The Tesla Legacy
Rebecca Cantrell
Language: English
Pages: 326
ISBN: 1507676670
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Cantrell's sequel to the award-winning The World Beneath, software genius, Joe Tesla, confronts an equally brilliant and far more powerful foe. Still crippled by agoraphobia and confined to the tunnels under New York City, Joe is haunted by the fact that he cannot even attend his father's funeral. His father’s death brings threats to the safety of Joe's underground home: guilt over the broken relationship that can never be healed, a mysterious box of papers inherited from eccentric inventor Nikola Tesla, and a ruthless enemy determined to steal those papers no matter the cost. Mystified by why his inheritance is so valuable, Joe and his service dog, Edison, follow clues left a century ago by Joe's famous ancestor to reveal the power of his family legacy. While Joe must rely on his considerable talents as a hacker, he must also reach out to friends. But whom can he trust as he battles to save his beloved city from . . . The Tesla Legacy?
mother’s arms. Edison dropped his warm head in Joe’s lap. He stroked the dog’s ears, and Edison wagged his tail—one solid thump (cyan). Joe took a careful breath, held it, and let it out. His father was gone. There would be no reconciliation for them now. Joe had had very good reasons to cut his father out of his life, but looking at the black box made it all so very final. A man took his mother’s arm. He looked about fifty, ten or so years younger than she, and handsome in a craggy thirties
be mocked if it turned out to be nothing. As if it knew that he wasn’t going to open the door on his own, the dog took the doorknob in his mouth and turned it, which was a pretty neat trick. It must have special training. The dog pushed the door open and held it. It whined deep in its throat. It clearly wanted him to go into the room. He wasn’t sure whether he should do what the dog wanted, but he’d come this far. He stepped through the door, searching for movement and holding on to his
artist. The sight of her gave Vivian the answer she needed. Celeste. If Tesla had told anyone his alarm code, it would be Celeste. Tesla had given her Celeste’s number for emergencies, and this definitely qualified. But Celeste was sick, and Vivian didn’t want to call to tell her that Tesla had been cracked on the head, and that they’d broken him out of the hospital. She dialed anyway the number and waited. “Hello?” said a breathy voice. “Vivian Torres here, ma’am. You don’t know me, but—”
name, quaint to modern ears. Maybe it wasn’t the name—it was the entire inscription. He grinned. This was it. Knowing that it would work, he typed in the phrase. He held his breath and pressed the button to log in. The laptop complied. A standard desktop with a picture of a fried egg, sunny-side up, appeared on the screen. He was in. It didn’t take much searching to find the transcript from a chat room where Quantum, Ash, and Geezer had talked about Nikola Tesla and his earthquake device.
she said. “In a minute there will be fireworks, and I thought we could watch them together.” It had been months since he’d looked out a window this long. Edison crowded over onto his lap and put his head on Joe’s shoulder, his furry face against Joe’s cheek. Joe hugged him with one arm and held his phone in the other hand. He was safe here. He could do this. A giant golden firework went off above the building’s tall spire. That spire had almost crashed down to Earth. But it hadn’t. “It’s