The New Adventures of Lynn Lash

by Andrew Salmon

  “No,” Lash said, “none of us would use what we’re working on for that. But look at what we know. The flaming men, Ray. They’ve all shown up at offices or labs of people who not only attended that Symposium, but also were actively researching theories Tesla developed. Theories that we both know could power an entire country…or leave it burning in one fiery blast.”

  A deafening silence followed as the gravity of the situation was driven home. The names they had just said and a few organizations left unspoken were made up of the most powerful men in the country, perhaps in the world. Millionaires. Geniuses. Men willing to do anything to have their way in the battle to control electricity, its development, its use. Its power.

  Dr. Montalbetti broke the heaviness by saying, “Lynn, can I share with you exactly what I was looking into? My notes are over on the counter…”

  A shocked look crossed his face. The counter was empty. “They were there, really,” Montalbetti said. “When you three came in, I had just finished writing an observation down.” He sat in the chair beside the desk, his head in his hands.

  Rickey asked. “Are you sure it was here? We’re the only one’s here right now.”

  Dr Montalbetti replied, “Yes. I must find those notes, those are my originals!” He wandered around, the lab, looking at counter after counter. “I can’t lose those!” he reiterated.

  “Lynn,” Rickey turned and asked, her eyes searching the cavernous laboratory, “Where is Dr. Llewellyn?”

  Montalbetti looked up, tension and stress now lay heavy across his brow. “I saw him a minute ago, by the oscilloscopes.”

  “Chris!” yelled Rickey. Silence answered her voice.

  “Chris? Where are you? Chris?” echoed Lynn, his voice edged with emotion. Frustration at Llewellyn wandering away, but mostly at himself for not noticing that his colleague had simply walked off. He was too caught up in the mystery, desperate as always to find the answer to questions that could mean lives, possibly millions. It was a weakness of any man dedicated to the truth, sometimes being blinded by the pursuit. And now, Lash knew, it had caused him to let a troubled friend, a man destroyed and desperate, literally vanish.

  The three of them wandered through the rooms reaching off of the lab and searched for both Montalbetti’s notes and Llewellyn. After a few minutes, they gathered back in the main room.

  “He’s gone,” said Montalbetti gravely. “And so are my notes.”

  Lynn looked at Rickey. “Poor Chris,” she whispered. “I hope we find him soon.”

  “I’ll have security call the police, Lash. We need to find Chris,” said Montalbetti. “For his own safety.”

  “Yes,” Lash agreed. “Of course.”

  *****

  Lynn and Rickey waited until the police had asked all their questions, then left as the evening sky began to darken. The trip back to New York seemed endless.

  With Llewellyn disappearing, and the theft of Dr Montalbetti’s research, thoughts raced through Lynn’s mind as he drove. Beside him, Rickey laid her head on the head rest of the passenger seat. She closed her eyes and was soon sleeping.

  The tall scientist entered New York, and crisscrossed the city streets and freeway entrances so familiar to him. Traffic had been light, and that was good. The motion of his roadster seemed to calm his thoughts. He soon arrived in front of his apartment, and led Rickey up the stairs to his office. He laid her on the couch, she fell into slumber again.

  Lash stepped into his lab and was greeted by the sight that had brought three men to their knees. His equipment, like that of Llewellyn, Montalbetti, and Ernst, as Lash had learned from Montalbetti, had been smashed and his research notes that had been locked in the cabinet were scattered everywhere!

  Chapter Four

  In the Rubble, A Clue

  Lynn looked around his lab, which now was a collection of wires, frames, and components lying askew over the tables and floor. Stepping carefully through the rubble, he realized how organized, how thorough these men were in their mission to destroy.

  He took a deep breath and began to pick up the shattered equipment, one piece at a time, and put in on the benches. Lynn started a stack of irreparable components in one corner, and another on one of the benches for working parts.

  A couple of hours had passed and while his hands were busy, Lash sorted through what Dr. Montalbetti had said about his research, and what Dr. Llewellyn divulged in his depression. A chill ran up Lynn’s spine as he shuddered at the image of the shattered man who once was so focused and brilliant. Dr. Montalbetti would be fine. The University had replaced his tools, and certainly, he could restart much more rapidly. He was not rattled, just slowed down.

  Outside the laboratory, Rickey started to talk in her sleep. Lynn walked over to her and pondered waking her. He glanced at the clock 3 a.m. He grabbed a cup of coffee and began to write down his racing thoughts in a coherent fashion.

  Two cups of coffee and three pages of foolscap later, he woke Rickey.

  “Good morning. You’re late,” he said mockingly.

  Rickey rubbed her eyes. “Is it time for breakfast already?” she mumbled, her eyes catching a glimpse of a wall clock across the office. “It’s only five o’clock, Lash. Call me when it’s seven.”

  Lash cleared his throat.

  Rickey growled, “Fine. I guess I don’t need any more sleep.”

  A stretch later, Rickey was ready for the day.

  “Well, Rickey,” Lash said, “I have joined the ranks of the scientifically desecrated. My lab was trashed while we were out investigating the leads we got from Gorman.”

  A shocked look crossed Rickey’s face. “Do I want to see, Lynn?” she asked.

  Lynn shook his head. “No. It upset even me. Now I can understand what those men went through and why Llewellyn was broken. However, from what I can gather from the news clippings, the information from Montalbetti , Llewellyn, and Ernst, a couple of interesting facts are consistent. “

  Rickey stood up and walked over to the lab and peered in. “But you cleaned it up? Why?”

  Lash replied, “I had to, to move on, just like a failed experiment. Besides, I knew what didn’t work.”

  Rickey nodded in agreement. “Okay. But, all of that time and money invested into equipment?”

  Lynn smiled. “Ah, yes. Well, that is unfortunate, but as I was about to almost say…I came to several conclusions. Firstly, each of the scientists were involved in the symposium last May, the one Ray and I talked about earlier, in some way, either presenter, or participant. Secondly, we all were or are involved in research into Tesla power transmission models. Thirdly, at some point, we have all received some kind of allocation from the United Energy Research Foundation. Fourthly, each of the scientists were warned about continuing their research by some kind of flaming individual. Not all of the cases were reported either. I spoke to Hans Sprokfeld, secretary of the Symposium after you fell asleep and he told me that many other scientists have been threatened who expressed interest in Nikola Tesla’s theories.

  “I found one more thing too. I figured that all the flaming men had no fingerprints, but the men who shattered my lab were not as careful. So, I set up my black light and looked for prints. Sure enough, there were plenty. I did have to filter out mine, and yours. But I did manage to get a few clear sets. That is one place I have to go to, to see Sam Casey. Maybe he can help out.”

  Rickey went to the window and looked over the city. The sun has just started to rise and silhouetted the skyscrapers and illuminated the mighty trees in Central Park. She turned around.

  “So Casey,” Rickey said, “won’t even be up yet. What next then?”

  Lynn had walked over to the coat rack, and grabbed his hat and coat. He offered Rickey’s to her. “Breakfast,” he said. “This will be another long day. We have to take a trip to Croton-on-Hudson to meet with Sprokfeld. He’s going to give me the attendance records for the Symposium. I think Lindy’s is a good place to eat, don’t you?”

  “I
wonder what happened to Dr. Llewellyn, Lynn. He could be anywhere.” Rickey wondered.

  A look of concern crossed Lash’s face. “I know. That’s my fault. Dr. Montalbetti said he would call me if he heard anything. We do have to look after our own.”

  *****

  Miles away, a disconcerted scientist wandered aimlessly on a rural road. Sobbing, he glanced down the road toward the rising sun. Behind him, a roadster sped around the country curve and accelerated on the straightaway.

  The driver scarcely heard the screams…

  *****

  Lynn and Rickey arrived in Croton-on-Hudson midmorning to the University to meet Dr. Sprokfeld. The sleepy little town held what seemed to be nothing, but in reality, the greatest minds of the age called this burg home. A tall, gaunt figure of a man met them as they entered the Science Building.

  “Good to see you Lynn,” he said offering his hand.

  Lash returned the enthusiastic handshake. “You too, Hans. I really appreciate the use of the attendance records for the symposium. This will help quite a bit I am sure.”

  Hans Sprokfeld nodded in agreement as he handed a burgeoning manila folder to Lash. “Save one life and this is easily worth the effort. If word of these attacks gets out, it will seriously undermine our efforts to share cutting edge research with each other, perhaps an end to our little symposium even.”

  “Yes,” Lash said. “We are working with the press to keep this out of the papers. Well, thanks again, Hans. We should go back to the lab. We will likely have some visitors later today, and we must be ready for them.” Lynn Lash grinned grimly. “ I do have my reputation to look out for.”

  Chapter Five

  Unsuspected Visitors

  The trip back to the Park Avenue apartment began quietly. Lash kept his ponderings to himself. Rickey read the Symposium attendee list and mentally noted whom they had already contacted or read about. A few miles out of town, Lynn spoke.

  “Well Rickey, what do you make of the list of scientists? From what I remember from my quick glance at it earlier, very few of those men and women are anywhere near this coast. But, if my theory is correct, we won’t need to speak to those people.”

  Rickey looked over at Lash and smiled. “So, you do have a voice after all. I’ll bite,. Why did we go get this list if you are confident that we have talked to almost everyone we have to?”

  “Well, perhaps it’s who’s not on the list we have to worry about. When I was a young man hunting with my father, he always said to keep an eye out for the animals you can’t see…they’re the ones who are going to get you. This may be the case right now.”

  Rickey frowned. “That’s it? A suspicion or some sixth sense?”

  Lynn looked over at Rickey. “You know I don’t believe in those. Everything has a logical explanation. Perhaps I’ll call this a hunch. Ruffling the leaves today may confirm my theories yet.”

  Rickey glanced over toward Lynn and back again. Seeing something out of the corner of her eye, she jerked her head around quickly and yelled at Lash.

  “DOWN!”

  Besides Lynn, in the next car lane, a black Ford coupe sped up and the passenger front window opened up. A machine gun poked out and flames spurted from the barrel. Lynn’s driver front window shattered under the impact and he steered toward the ditch to avoid the next inevitable spray of bullets. The dark car veered in the same direction just as Lynn hit the brakes. The Ford Coupe sped ahead and Lash quickly turned left, crossing the path behind the back left wheel. He accelerated toward the nearby overpass turning lane and entered the curve. Behind him, the coupe driver recovered control, turned out of his lane, and accelerated around the tight turn. The gunman poked his head out of the open window and began to shoot again. Bullets ricocheted off the trunk and punctured the back left tire. Lynn calmly took his foot off the accelerator and steered with the skid, ending in the right ditch a hundred yards past the curve. A passing car stopped immediately and the driver began to run toward Lynn and Rickey. The dark car and its passengers sped by.

  A second vehicle stopped behind the other and the drivers got out. Lynn and Rickey stepped out of the car and surveyed the damage. Rickey shook. Lynn calmly knelt down beside the popped tire and looked over at the approaching men.

  “Are you okay, sir?” the first one asked.

  “Fine. Shaken up a little, but we are fine. Thanks for stopping,” Lynn replied smiling. “Anyone of you handy with a jack and tire, or have a tow truck nearby?”

  Rickey, leaning on the car, looked over at Lynn.

  “Surprise…”

  Chapter Six

  The Noose Pulls Tighter

  The police arrived on scene a few minutes later, Detective Sam Casey leading the charge. Lynn, by this time, had thanked the bystanders for changing his tire, and was awaiting the go ahead to leave.

  “Lynn, what did you do this time?” Casey asked as he lit up a cigarette.

  “Well Sam, we were investigating a lead and on the way back home, this black Ford Coupe drives up and pretends my head is a target. Thankfully, they missed, but round two caught my tire and here we are.”

  Casey looked over to Rickey. She smiled. “Hello, Sam. Long time no see. What’s new?”

  Casey shook his head. “One is as bad as the other. Is that what happened, Rickey? Anything left out?”

  She looked thoughtfully, replaying the scene in her mind’s eye. “No. Except that the gunman wore black. Strange how the inside of the car was black, in the middle of the day.”

  Sam wrote on his note pad. “What else about the car can you remember, Rickey? You probably saw more than Lynn.”

  She continued to look around. “Hmm, well, it was a later model Ford Coupe. No plate that I remember. But, there was a dent on the front of the car.”

  “And,” Lash said,” there were plenty of bullets thrown around. Your men dug some out of the tire, I think.”

  Casey nodded to Lash. “You guys okay? If you’re okay, get out of here. ”

  Lynn staggered against the car and looked over at Rickey. “Care to drive? I believe I am beginning to feel tired.”

  She took the offered key and Lynn slipped into the passenger side. “About time, Lynn,” she answered as she slid into the driver’s seat.

  But he was already asleep.

  Rickey thanked the police and turned into traffic toward the office. The events of the day had already sapped any strength she had gained from her night of sleep, yet she was ready to go on, as long as it took to find out why someone wanted her boss dead.

  Beside her, Lynn Lash wiggled in the seat. A couple hours of sleep, and he would be back, going full speed for days if necessary. She turned the radio on.

  An announcer interrupted the chorus of “Pennies from Heaven” with a special bulletin.

  “Newsflash: The body of eminent scientist Dr. Christopher Llewellyn was found on Route 63, south of the city today. The driver, who reported the death, said he seemed to appear out of nowhere and he could not stop in time. Dr Llewellyn was killed instantly. More later as full details come in.”

  All Rickey could do was look straight ahead and drive.

  Chapter Seven

  Date with Danger

  Rickey turned into the office building parking stall, still shocked, and stopped the car. She got out and shook Lash softly. He woke up.

  “Lash, we’re at the office. Before I go back to my place and freshen up, I need to tell you something. They found Dr. Llewellyn this morning. Dead on Highway 63.”

  A look of shock crossed Lash’s face, and then disappeared. His eyes steeled up again, just like before, and the determination to find out whom or what was behind this flared.

  “Dead?” he intoned. “Dead?”

  “Yes. He appeared out of a ditch or a copse of trees, and the driver could not stop,” Rickey said sadly. “That’s all we know.”

  Lash was silent as he sat in the front seat of the car. Rickey opened the passenger door and looked back at Lash. Taking a breath,
she turned and walked two parking spots to the right. She got into her car and started it. Pulling out, she turned the car toward the exit and slowed beside Lash as he climbed out of his own automobile.

  “Lynn, get some rest. Please,” she said pleadingly.

  Lynn said nothing and watched as Rickey drove forward and left the parking lot to drive to go to her apartment. He turned to go to his laboratory/office, walked into the lobby. Making his way into the elevator, he nodded as the elevator operator greeted him, but said nothing. Something nagged at him.

  He ran through the clues again. While each circumstance was different, the method in which the attacks and subsequent destruction occurred were similar. There seemed to be a familiarity with the scientists in question. That brought up the Symposium connection, but even that would not account for the attacks. The Symposium was designed to further research and to stimulate the acquisition of knowledge, something that Nikola Tesla held firm to. His lecture on alternate technologies was fascinating, and held the two hundred plus scientists in awe. Strangely enough, only the idea of wireless power transmission appealed to a wide spectrum of scientists. Even though he demonstrated it in 1891, the present era ached for an alternative to power transmission lines strung everywhere, and the monopoly power suppliers held.

  Lynn arrived at the sixth floor. He stepped out of the cage and walked to his office. Opening the door, he found an envelope under the mat.

  It was addressed to Lynn Lash, in a finely technical hand, one that seemed more accustomed to lettering schematic diagrams rather than envelopes. Lynn opened it.

  A short letter was inside, it read:

  Lash:

  A friend wants you to have this.

  Lynn looked more closely inside the envelope and found a key to a safety deposit box. Markings on the key indicated it had been issued by the Downtown Bus Depot. Pocketing the key, he looked around the office. Unlike last time he was there, there was no additional damage, and along with the letter he had just opened, a small stash of mail was in the box attached to the door. He took the Symposium invitation list and put it on Rickey’s desk. Taking a close look at the letters, he sorted them quickly.