Chapter 17 #2
“Just was running to collect you,” Snyder said to Alexander, panting.
“Dr. Henry has called a meeting of the expedition crew, and I have to gather everyone quickly.” He gulped and mopped his brow with his handkerchief, further mussing his black hair.
“We’re meeting in South Quad Hall in the conference room on the third floor.
Could you come now, please? The meeting is at two o’clock, and I’ve got six other people to find! ”
Alexander quickly agreed and Snyder turned to leave.
“Mr. Snyder,” Saffron said sweetly, stalling his rushed departure, “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but would you like me to come and take notes for the meeting?
I’m sure you usually are tasked with it, but why should you have to sit scribbling what everyone else says? I know you have so much to contribute.”
Snyder, clearly overwhelmed with the urgency of the meeting, merely stared at her for a moment before babbling, “Oh yes, Miss Everleigh, how kind of you. I usually do have to take notes during such meetings as Dr. Henry’s assistant, but it would be nice to be able to participate for once.”
Over his shoulder, Alexander smothered a smile and said, “Very well, Miss Everleigh and I will go to the hall and see you there. Third floor?”
They watched Snyder scamper off in the opposite direction.
“Well done,” said Alexander. “Poor man was completely taken in.”
“He actually rather reminded me of you,” Saffron replied lightly. They changed direction and headed toward the other side of the Quad. “I couldn’t just let you go without me. I’m dying of curiosity. What could be the emergency?”
Alexander shrugged as they continued, crossing onto the green. Alexander turned toward the administrative offices.
“I thought we were going to the hall?” Saffron asked, indicating the black door to the South Wing just a few feet away.
Alexander stopped in his tracks, looking as though he was confused that she was asking. Then he nodded. “Right.”
Saffron led them toward the South Wing, which they could pass through to get to the South Quad where the hall stood.
When they entered the South Wing, a mirror image of its partner, with beige tiled floors and dark wood bordering whitewashed walls and tall windows, Saffron caught sight of lines of photographs along the walls.
The weak sunlight of a gray midday glared off the glass frames, obscuring the faces Saffron knew were looking out solemnly from the dozens of photographs.
Students, professors—those whom the Great War had taken from the university community.
A glance in her companion’s direction confirmed her suspicion.
Alexander was looking determinedly ahead, with his mouth fixed in a tight line.
Did he really completely avoid the South Wing’s main floor to stay away from the memorial?
She went out of her way to pass by it, if only to catch a glimpse of her father’s blurry face in the middle, right at the top.
But perhaps she, too, would avoid it if she’d fought alongside these men and lived like he had.
They emerged on the other side of the South Wing and into the South Quad.
On the far side, the ramshackle carpenter’s shack, wreathed in a thick layer of sawdust, detracted from the pleasant view of the small green.
University College was always in a state of improvement, with new properties on Gower Street and around it being bought up and adapted to academic uses all the time.
It was easy for her to forget the constant expansion, being constantly cooped up in the North Wing, the library, or the greenhouses.
The sun made a half-hearted appearance behind clouds, casting great swaths of shadow on the ground. Saffron and Alexander climbed the winged stairs on either side of the ground-floor entrance to the hall and entered the quiet building.
They walked down a long corridor of polished wood to the conference room, where about twenty men waited. The noise level matched the restless nature of the assemblage. Some sat around the long table, but most stood around in small groups, and all were talking with enthusiasm and curiosity.
Alexander walked to a group of other researchers. They stood by a window that had been cracked, letting a cool breeze into the stuffy room.
“Robinson,” Alexander said to a burly, dark-haired man in a green bow tie, “what’s all this about?
Snyder nearly knocked me over trying to get me to this meeting.
” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saffron slip into a corner and draw a chair to the side, where she pulled her notebook and pencil out.
Robinson chuckled. “You know how Snyder is. Henry sneezes, and it’s like the whole building is collapsing around him.” Robinson shrugged bulky shoulders. “Adams suspects the old man will turn in his boots since his wife is still in hospital.”
The short man next to him—Adams, Alexander presumed—nodded vigorously and said in a hushed voice, “Can’t very well up and leave his wife in that state.
Even if things were … you know.” He raised his eyebrows with exaggerated meaning and looked about as if Dr. Henry would hear him, though he wasn’t in the room.
Crowley, a bespeckled assistant researcher from the history department, sidled over. “Any news, chaps?” His brow was damp and his pale eyes wide. “My professor says that Henry is out. I wonder who they’ll get to replace him.”
The men chattered for another moment, suggesting people who might take over the leadership role.
A handful more people joined the group, including Dr. Berking.
When Dr. Henry and Harry Snyder walked into the room, a hush fell, and the men quickly took seats around the long table.
Alexander thought Saffron was rather determinedly not looking at him.
Her blue eyes steadily marked all the people along the table, skipping over him, then rested on Dr. Henry as he sat heavily at the head of the group.
His face was gray and his dark hair greasy.
Even his brawny physique seemed diminished from the last time Alexander had seen him.
He said a few words to Snyder as the group settled round the table.
Berking sat opposite, at the foot of the table, his small eyes narrowed.
Alexander sat mid-table, facing Saffron, whose eyes leapt to Berking as he leaned to Blake on his right and murmured something.
Probably avidly noting her suspects were conversing.
“Well,” Dr. Henry began, his voice heavy, “our expedition is just a few weeks away, and we have much to do. My prolonged absence, I’m sure you are aware, was due to my wife’s unfortunate illness.
You’ll excuse me for being away in the midst of our preparations.
Snyder has kept me abreast, so I am aware of what needs to be attended to before we depart.
Today, we are meeting to settle some details. ”
At this, whispers and sidelong glances erupted all along the table. Alexander locked shocked eyes with Saffron. Dr. Henry still planned to go on the expedition?
Dr. Henry could not have ignored the whispers, nor did he try to.
His ice-blue eyes, darkened by deep shadows beneath, glared up and down the table for a good thirty seconds before they abated.
Dr. Berking and Richard Blake were still whispering together as he began to speak again.
He said rather forcefully, “We are here to review the schedule of the entire expedition, in addition to making some adjustments to the docket of projects and who is responsible for what.”
Many continued looking dubious, and several made the occasional side comment to their neighbor, but the meeting progressed.
It was a blur of dates and names for thirty minutes.
Alexander listened and wrote some notes, his mind working furiously to figure out why Dr. Henry would go on with the expedition.
He must have realized how suspicious it was for him to leave the country in the midst of the investigation.
Had Inspector Green already cleared him to go?
“Ashton!” Dr. Henry barked down the table. Alexander was suddenly aware that all faces were turned toward him. “Ashton, what’s the update about Dr. Maxwell?”
Remembering that Dr. Maxwell’s release was not yet common knowledge, Alexander said, “We are still unsure if his study will, uh, need to be completed. We’re continuing to prepare as if it is going forward, so the supplies have been ordered and the preparatory research is nearly complete.”
Dr. Henry grunted and nodded to Snyder, who he apparently thought was taking notes, though he had nothing to write on in front of him. Henry moved on, growling at the next researcher. From opposite him, Saffron made an amused face at Alexander, who grimaced.
Dr. Berking cleared his throat. Henry ignored him and turned to the next researcher, but Berking said, “Dr. Henry, the botany department—”
With a look of utter annoyance, Henry looked at him and said, “We’ve heard from botany, Berking.”
Affronted, Berking’s face colored a deep red. “As the head of botany, I would think that I should get a say in whether or not Dr. Maxwell’s study will go forward.”
With an eye roll and a huff of frustration, Henry waved a hand. “Go on then.”
“As Dr. Maxwell is currently indisposed,” said Berking, his eyes slipping over to Saffron with a malicious glint, making Alexander grit his teeth, “we are still in consultation over whether we will continue on with the chlorophyll study or press into the next available research project, which is a study on exotic poisons. You must be well aware of all the possibilities the offers for such things, Dr. Henry. We wouldn’t want this opportunity to pass by. ”
Henry, who was letting his attention wander obviously, stiffened as Berking spoke.
His eyes narrowed at the window. “Indeed,” Henry replied gruffly, nodding again to Snyder.
With amusement, Alexander watched Henry realize Snyder hadn’t been taking notes.
He looked ready to reprimand him when he caught sight of Saffron just behind Snyder, writing notes studiously. His eyes lingered on her momentarily.
After a few more comments about studies and supplies, the meeting concluded, and the group began to break up.
Dr. Henry stood talking to several men as they passed on their way to the door, his old swagger seeming to come out as he laughed and clapped them on the back.
Robinson, who insisted they discuss how biology would be coordinated with entomology, shuffled Alexander down the hall.
Saffron finished her notes and stood, taking a very long time to close her bag and prepare to leave.
She was trying to overhear Dr. Berking and Richard Blake.
Blake had remained completely silent throughout the whole meeting.
His face had stayed the same too. She was beginning to wonder if his face made any other expressions than indifference and a bland smile.
Blake and Berking had their heads together and backs turned, and their conversation was far too quiet to hear.
Dr. Henry strode over to her. “Miss Everleigh, I believe.”
“Yes, sir,” said Saffron, somewhat surprised he knew her name.
“Snyder says you stepped in to take notes to free him up for the meeting. Very kind of you to humor him,” he said, his voice as loud as when he had addressed the whole room. “He gets in quite a tizzy if he’s forced to do his job and write things down. Some assistant!”
Saffron offered a tight-lipped smile.
Dr. Henry dropped his voice to a normal volume and gave her an evaluating look. “I want to get a copy of these notes so I could look over them this evening. Type them up and bring them to my office at the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir, I can do that,” Saffron said, stomach fluttering. She’d just been given the perfect opportunity to question the top suspect. “Is five o’clock all right?”
“That’ll be fine,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “See you then.”