Sometime later as they lounged, Henson picked up a medallion that was a twin to the one he’d found in Ellsmere’s room. It was sticking out from underneath a magazine. “You’ve got one of these, too?”
“Yes, Hugo gave those out as party favors at that function I was at.”
“You remember seeing the professor there?” He described him and the self-same medallion he’d found.
“Can’t say I do, but that doesn’t mean anything. There was any number of people there that evening. One of the Rothschilds, my friend Elaine from the Carnegie Foundation, even that flamboyant Daddy Paradise made an appearance.”
“Did he, now?” The two were clothed again and the drapes were open. Sunlight slanted across their forms through the large windows. “You know him?”
“A little, why?” She chewed on a strawberry and had more wine.
“He’s back in town to give a big speech at Liberty Hall.”
“Yes, someone from the magazine is going to interview him afterward.”
“Are you going to the talk?”
“‘Fraid not, my sweet. I’ve been invited to an excursion to Cuba with Ernest Hemingway, among others, and we’re leaving Thursday. You’re more than welcome to come along. I won’t smother you too much.”
“Can’t get away.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t be thinking about renewing your acquaintance with that fly girl now that me and my big mouth mentioned she was around?”
“Me and Bessie don’t know each other like that.” He wondered if DeHavilin knew about Daddy Paradise’s involvement with Queenie St. Clair. But he decided to confine his conversation to the institute.
“Does Renwick’s outfit have an office?”
“No, but do you want me to see if I can get you an introduction?”
“Not at the moment, but thanks.” He didn’t want to be too beholden to her. Not that he minded their occasional rolls in the hay, but Lacy DeHavilin had a habit of taking up hobbies and soon getting bored with them. He didn’t want to put himself in that kind of position. Then, too, it was probably better to see if he could come at the institute and they were unaware of him.
“This party Renwick had, was that to raise money?”
She stretched and yawned. “One isn’t so crass in certain circles my dear fellow,” she teased, putting on a British accent. “You don’t put the bite on, as it were. These things are done to float projects out there and see who among your fellow swells might call you later, invite you to the club to discuss these notions more, you see.”
“Hmm,” he mused.
“That’s why he had Mr. Tesla there. He was speaking about some of his ideas and how they could benefit society.”
“Nikola Tesla?”
“The one and only.”
She’d made coffee and Henson finished his cup. “This has been very enlightening, Lacy.” He quickly added, winking at her, “And enjoyable.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” She leaned over to take his face in her hands and kiss him.
“Never.”
He rose and, kissing her good-bye, left the brownstone. It was past two in the afternoon and it was if he had been in a cocoon of bliss and was now tossed back into the harsh world. The sounds of cars and trucks motoring, their horns bleating, street cars clanging and a jackhammer pulverizing concrete at the end of the block greeted him. Maybe he should rethink things and see what it would be like to be a kept man for a while.
“Aw, where would the fun be in that?” He chuckled and walked away.
At a diagonal from his receding form, a golden-hued young woman with pronounced cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes watched him as he walked away. Thereafter she returned to her car. Built into the dash of the otherwise unremarkable car was a radio. This wasn’t unusual, Chevrolet had introduced a car radio for listening to what few radio stations there were several years prior. And the police in Detroit had been experimenting with radios where crimes in progress could be broadcast from the precinct on a narrow bandwidth to patrol cars, thus ensuring a speedy response in the efforts to apprehend lawbreakers.
This radio, though, was much different. It was ahead of its time. Like in an aircraft, it allowed for two-way communication but didn’t require a row of batteries under the seats, though the car did have a long antenna on a spring attached to the rear bumper. From the glovebox she produced a portable microphone, which looked like a smaller version of a stage microphone with a thick wire leading from it. She plugged this into an outlet on the radio. The woman turned it on and when it warmed up, tuned to a specific frequency and spoke into it.
“Come in, Naygoohock, come in,” said the woman, depressing a button on the radio panel. “This is Petersen. Come in. This is Petersen.” She released the button to receive.
“Yes, it’s me,” came a crackly voice.
“I’ve been stationed at Lacy DeHavilin’s as advised. Matthew Henson came to see her today.” She hesitated, then went on, “He stayed there some time. I believe we’ll have an opportunity to get in her house as she’s made arrangements to leave town this Thursday.”
“Very good. I’ll let Jimmy know. Return to your first assignment, please.”
“Very
