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Darren Mathews, a former Australian SAS super soldier, is a loving father married to his soulmate, Anna Mathews. They are both devoted parents, living with their daughter, Dana, on a small island off the coast of Florida. They seem to have the perfect family life, but they are hiding a dangerous secret: they both work for the Orange Corporation, an umbrella company of the CIA controlled by the shadow government. From aliens to giants, they have seen all that the Hidden Hand has kept from the world. Almost. When a routine recovery mission puts Darren face-to-face with original Tesla documents, he makes an impulsive decision which will alter the course of not only his own fate but the fates of his wife and daughter forever. What will Darren do with the Tesla notes and diagrams? Will the shadow government discover what he has done? And will Anna turn her husband over to the Hidden Hand, or will she stick with him for better or worse—until death do they part?

Mystery / Thriller
Age Rating:


The night of January 5th,


8:45 pm

Inside the kitchen of the New Yorker Hotel a person from room service made a pot of coffee. He filled the metal pot and put it on his trolley. Then he received a sandwich from the cook and put that on the trolley, too. He took the trolley out of the kitchen and took it to the elevator.

Inside the elevator he was taken up to the 15th floor where he got off the elevator and walked down the hall, his trolley in front of him. He walked down the hall until he got to a staircase. He knocked on the door and out came another man dressed in the same uniform. The two nodded at each other but didn’t say anything.

The room service man who had brought the trolley up to the 15th floor then walked down the stairs, his part in the transfer done, while the man coming out of the stairway replaced him and took over the room service job. He took the trolley back to the elevator and waited for the door to open.

When the elevator opened, he stepped into the elevator and went up to the 33rd floor. He got out of the elevator when it reached that floor, and then proceeded to walk over to room 3327. He gave the door a knock and Nikola Tesla opened the door – he was an elderly man, but there was still something sharp about the look in his eyes.

The room service man brought in the pot of coffee and put it, along with the sandwich, on the table that was in the room and then said, “I hope you have a good night, sir.”

He shut the door behind him and hurried back down the hallway to the elevator. Someone new was waiting for him. He stood in the elevator, holding the door open. As soon as they were both inside of the elevator, the doors snapped shut again, and they disappeared from sight.

Inside Tesla’s room, the inventor was reading over his notes. They were kept in a handwritten notebook. He was still thinking about the latest blueprint he had been working on. Some part of it wasn’t quite working. It was a problem that was keeping him up.

He looked through his notes. He double checked his blue prints.

Tesla scratched the side of his head. He got up and paced about the room. When exhaustion threatened to over take him, he drank the coffee. Later, when he grew weary again, he ate the sandwich.

He paced. He shifted. He scrubbed at his face and raked fingers through his hair. Anything that could keep him up long enough to work out these problems! This new design was going to advance technology to an obscene degree!

He just had to figure this out!

And so Tesla continued to work, and the night continued to wear on.

By 11am the next day, Tesla had not turned up to work on his lab experiments. This was highly unusual for him. Tesla spent more time working in his lab than he did around actual people. He was always the first one there and the last one to leave.

Fearing for his safety, his lab assistant went to give him a ring at his hotel. No one answered when he knocked on the door to room 3327. He tried to knock again, but there was still nothing.

Growing even more concerned, he rushed downstairs. Hhe told the floor manager, “I think that something might have happened to my boss. He didn’t show up to work, and he isn’t answering his door. Can you check on him for me? He’s here under the name of Tesla. His room number is 3327.”

“Of course,” said the manager. He held up his hand, signaling that the lab assistant to Tesla remain quiet. He rang the room in question. He rang it a second time. There was no answer.

The lab assistent asked, “nothing?”

“Not to worry,” said the manager. I’ll send someone up to check on him.”

Not even five minutes later two men, Sydney King and James Hoffer, had appeared in the main lobby. The manager gave them the keys and sent them upstairs.

The longer it took for them to return, the more upset the lab assistant became. She had worked herself into a tizzy. Sydney and James came back down the stairs. They looked grim.

“Call the authorities, boss,” said Sydney.

The manager, startled, asked, “whatever for?”

James replied, “looks like the man renting that room must have died during the night. Doesn’t look grizzly.”

Sydney added, “the door was locked. No one broke in or nothing.”

“One moment then.” The managed phoned for the hotel doctor to go up to room 3327 and wait for the proper authorities to arrive.

The lab assistant, shocked, sat down in a nearby chair and held his head in his hands.

The police removed the body at three in the afternoon. They brought it down through the main lobby. A Caucasian looking man reading the newspaper got up and followed the entourage out of the building. He eyed them curiously before continuing on his way and getting into a nearby taxi car.

The lab assistant went to the station, to do a proper identification on the body. That left the manager, Terry Grimes, to load up Tesla’s belongings into a safe until someone could come retrieve them. He had only started the job when his associate manager approached him, stating, “Terry, you aren’t going to believe this, but the FBI is here.”

“The FBI?”

“The FBI. They want to speak to you.”

“I’ve never spoken to anyone in the FBI before,” said Terry, nervously. He closed the safe and then went to speak with the FBI agent in question.

The agent was a big man with a proper suit jacket on. He asked, “are you the manager?”

Terry answered, “I am. Though it seems to be an unfortunate title to have today.”

The agent chuckled. “I won’t keep you long. I’m here to collect any personal belongings for Nikola Tesla.”

“Oh! Well, I’ve just moved some of them to the safe, and I know that he has a storage locker as well. More than one, I think. I’ve never met a man with so many belongings. He has them scattered about.”

“I’ll need keys to all of them.”

“That’s no problem. Just give me a moment to get it all put together,” said Terry.

He returned not long later with the keys. Terry leg the man to the hotel safe. He pulled out several folders and notebooks belonging to Nikola Tesla.

Terry said, “you know, this material is supposed to be given to his next of kin. “

The FBI agent explained, “we’re taking all of Tesla’s belongings for reasons of national security. He was a man with many enemies and many ideas. We’re just making sure nothing falls into the wrong hands.”

That still didn’t sit right with Terry, but he wasn’t willing to argue with an FBI agent. He passed the materials over to the agent.

He then escorted the FBI agent down a staircase. It was off limits to the general public. The hallway it led into was full of storage rooms for guests at the hotel. The manager opened up storage locker 15.

There were at least twelve sea trunks. Terry said, “these all belonged to Tesla.”

“I’m not going to be able to get through all of this on my own,” muttered the agent. “I’ll need to get help with it.”

Terry eagerly said, “I don’t mind giving you a hand.”

While the two men were down in the storage hall, a man named Otis Carr had been informed of Tesla’s death. He was a good friend of Tesla’s, and had been one of the man’s assistants.

Distraught, Otis Carr set out to begin work of his own.

It was late evening before the agent, Todd Barker, left the hotel. He hailed down a cab, gave them an address, and settled in for the ride. He had been taken out of the city, and dropped off in front of a lovely home, the property surrounded by an iron gate.

The moment he drew near, a guard stepped over and checked his credentials.

“They know me,” said the man.

The guard still waited until he was given the go-ahead before opening the gates and letting the man inside.

This was the home of George Sherff Sr. He was in his office when the man arrived. The first thing out of George’s mouth was, “did you get the job done?”

“Of course I did,” said the mystery man.

“Good.” George Scherrf Sr. Smiled. He picked up the phone and made a call to his office landlord – Mr. Frank Rockefeller. George said, “I’m going to need to see you today.”

Todd said, “that man was a pack rat. He’s got so much shit at the hotel, it’s going to take a while to actually work through it. And that’s going to be tricky. As soon as I start spending time there, people are going to get suspicious.”

“Not to worry,” said George. “I’ll find somebody at MIT to do it. You’ve done good for me so far.”

That somebody was John Trump.

John Trump was a professor at MIT. He was known for being exceptionally intelligent. Todd was sent to speak with him personally. The man’s office was cluttered, diagrams tacked to the walls, odd items spread out over his desk.

He announced himself as, “Agent Todd Barker. We spoke over the phone.”

“So we did,” said Trump.

Todd said, “I’m here to request that you take a two week leave of absence from work. There’s a matter of national security that we need you to consult on.”

Trump asked, “what is it you want me to do?”

Todd said, “it’s better if I show you, rather than tell you.”

And so, not even a half week later, the duo showed back up at the FBI owned warehouse where Tesla’s belongings had been stored. Trump was shown the sea trunks filled with information.

Todd said, “your job is to go through it all and to specifically look for anything to do with flying saucers and or teleportation.”

At first, Trump wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved. It only took a little bit of poking around before his mind had been changed. Trump was instantly invested in the work. During his time sorting through the man’s belongings, Trump found several diaries. He spent hours sitting and reading through them, jotting down notes on various names and figures he would need to look into later.

In those journals, Trump learned something amazing.

He learned that, at one point, Tesla had been hired by the US government to put a radio receiver up in the statue of liberty for listening purposes. Then later he discovered a story about how Tesla was invited to help Mr. Eifel in France put in a radio tower in the Eiffel tower at the very top to help them find spies in World War 1.

The details were all in the journals, written down as proof of Tesla’s – experience? Crimes? Inventions? Trump supposed that it could have been any of those three.

In that moment, the semantics didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Trump was the only person he could decipher the journals...and that they held the truth of many lies within them.

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