Perpetual Motion (12 page)

“Yeah, the investor in Michael’s business,”
Cynical explained, keeping half an eye on Desmond who had slunk
over to a chair to lick his wounds. “I’m just trying to find your
fiancé, not hurt him.” She still looked unsure. “I was just with
him, in Vegas, but I lost him.”

Now he had her undivided attention. “You were
with Michael?”

“Yeah, two nights ago,” he confirmed. “We
were leaving his hotel room when we got jumped.”

“Jumped?” Desmond said, looking up. “By
who?”

“Is he okay?” Karen asked, shouting over
him.

“I think he got away,” Cynical said
hopefully, as if talking about a patient who was fighting a deadly
disease. Karen was genuinely worried and, it was then that he
noticed a plain black ring on her left hand; her engagement
ring.

“Who was it that jumped you?” Desmond
repeated from his corner.

“I don’t know who they were,” Cynical said
dismissively. Elaborating with a bunch of theories would only alarm
the kids, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“The important thing is we need to find
Michael before they do.” He looked between the two of them. “Now,
tell me everything you can about him.”

“Michael’s not smart. Not smart like straight
A smart or Dean’s List smart.” Desmond was speaking fast between
slurps of warm green tea Karen had brewed up. Sitting Indian style
on the floor, his crossed legs were bouncing with kinetic energy.
“See, I’m smart. Karen’s smart. Michael’s something else. He’s like
– out of this world, alien smart.”

“When we were at Tech, he was constantly
coming up with bizarre stuff, like building an engine that ran on
electrically charged water. Once, he split water molecules by using
bass vibrations!” Desmond shook his head, letting strands of hair
drop over his face. “He was a science fair freak show.”

“Okay, I get it,” Cynical said, anxious to
move things along.

“Yeah, so Michael really got into magnets and
their ‘invisible power,’ as he liked to call it. He had this idea
for a magnetic powered machine – and he became obsessed with
proving it would work. So, he basically hobbled this contraption
together.”

“Only no one would give him the time of day,”
Karen said, agitation playing on her pretty face.

“Yeah, he showed it around and no one really
believed him or just didn’t get it,” Desmond said; his arms resting
on his knees. “At some point, he entered the results in a little
science journal. Then, out of the blue, he got a call from this big
shot in Europe.”

“Mancuso?” Cynical guessed.

“Yeah,” Desmond confirmed. “He had stumbled
across the article and was intrigued. So he flew an engineer out
who looked at the machine and, the next thing we knew, he was
giving Michael enough money to build a working prototype.” Taking a
sip of tea, he seemed to relish that moment. “Michael dropped out
of school and hired me and Fernando to help him,” he said proudly.
“We were in business.”

“Wait,” Cynical said. “Who’s Fernando?”

“A friend of Michael’s,” Karen offered.

“He doesn’t have a formal education or
anything, but he’s a brilliant mechanic, just a natural engineer,”
Desmond added. “The dude can build anything.”

“Okay, so you’re working on this machine,”
Cynical recapped. “Then what?”

“It took us almost two years, but we did it –
and it worked, man! I mean, we were getting huge returns from the
tiniest electrical charge!”

Desmond grew more excited as he spun his
tale, and Cynical couldn’t help but feel some of the thrill.

“We were finishing up - just running tests to
see how long it could run - and under what load. Then, a few weeks
ago, Michael left it running all night.”

“Was that unusual?” Cynical asked.

“No, he did it all the time,” Desmond said.
“Only this time, when we got to work the next morning, it was all
blown to hell.”

“Could it have overheated and blown itself
up?”

“No way man,” Desmond said, shaking his head.
“There’s no engine to blow up! No, someone definitely broke in and
dynamited it!”

“You forgot the part about the government
people coming to see Michael a few days before that,” Karen
reminded him.

“Oh yeah,” Desmond said, growing more quiet.
“These two dudes showed up from the Department of Energy, asking
questions about what we were working on.”

“That was just few days before the
explosion,” Karen added. “Michael was already nervous, but that
visit made him kind of paranoid. He couldn’t figure out how they’d
found out about it. After that, he didn’t trust anybody. He said no
one person should be entrusted with this technology, including the
government – or even Mancuso.”

“Yeah, and then the explosion sort of proved
all of Michael’s paranoia,” Desmond said. “I mean, we all kind of
freaked out at that point. Michael just took off.”

The kids seemed anxious, even relieved to be
able to tell their story, so Cynical kept the questions coming.
“Can you think of anyone else that would have known what you were
working on?”

“Michael was fanatical about secrecy,”
Desmond said, shaking his head.

As Cynical took it all in, he remembered the
message Michael had left on Karen’s answering machine.
‘Tell
Fernando I have Mary with me.’
“Who’s Mary?”

Desmond and Karen exchanged a look of initial
confusion; then they both seemed to register recognition and
surprise.

“No one knows about that,” Desmond said. “Not
even Mancuso.”

Turning to face their inquisitor, Karen
asked, “So, how do you know about Mari?”

Both of the kids were looking at Cynical,
waiting to find out how he’d obtained his inside information. Of
course, he had listened to Karen’s answering machine, but that
might not be viewed too favorably and, at the moment, the last
thing he wanted to do was give her a reason to distrust him.

It seemed like a good time to sample the
green tea that had been steeping in front of him for fifteen
minutes. After taking a deliberate drink of the tepid tea, he set
the dainty cup down. “Let’s just say I heard something during my
investigation,” Cynical said cryptically. “So, are you going to
tell me who Mary is or not?”

Neither of them responded for a few seconds.
Finally, Karen spoke up.

“Mari isn’t a ‘who;’ she’s the name of the
next generation prototype Michael was working on. Magnetic
Amplifier…”

“Resonance Impulse,” Desmond finished.

“Okay, so what does M.A.R.I. do?”

“See, the prototype we built was big,” Karen
said. “Way too big to be practical for consumer use. And that’s
really what Michael was interested in – something that everyone
could afford. She turned, deferring to Desmond. “You know more
about this than I do.”

“I don’t really know that much,” Desmond
admitted. “Before he was finished testing our model, he started
working on a more compact, efficient version. MARI was going to be
that next generation, but I wasn’t involved with it.” With a shrug,
he added, “I didn’t think he got very far with it.”

“Okay,” Cynical said, holding up a hand.
Having decided the information wasn’t going to help him find
Michael, he refocused on Karen. “Do you think he’ll contact you
again?”

She nodded.

“How will he do that?”

“He doesn’t trust cell phones. He said we
could be tracked if we made calls on them.” Shaking her head in
frustration, she added, “I’ve been so worried, I’ve tried calling
his cell anyway, but it seems like it’s out of order.”

The image of the cell phone disappearing into
the molten lava at the Mirage replayed in Cynical’s head. “Yeah, I
wouldn’t bother calling that number,” he said as he whittled down
the viable options. “So, how would he contact you?”

“He doesn’t trust cell phones,” Karen said.
“He says they’re easier to hack than cell phones.”

Desmond was nodding in agreement.

“He’s probably right,” Cynical admitted,
letting her think.

“If he was in the area, he might try sneaking
into my apartment,” she said.

“What if he wasn’t in the area?”

“He’d probably use a pay phone to call me at
my apartment,” she said. “He called me there a few days ago and
left a message, so I guess he might do it again.”

Cynical nodded. Of course, he already knew
that since he’d heard the message about the MARI. “It sounds like;
either way, we need to get you back to your apartment.”
Karen and Desmond exchanged another look. It was Desmond who spoke
up first. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not really comfortable there,” Karen
explained. “I think someone broke into my apartment a few days
ago.”

Cynical blinked, wondering if she was
referring to his recon mission. But that had been earlier in the
day. If she thought someone had been in her apartment ‘a few days
ago,’ he wasn’t the source of her fears.

“Why do you think that?”

“I came home and noticed a few things had
been moved, just minor stuff. I notice little things. Maybe it
sounds paranoid, but I feel like I’m being watched over there.”

“It’s possible,” Cynical said. “I can get
that checked out for you.”

“I’m sorry, but how do we know we can trust
you?” Desmond asked. “I mean you just show up and we’re supposed to
go along with whatever you say?”

“Our interests are aligned,” Cynical said,
trying to sound genuine and persuasive. “I mean, I am working for
Mancuso, just like Michael – and you.”

“Michael didn’t completely trust Mancuso
either,” Desmond countered.

“Look, I don’t want to scare you,” Cynical
said, trying a tougher tact, “But there are people out there who
want to get rid of this invention - and they’re willing to go
pretty far to make sure they accomplish their mission.” Cynical
paused to let the implications sink in. “I can offer you some
protection.”

“Okay,” Karen said, not waiting on Desmond to
respond.

“So, do either of you know where Fernando is
staying?”

“He rents a house in Long Beach,” Karen
answered with concern in her voice. “I keep calling him, but he
never answers.”

“I have his address,” Desmond offered,
getting up to find something to write with. “I went over there a
couple of days ago. His car was there, but no one was home.”

Having found a pen, he scribbled the address
on a scrap piece of paper. “My guess is he skipped town, maybe went
south of the border.” He looked up at Karen. “Actually, that’s not
a bad idea either.”

Ignoring the Mexico plan, Cynical took the
paper with the handwritten address. “I’ll check this out first
thing tomorrow. In the meantime, I want you guys to keep your heads
down. Don’t go out if you can help it.”

They both nodded like a couple of compliant
puppies.

Taking out his business card from his wallet,
he placed it on the wooden spool table beside the tea. “That’s my
contact information.” With a last gulp from his cup, he got up and
moved toward the door.

Immediately, Karen got up too, trailing along
behind him. “Thank you,” she said. “You know, for helping us – and
Michael.”

He turned to face her and found hopefulness
in her frightened eyes. When he’d discovered her hiding out at this
place, he had suspected there was something going on between her
and Desmond. Why else would she be staying with him? While Desmond
seemed interested in Karen, she seemed just as in love with Michael
as he was with her. And just as naïve and innocent.

“I only talked to Michael for a little while
in Vegas, but he told me about you.” Cynical waited until she
looked up and their eyes met. “He’s crazy about you.”

Her troubled face brightened as she broke
into a shy smile.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call
me.” He turned at the threshold. “I’ll be by tomorrow, right after
I check on Fernando.”

With that, he slipped outside. As she shut
and locked the door behind him, her engagement ring hovered over
the metallic deadbolt.

Cynical emerged from the claustrophobic
apartment and took a big breath. Looking around, he took notice of
the row of cars parallel parked up and down the street, including
his own.

About half-way down the block, a wisp of
smoke drifted out of the driver’s side window of a new black
Lincoln. While it was too dark and too far away to see anyone
inside, he could make out the red tip of a cigarette behind the
window. The car seemed out-of-place for the neighborhood, and well
positioned to keep an eye on the comings-and-goings of Desmond’s
apartment.

Of course, it could be someone waiting for a
thousand different reasons. He was probably just tired and not
thinking straight. After all, his head was pounding from the Boom
Boom Room and all the new information he just taken in.

Going over to his car, he got back inside and
started to make the short drive back to his humble abode for a few
winks of much needed sleep.

It was pre-dawn when Cynical began his
descent south toward Long Beach. With the case tossing and turning
in his head, he hadn’t been able to sleep after all, so he decided
to go ahead and get a jump on the day. With almost no traffic, it
would only take him about thirty minutes. Anytime you can avoid
traffic in LA, you take it.

He wanted to believe this had all been an
elaborate swindle by a very clever con man. But, from the
beginning, the evidence suggested otherwise: the attempted
kidnapping in Vegas, Mancuso’s interest in the project, and the
explosion at the factory. Maybe Karen wasn’t being paranoid; maybe
she was being watched.

On his way down the 405, Cynical tried to
concentrate on the job at hand. Michael’s message on Karen’s
answering machine had told her to
‘tell Fernando he had MARI
with him.’
He wondered how Michael was hauling around the
latest version of his invention. The comment also indicated he
might trust Fernando more than Desmond. If so, he definitely wanted
to talk to this mechanic.