey smiled. “You mean I get some time off? I have this novel my mother has recommended I read.”
Lash frowned. “No. As much as I would like to send you off for a week or so, the prospect of this wave of fiery deaths has a sinister undertone. You are coming with me for your own safety.”
“I expected as much, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.” Rickey got up and straightened her dress out. “Let’s go. I’ll take the first page of names, and you take the second.”
“No, we’ll go together. That way I can keep an eye on you.”
“Party pooper,” Rickey said woefully as she handed Lynn his hat and coat.
Chapter Three
Birds of a Feather
The list was diverse; men and women spoken of in whispers in scientific circles named on it. Smithson, Snook, Ernst, Montalbetti and Llewellyn were of prime interest to Lash.
Dr. Chris Llewellyn lived at 43 McKenzie Way, an area of much opulence and luxury. His home, like many others in the area, was gated and enclosed by tall, ancient trees. A short stone fence added a sense of solidity. The sun peeked through the treetops as the auto carrying Lash and Rickey rumbled over the pea gravel topped roads.
Lash stopped before the gate and noticed a bright shiny lock on the iron guardians. “Hmm, that’s fresh, Rickey. Last month it wasn’t here.”
Rickey got out of the vehicle and gazed toward the house. The mid morning sun shone off her silky hat. “He may be home, Lash. I can see a car in front of the main door. Maybe we could yell.”
Lash shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure that would help. Do you have a hair pin that I can borrow?”
Rickey reached into her purse and handed one to Lash.
The scientist opened the driver side door, got out of the car, and crouched in front of the lock. He began to work on the padlock. Focusing on the lock, he inserted the hairpin into the keyhole and wiggled it intensely, waiting for a click. Continuing with his efforts, a click sounded, and soon, the gate swung open. He motioned Rickey to get into the car and pulled the gate wide open so they could drive the car in. They drove a few hundred yards and parked under the canopy in front of the mansion. It seemed quiet and deathly still. They waited to get out of the car.
“Lynn…” Rickey said before she was motioned to be silent.
Lash looked over at her and spoke quietly. “Listen,” he whispered.
The pair waited for a couple of minutes, then got out of the roadster and walked up the wide porch steps. Lynn knocked on the door, waited, and knocked again. Footsteps finally sounded and the door opened.
Chris Llewellyn opened the door, but Lash was shocked at what he saw. What once was a physically fit, handsome researcher was now a bedraggled, nervous wreck. His unkempt hair and stained clothing evidenced deep distress.
“My God, man,
come in, before they get you. Those flaming men nearly got me….I sent my family away to Lydia’s mother’s ‘til I could get some help, and figure this thing out. Quick, they’re fast.”
Lash and Rickey stepped in, and watched as Chris double bolted and chained the front door shut. “Did you see anyone or anything out there?” He asked, a hint of madness in his voice.
Lash shook his head and moved to the parlor where the remnants of many meals and sleepless nights showed clearly. “What happened, Chris?”
Llewellyn sat down in a chair, and motioned Rickey and Lash to do the same. They cleared away papers, dishes and then sat down on the disheveled divan. Closed curtains hid a layer of dust and indicated a lack of recent cleaning.
“Lash, it was terrible. My wife and two boys were home that day the men appeared. It was early afternoon, and there was a thunk at the door. Our dog, Simon usually barked, but this time, he howled as if rabid…I can still hear it.”
He continued as he got up and wandered nervously. “They knocked on the door, and when I opened it, two men burst in. My wife, Lydia, screamed and my boys ran to her. I sent them away to the kitchen while I grabbed a spear from the wall display and used it to protect us. They moved toward me, moaning and flaming.”
Dr. Llewellyn pulled his hair and babbled incoherently then spoke plainly again. “They moved a few feet in and fell down, their clothes burning and flesh smoldering. The smell was nauseating. Lydia came from the kitchen with a bucket of water and poured it on the one man, to no avail. He continued to burn. One stood back up, and fell down and screamed one last time….Abandon your research…you will die…” The physicist began to sob uncontrollably. “I called the police, and while I waited I sent my wife and boys to their grandparents for a while. I thought I could handle this, but I’m as jumpy as a squirrel. I need to go somewhere, to relax, to forget.”
Llewellyn stood up and paced back and forth. He put his hands behind his back, and wrung his hands nervously, then began to wave his arms again. He turned and looked back to Lash, a glint of madness twisted his face. “I wish I could give up my research, but I can’t. I am just too close…”
Lash’s attention was rapt. “Chris, the man that came to my office yesterday, warned me to stop my research. He had no identifying marks, and is so far, a dead end clue. What did the police find out about your two invaders?” he asked.
Chris paced. A hint of sanity returned to his face. “Well, they told me that they had no names, no identification, nothing. I’m scared, Lynn, with my research attracting the wrong kind of attention. I can’t even work. Hell, I’m barely even keeping myself alive…”
Lynn nodded in understanding. “Chris, what exactly were you working on?”
“Tesla. I was working on Teslic theories. I found positive results!”
Lynn reacted quickly. “Microwave transmission???”
Llewellyn nodded, then asked. “You too?”
“Yes,” Lash answered as he placed his hands behind his back and started to look around the room. “How close to success are you?”
Chris sat down again and wrapped his hands around his head in discomfort. “You mean WAS I, don’t you??”
Lynn stopped, startled. “WAS?”
Llewellyn stared into the ceiling, a distant look in his eyes. He began to relive the painful experience. “The men in black came in the day after Lydia took the kids. I had locked the door, but they knocked on the door, at first, and then wiggled it. I looked through the window, and could not see anyone. I opened the door slightly, and looked around. They forced their way in by breaking the chain. I fell back, and three men ran over me, straight down the hall into the lab area.”
The beleaguered scientist took a deep breath. “I looked up from the ground, and saw them running. One looked back, and then motioned the others ahead and to the right. They knew where they were going…they knew!”
Llewellyn wrung his hands. “I was powerless to stop them. I got to my feet, and stumbled after them. The sounds of crashing and destruction were agony to my ears. Once I got to the lab door, I leaned on the frame, in horror. My lab was destroyed. My life work, destroyed. My wife and family, gone.”
Lash stood emotionless, unsure what to say.
“It’s easier to show you,” added Chris.
Chris got up and motioned them to follow him down the hall. Lynn and Rickey turned right through the doorway, and walked through the once well-organized laboratory. Well-built shelves had been tottered onto the floor. Pieces of glass and lengths of wire lay strewn about. Reference books were lying haphazard on top of mechanical marvels, and notebooks had been ripped and torn apart by guile-less monsters.
Chris stopped and pointed to a mass of broken machinery and wires. “This was the transmitter, but they took a crowbar to it, and destroyed it while I watched. These, men in black, didn’t speak, just destroyed. Destroyed, my life’s work” he continued angrily.
Lynn and Rickey stood among the ruins and shared in his despair. After a few minutes, they led him out of the room, gathered his things, and left the mansion.
Lash looked over at Chris, who at present, was under control. “Chris, we’re going to see Montalbetti. I think it’s best you come with us.”
The bewildered theorist just nodded in agreement. “Okay, Lash. It will be safer. Maybe when I come back, Lydia and the kids will be here, and my lab will be okay again, right?” he asked.
Lynn looked at Rickey, who grabbed the arm of Dr. Llewellyn and gently led him down the steps to the car.
“Chris, we’ll make sure you get some help through this, okay?” Rickey said sympathetically.
Getting into the car, they drove in silence to the university to see Dr. Montalbetti while the broken scientist in the back seat gazed at the passing scenery in shock.
*****
They arrived at the University of Saskatchewan a few miles away and met the slightly stout scientist at the parking lot to the Physics building.
Dr Montalbetti looked over at Dr Llewellyn as he led the three of them toward the electrical lab. “Chris, I heard what happened to your lab. If we can help here, let us know,” offered Montalbetti.
Llewellyn nodded and mumbled a muted response.
Montalbetti turned his attention towards Lash and Rickey.” Lynn, it’s been a little while. You too, Rickey.”
Rickey smiled.
“Yes, Ray,” Lash said. “I think we saw you at the Experimental Physicists Symposium last May, wasn’t it?” Lynn commented.
Ray nodded. “Yes, I think so. The last time many of us with common interests were together.” Montalbetti took a breath. “I read about your burning man visit a couple of days ago. Most disturbing thing. Several of our colleagues have had similar happenings, Ernst and myself included.”
The four climbed the stairs to the third floor lab in the Skopik Building. “My lab,” said Montalbetti, ”used to be on the first floor, before the ‘visit’, but they moved me for security reasons. I’m not so sure my work is that important, but the big wigs at the University seem to think so.”
“So, Ray, what kind of research were you working on?” Lynn asked.
Ray cleared his throat. “Do you remember when Nikola Tesla stunned the symposium with his theories of wireless power transmission, and he held a single bulb in his hand while a generator across the room lit up like a Christmas tree? He challenged us to think outside the box to extend our research into other ways to transmit power….”
Lynn and Rickey looked at each other. “Wireless transmission….” They said at the same time.
Ray smiled. “Yes, wireless transmission. With the new equipment they gave me, I can explore some other ideas. By the way Lynn, were you working on the same theories too?” he asked.
“Yes, and so was Chris. By the way, what did your flaming man say to you, Ray?” Lynn asked.
“Well, he managed to moan, ‘Stop research…stop’” Ray replied.
Chris stared blankly into the air, his face turned ashe
n. His eyes lit up with life momentarily, then flared out. He wandered around the tables, randomly touching equipment, then moving onto another bench.
Lynn moved too, pacing intently around the spacious lab area. “That’s pretty much what our dead man said too, and Dr. Llewellyn had the same experience, except they demolished his lab entirely.”
Dr. Montalbetti slammed the desk with his fist. “There was a group of men that security chased out of my lab just after the warning. I refused to accept the warning, and kept on working. They had broken into one of the windows and started to smash equipment. Didn’t get much though, I kept the important stuff in a separate room.”
Lynn looked at Rickey. “So, whomever,” he said, “or whatever is behind all of this is trying to destroy scientific research into the theories of Nikola Tesla.”
Rickey shook her head. “Who could benefit from that?” Rickey asked.
“Only a few men or industries could gain by this area of theory being held back,” Lynn countered.
“Such as the United Electrical Conglomerate…Ediston Co…” Ray added.
“The shareholders of the New York Power Generation Network.” Rickey finished.
“There’s another possibility,” Lash said solemnly. He stood up straight, his face now a grim mask cast by the words rising in his throat. “This could simply be powerbrokers, in both a figurative and literal sense. But it could be something else. Someone else.”
“Who?” Rickey asked, fear tingeing her voice.
“It’s a big world,” says Lash, “and an angry one right now. How many times, Rickey, have we stumbled across mysteries or encountered agents of other countries who want the next scientific development so they can turn it into the next weapon?”
“Weapon?” Montalbetti said, realization hitting him hard. “Tesla’s theories…the death ray… but none of us…”
The New Adventures of Lynn Lash Page 12