6. CITY oF LIGHT - Tuesday, July 30th, 1912

Ryan trundled to a halt before a small brick gatehouse set amid a wrought iron security fence. To its sides and beyond a low brick wall, a small skyline of buildings rose, a low one central and perhaps one hundred feet before us. About its singular story arched windows were set, all in white trim. Along that miniature cityscape rose a dozen other edifices of the same architecture only larger and more expansive, while upon its top a narrow tower rose from a square cupola. Almost perfectly in line behind the building towered the elegant mountain of a tower neither of us could pry our eyes from.

Dressed in a dark blue uniform resembling a New York cop, the young attendant inspected us with brown eyes, pausing for a longer moment upon Elizabeth in the back. "Good Morning, Mr. Ryan. Business with the boss this morning?"

Ryan nodded, offering an easy smile. "Yes. Some specialty electrical components I'm bringing in...very esoteric. I do believe he's been waiting for them for a few days."

Tipping his cap to Elizabeth, the guard brushed blond hair back at his temple. "Associates of yours? I don't believe I recollect them from your previous visits."

"Associates, actually. I was hoping to introduce them to Mr. Tesla or Mr. Morgan's manager, if the 'great one' is not available. This is Mr. Archibald Montgomery and his daughter, Evelyn."

"A pleasure, Ma'am," The boy said, leaning in to look us over, again Elizabeth more so than me. "Well, you are in luck. Mr. Tesla is just in from New York but a few moments ago on the Express. You may park in in the lot." Once more he tipped his hat. "A pleasure to meet you Mr. Montgomery." He hesitated but could not suppress an admiring grin. "Miss."

He had a nice, stern chin and was modestly attractive, and as we pulled away Elizabeth's eyes remained with his, her hair bobbing as she turned to follow in her seat. I tried to ignore it. Inside the gate a well-manicured lawn spread, punctuated here and there by tall elms. Ryan brought us in a bit swiftly, the Standard jostling as he braked to a screeching halt. He turned and looked to us with aplomb, seeing Elizabeth dazed by his abrupt halt. About us men in suits and bowler hats were plying the sidewalks between the buildings, and from across a wide yard to our right I saw a flash...heard a crack loud and electrical in its aftermath. It drew our attention.

"Be advised, my friends, that you might see a great deal of queerness about the campus." Ryan observed with that quirky smirk. "In fact, you may see a great many things about here that defy expectations. My apologies for stopping in here before town, but I do have bit of business to conduct."

"Pardon me, Mr. Ryan, but I thought you said you weren't an expert on Mr. Tesla's affairs last night?" Despite her accusation Elizabeth was smiling as she took in the buildings and outer garden. "Though forgive me if that is splitting hairs. This...this is splendid."

"I am glad you think so." His eyes panned the compound with us. "Things have changed much here for the better since the early days when Nikola and I first became acquainted. Several years ago, matters were considerably more strained. Fortunately, with Mr. Morgan's perseverance, Nikola's recovery has been by leaps and bound. Shall I assist you?" At his suggestion Ryan dismounted, alighting upon the pavement to open my daughter's half-door. For a moment Elizabeth seemed to hesitate at his offer of hand before accepting. My eyes narrowed. Amongst the lab coated men walking to their automobiles about us I saw a stir, heads turning her way, hushed confidences, and barely suppressed grins. I didn't need to hear them to know what they were saying. Like a swan Elizabeth alighted before Ryan upon the pavement, looking up to him silently.

"Mr. Montgomery..." Ryan said, leaving her to approach me. "I must confess that I, well, have had ulterior motives for bringing you here. Might I obtain your assistance with my commodities? The luggage is rather heavy and I seem to have strained my back earlier. I would appreciate your assistance in carrying it into the offices."

I glanced towards the main building before us. Through its windows I could see several men working at desks and typewriters. "This is the main office?"

"Yes." Ryan said with a follow of my gaze. "When he first started out, it was the whole of things." He looked over its eaves to the trestle and dome glinting in the blue heavens. "This and the old tower of course. With his success now there is the second tower and associated sales. Tesla R.C. has expanded!" With a sweep of his hand he addressed the dozen or so buildings that ran about us and out toward the train station. "The rest of these buildings are laboratories, manufactures and factories. The large building with stack toward the railroad...that is the physical plant that provides on-site electrical generation. Of Mr. Tesla's own design, by the way."

Elizabeth had bit her lower lip anew, scanning the montage with eye shielding hand. "What...what does Mr. Tesla do here?"

"Why, everything, my Dear!" He walked to the boot and opened it, drawing with some exertion a large brown bag from inside. "But as you have seen last night, his company specializes in the practical applications of radiant power. Mr. Montgomery, your assistance, if you would?"

Still trying to figure out why Elizabeth was shying from the man, I walked up beside him and hauled the suitcase out with a concerted draw. He'd said it was heavy and that was no lie, for I nearly dropped it. For a frightened instant his eyes telegraphed that would not have been a financially lucrative option.

"Radiant power? What's that?" I asked, hefting the bag over shoulder. It must have weight fifty pounds or more and jostled metallically as I carried it.

The concern in his gaze was only mildly defrayed. "As…as I have said, I am no expert, however, to my understanding it has been the miracle that has made the routine transmission of not only messages but electrical power practical at distance, hence the salvation of the Titanic months ago after she encountered those catastrophic tempests over the North Atlantic. Were it not for her experimental induction engines, courtesy of Mr. Tesla, I fear lives might have been lost. I have heard also that Mr. Tesla has other works afoot here."

"Other works?" Elizabeth asked, eyeing me ever so ephemerally as the breeze caught her hair. Seeing me looking, she grinned.

Noticing this, Ryan smiled and with a toss of head gestured toward the offices. "Perhaps he might explain himself?"

We headed up three steps to a stoop, and as Elizabeth and Ryan walked along exchanging pleasantries, I ruminated that I'd always felt the beast of burden. Cordially Ryan held the door for me, and as we entered turned right and walked past a room filled with rows of clattering typists, ending in a conference room at the southeastern corner of the facility. Once inside he gestured to the table. Somewhat put off, I set the suitcase down carefully, feeling in my right hand a tremor upon its brown leather.

"If you shall wait here, I'll go see if Nikola has a moment to spare." He paused, glancing to Elizabeth afterward before the bag. "Mr. Montgomery, Miss Evelyn...would you perhaps mind drawing the components from the suitcase as I fetch him? It would save a bit of time when hopefully we return. An array would be most excellent." Ryan turned and slipped out, leaving the hardwood door to close with a creak. I turned and looked at Elizabeth.

"Who is this guy?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

She noticed I was favoring my bandaged hand and took it into hers with a kiss. From there she looked up to me, then around the room and to the trees and people walking outside. "Booker, this means something. Does it still hurt?"

"Not too bad."

"You shouldn't have carried that so. You might have reopened the wound." She smiled and kissed it again before opening the luggage. From it she drew parts of electrical and mechanical nature. "Capacitors and resistors." She held an oddly shiny one before her eyes. "This is a relay."

"How do you know that?" I said, familiar only with fuses and gigantic birds.

"I just…do." She answered. Gently I took her by the upper, forcing her to engage me. "Elizabeth, what is going on between the two of you?"

She regarded me evasively, component still in hand. "I..."

"Elizabeth..." I said, again feeling the pain in my still healing right hand. "Please, you have me worried. What is wrong?"

"When...when I went to the bathroom last night, he was up. We talked and I was mad at you and we went downstairs to talk."

"You were mad at me?"

"Maybe not mad..." She stopped and corrected herself. "Okay, mad. I didn't see how you couldn't know how important this was."

"What did he do?" I asked sternly, not wishing to voice my worries to her...at least yet.

"Nothing. He..." She paused. Her knuckle touched her lower lip, the little thimble glinting in the late morning sun coming in through the windows. "He tried to kiss me."

I stood there looking at her. "And?"

She looked at me as if I were crazy. "Well, I didn't let him! He is married, after all. It was most untoward."

I heard noise down the hall and turned to the bag, extracting piece by piece dozens of the oddest gears and wired things I'd ever laid eyes upon. "And he didn't touch you afterward, after you let him know that you wanted no part of that?"

She shook her head and smiled, peering out from beneath those lashes. "Of course not. It warms my heart that it concerns you."

I placed a device upon the table, making an array with the others before meeting her gaze. "What they hell have we gotten ourselves into?"

"Something wonderful!" She said as she drew away. She clapped her hands together. "I'm so excited!"

From the door now I heard voices and completed my placements with Elizabeth's aid. Ryan entered, followed by a tall, lanky figure wearing a white lab coat and slicked back hair. Despite being roughly my height he was quite thin, skin marble of the palest yellow, high cheekbones expressed as I'd seen in many Slavs. Sporting a flared mustache that swept down upon his lips on an otherwise clean-shaven face, he was unconventionally handsome. "Nikola, may I introduce my assistant Mr. Archibald Montgomery and his enchanting daughter, Evelyn.

Upon seeing us Tesla's brow furrowed, his dark but piercing blue eyes flitting rapidly between me and Elizabeth. He produced a smile and his hand. "Mr. Montgomery, a pleasure to meet."

"Mr. Tesla." I replied, exchanging a solid handshake.

With a turn he clicked his heels together, then with a cant of his head gathered Elizabeth's hand into his own before raising it to a perfect kiss suited for nobility. "My Lady, a pleasure to meet such grace." He lowered her appendage, and, having dispensed with pleasantries turned to Ryan and the matter at hand with a cocked eyebrow. "These are your new components?"

Ryan approached the table at his side. "Yes, Mr. Tesla, designed to your specifications. If you should like, I have the schematics in the folio next to them."

"Yes, I would like that very much, but not for me, for I know them. Please ensure Joseph receives the documents." He said, holding one of the silvery metal, copper wire wound disks up before his eye. With a cast back to us he continued. "By the way, Peter, it is good to see you getting help with the business. How is your family?" As he spoke a pair of men entered the room, attending Tesla's side. "Jacob, Joseph, Mr. Ryan has graciously supplied the schematics. Could you have these capacitors and relays taken...gently...to the South Receiving Facility for bench testing? We do not need any mishaps as last time."

"Of course, Mr. Tesla." The first technician replied guiltily, a tall, thin graying fellow who wore his white lab coat like a clothes rack. "But...would you not like us to inspect the pieces?"

Tesla shook his head. "I have never been displeased with the manufacture of his wares. They are always of the highest quality. Please ensure they remain that way while in our care."

The technician nodded. "Joseph, please assist me in gathering a gurney so we can roll them over en masse."

"Yes, Mr. Whitley." The smaller, darker and pudgier man said. Both were clean shaven, pale with crisp haircuts and seemed in awe of the man the room now turned about.

As the second technician set out to acquire the former's requested cart, Ryan stood thumb to lower lip, obviously pleased at his client's praise. "Well, Nikola, the wife is busy with the social enterprise of the City and our Nanny is preparing our little one for great things. Thank you for the interest."

Tesla nodded, thumb similarly upon lip as his glanced outside across the bluegrass. "Well, I do like to remain aware of the affairs of my suppliers. It is difficult to find trusted ones." He paused and turned. "Any more sales to Mr. Westinghouse?" He asked, cocking his head toward Ryan. "I have heard he is expanding."

"Some." Ryan said, with a hint of reserve in his voice.

For a moment the scientist paused, reaching into his coat pocket to produce a check. "And the agreed upon price was?"

"Two hundred and twenty-five Dollars, Mr. Tesla." Ryan answered. Tesla looked to the check and handed it over. After a perusal, the salesman again seemed quite pleased though he endeavored not to show it. He glanced to us and returned his attentions to the man. "Mr. Tesla, I realize your time is quite sparing, but my assistants might wish a short tour of your facilities, if that might be arranged? We have come a long way."

The thin man smiled contritely. "Ah, but I am very sorry. Today I and my assistants are very busy with a major experiment and your components have arrived just in time. So, I am afraid...that I must decline. Perhaps another time? Elliott shall be in shortly to arrange out next order, after which he shall show you to the door. "Please give my fondest regards to your wife, Peter."

#

"Well, that went well." Elizabeth mumbled as we descended the short concrete steps to the sidewalk. Over her shoulder she looked back, teasing her nub unconsciously. Behind us the technician Tesla had referred to as Elliott closed the office's front doors. I glanced downward to Elizabeth and her finger. She looked back at me with disappointment and a shrug.

"Well, I suppose that I should not leave the pair of you marooned her but a mile from the town. I do assume your intentions are still to remain?" Elizabeth nodded. "Well, there is the Shoreham Inn. Does that strike your fancy?"

A car, I thought, would strike my fancy. "That will do, and we appreciate the ride, both to here and there. Perhaps the Inn...they might know some available real estate?"

"Of that I cannot say." Ryan stated as he approached his auto. He opened the back door and offered his hand to Elizabeth as she entered. "But you can, of course, ask. To the Shoreham Inn it is."

Emerging from Wardenclyffe's gates, Ryan took us back west the way we'd come, then via a quick right turn over tracks and past the railway station that loomed on a grassy ridge fifteen feet above them. Dust billowed the road behind us. I looked to rail station, as small thing but a station nonetheless, then with a stern consideration to Elizabeth. With sheepish grin and loll of eyes she shrugged.

A tree-lined dirt road followed where brown shingled homes lurked upon the sparsely wooded hills to the west. To the north between the station and our destination, however, lay an imposing hardwood forest. Every now and then I could see Dogwoods alight with yellow-pink fire amid the deep green. In the Long Island summer, the country was lush and pastoral, and though the dirt path was rough, behind me Elizabeth's gaze had turned dreamily to take it all in.

Shoreham, as more than one sign announced, was a quaint hamlet, more of a colony spread along the coast than any sort of village. It took money to build such a place, for this was no farming town. Throughout the meadows and copses, I could see well-constructed homes rising two and three stories.

"I could not but help notice, my Dear, your fingertip." Ryan said as he slowed, honked his hand horn and steered us around a lone wandering chestnut filly. "I hope you do not mind me asking, but how...how did you come to lose it? Mind you this is only out of my morbid curiosity...if the discussion of it troubles you, please pay my intrusion no mind."

Elizabeth had been both sensitive to the matter of her finger and inured to it, but the directness of Ryan's question seemed to trigger her reserve. Pulling her eyes from the nearby trees, she sighed, holding the thimble for her own consideration. "Much like my birthday, Mr. Ryan, its origin predates my memory. Is the sight of it displeasing?"

"Saddening, yes...displeasing, never, my Dear. But I did wonder if perhaps the tragedy had been painful."

"It was and continues to be..." Elizabeth observed. With narrowed eyes she looked at me and I felt like an ass. "From time to time."

Along the county road Ryan slowed, idling before a north leading dirt track named "Woodville" that led to the right. Turning onto it with a dust up from the tires, his car accelerated, heavy woodlands and telephone poles passing to our east. Here and there on the more sparsely foliated other side homes nestled amongst the rolling hills, copses of trees rising between each like fences. Beyond those pretty manors we could make out the blue of the sea and the green line atop it…distant, hazy Connecticut. In one extraordinary cottage's yards horses were grazing, while nearby in outfits far too warm for summertime children were at play in the sun. We drove for some ways, passing more cottages until from the woods another road...again barely a dirt track...joined from the right. Caddy corner to our slowing vehicle lay a clearing with a three-story hotel nestled behind a row of bright broadleaf elms. A white lettered sign called out The Shoreham Inn.

Above that tree lined turnoff our lodgment sat upon a low hill, white with a porch surrounding its lowermost level. As Ryan began to turn down its drive I could see a handful of automobiles at the steps at the low hill's base, one idling as it offloaded passengers. From the porch a pair of women looked down in our direction, following us in their white dresses, parasols in hand and gabbing as refined ladies do.

"Looks okay." I said, glancing to the many rooms of those three stories. Each of its windows were adorned with an awning to protect the interior from the sun. At its side a long and similarly white building ran perpendicular to the main house, perhaps the kitchens and dining room.

"What about that one back there?" I said, gesturing to a building with several automobiles in attendance we'd just passed.

Ryan nodded. "The Maples? More of a store at the moment, though I understand the lady of the house, Mr. Warden's widow, has been exploring making it into something more."

"What's that?" Elizabeth said, her slender finger pointing not at the Shoreham nor Maples but between me and Ryan toward a structure straight down the road. Before us it rose, wooden and dark with two stories of windows glinting in the late morning sun. From our vantage the building seemed to have no base, though to its west ran a series of attached but smaller cottages. I realized then that the road ran over a shallow rise, one that continued gently downward, we shortly found, into a tree-choked ravine. Seeing her interest, Ryan was obliged to continue.

Off to the ravine's western flank rose her building upon a prominent bluff, cozy with wood siding shake roof and great overhanging eaves. Through the gaps between its attendant cottages, I could see us quite high up and obviously upon an escarpment, for beyond them was glimmering azure. "Oh, Booker..." She sighed, hand covering her mouth.

Having learned to recognize my daughter's wants over the last month, I turned to Ryan and asked, "What about those?"

"Hapgood's Bungalows. Clean and rustic but…lacking some of the polish of the Shoreham."

"Oh, can we!?" Elizabeth exclaimed, turning to grasp my upper arm with both hands.

Realizing that our finances might find the bungalows more conducive than the ritzy Shoreham Inn, I nodded ahead. "I that's what you want. Mr. Ryan. Would you mind dropping us off there?"

#

"I love it!" Elizabeth cooed with a step toward the main house's flank, gazing over the boardwalk's precipice down a long flight of wooden stairs to the beach below. Along its sandy white expanse waves gently lapped. She turned back to us, hands clasped almost as if committing to a prayer. "I just love it!"

"Booker?" Ryan said, having now heard my name twice at my daughter's poor consideration. "Is that some sort of nick name?"

I nodded as Elizabeth pranced down the steps, coming back up again more slowly with hand upon weatherworn rail for they were steep. "Yes. She's always called me that."

"Seems odd. Makes me think of that Negro gentleman stirring up such a ruckus the last decade."

"I could do worse than him. He's a fighter." Elizabeth approached, ever so pleased, her boots creaking upon the boards.

"Well, I am glad you like it, my Dear." Ryan said, though in his voice I could swear I heard disappointment. "Unfortunately, Mr. Montgomery…young Miss, this is where we must part ways. I have a consultation in Setauket this afternoon and would be financially disadvantaged if I missed...and you have seen how the roads are in these parts." He glanced to us both. By now Elizabeth had taken my arm into hers. "Are you certain you shall both fare well?"

"I believe so." I answered. "Now that I know where the train station lies. Thank you again for your charity."

"And yours for the lugging of my grandiose suitcase of electronical components. That would have been most difficult bring singlehandedly into Tesla's front office." Looking upon us with what could only have been pity, he drew a money clip from his jacket. From its silver he drew a ten and offered it to me. "Would you accept this as a show of my gratitude?

"Oh, no." I said, gazing up on the slender green note. "But thank you. We really have no need and what I did was very little."

"Oh, do indulge me, good Sir. Your presence was more than a help with luggage...it helped me cement the sale, for Tesla saw that I now run something other than a one man show. Frankly, my wife and associates will be exceptionally pleased with today's sale. Please...accept this as a token of my gratitude."

With humility I looked upon his extended offer, a curious Elizabeth, then collected it. I could not help but think it would come in handy, perhaps soon, but it burned that I was accepting his largesse. I despised accepting charity, especially when Elizabeth looked on. "Thank you, Mr. Ryan."

"As I said, my pleasure." Elizabeth he now approached, gazing into her eyes. "I have encountered neither a lovelier nor more graceful lady in all of my travels. I do hope that someday we might cross paths again." Lifting for a final time her thimbled hand, he kissed it.

"Goodbye, Mr. Ryan." She said with some reservation, yet also that glimmer in a girl's eyes toward a man she found compelling.

"Safe travels." I added, shaking his hand and managing somehow not to break it despite the sudden urge. Climbing aboard his auto, he tipped his hat. The car started, he threw it into reverse and backed out. With a clatter and wave of hat he barreled down the road, dust rising in a pall as he receded down the tree lined path. In the distance he honked and turned, and in a receding billow of dust was gone.

Beside me Elizabeth held my hand. "Are you certain nothing happened between you and lover boy?"

"Booker! I told you before, nothing!" She turned to me with insult upon her face.

"That look you had back there doesn't suggest 'nothing'." I glanced at the cash in hand. "Well, at least this will pay for a couple of nights." As her consternation faded, she cradled her thimble. "Well?"

Her eyes turned downward to the gray slats upon which we stood. "I...haven't felt anything since yesterday."

I sighed. "We're nearly out of money, you know. Maybe thirty bucks to our name with his charity. And when we run out, so do our options. We still don't have any answers."

"Booker..." She took my forearm in her hands and turned upon the boardwalk, looking into my eyes. "That's not true. The answers...they're all back there." She pointed through the forest beyond the Shoreham Inn, from the Bungalows mostly obscured by the trees. "We only need to find them because now we know the where! I mean, what we saw last night...could that possibly be coincidence!?"

"What do you expect me to do, Elizabeth?" I answered, frustrated as I mounted the steps to the Main House's porch. Down below us I could hear the swath of waves marching along dark blue waters, catching the sandy yellow shore to the glee of running, splashing children. "Break in?"

She looked at me mischievously, biting her lower lip with a furtive glance back toward Tesla's imperial sprawl beyond the wood. I knew then that was exactly what she wanted. Unexpectedly she began to lead me away from it, back into the shade of the overhanging portico. "Presently I expect us to check in..." She gleamed as we approached the establishment's office. "Then you're going to come with me down to the beach!"

Hapgood's Beachfront Bungalows, the sign above the doors proclaimed. With the sound of solid wood beneath my boots, I didn't have a bad feeling about it, just the general sense of unease that had accompanied me ever since our precipitation from Columbia. The doors were open and I entered with ever hopeful Elizabeth in tow, finding the establishment clean and kept in a way that reminded me of the souvenir shop in Battleship Bay. Behind the counter a man short and with graying sideburns looked up, attired in white shirt, pants and a tan vest. He closed his tome upon the desk, a Tale of Two Cities.

"Well, good day, Sir. Young Miss." He smiled. "Welcome to Hapgood's."

"We'd be liking a room, or a bungalow, if you have one available." I said, brushing dust laden hair aside. "For myself and my...daughter." Beside me Elizabeth was ebullient and nodded to the man.

"Well..." He answered, turning back to a wooden board which held six empty sticks and one glinting brass key. "We so happen to have one left...it is the summer season, you know."

"Does it have a view?" Elizabeth asked excitedly.

"Indeed, it does, my Dear...in fact, all of our cottages do. Splendid views high above the coast."

"We'll take it!" She said. I looked at her and sighed. She glanced with a grin toward me and smiled.

"Wonderful." The innkeeper said with similar pleasure. "That shall be two dollars."

I nearly choked. "Two dollars? For one night?!"

"Oh, Booker..." Elizabeth pined, coming around at me with a mix of indignation and those puppy dog eyes. "Please..."

"Do you want to bankrupt us?!" I whispered. She didn't budge. With a grimace I exhaled and produced the ten. "I hope you can make change, Mister...?"

"Indeed, I can." He said and stepped to withdraw a cash box from a drawer. He'd missed my question. Elizabeth giggled and hugged me and I know I blushed.

As she ran to look off the office's back porch across the Sound below, I handed him the bill. "So, you Hapgood?"

"Goodness, no. I wish I were. Wendell Livingstone. Mr. Hapgood is the proprietor, the man who has developed this entire town. I just take care of the place here along with my wife, Lucilia." Out back Elizabeth squealed and with a smirk I rolled my eyes. "Lovely lady you have there, Mr...?" He produced a guestbook for my signature. Deciding this place was so isolated no one could ever find it even with a map, I signed Mr. Booker and Miss Elizabeth DeWitt. "DeWitt." I nodded as he placed the guestbook back upon its podium at the desk. Drawing that lone key from the wall rack, he handed it over. "Towels and linens are in the room. We do, conveniently, have indoor plumbing and running hot and cold water."

For two dollars I thought they damned well should. "That will be fine."

"If you're looking for dinner, the Shoreham Inn will serve you, or Mrs. Warden's Guesthouse. I am afraid we have no room for dining."

I felt the deal getting worse by the moment. Suspecting I'd not be able to keep her from the water, I glanced from her frolic to him. "I suppose it will have to do. Say, Wendell, where about here in Shoreham might I go about finding some bathing clothes?"

#

When a bit later I came back to the room with garments in hand and another two dollars poorer, Elizabeth had tidied the place…thrown the storm shutters open and drawn the windows up. As the day had continued it had warmed and a breeze commenced from the sea, blowing gentle but firm, cooling the perspiration upon my brow. In the shade of our porch it felt especially good.

Inside I heard her softly singing, apparently in the bath. I lay the clothes on the white covers atop the lone bed within, a queen, and took to one of a pair of rockers sat outside. Hot from the walk back, I reclined and looked out over the hundred foot drop to the beach below. All across the sandy expanse beachgoers and bathers dotted the shore, playing in the water or otherwise walking the beach. Toward the eastern rise and alongside he mouth of the gully a large pavilion rose from the bluff's face, attended by a handful of beachgoers, a switchback of wooden steps leading from its parapet down to the sand. On our side the series of steps led down straight from the bungalows, a picturesque yet daunting descent.

I couldn't get it out of my mind that this place was somehow oddly familiar.

The singing stopped and Elizabeth emerged with a smile upon her face and gave me a hug and peck upon the cheek. "Well, what do you think?" She said, hands open before herself, soliciting approval of her domestic skills.

I thought I wanted a drink of water. "It's really nice." My eyes carried again out across the water, seeing a collage of sails against the scrawl of green on the horizon. Behind them a freighter steaming east, while in the blue above an airship glinting in the west, nearly into New York. "Can't deny the view is spectacular."

She sat beside me, still beaming and took my forearm. "We should make plans."

"On what we're going to tell the cops once we get caught?" I huffed. "Or how we're going to bust out of jail without your 'Tears?' This is a bad idea, Elizabeth."

Her expression fell and absently she attended her hair. "You forget how good I am with locks, Mr. DeWitt. And you must not forget, I have seen you at work. You're intimidating."

Somehow I'd never thought that a compliment, particularly from the men whom I'd kneecapped for Carnegie...whether he'd liked little fact or not. "Elizabeth...if we go in there and anything goes wrong, they surely have guards. You think I liked killing those people in Columbia? God forgive me, it tortures me every night. Please, don't make me do that again."

"Booker?" She whispered. "I..." For a time she was silent. "If you remember, they didn't give us a choice."

I saw the sadness flood her face and wished I'd kept my mouth shut. "I'm sorry." I said, taking her hand in mine until she looked at me. "They didn't. But if we do this and you think these people will, well...you're wrong. They won't know our intentions…they'll think us thieves. If they have guns, and I'll bet they do because they always have guns, they'll shoot and likely not ask questions. Didn't you see how that Tesla was with Ryan, asking about his competition? Do you want to see that poor kid at the gate dead at my hand?"

"Then we'll tell them." She said, her mood still blackened. I caught her looking at her hand…the one she'd used to knife Daisy. "We'll...we'll walk right up and tell them."

"Tell them what? Tell Tesla? Tell him...tell him that you have magic power and can make tears to other worlds? Or that you can just feel them like a water witch? Or maybe that you spent your formative years in a crazy world that's not quite our own in the care of a religious nut job?" I shook my head. "I know who he'll think the nut job is."

"Then we'll never know."

"We have to start being real, Elizabeth. Maybe you felt something, I don't know, and maybe this Tesla is up to something, hell, with those sprites last night, one would be an ignoramus to think him not, but this is life. You aren't the Lamb here and I'm sure as hell not the False Shepherd. I'm...I'm your father and I have to take care of you. At least until you can...find a decent husband."

"I don't want a decent husband!" She protested, realizing after her outburst just how wrong that had sounded. To my left I looked down the row of cottages to see a couple looking our way, glasses of lemonade in hand. I liked lemonade.

"Elizabeth..." I hushed.

She glanced their direction and approximated a smile, one that evaporated as she turned back to me. "I..." She looked down at her lap, a look of hopelessness if ever I'd seen one. Without saying another word, she wrung her hands and stepped inside.

I sat there feeling the breeze in my hair, listening to the wash of waves below, knowing what I wanted, too…Bourbon, or perhaps, just some kind of whiskey. McSorley's sounded particularly enticing. I heard rustling inside, the clatter of shoes flying and turned to see what the commotion was. Through the open double doors Elizabeth emerged, very nearly naked.

"Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, shocked at the 'swimwear' she was wearing. "Where did you get that?!" Instead of the swim dress I'd bought her at the Maples, my girl was in something skin-tight and not even mid-thigh, a something I then realized to be powder-blue unmentionable under of the suit I'd purchased. It had nothing upon her shoulders, little upon her bosom and not a bit of her anatomy left to the imagination.

"You should get dressed." She handed me my suit, which was considerably more sober than her accoutrement. "We only have a few more hours of good sun to enjoy the water."

"Where is the dress?" I growled.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, through the open door and back into the bungalow. "Oh, it's in there if you'd like to wear it."

She was being a snit and I did not appreciate it. "You're wearing it. Put it on immediately."

"This is the fashion they're wearing in France." She shot back indifferently, glancing down upon her figure. "You promised me Paris, and this is the least you can do." When I didn't bite on the suit hanging from her fingertip, she tossed it on me. "Fine. If you're going to be that way I'll go down to the water alone."

"Elizabeth...no, you aren't."

"And who are you, now, Booker?" She glared at me for a moment before storming off. "My father?"

Lord. I stepped inside the bungalow. After a moment I emerged in a white tank top and mid-thigh trunks, pulling over the railing to see Elizabeth negotiating tentatively the steps down. We didn't have time for these games. Near the bottom she seemed to pause, to hesitate and look barely back over her shoulder. Seeing me standing there looking, she grinned and raced down to the sand. I sighed and took after her.

I almost slipped going down and the sand was hot as my bare feet met the beach, coming off the last step to a burning coarseness that was almost powder white. With a squint I looked down to the lapping water to see her dip her bare toe in, and every man upon the beach looking after her. I rolled my eyes and trotted, ignoring the pain from the heat and shells and walked up to her just as she was getting more daring with the water. "Please put this on." I implored, handing her the outer dress.

She looked at it with a diabolical grin and said, "No. This is what they're wearing in Paris. You promised me Paris. I want to wear this." After a considered moment she gave me the courtesy of an approving glance. "You look rather manly, Booker DeWitt."

I pulled the strap of the tank back up my shoulder. "I feel like a clown." Once more I discerned every eye about us on her, and what was worse, those of the women. Deciding 'father knows best' was a losing gambit, I tried another tack.

"Elizabeth..."

"Brrrr." She said as she turned, staring at me, crossing her arms and closing her eyes before her as she fell backwards into the water with a splash. Her eyes widened and instantly she jumped back up, flinging her frigid body onto mine. "Oh...that's...that's so cold!" She turned to me and brushed her wet snake of hair aside, giggled and pushed away.

"Why do you think we don't go swimming in the East River? Please..." I said again. "Put this on for me." Shivering visibly, she considered the garment. Taking it in hand, she felt it warm from the sun and grudgingly donned it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I sighed. Seating the dress, she looked back over her shoulder with that devilish smirk. "Uh, where are we going?" I said as she took me by the hand and began to lead me out into the Sound. I didn't agree to..." Without warning but in a completely predictable manner she hugged me, intentionally off balance to the point I fell atop her into the shallows. She squealed and looked up. The shock of the North Atlantic widened my eyes and I howled. After a moment I rolled to the side. Now both of our bums were in the sand.

"It's so cold!" She laughed.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." I sat there next to her, disgusted, palms back upon the submerged sand. I figured it in the sixties, perhaps seventy or a bit more. It was chill, but not Battleship Bay cold. For some reason our dwindling finances entered my mind.

I'd been broke too many times, and following the exhaustion of my blood money from Columbia we were going to be there again soon. We had to get away from the threat of Laslowe. We had to get away from the Morellos. We had to leave New York...maybe go out to Ohio or points west. Anywhere they couldn't find us...maybe even Kansas, where at least I knew had family.

No. Not Kansas.

Sitting there in the water with Elizabeth giggling, her eyes so happy and secure, I realized she knew nothing about how bad it could get...what poverty truly was. All she wanted to do was frolic, even when there was work to do. Then I remembered Battleship Bay. How she'd asked me to dance. I'd had work to do then too. I smiled softly and brushed her cheek with the back of my hand, remembering that moment. "I love you."

Though still smiling, she looked away almost sadly. "I...I know you do. I love you too."

With my fingers I brought her chin back, her dark lashes opening as I did so, forcing her to meet my gaze. "No, Elizabeth...I love you." I leaned forward, kissing her with my hand upon the side of her face. She didn't pull away, instead she returned it. Eventually and after what seemed like hours we pulled away, remaining close. She didn't say anything, but from the corner of her eye a single tear trailed down the side of her cheek. Before I could wipe it away it fell and joined the sea. We sat for a good time, her hand in mine, close against the cold water until I realized she'd not really stopped crying. She just wasn't making any sound, just wiping tears from her face. Beside us a canoe rowed by, two boys in white swimsuits looking down at us like an experiment that need to be studied.

"We need to go, don't we?" She snuffled.

"We don't need to do anything."

"We can't be together." She said, laughing amid what I now realized to be anger as the injustice of it all. "Not without becoming a monstrosity, or going to jail or being a front page horror of the day."

"No, we can't."

"Then, what are we to do?" She looked up at me. I took her by the hand and rose, drawing her with me.

"How should I know?" I kissed her on the forehead and hugged her. With a sigh I turned and began to lead her along. "But Paris might have to wait awhile. I'm going to have to get a job…somewhere."

As we set foot upon the cool, wet sand both of us dripped. The breeze off the water was cold, and with a glance back to the girl in hand I was glad she was no longer so exposed. I was still trying to think of something vaguely uplifting to say when suddenly she stopped. I turned to face her. "Elizabeth?" Though her face was still pink from the tears, she wasn't crying anymore. Instead, she was looking east of the way we'd come down. "Your finger?"

She said nothing, only staring down the shore.

I turned to follow her eyes eastward down the beach, past the Pavilion that had earlier blocked my view of the escarpment from the bungalow. As the breeze dried us, there down the coast, perhaps a mile, the bluffs rose precipitously higher. At the base of their steep slopes and right up to the sea a great ziggurat of a concrete was rising, a foundation for something bigger. About its perimeter men and trucks were at work, a steam shovel lifting scaffolds about a growing steel framework.

A framework that looked to me like an enormous conical railroad trestle.

"My God." I whispered, remembering it from the moments before my death…or whatever that had been. Then, in an epiphany, I remembered what I'd seen from The First Lady. This place.

"The last lighthouse." She whispered and I felt her come to my side. "Only there...there isn't much of a lighthouse."

My eyes narrowed upon the little black figures of distant workmen, toiling on the metal rising from the great foundation. "No, there isn't. At least...not yet."