Read Online The Tesla Legacy by Rebecca Cantrell - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Cantrell
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died, and he didn’t much care.
The lady smiled up at the man in the business suit. He didn’t look like anything to worry about as he kissed both cheeks and installed her in a bright yellow taxi, sticking the suitcase into the trunk himself. Only after the taxi pulled away from the curb did the man start walking briskly in the other direction.
Perfect. Both of them were out of their room.
In a piece of weird timing that couldn’t be coincidental, the Geezer guy jumped to his feet and ran to the street. A taxi practically hit him, and he climbed inside. The hippie seemed to be arguing with the driver before it pulled away. Quantum debated following, but didn’t. Ash had told him to search the room as soon as the couple left. He wasn’t going to screw up such a simple assignment to follow some hippie.
He jogged across the street and looked right through the uniformed doorman. Quantum was a guest of this hotel, his room paid for through Spooky’s petty-cash fund—another reason he thought Ash might be rich. Spooky always had access to plenty of money, either from Ash’s pocket or stolen by him, each as good as the other as far as Quantum was concerned.
Since check-in, he’d ordered all the room service he could and had raided the minibar. Money was just a concept to someone like Ash, he suspected. And Quantum could resell those tiny liquor bottles.
He sauntered across the opulent lobby toward the elevators. Nobody said anything about the sweat he was dripping on the floor, because he had every right to be here. He was a guest. Refrigerated air wafted across his skin, and he took in a deep breath of it.
A quick smile in the concierge’s direction, and he was already to the elevator. His room was beside the one he was supposed to search, and he had a card key to it in his wallet next to his own. If the card key didn’t work, he’d have to improvise, but he bet Ash had come through. That guy didn’t miss a trick.
A few minutes later he was in the hotel room of one Tatiana Tesla and Hugh Hollingberry, a tidy couple. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began his search. His mother called him The Accountant, because he was so meticulous in his habits—always putting things back as he had found them. He’d been like that as long as he could remember. A useful trait.
He finished the search and returned to his room, where he tapped out a message to Ash in a dark chat room, telling him he hadn’t found anything, but the woman had left with a suitcase. Maybe the plans or the Oscillator were in there.
ash: she’s at oyster bar in grand central. get suitcase
quantum: how do u know?
ash: tracking her. go!
It was spooky how much Ash knew. Quantum smiled at the pun. He only ever contacted Ash through a screen of false identities or with a disposable burner phone, so he wouldn’t be easy to track, even for someone like Ash. Or at least he hoped not. His phone vibrated with an incoming text, reminding him that he was still on duty.
ash: get suitcase
quantum: any means necessary?
ash: do no serious damage. don’t get caught
Quantum parsed those last sentences. What kind of damage did Ash deem to be serious? Tough to say. He’d have to use his own judgment. And no matter what, he didn’t intend to get caught.
Chapter 8
A flurry of movement by the door told Joe his mother had arrived at the Oyster Bar. Even in New York City, home to a fashion industry and full of beautiful women a third her age, something about Tatiana drew all eyes to her. She was always a star.
She still wore the black dress from the funeral, but she had taken off the hat, veil, and gloves. Her black hair, hair that would never go gray, was cut in a severe bob that angled forward, longer at the chin than at the nape of her neck. A new cut for her, and it looked good. She crossed the floor with easy grace.
He hadn’t inherited any of her coordination.
A wheeled suitcase trailed along behind her. He jumped to his feet to take it from
The lady smiled up at the man in the business suit. He didn’t look like anything to worry about as he kissed both cheeks and installed her in a bright yellow taxi, sticking the suitcase into the trunk himself. Only after the taxi pulled away from the curb did the man start walking briskly in the other direction.
Perfect. Both of them were out of their room.
In a piece of weird timing that couldn’t be coincidental, the Geezer guy jumped to his feet and ran to the street. A taxi practically hit him, and he climbed inside. The hippie seemed to be arguing with the driver before it pulled away. Quantum debated following, but didn’t. Ash had told him to search the room as soon as the couple left. He wasn’t going to screw up such a simple assignment to follow some hippie.
He jogged across the street and looked right through the uniformed doorman. Quantum was a guest of this hotel, his room paid for through Spooky’s petty-cash fund—another reason he thought Ash might be rich. Spooky always had access to plenty of money, either from Ash’s pocket or stolen by him, each as good as the other as far as Quantum was concerned.
Since check-in, he’d ordered all the room service he could and had raided the minibar. Money was just a concept to someone like Ash, he suspected. And Quantum could resell those tiny liquor bottles.
He sauntered across the opulent lobby toward the elevators. Nobody said anything about the sweat he was dripping on the floor, because he had every right to be here. He was a guest. Refrigerated air wafted across his skin, and he took in a deep breath of it.
A quick smile in the concierge’s direction, and he was already to the elevator. His room was beside the one he was supposed to search, and he had a card key to it in his wallet next to his own. If the card key didn’t work, he’d have to improvise, but he bet Ash had come through. That guy didn’t miss a trick.
A few minutes later he was in the hotel room of one Tatiana Tesla and Hugh Hollingberry, a tidy couple. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began his search. His mother called him The Accountant, because he was so meticulous in his habits—always putting things back as he had found them. He’d been like that as long as he could remember. A useful trait.
He finished the search and returned to his room, where he tapped out a message to Ash in a dark chat room, telling him he hadn’t found anything, but the woman had left with a suitcase. Maybe the plans or the Oscillator were in there.
ash: she’s at oyster bar in grand central. get suitcase
quantum: how do u know?
ash: tracking her. go!
It was spooky how much Ash knew. Quantum smiled at the pun. He only ever contacted Ash through a screen of false identities or with a disposable burner phone, so he wouldn’t be easy to track, even for someone like Ash. Or at least he hoped not. His phone vibrated with an incoming text, reminding him that he was still on duty.
ash: get suitcase
quantum: any means necessary?
ash: do no serious damage. don’t get caught
Quantum parsed those last sentences. What kind of damage did Ash deem to be serious? Tough to say. He’d have to use his own judgment. And no matter what, he didn’t intend to get caught.
Chapter 8
A flurry of movement by the door told Joe his mother had arrived at the Oyster Bar. Even in New York City, home to a fashion industry and full of beautiful women a third her age, something about Tatiana drew all eyes to her. She was always a star.
She still wore the black dress from the funeral, but she had taken off the hat, veil, and gloves. Her black hair, hair that would never go gray, was cut in a severe bob that angled forward, longer at the chin than at the nape of her neck. A new cut for her, and it looked good. She crossed the floor with easy grace.
He hadn’t inherited any of her coordination.
A wheeled suitcase trailed along behind her. He jumped to his feet to take it from
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