John Case - Ghost Dancer aka Dance of Death

“Nothing. So it-”

With a stern expression, Ceplak held up his hand like a traffic cop’s. “Couple days later, maestro happen to read about Tunguska.” The old man shook his head, knowingly.

“Which is what?” Burke asked.

Ceplak frowned. “Tunguska is place in Siberia!” A little mirthless laugh. “ Was a place. June 30, 1908, nine thirty p.m., Eastern Standard Time, explosion in Tunguska destroy half a million acres of pine forest. Everything leveled! Power of event is equal to fifteen megatons of TNT!” Ceplak peered at Burke, waiting for a reaction.

Finally, Burke said, “Which is a lot. Especially back then.”

“Back then?!” the little man roared. “A lot? This is stronger than Hiroshima! This is strongest explosion in history – to this day. ”

“You’re telling me this actually happened?”

Ceplak smiled. “Google it.”

Ceplak delicately removed bones from his fish, forking morsels into his mouth. He patted his lips. “So, maestro intends to create spectacular display of northern lights. Instead, he blows up big patch of Siberia. Reindeer, voles, birds, so on, trees – and also some people, nomadic herders living there.” He shook his head. “Gone from face of earth.”

Burke said nothing.

Across from him, the old man sighed. “So we are talking about big problems. One, power of beam in excess of maestro’s prediction. Plus two, targeting.” He wagged his head. “Targeting needs major work. Maestro is off by two thousand miles.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this,” Burke said.

Ceplak shook his head. “Is hundred years ago! Middle of nowhere! Much, much speculation about event at time. What was it? People hear explosion hundreds – maybe even thousand – miles away. Reporters from Tomsk go to see what happened. Is complete destruction! No one ever seeing anything like this. Is huge area. Trees, grass, animals – all gone. Evaporated. ”

“And did people connect it to Tesla?” Burke asked.

“No,” Ceplak replied. “He is by then marginal figure, eccentric, maybe a little crazy. And he does not step forward to take credit. He is horrified.”

“So how did they explain it?” Burke asked. “The reporters.”

Ceplak shrugged. “Scientists say maybe meteorite is hitting earth.”

“That’s what I’d say.”

“Yes, except no impact crater. And core samples down to forty meters show zero nickel, iron, stone. These are components of all meteorites, so… theory number one goes out window and we get new one.”

“Which is what?”

“Since it can’t be meteorite, scientists decide it must be part of comet.”

Burke nodded.

Ceplak shook his head. “Can’t be comet.”

“Why not?”

“Because astronomers don’t have comet in vicinity. Plus, no one seeing it. No fiery mass falling from sky. Many many many… hundreds of witnesses report hearing explosion – but no one sees fireball? This is… not reasonable.” Ceplak shook his head and smiled. “So! When all reasonable explanations fail, we are left with Tesla! June 30, 1908, nine thirty p.m., Eastern Standard Time, he launches his beam and at this exact time – because beam is traveling at speed of light, yes? At this exact time, on other side of the world, destruction of Tunguska.”

“Like the owl.”

“Yes. I am sure, my father was sure, Tesla was sure! He was responsible for Tunguska. Destructive power of resonance! And maestro is obsessed with this for rest of life.”

“Amazing.”

“Amazing that he does not try to exploit it. You can imagine the military interest.”

Burke nodded, but Ceplak knew that he didn’t really get it because the old man leaned forward and spoke in a voice full of intensity. “Not just destructive potential as weapon. Think, Mr. Math for Poets! Beam travels at speed of light, yes?”

Burke nodded.

“Powerful beam arrive to target at same time sent!” Ceplak said. “How do you stop? How do you intercept? You understand there is no defense against this.” The old man folded his hands together.

“They would have thrown a fortune at him,” Burke said.

Ceplak held up his finger. “Of course, Tesla is pacifist.”

By now, Ceplak was devouring a crème brûlée. Burke stared out at the lake, distracted. A wind stirred the new-fallen snow into white dervishes. Burke was thinking that, as interesting as all this was, an explosion in the wilderness nearly a hundred years ago, some marginal notations in some dusty notebooks held hostage by a lonely old man… How was any of this going to help Tommy Aherne – his lonely old man?

Across the lake, the wishing bell began to toll.

“Anyway,” Ceplak said, “Tesla returned to this work for years, trying to find out where he goes wrong. He thinks he makes error in calculations of electrogravitational field. Many notations in my father’s notebooks.”

“Did he ever test it again?”

Ceplak shrugged. “I think he never has chance. After Tunguska, he dismantles transmitter. Works on equations, works on focusing mechanism in lab – but no money to rebuild. No money for anything. In 1917, tower at Wardenclyffe torn down for salvage.”

Burke nodded distractedly. No more money for anything. He was thinking about the bill for lunch.

“But your friend,” Ceplak said, his voice sharp and loud. “I think, maybe Jack Wilson figures it out.”

“Figures what out?”

Ceplak didn’t answer. “He’s here with me for twelve days. He studies notebooks in chronological order, starting in 1902. So he follows maestro’s thinking. But, mostly he’s looking at 1907, 1908, 1909, 1910. He reads other notebooks, yes, but these four are always in front of him on table. These four concern transmitter and corrections for targeting of beam.”

“Okay.”

Ceplak put down his spoon. “I think Jack Wilson wants to build transmitter. Not to give free power to peoples, no. To build as weapon. He looks through notebooks for some little piece of data he’s missing.”

“You think he found what he was looking for?

“Yes. On last day, he is so so happy. He hug me, for real – not his way at all. And he’s saying… ‘it’s time to dance.’” Ceplak raised his eyebrows. “I ask what this means, but he doesn’t explain.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“You think he’s capable of building this thing?”

Ceplak expelled a soft puff of air, then met Burke’s eyes. “I’m teacher, okay? My gifts?… they are limited. I can’t judge who is capable of doing what in physics. Wilson is smart? Yes. Hard worker? Yes. Spent lot of time on beam equations? Yes. Could Jack Wilson build?” A pause. “ Maybe. But I tell myself – pffft – not to worry.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think he has resources to do something! He…” Ceplak frowned, shrugged. “He brings me cheap bottle of wine! He’s not staying at Toplice. He stays at cheap hotel. He eats pizza pizza pizza. He’s not having funds, this is clear. So, I take him for just another Tesla junkie with big ideas. He will write article on Internet about Tesla beam weapon and that is it. But then you come, you tell me – Wilson, suddenly he’s rich person. And terrorist!”

Burke shrugged. “That’s what the FBI said, but you have to wonder. It’s not like they really pursued this. I mean, Jesus, they didn’t even find you. ”

Ceplak leaned forward. “Yes, but… maybe you’re right. Maybe this is big exaggeration of your security services. Maybe they are playing game we don’t know, but… I think you better find him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing my best,” Burke said, thinking This is insane.