Controlling Time: Book 2

Chapter 5

Controlling Time 5

EXCITEMENT BOUNDS TO accelerate matters.  This happened to be Roger Wilcon’s analysis of recent events.  Another closed doors conference had hastily been arranged for the academics privileged elite; notably those who had been present for the prior ones.

The dean of physics had been informed of the impromptu meeting a mere three hours before it is to be transpire.  He wondered how Harold Haskell had managed to work out the logistics of knowing everyone’s schedule would be free, but decided against asking.  The astrophysicist had the distinct advantage of being able to peek into the future to ascertain.  He had already been warned ahead of time to prepare a speech for the gathering assembly, which had been designated via private invitation. 

Roger Wilcon glanced at his daily agenda and wasn’t surprised to discover he had free time.  There were minor issues that demanded his attention, but compared to the greater scheme of things, hardly mattered.  He anxiously watched the clock click down.  Five minutes before he wanted to leave his office the phone rang.  Roger glanced at the caller ID and failed to recognize the area code.  It wasn’t from the greater metropolis area.  He thought he has seen it elsewhere, but couldn’t place a finger on it.

He considered just ignoring the ring, because he ran the risk of being late for the meeting.  He knew that it would mostly consist of Harold informing everyone how the first expedition went.  Would he tell the truth or find a way to omit a few crucial details?  Roger wagered on the latter.

In the end the dean of physics picked up the receiver.  This call might be pertaining to something important.  “Dean Wilcon,” he said into the mouthpiece.

“Please hold,” said an automated voice.

Roger felt annoyed.  Is this a telemarketer?  Telemarketers are not supposed to call institutes of higher learning.  The sheer concept of a telemarketer calling a university is appalling.  The dean considered complaining to—“Dean Wilcon?” a deep voice said interrupting his train of thought.

“Yes,” Roger replied.  This voice sounds familiar.

“I am Special Agent Lyle Ranyor,” said the other person.  “I work for the NSA.”

The National Security Advisor?  Roger didn’t want to even begin fathoming what this call is pertaining to.  He had a pretty good notion: someone blabbed.  “What can I do for you?” he asked as calmly as possible.

“Perhaps you can provide us with information,” the NSA agent replied.  “I will cut to the chase and say that we reason to believe that matters of interest are taking place on your campus.  Am I correct in saying this?”

“You need to be more specific, sir,” Roger replied.  “We have many experiments happening at any given time.”  This is not the first instance the authorities have called the dean of physics in regards to an unordinary project, but this is the foremost such occurrence that something of significance aroused the attention of the National Security Agency.

The NSA agent paused, perhaps considering what he is allowed to say over the phone.  “I am being led to believe that an ensemble of your lecturers happen to be conducting experiments, which concern national security.”

“Who, in particular?”

Another pause.  Finally, the NSA agent said, “Your entire staff.”

Roger didn’t respond right away.  He had to take a moment to weigh in these words.  He wanted to deny that everyone in the physics department is in cahoots with Harold Haskell, but then could foresee the federal agent requesting clarification.  That would only dig the dean’s hole deeper.  Roger mentally went through the teaching staff within the physics department and gauged how much each person knew.  Accumulated, quite a bit, but nothing substantial individually.  “It sounds as though you are making quite the accusation, Agent Ranyor,” Roger said.  “I trust you have evidence to back up these claims?”