Shuttered Sky

in-progress. In one corner sat an elaborate model train that ran on magnetic levitation. Nearby was a drafting table overflowing with schematics for a large-scale version, that Tessic was clearly drafting by his own hand.

“The stuff of dreams,” Tessic told him. “Or at least my dreams.”

There was a work bench full of computer viscera, reminding Dillon of the hands-on inventiveness that was Tessic’s calling card, even be­fore he became known for his business acumen. It was comforting to see that the man was still elbow-deep in nuts and bolts.

“Let me show you my latest interest.” Tessic led Dillon to a Lucite-covered display case that held a matchbox city. Row after row of three-inch high-rise apartment buildings.

“Another dream?” asked Dillon.

“Reality,” Tessic answered. “We’re already on the third phase.”

“I didn’t know you were a developer.” Dillon’s eyes blurred as he looked at the three-dimensional grid of towers. “There’s got to be a hundred buildings here.”

“A hundred and twelve. The largest single housing complex ever conceived—and it’s just one of several I have planned.”

Dillon moved around the box, to view it from another angle.

“It interests you,” observed Tessic.

“I’m just a little stunned. I mean, it must cost billions. No matter how rich you are, I can’t believe you can afford this.”

“I have no one to leave my money to. So I intend to leave this world penniless.”

“This is a good start.”

“Besides, money’s not quite the same over there.”

“Over where?”

Tessic drew Dillon’s attention to a map on the wall, pinned up between artists renderings of one of the buildings. “I have purchased several large plots of land in Belarus and Poland. The labor’s cheap, and so are the raw materials. Some leverage with a few friendly Eu­ropean banks, and my out-of-pocket expense is under fifteen million.”

“Oh, is that all,” Dillon scoffed.

“Of course they’re not the most beautiful of structures, but form follows function. The goal is to get them up quickly. We can always beautify them later.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I’m nothing if not efficient,” Tessic answered, then added, “And besides, as you’re the author of world chaos, you should know how little constructive time is left.”

Dillon shifted uncomfortably. Tessic was prodding him, gauging his reaction. “I may be responsible for what’s happening in the world,” Dillon said, “but I won’t take credit as its author. I never intended it.”

“You have plans to repair it, then?”

Dillon found he couldn’t look Tessic in the eye.

“Hopes then,” Tessic prompted. “Hopes in search of a plan.”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Perhaps I can help you there,” offered Tessic. “Strategy is one of my specialties.” Tessic exuded confidence like a musk, and Dillon found himself half believing Tessic really could help. He wondered whether or not it was just wishful thinking.

Dillon studied the lattice of model buildings, which was more like a starburst than a grid, the buildings radiating outward from an octag­onal park in the center. A bold design, like the man who conceived it. “So, are these housing complexes part of some strategy?” Dillon asked. “These people obviously can’t afford this type of housing, unless you give it away. What could you possibly get in return?”

Tessic paused. “Always with you, I must have some angle.”

Dillon waited, and Tessic looked away. “The great wall of China is the only man-made structure visible from space,” Tessic said. “I intend to add to the tally.”

Dillon nodded, but knew that Elon Tessic was not so shallow a man. He served more than just his ego. “That’s a nice cover story. Now tell me the real reason.”

Dillon refused to back down, and, cornered, Tessic sighed. “You read me too well.”

“One of my specialties.”

Tessic looked at his miniature city, and gently stroked its Lucite lid, as if it were a lover. “You can call it my mitzvah project,” Tessic said quietly. “A holy deed in a faithless world.” Reflexively, Dillon’s thoughts ricocheted to Deanna. It irritated him that the mere mention of faith could bring her to haunt his thoughts. But if nothing else, it helped to sober him.

“We could go there,” Tessic offered. “I could show you the site.”

“Why would I want to go there?”

Tessic had no immediate answer.

Dillon looked around the workshop. If this was Tessic’s sandbox, Dillon didn’t want to play. “I appreciate your hospitality, Elon,” he said. “But I can’t accept it. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Although he thought Tessic might deflate with the news, he showed no signs of it. “That is, of course, your choice to make.”

Dillon nodded. “I’ll tell Maddy.” He turned to leave, but Tessic called to him.

“You’ve always spoken of your desire to pull back your energy field—contain yourself. Do you still believe you’ll ever be able to do that?”

“Yes, I do.” Although he was no closer now than he had been in Hesperia.

“Has it occurred to you,” said Tessic, “that perhaps I was brought to you as your means of containment?”

Dillon hadn’t considered that. It was a seductive thought, for it implied a grand design, and if there was anything that Dillon longed for it was grand designs. Perfect patterns. An ordered universe.

“From the moment I was brought in to build your prison,” Tessic said, “I knew that our meeting was bashert. Fated. I built you this sanctuary, knowing fate would bring you here.”

Dillon maintained his distance, keeping a buffer zone between himself and Tessic’s persuasive intensity. “Fate didn’t bring me here; you did,” Dillon reminded him. “In a helicopter, backed up by your own personal army.”

“If it wasn’t meant to be, I would have failed.”

Dillon laughed. “What? Elon Tessic? Fail?”

Tessic hesitated, becoming quiet. “It has happened more often than you know.”

There was deep sorrow to his words. Dillon found himself trying to decipher the source of the sorrow, and found the path convoluted and clouded. Dillon knew if he pushed himself, he could decode Tes­sic’s complex patterns and truly know the man, but Dillon didn’t have the heart to do it. He much preferred Tessic as an enigma.

“Do you know how I became successful, Dillon?” he asked.

Dillon shrugged. “You’re a genius. Everyone knows that.”

“Most geniuses starve,” Tessic reminded him. “I succeeded, be­cause I took the time to listen. I learned to be still. But you—you spend your time running. Running away, running toward, but always running.”

Tessic paused, perhaps waiting for Dillon to defend himself, but there was no defense. Tessic was right.

“Be still,” Tessic said, his voice soothing and calm. “You are like some beacon that is never in the same place twice. What good is that to anyone? What good is that to you? Imagine yourself, for once at the center of the universe, Dillon, and the shadows you chase, your purpose here—everything you seek will be drawn to you. And in that stillness, when your fate does come to you, you will be ready to seize it.”

* * *

On the rock-climbing wall, Maddy was already seizing what Tessic had to offer. She had earned it. Years of busting her ass to gain ad­mittance to a military machine that stuck her with the likes of Bussard, then created a backspin of lies that turned her into America’s Most Wanted. AWOL and disgraced; a fugitive only six months after a high-honor West Point graduation—yes, she had earned the right to lux­uriate in Tessic’s penthouse.

As she scaled his magnificent rock-climbing wall, she thought back to easier times; Bryce Canyon, two