1 An inventor in distress
January 7, 1943; Planet Earth; Milky Way Galaxy.
Room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel. 11:56 P.M.
In a prosperous urban area of New York, one of the major cities of the United States of America, the New Yorker Hotel with its forty-three floors, stood out like a sore thumb on the eighth avenue of Hell's Kitchen neighborhood in the Manhattan Metropolitan area.
The hotel's plain facades consisting of alternating vertical bands of warm-gray brick-paint and dark-windows gave the building a contemporary feel.
The hotel's usually crowded reception was now devoid of any human activity. Even the bellboys, always as snappy-looking as trainees in military academies were absent from their duties on this cold Thursday night. The street in the front of the New Yorker Hotel was eerily quiet, the silence only occasionally disturbed by the bark of a stray dog.
However, the atmosphere in one of the rooms of this majestic hotel was anything but quiet. There were occasional murmurs and painful, but hushed cries coming from behind the closed door of Room 3327.
The murmurs and cries sounded like something out of a cultic ceremony, fueling the imaginations of the other residents of the hotel. But they brushed it off as just another weird night courtesy of the eccentric character residing in Room 3327.
If they had been a bit more inquisitive about the goings-on in the delusional engineer's room, they would have concluded that the sounds coming from that area were far removed from the norm.
Within the confines of the room, three men hovered over an aged man seated on a smooth-woolen gray-carpet that was now tainted with patches of red.
From close observation, you could identify that the patches were of blood from the piercings inflicted by some hypodermic needles still casually inserted in the soles of Nikolai's bare feet. Certainly, the aged man was in great pain.
Two days prior, Nikolai Teslai Sankara in the middle of one of his experiments was interrupted by a knock on his hotel room door. Glancing at the old clock on his bedside table, he had realized that it was just six o'clock in the morning, concluding that it must be one of the maids either arriving to clean his room or ask if he needed some breakfast.
One of the maids named Alice was particularly attentive to him - always reminding him to take his meals on-time and be mindful of his health.
Opening the door to chase away the nosy brat, he was instead greeted by three strangers.
Standing in the hallway were three Caucasian men - all uniformly dressed in black trench coats, their foreheads completely hidden by the black-hats atop their heads. Two of the men were stocky and huge and were flanking the other who was frail and thin. The stocky men were about six feet two, while the frail one was a head shorter than the rest.
Their eyes, of the usual brown, were remarkably cold. Apart from their blond eyebrows, all the men had no other visible facial hair. The men carried small travel bags slung over their left shoulders.
[These men should be from either the police or the army.] Nikolai guessed from their mannerisms. [But why would soldiers or police officers be looking for me? Is it because of my unpaid hotel bills?] Nikolai mused.
"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Nikolai looked at the men inquisitively.
The only response was an unsettling grin from the thin and frail Caucasian man in the middle.
"Mr. Teslai," the man spoke while nodding at the buff man by his left side. " We have some important business to discuss."
The latter quickly lunged at Nikolai without even giving him a chance to react. It all happened so suddenly, and Nikolai was dragged back into the room by his collar. He was easily secured to a vintage wooden-chair positioned near his bedside and then had one of his stockings stuffed into his mouth. That was his first encounter with his assailants.
What followed was misery and a fate worse than death. Over the past two days, he had been subjected to a variety of torture methods, including sleep deprivation, tickle torture, and starvation. He was nearly psychologically broken and barely holding on.
But Nikolai could tell that his captors did not want to kill him, at least not until today. The aura about them was different. They seemed more hurried and went about their grim task more hurriedly.
[What should I do?] Nikolai mused feeling a wave of hopelessness engulf him.
[Should I hand over the blueprint? No. That is my only bargaining power at the moment. Even if they get the designs, they will not necessarily let me go.]
The men had already exposed their identities to him. Considering their profession as German secret agents stationed in the USA, they would have to tie up all loose ends, including him even if they obtained his designs.
[The longer I hold on to the information they need, the longer I can live.] Nikolai inwardly thought without a change in his facial expression.
[I just have to hold on until tomorrow morning. My only hope is to be rescued by someone else.]
[Alice should be coming to clean my room tomorrow morning. The hotel manager should also be coming to demand payment of my hotel bills at around 9:00 am.]
[If all goes well, I may be able to escape from this cruel torture tomorrow morning.]
Smack! Smack!
Nikolai thought process was disrupted by two slaps on the back of his head.
"Nikolai, hand over the blueprint of the death ray! We will spare you from the pain you are feeling!" Captor one beseeched with a bit of impatience in his voice.
"I told you already," Nikolai stammered. "I have no idea what you are talking about!" He added. His voice was cranky but devoid of any kind of pleading.
"Nikolai, do not take us for fools. Do you think we have not done any research before coming to you?" Captor one retorted with another slap to his cheek.
"I don't get it!" Captor two spoke for the first time in hours. He was the thin man who seemed to be the leader of his three captors.
"Why would you invent something which cannot be of any use in our current world? The death ray may be a godly technology, but that is only when it is in capable hands. We are willing to purchase the blueprint at market value. We can also complete the transaction using gold bars or equipment that may be of use to you."
"Remember that weaponry can only be utilized by the military. The Great War would be the best stage to showcase your invention. Don't you think so Mr. Teslai?" Captor three added after not getting any reply from Nikolai.
"I would seriously want to showcase my new inventions. However, I have never made any progress in my research into weaponry. You have targeted the wrong person." Nikolai answered without buying any of their bullshit.
"Come on, old man!" Captor three looked at Nikolai with a frown.
"We also know that you originate from the Austrian Empire. The Austrians are our allies in this war. Don't you want to contribute to the endeavors of your country of origin? You have to know that the death ray can change the tides of the war!"
The three captors knew that Nikolai was an 86-year-old man. This limited their options for the extraction of the required information. They could only hope that as an inventor, Nikolai would wish to share his work before he passed away. For the past two days, they had tried to coerce him, but they had failed.
The expression on Nikolai's face remained listless, and his mouth continued to remain shut. However, in contrast, his mind was filled with doubt.
[How did the matter regarding the death ray blueprint in his possession get disclosed?] He wondered.
He had never disclosed the fact that he was working on the death ray. His interest in the death ray was due to the possible applicability of this technology in wireless transmission of power. Thus, it was never part of any of his exhibitions.
Although countless experiments were conducted by Nikolai, his progress over the last twenty-two years was slow.
After untold hardships, he had finally made some headway and completed the death ray design over the last Christmas season. However, he was yet to begin building the prototype of this new weapon.
[Why am I being targeted by the German secret agents when I have kept a low profile since the beginning of the war?]
