Zero Hour (NUMA Files 11)

“One day, I’m going to come in here and find you hardwired to the system,” Pitt said.

In his zeal, Yaeger hadn’t sensed Pitt coming. He turned abruptly, startled by Pitt’s voice. “You might have knocked.”

“All this technology, and you don’t have a doorbell?” Pitt said. “Or one of those things in the mall that ping when someone enters the store. Maybe I should get you a dog.”

Yaeger’s face scrunched up at that thought. “I already have a dog. I leave him at home because he pees on things and chews up the wires.”

“Sensible choice.”

“What brings you down here?” Yaeger asked.

Pitt placed a thick manila packet down on the table. “From the Aussies. Their file and technical data. I figured you and the computers could analyze it.”

“They sent it on paper?”

“Some people still use the mail, Hiram.”

“Might as well write with a quill pen,” Yaeger grunted.

Pitt climbed up onto the platform. “So what is all this?”

“New interface.”

“What’s that thing over your eye?” Pitt asked. “You look like a cross between Colonel Klink from Hogan’s Heroes and one of the Borg from Star Trek.”

“Unfortunately, I feel more like Sergeant Shultz,” Yaeger said. “Because I know nothing at this point.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“The NSA doesn’t want to share,” Yaeger explained. “Despite their promises. I’ve got nothing from them.”

“Didn’t they send a batch of data over this morning?”

“It’s all seismic data,” Yaeger said, “which we do need, I admit. But you asked me to look into this Dynamic Theory of Gravity that Tesla supposedly came up with. I’ve requested a boatload of documents on that end and received nothing. They’re stonewalling me.”

Pitt figured they would have to do something about that.

“Let me show you something,” Yaeger said, waving Dirk to the platform area between the three screens.

Pitt stepped forward. “I feel like you’re going to measure me for a suit.”

“The system could do that if you wanted it to,” Yaeger insisted. “But it’s a waste of processing power.”

“Depends on how the suit fits,” Pitt replied.

Hiram ignored him and pointed to the left-hand screen

, where the photo of a one-story brick building appeared. It had ten evenly spaced windows, five on each side of a central door. It looked like a schoolhouse.

A half-finished structure stood behind the building. It was made of latticework, somewhat like the Eiffel Tower but with little of the French construction’s graceful lines. In fact, it looked very utilitarian. At the top of the tower was a dome. Altogether, the setup resembled a giant metal mushroom.

“Wardenclyffe,” Yaeger said. “Tesla’s million-dollar folly, they called it. Construction began in 1901. Tesla insisted it was the first of many to be placed around the world. Towers that would allow instant transmission of data and, more important perhaps, the wireless diffusion of electrical energy.”

“Amazing,” Pitt said.

“It really is,” Yaeger said. “Tesla worked on this tower in conjunction with his Dynamic Theory of Gravity. He exhausted himself on it, financially, physically, and mentally. He just about broke himself trying to see it through. In 1905, he ran out of money. The building remained in his possession for years but was eventually foreclosed upon. Finally, in 1917, a demolitions crew blew up the rusting tower. In many ways, it was the biggest setback of Tesla’s life. And yet, we have this letter.”

As Yaeger spoke, the photocopy of a handwritten letter flashed up on the central screen. It was signed by Tesla and addressed to a man named Watterson. It was dated March 1905.