Still wiping tears away behind my funeral veil, I walked into George’s study quietly. I could still hear the other mourners through the heavy wooden door, but only in low tones. Many people showed up to pay respects to my poor George. The house was full of scientific colleagues, neighbors, academicians and family. No one understood why he was killed in such a vicious way, well no one except the FBI and me.
George never could keep secrets from me, not after 29 years of marriage. He told me the last morning I saw him that he was delivering his device to representatives of the US Department of Energy that afternoon. In anticipation of his triumph, I had started preparing a private dinner of prime rib, potatoes and asparagus when I heard a knock at the door.
“Mrs. Radcliffe?” said the dour faced man in the dark gray suit standing on the porch.
“Yes, Jenna Radcliffe,” I said, standing in the doorway blocking his view of the inside.
“Mrs. Radcliffe, I am Special Agent Roger Burroughs, FBI.” His hand snapped open a leather wallet displaying his shield and identification.
“I’m sorry? How can I help you?” I said.
“May I come in? I’d rather not discuss this matter out here. It concerns your husband, Professor George Radcliffe.”
I was hesitant, especially now that I noticed the other agents exiting the two black SUVs in our driveway. Reluctantly, I opened the door wide and motioned Agent Burroughs through into the formal sitting room.
“Ma’am, I’m very sorry to tell you your husband was killed this afternoon in the parking lot of the University.”
I started to hyperventilate and my skin went cold. “Oh my God. How? A hit and run?” I sank into the armchair behind me and put my head in my hands trying to hold back the tears.
“No ma’am, his car exploded. We have a forensics team on site now, but it will be a while before they can give me any answers.”
“A car bomb? Why would anyone want to kill George to begin with? He was a good man, trying to do great things. Why?”
“I was hoping you could help me with those questions, Mrs. Radcliffe,” he said.
“No, no. Everyone liked George.” I said.
“Do you know what his plans were today? Where he may have been going when he left the office at about 1:30 this afternoon?”
“Well, he mentioned he was meeting with people from the DOE this afternoon. He was going to show them his prototype Tesla device.”
“Tesla device?”
“Yes.” I said. “His prototype device could produce free electricity from the air around it. He called it the Tesla device after Nikola Tesla, the man that-“
“Yes, I know of Tesla and his free energy experiments. I will have to check with DOE on the meeting particulars. Did your husband keep notes or designs for the device anywhere?” Burroughs was busily thumbing on his smartphone.
The knock on the study door interrupted my reminiscence. “Mrs. Radcliffe?” said Agent Burroughs.
I quickly walked behind George’s desk and slid open the wall panel that hid his whiteboard. On it were the plans and equations for the Tesla device. They found the device and George’s tablet, both destroyed by the explosion that killed him. The DOE denied any meeting or contact with my husband about the device. Apparently, the government has no interest in free energy and went to great lengths to stop my husband.
I started erasing in the upper left corner.
~~~~~~
And that is my entry in the weekly writing exercise on G+ as part of the Writer’s Discussion Group for this week. Everyone submits stories in the comments of the post at the link and anyone can +1 their favorites. In the end the story with the most +1 votes gets a little recognition. This is a weekly thing and this time the story is based on this image.
