CHAPTER 29

At Ceplak’s suggestion, they walked. “It’s only three kilometers, we’ll earn our lunch!”

Burke nodded, his mind elsewhere. He was thinking that the restaurant would be expensive, that he needed to change his airline reservations, that the trip to Lake Bled was probably a waste of time and money. How could Ceplak’s physics and history lessons help him find Jack Wilson?

He followed the old man along a steep path that cut back and forth on the side of a forested hill, his loafers skidding on the packed snow. Ceplak was as nimble and sure-footed as a goat, decked out in hiking boots and armed with a walking stick. The pines around them were flocked with snow, their spiky branches rustling in the wind. Overhead, a cloudless blue vault, the air cold and clean. Burke took it all in with a photographer’s eye.

Ceplak paused, and turned. “I come back to Wardenclyffe,” he said, “but first, resonance or to use another word, vibration. This can be destructive, no?”

“Well,” Burke said, “if there’s an earthquake-”

“Yes. Big release of energy, just like rock in pond, seismic waves radiate from epicenter. You feel earthquake sometime?”

“In California.”

“Then you know – you feel the oscillation of the earth beneath you. The earth shudders, yes?”

Burke nodded.

“If shudder too strong, if oscillation too great, structures cannot tolerate. Buildings fall down. Rocks crack and crumble.” Ceplak stopped to toss aside a dead limb that lay in their way across the path. “The lesson is: Resonance can be destructive. Another example is opera singer with crystal glass. Everybody is knowing this one. Singer with big voice hits note, holds note – glass shatters. Why?”

“Never understood it,” Burke said, hurrying to keep up with the geezer.

“I’m telling you before, sound is wave, sound is energy. Maybe, sitting drunk sometime, you run wet finger around top of glass. And it sings to you – like Buddhist monk! Ommmmmmm.” Ceplak cackled.

“Let’s say tone of glass, its natural resonant frequency is ‘F.’ Fat lady sings same note – and voice is big enough – glass begin to vibrate. If sound is loud enough, if excitation strong enough – pow! Glass breaks.” Ceplak held up a finger. “Caruso does this many times. Also Birgit Nielsen – soprano. Recording studio, they’re telling her please to step back from microphone. Why? She’s breaking panes of glass. Even she shatters gemstone one time! Think emerald. So, why is glass breaking?”

“Vibration,” Burke said.

“Yes. When sound waves from voice create vibration that matches natural resonant frequency of glass, oscillation is amplified – yes? Already glass wants to vibrate at this frequency, it begins to vibrate, you give it push with more sound wave” – he clapped his hands together – “structure begins to come apart. It seem crazy that sound is breaking something as solid as glass, but always to remember, ‘solid’ is illusion. Glass is particles and waves like everything else. Move those waves too fast, excite too much, and glass shatters. Structure fails.”

Burke nodded as Ceplak pushed aside some branches, giving them access to a narrow road. They were still a hundred feet above the lake. Burke could see a plume of smoke rising from the Grand Hotel Toplice.

“Second example of destructive nature of resonance,” Ceplak said. “Soldiers don’t march on bridge. Why? If they march in time, bridge can collapse.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Manchester, England, 1831,” Ceplak said. “Suspension bridge. Soldiers marching in step. Bridge starts to shake. Soldiers don’t take physics, they keep marching. Next thing” – his hands dropped in a gesture of collapse – “all fall down. After Manchester, knowledge comes into military textbooks, into general knowledge.” He tapped a finger to his head. “Destructive power of resonance. Since Manchester, military types know to teach: Soldiers must break step when they cross bridge. If not, they maybe not getting to other side.”

“Hunh.”

“You know the legend of Jericho?” Ceplak asked.

“The walls came tumbling down.”

“But why?”

“Joshua -,” Burke began.

“-blows trumpet!” Ceplak said with an air of triumph. “Blows horn. Walls of Jericho crashing down because of sound. Destructive power of resonance!”

“Right.”

“Okay, so back to Wardenclyffe. Early 1900s. Tesla makes partnership with J. P. Morgan – maybe richest man in world at time. Morgan thinks Wardenclyffe is radio tower, that this is what Tesla is building. Because Tesla, he’s inventing radio, too.”

Burke laughed. “I thought Marconi invented the radio.”

Ceplak wagged his head. “Marconi gets Nobel Prize, but patents are Tesla’s. Supreme Court decision in Tesla’s favor.”

“Really?”

“Is true. Look it up! Anyway, Morgan gives Tesla money to build tower on Long Island.”

“And what does Morgan get?” Burke asked.

“Big share in Tesla’s wireless patents. For Tesla, he hates to do this, but what choice? Maestro is needing money to build tower. Is big project. One hundred eighty feet tall, big metal bolt one hundred twenty feet into ground. But three years later, Morgan pulls plug because he is finding out this tower it’s not for radio waves. Tesla plans to transmit power that he gets from earth. And he want to send it everywhere without wires.”

“But that would be great.”

“For mankind, yes. For Morgan, no. Morgan has big investments in Westinghouse and General Electric. He spends fortune building electric grid – wires, meters, poles. Tesla is telling him we don’t need any of this. We get power directly from earth, amplify it, and beam it everywhere. Peoples just need a cheap receiver to… download the energy.”

“Like radio antennas.”

“Exactly! But for Morgan” – Ceplak tapped his head – “this new wireless energy is competition to existing business. And he’s got big money still to pay off on infrastructure he’s built, money that will come from electric bills.” Ceplak inclined his head. “Business decision. Morgan cuts off further money to maestro.”

“What happened then?” Burke asked.

“Tesla has bright idea. If he can interest new investors, he doesn’t need Morgan. So… he makes publicity stunt.”

“What kind of stunt?”

“First I’m remembering you that, at turn of century, world is crazy about Arctic exploration,” Ceplak said. “You can’t imagine! These explorers, they are like rock-and-roll astronauts. Famous, glamorous, always in big danger, exciting. They’re big celebrities. And when they come back – if they come back – books, lectures, interviews. So anyway, Tesla has idea, goes to see his friend Admiral Peary.”

“The explorer?”

“Tesla knew everyone! Edison, Morgan, Peary, Twain. So, it’s 1908. Already Peary has tried for the pole twice. He’s getting ready for a third attempt, but Tesla can’t wait. Maestro needs someone in the Arctic now, to witness publicity stunt. So Peary puts Tesla in touch with another explorer, Windjammer Steffannson.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Very, very famous at time. Exclusive deal with New York Tribune to follow his travels. Colorful character! He lives four and a half years as an Eskimo! Amazing story. And for maestro, happy coincidence! Windjammer leaving New York soon to start his adventure. So Peary introduces Tesla to Windjammer. And Windjammer agrees – he will be witness to maestro’s publicity stunt. On June 30, Windjammer will visit Peary’s old camp on Ellesmere Island. And he will watch sky for fantastic demonstration of Tesla’s new invention.”

“And what’s that?”

Ceplak leaned toward him. “Fireworks.”

“What do you mean?”

Before Ceplak could answer, they arrived at the steps to the hotel’s terrace. Standing at the top, the maître d’ greeted them as if they were prodigal kin, then guided them to a table overlooking the lake.