Zero Hour (NUMA Files 11)

“Tesla was older by then,” Yaeger said. “And broke. Maybe he needed money.”

“From what I’ve read, he always needed money. Why should 1937 be any different?”

“What are you suggesting?”

Pitt shrugged as if it were obvious. “He buried this Wardenclyffe project when he could have saved it or at least kept it afloat. Then, thirty years later, he insists he’s ready to spring the theory on the world. What are the chances he would do that unless he thought he’d found a solution?”

Again it was the computer that answered. “Considering Tesla’s adherence to his principles, the chances are less than ten percent.”

“I was asking Hiram,” Pitt said. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Pitt made a strange face.

“This is how we work,” Yaeger said. “I talk. It talks back. This is how I’ve always worked.”

“I liked it better when there was a hologram involved,” Pitt said.

“Only because she flirted with you.”

“You might be right about that. Can we get back to Tesla?”

Yaeger nodded. “You’re suggesting Tesla found a way to eliminate the danger, these anomalies he talks about in the letter.”

“It fits,” Pitt said.

“Maybe,” Yaeger said, “except he still never published his theory. And when he died, it vanished.”

“I wonder where,” Pitt said sardonically.

“You think the NSA has it?”

“They have something.”

“That I don’t doubt,” Yaeger said.

Pitt considered calling Sandecker and asking him to lean on the NSA, but the VP was in London at a G-20 meeting, and that kind of fire took a while to stoke.

“What would happen if we nudged their database?” Pitt asked.

“Nudged it?”

“You know,” Pitt said, “like a vending machine that you put your money in but then it doesn’t give you what you paid for. You shake it a little until something falls out. What would happen if we did that to the NSA’s computers?”

“Aside from prison and hard labor?”

“Yeah, aside from that.”

Hiram sighed. “Maybe we can find another way.”

“You can always blame it on the…” Pitt nodded his head toward the computer display, wondering if the machine could pick up on the inference he was making.

“I don’t think we’ll need to do that,” Yaeger said.

“Maybe not,” Pitt said. “What about this Watterson character? You find anything on him?”

Yaeger sighed. “He didn’t really do much after working with Tesla. As I recall, he died young.” He cocked his head. “Computer, are there any events in Daniel Watterson’s life of material relevance to our current project?”