Shuttered Sky

“Lieutenant Haas is perfectly fine. Off entertaining herself, I think.” Tessic studied Dillon for a moment. “What do you remem­ber?”

A bit more was coming back to Dillon now. There was the heli­copter, the relieving sensation of being spirited away from the grave­yard.

“I remember an extremely large needle,” Dillon finally said.

Tessic laughed. “You might also remember I gave you the choice of being sedated or not. You chose sedation.”

“I must not have been in my right mind,” Dillon said.

Tessic raised an eyebrow. “No, you weren’t.” There was a small table between them, and a bowl of fresh fruit. Tessic picked through the fruit until he found a few dark, shiny cherries. He popped one into his mouth and spit out the stone. He offered the bowl to Dillon, but Dillon declined.

“I’d like to know how you found me,” Dillon said.

“Trade secret,” Tessic answered. “But rest assured, no one else searching for you will find you here. Not even our friends in the military.”

“You still haven’t told me where ‘here’ is.” But Tessic only grinned. Dillon took a deep breath and tried to get a sense of his surroundings. More often than not, his ability to reach out and sense distant subtleties in the world around him was a distraction, but there were times it helped to orient him. Although he could feel the olive grove around him, he felt nothing beyond it. It was a discomfiting feeling.

“Are we on an island?” he asked. But if it were an island it must have been in the Dead Sea, because even on an island, he’d be able to feel life and currents within the water.

“Come and see for yourself,” Tessic answered, getting up. He of­fered Dillon a hand, but Dillon wanted no assistance. He stood, ex­pecting his balance to be clumsy, and his knees to be weak, but apparently the rest had done him good.

Tessic led him slowly through the olive grove. “This garden was designed by a feng shui specialist,” Tessic told him, “for maximum harmony and vitality.”

A dozen yards further and the grove came to an abrupt end at a glass wall seven feet high; a dramatic barrier separating Tessic’s world from everyone else’s. Beyond the glass wall was a city, stretching out beneath them.

“An ounce of perspective begets a pound, yes?”

“So we’re on a rooftop?”

“Sixty-seventh floor.”

“I don’t recognize the city.”

“Houston. We are atop Tessitech’s southern headquarters.”

But there was something wrong. Dillon closed his eyes, and tried to sense the patterns of the city. He had learned to avoid cities, because their intensity overloaded his thoughts. The world shouted at him enough without him having to feel the blare of a city. But, oddly, there was none of that here. All he could feel were the faintest of echoes of the city patterns below.

Tessic tapped on the glass wall. “Three inches of crystal inlaid with twelve micro-fine layers of lead mesh.” he explained. “Wonderful stuff—a neutron bomb could go off, and you wouldn’t get a sunburn.” He beamed. “I own the patent.”

“Why am I here?”

“That is for you to find out.”

“I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”

“You misunderstand,” said Tessic. “I mean this literally. You see, all five floors of this penthouse were built with you in mind. The entire place is lined, floors and walls, to contain your energy and sensory field. It keeps you from being overwhelmed by what lies outside, and will keep those on the outside from sensing you. This place can serve whatever function you choose. A retreat, perhaps, as it is for me.”

Dillon got the gist. “Just another cell. Only prettier.”

Tessic bristled at the suggestion. “There are no locks here. You can leave whenever you please. My hope is that you will see the wis­dom of staying.”

“And Maddy?”

“She is my guest as well. In fact, she told me that you needed a place like this to settle your mind. That you lacked a certain clarity.”

“She said that?”

“In so many words.”

Dillon put his hand to the glass, then turned to look at the olive grove. An oasis in the sky. A world apart. He turned to Tessic. “I don’t think I was meant to live a life of leisure.”

“None of us are,” Tessic said. “We are all called to action in one way or another. But sometimes we need a place to regroup, and to stage our operations. Even superman had his Fortress of Solitude, yes?”

Dillon chuckled at the thought. “If you saw me in the graveyard, then you should know I’m not a man of steel.”

“There are substances more useful than steel.”

Useful, thought Dillon. Yes, for a man like Tessic everything had to have utility. There would always be something in it for him. “So what do you want from me?”

Tessic pondered the question, but didn’t respond quite yet. “Come, I’ll give you the grand tour.” They strode back into the grove, taking a different flagstone path that led to an artificial stream. Hidden speakers pumped the sounds of birds and other wildlife into the air, adding to the illusion. By the time they reached the stream, there was no telling they were on the roof of a skyscraper.

“Until a few years ago,” Tessic said, “I was arrogant enough to think I was the greatest man of our time. Then you appeared on the scene.”

“Jealous, Elon?”

Tessic shook his head. “No. Envy never brings a man true success. Certainly there are men like Bussard in the world, who are threatened by anything more powerful than themselves. But I am not Bussard. To me you are not a threat. You are . . . an opportunity.”

The path wound them back to the garden where the two lounge chairs sat. But this time, Dillon saw the vine-covered wall behind it, and the opening that led to an elevator. “Opportunity for what?”

Tessic paused, picking up his bowl of fruit, popping a few grapes. “I have so much money, I can’t find enough things to do with it—and the curse of wealth can be as potent as its blessing. You see, when money ceases to be an issue, a man can either become a slave to his passions, or buy his freedom from them, seeking more worthy objec­tives.”

“Meaning?”

Tessic patted Dillon on the cheek, and offered up a wry smile. “Simply put, Dillon, I am helping you because you’re good for my soul.”

Dillon glanced at the oasis around him. There was something tempting about it, and somehow that made it feel dangerous.

Sensing Dillon’s reluctance, Tessic reached over and twisted a twig from the tree beside him. “This has always been a symbol for hope and peace,” he said. “I hope you’ll accept my olive branch.”

When Dillon didn’t take it, Tessic placed it on a boulder beside them, and turned the key that opened the elevator doors.

* * *

The multi-story penthouse was part office and spa, part museum, and part spiritual sanctuary. “Not exactly Hearst Castle,” Tessic com­mented. “I like to think my tastes are not so garish.”

Perhaps not, but every last amenity seethed excess, from a reading room that featured a priceless collection of medieval Jewish artifacts, to a four-story indoor rock-climbing wall, which towered above Tes­sic’s personal gym. Maddy clung to the top of the wall, focused on her climb; “entertaining herself,” as Tessic had said. Dillon chose not to disturb her.

The sixty-second floor, the lowest floor of the penthouse complex, was set aside for what Tessic called his “professional hobbies.” It housed his private office; an uncharacteristically modest space, with some shelves and a simple cherrywood desk, within a larger gallery of high­tech toys. Some projects were complete, others still works-