“Do you have any idea what it could be about?” she persisted.
Charles turned his thin, middle-aged face down to her and said only, “No.”
Lily had to abandon her prying at that stage and concentrate on preparing her employer’s luggage. For the rest of the afternoon she’d encounter Purdue passing by or see him coming out of the bathroom, but she wisely did not engage him in conversation. Apart from bathroom breaks, he stayed in his study, signing papers and arranging Didi’s files for her collection the following day.
When Purdue was done with his administrative duties, he descended the winding stairs to the basement level laboratory, vanishing rapidly under the ground floor concrete and laid stone. He’d made it clear that he wanted to be alone.
Locking the door behind him, Purdue sat down in front of his lab computer. The machine was wired to a network of worldwide scientists, physicians, and medical specialists through a special server that linked up a kind of underground system for professionals, inventors, and researchers of a more clandestine nature.
He did not want the bright white light of the laboratory to give him a hospital vibe, so he kept the emergency lights only. In his smaller, personal laboratory he would make contact with the men and women worldwide who knew all the things his own genius did not have knowledge of. Above him the flickering green eyes of the tall machine blinked zealously to accommodate his curiosity, his need for knowledge about lung cancer.
When he logged into the secure, hacker-protected network he stated what specific information he needed.
I do not have a lot of time. This is not a college assignment, ladies and gentlemen. I do not care about the treatments available for lung cancer, only the cellular workings of the illness and how to, hypothetically, reverse them. It matters not how far-fetched or ludicrous. Based on everything you all know about lung cancer, deliver for me a science-fiction method if you have to. Just tell me how cancer works in terms of compounds and chemistry. Speak my language.
Chapter 9
Nina was watching the secret language of intimidation between Christa’s minion and Mrs. Patterson, using the show to keep Clara distracted from how fast she could suck on the fag the Dean’s mother had gifted her.
So your hair falls out and you keep aggravating the condition? God, you must be burning brain cells by the second, Nina thought as she watched the two women fight as politely as they could to pull the wool over the visiting historian’s eyes. They had no idea that they were failing dreadfully, that her deduction was as sharp as ever. The only thing she couldn’t figure out about their match was why she was being fought over. Christa and Clara were hardly acquaintances, let alone friends, so why the hell would they care how much she smoked in the first place?
“It’s becoming late, ladies,” she finally spoke up, rising from the bench and extinguishing her cigarette. “Time to check on my class.”
“But Dr. Smith is with them,” Clara said, gawking at her.
“Precisely, sweetheart,” Nina replied and blessed Clara’s face with the last of her smoke, sending her retreating out of the way where she was trying to block Nina off. The petite brunette gave the old lady a nod and a smile.
“Goodbye, Nina,” Mrs. Patterson smiled and waved. “See you later, dear.”
What they did not notice was that Nina had no intention of going back to the examination hall. Instead, she wanted to find out what all of the peculiar behavior was about. She reckoned that her distrust of the faculty came from her frail disposition and her own insecurities, but she had to admit that the treatment of her students and the unusual hostility between the women was a point of concern. Something was afoot here at St. Vincent’s, and for some reason she was in the middle of it.
“How dare you deliberately hinder the process, Mrs. Patterson?” Clara spewed, almost sounding like her superior witch queen friend in control of Nina’s class. “We need Dr. Gould to be here for some time still. Her contract has already been paid six months ahead and she is expected to serve her purpose here for at least this stretch of time. You are impeding her progress as if you have authority here!”
Keeping her voice low profited the failed academic nothing. Since the radiation sickness had almost blinded Nina, it had enhanced her hearing by great measures and she could discern every single word spoken in the hoarse whisper Clara used.
“Now you listen to me, girly,” Mrs. Patterson announced as she stood up to reiterate her rank in age above the petty little teacher she had no respect for. “I don’t care what you think you’re going to get from Dr. Gould. What you’re doing to her, and to these students, is unethical and downright illegal. I’m only keeping your hideous practices secret because my son asked me to. Do not provoke my anger, because I know all your bloody little secrets, Clara. Yours and theirs.”
Nina’s heart was racing at the words of the elderly woman and the way her sweetness turned gravely into power. A deep frown formed on the historian’s forehead as she tried to decipher what they were talking about.
“The only reason your presence here is tolerated, Mrs. Patterson, is because Christa respects her husband,” Clara threatened. “You know that she’d send you away to a rest home, where you belong, in a blink if it weren’t for her love for Daniel. If I were you, I’d refrain from stepping into things you have no business with. Why don’t you go stay with another family?”
Mrs. Patterson’s blue eyes flashed as she stepped up to the bitchy subordinate of a daughter-in-law. “Now you listen. I have no family. I was a war orphan, growing up in a far more horrible situation than you can ever imagine! Do not think for a minute that your juvenile attacks faze me in the least. And neither do those of that harpy whose teat you’re dangling from!”
Mrs. Patterson was so infuriated that her voice quivered and Nina felt the same kind of rage welling towards the gossiping waifs of the institution.
What did she mean by what they are doing to my students? Nina wondered from her hiding place behind the corner. Mrs. Patterson rushed away in the opposite direction, leaving Clara pallid and relieved that, for now, the fight was over. She retreated into the office of the Department Head, across from Nina’s little corner.
“Dr. Gould?” the Dean’s voice shredded Nina’s thoughts.
“Oh, hello Dean Patterson,” Nina smiled sheepishly.
“What are you doing?” he asked mildly.
“H-hi-ding?” Nina replied.
“From what?” he asked, starting to smile at her hilarious honesty.
“Dean, why did you choose me for this semester at your college? How did you find me and why did you invite me to teach here?”
“You have a very good reputation, as you know. In fact,” he boasted, “you’re a bit of a celebrity in the academic world. We thought you would be an invaluable tool for us.”
“Oh,” Nina shrugged, a bit disappointed with his obvious answer. But then the Dean revealed an interesting tidbit that intrigued her somewhat.
“Besides, I have to credit my wife for your acquisition,” he bragged with a gentle hand against Nina’s arm. “It was she who suggested you — out of the blue — and I must admit, I couldn’t have been more pleased with her choice.”
“Um, thank you, Dean,” she replied modestly while inside her a little flame was ignited, the same pilot light that usually grew into a furnace during previous chases for relics. Something was cooking in Hook, and it was not Mrs. Patterson’s dumplings.
“There you are!” Christa cried from the courtyard she’d entered the building from. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Dr. Gould. Hello darling!”
Dean Patterson kissed his wife and put his arm around her.
Look at how sickeningly wholesome you look. Such a happy couple, Nina mocked mentally under her calm expression. It begs the question, why she kept her last name, doesn’t it?
“Here I am,” Nina said cordially. “I thought I’d stick around until you were done with your experiment on my class.” Her sarcasm was more arousing than she realized, which she instantly noticed by the reaction of the Dean.
“What? What experiment are you doing now?” the Dean asked his wife. The way in which he asked the question proved to Nina that his wife performing experiments on students did not seem to be anything new to Dean Patterson. It was an alarming notion to say the least, and Nina vowed to check on her students the moment she was released from the obligatory bullshit conversation they were engaged in.
“Relax,” Christa told him. “Dr. Gould’s wording is more alarming than need be.” She gave Nina a reprimanding glare. “She meant that I popped in this morning to give her students a surprise exam. That’s all. Right, Dr. Gould?”
“Correct,” Nina replied, electing to keep the pressure on while an important player was present. “Will you be marking the exams or have you brought them for me to mark?”
Christa seemed taken aback, but in front of the Dean she had to keep up the ruse of a pop quiz. “They’re on your desk in the basement office. I thought it would be only fair if you marked them, as you’re their tutor. After all, with your academic prowess a veering from your curriculum would not be a problem, would it?”
“Of course not. I haven’t seen the tests yet, but I doubt the results will be favorable, considering how unusually sluggish the class felt this morning. In fact, all of us eating the hostel food seem to be feeling two hundred years old today. I don’t think they were up to such a tough assignment,” Nina mentioned innocently. But internally, she was choosing specific phrases and words that she thought psychologically related to what was going on between the Dean and his wife.
The Dean turned his head to face his wife. “That would be a redundant practice, darling. These students can’t be tested on subjects Dr. Gould has not yet covered.”
“Oh come on, Daniel. I’m just keeping them all on their toes,” she responded, casting a look toward Nina to make sure she knew that she was included in that group.
“Even Mrs. Patterson thinks I’m too high strung, apparently.” Nina chuckled deliberately.
“My mother? What did she say, Dr. Gould?” the Dean asked.
Nina waved it away with a chuckle. “Oh nothing, really. She is very supportive of me. Lovely lady.”
The Dean nodded approvingly. Nina watched the tension grow in Christa’s face.
“Very protective, but unfortunately Mrs. Rutherford seems to think the poor old dear is some sort of burden around here. Treats her like a child, if you ask me,” Nina sighed.
“But nobody asked you,” Christa sneered.
“Yet it seems that my presence here is pivotal. However, I seem to be stirring up trouble within the faculty and I don’t feel all too needed here anyway,” Nina said, still playing the Dean.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he stopped Nina, dropping his arm from Christa to lay his hand on the historian’s. “Your expertise and interaction with our students has been nothing short of a godsend, Dr. Gould. Do not let anyone make you feel unwelcome or they will have to deal with me.”
The Dean was concerned about the way in which his mother was being treated, but his sober and tranquil manner hid it well. He was thankful to Dr. Gould for pointing it out to him. He was no fool. It was obvious that his wife was trying to shut up the historian and even clearer that the two women did not get along.
“Listen, Dr. Gould, I don’t see why you should go through all those exam papers when the subjects were not in your lectures. Let’s see those as a practice for mid-terms and nothing more,” the Dean released Nina and simultaneously rebuked his wife’s efforts at schoolyard tyranny.
“Thank you, sir,” Nina smiled sweetly, not even granting Christa a look to acknowledge her presence. “I could do with a bit of a break after all the research I did for today’s class…you know, that ended up not being used after all.”
“No, I agree,” he said. “You take the rest of the day and then you can use that lecture for tomorrow. Will that sit well with you?”
“Aye, that sounds reasonable. I just hope the class is more energetic tomorrow,” she remarked. “Good day.”
With a general greeting Nina excused herself and left in her wake the flabbergasted Christa Smith and the inquisitive Daniel Patterson. A smile broadened on Nina’s mouth with every step she took farther away from them. She could virtually feel Christa’s eyes burning into her back. When she had turned the corner at the end of the hallway and skipped down the steps onto the small stone pathway toward her cottage, Nina uttered a little laugh at her small victory. If she was going to be antagonized while teaching at St. Vincent’s, she may as well make it worth Christa’s while.
Traversing the triangular botanical garden stretch, she once again approached the ancient stone fountain that looked like a human form at night. Only this time Nina decided to stop and study the structure, hoping that a familiarity with it would lessen the grotesque impact of it on her.
Behind her, in the protective shade of the high old trees, another human-looking figure approached.