"You stole my chance at making senior fellow, of possible tenure in the future! Let us just come out and say it," she yelled with venom in her voice. He stopped and turned to face the furious beauty who was visibly pink in the face.
"Keep your voice down, Nina. This is not high school," the department head said calmly. "I did not steal anything. I was there, remember?"
"You were there only because of my research. That expedition was mine, Frank," she insisted, her eyes wild with the injustice she felt.
"No, that expedition was a shot in the dark that someone of your academic level did not present enough credence for to be approved. My superior position was the only reason you got to go on that expedition, my dear, so think clearly about who you accuse and how freely you throw about your allegations," he shivered and pointed his finger at her, taking care not to invade her space and give her a reason to chastise him for any trivial action.
"Not even a chapter to how it all came about? Your book speaks half-truths and I will be damned if I am going to endorse it with the omission of my influence in your… your bleak wording and desperate references to the tiny iota of your contributions to our eventual survival," her sentences came out furiously without pause or taking a breath.
He looked at her with a victorious simper, "Well, I see you read it too. That warms my heart. I want to reach as many readers as I can and your support is greatly appreciated."
With this he turned and walked down the corridor with a demeaning salute of his hand. Nina felt her fever pitch, but she would not give him the pleasure of exploding — again. Instead she gathered herself and called to him, "You should give me your publisher's contact details, in case I run out of bum fodder!"
I wish he could hear that one, she thought and returned to her office. Smiling at her own line she closed the door and kicked off her shoes. On seeing her laptop screen her smile promptly disappeared and she was reminded of one thing that Matlock was regrettably right about — she was still a nobody, trying to console her enthusiasm with postdoctoral research that would probably never take her further than a lecture hall two counties away. For her to elevate her standing in the academic community she would have to publish something groundbreaking, something profound that the world's scholars would be amazed at. Either that or she would have to generate research income from numerous prominent sources to prove that she was worth backing financially.
Both these factors eluded her.
Fighting a devastating bout of depression she wished she could have just one more cigarette, but it appeared that her previous attempt at making a name for herself had brought her only misery. Everyone involved got what they wanted, except for Nina, who was left cheated by her supervisor, betrayed by her male friend and left in her ill-lit office in front of a screen full of empty words of things that held no mystery to those who would read it.
A knock jerked her bolt upright. From the other side a muffled voice said, "Dr. Gould?"
"Yes, Maggie. Come in," Nina said, as plainly as she could, given the fact that her heart stopped at the sudden loud knock, which instantly caved her little pity party. Her hands were firmly lodged in her hair and it gave her a look of misery that the personal assistant had never seen before. Maggie had been working there for years, a motherly blond-haired lady who smelled like an old ashtray. She used to be Nina's emergency cigarette flogger and right now it was the only thing Nina wanted to ask of her, but she curbed that urge.
"I heard you were locked in battle with Professor Matlock again, so I thought best not to disturb you, but there was a phone call from a Mr. Purdue," she reported, and Nina immediately nursed a bludgeoning migraine at the mention of his name. Maggie continued with her recitation, "He said he tried to email you, but he is on the North Sea right now and could not reach a proper connection. He asked if you could call him tomorrow morning when he is back home. I don't have a number, though. He broke up before he hung up, see."
"That's all right, Maggie, I have his number. Unfortunately."
"He is a bit obnoxious, isn't he?" Maggie pulled up her nose and smiled in sympathy to Nina, who nodded playfully in agreement while making her eyes as big as she could. The two women laughed jovially and for a moment Nina remembered what it was like to giggle. Burdened with so much lately she had apparently forgotten what it was like to have fun. She needed a good chuckle, especially at the expense of spoiled bastards with too much money and time on their hands to consider others. Secretly Nina was curious about the reason for his contact.
"I would rather be flogged than to have to deal with that insufferable bigot," Nina sighed, "Maggie, take me home and hide me until it all goes away."
"Aw, I would gladly do that, my wee dear," the sweet hen solaced her. After a brief pause Maggie put her hand on her hip and her eyebrow raised as she tapped her lip with her pen. "You know, he is money… and I know of someone who needs money to get her career going once and for all…"
"Oh, stop," Nina chuckled, "I'm no whore."
"No, you are not. Whores are innovative entrepreneurs, if you consider their business sense. And you are just content with waiting for a date, you catch?" Maggie urged her for an answer with a forceful countenance.
"I fear asking, but are you suggesting I hit it off with him? Because that will never happen, not for the position of pope," Nina winced.
"No!" Maggie laughed, "Jesus, perish the thought! No, I mean you should tuck away your dislike for him, just enough to win his favor, see? You know, Nina, this old fart could pave your way to professor — or even something better! You have to use what you can get, within limits of course," she smiled.
Nina gave it pause. Her eyes ran across the edge of the desk and onto the floor while her nails tapped on the desk surface. Maggie knew she had set the ball rolling and proudly she briefly touched Nina's arm before exiting and closing the door behind her. Her work was done here.
The following day Nina was not keen on calling Purdue, but Maggie's sentiments rang true in her memory. Admitting to herself that she was a bit childish for wishing he would call her instead, she dialed his number. It felt as if she was yielding, as if she was the one who needed him, by contacting him first.
"Oh, God, just grow up, Nina," she angrily shook herself out of the silliness. "Let's just come out and say it. You are the one needing him. He could afford anyone else for company, but, can you?" The petite history lecturer talked herself through the dial tone and the punching of his number and stopped short when he answered.
"I am not going to waste your time, Nina," Purdue said, after the obligatory pleasantries through which both of them could see, but elected to play the sanctimonious card. "I again need an expert in German history. This time there is no one else in on it, I am certain," he said. His tone of voice somewhat unsettled Nina. Purdue was not wielding his usual erratic and reckless self, but instead abandoned his desire for her to talk shop. It was very unlike him to be serious enough about something to relinquish his blatant flirtations and boasts about his genius.
"In the ice?" she asked, sincerely hoping not to have to succumb to cabin fever in Antarctica again.
"No, the North Sea. I have discovered something profound under Deep Sea One, the oil rig I own, and I think it is a sunken German submarine from the Second World War. I need someone to dive down to it with me, to tell me what I don't know about it," came his excited whisper, as if someone would hear him if he even thought about it.