#1 in POLITICALDRAMA
In the late forties, six university students find themselves surrounded by killings on campus. They're messengers, relaying information back and forth between a network of professors who supply an intelligence organization.
The...
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"Good evening, students." The dean of the science department entered the cave-like space with a disheartened expression, closing the door tightly behind him.
He was greeted in turn by the six friends and Dr. Philip Bird, who sat in a half circle before him. The room was almost totally dark, musty smells coming from the walls. It wasn't the first time the society had met in a basement.
"Thank you for convening on such short notice." The dean was talking to the friends, not to the other professor. "As I'm sure you've all noticed, our efforts of late have been focused on the Gale Smith case. The local authorities are doing their best, but for the purpose of unearthing evidence, our reach goes a little farther than theirs does." The dean made his way a little farther into the room and leaned against a dusty worktable.
When he loosened his tie, Mary felt silly for having changed clothes for the meeting. She sat, ramrod posture, on a box that she'd draped her coat over, fearing accidentally leaning against something. She'd never seen such a dirty room. Next to her, Douglas was leaning against the wall, either totally unaware or just totally uncaring.
"I can't give you much," The dean admitted quietly. "I'm unable to disclose the details of the investigation, as it is ongoing and we're cooperating with the authorities. But since you are the couriers of our information, I think it's important that you are able to know the gravity of the situation. Our suspects include some students, some professors, and some townspeople. The murder took place in the Cornerstone Café, a place I'm sure you all frequent. The poison is presently untraceable and unidentified. All we know is that the poison seems to target the nervous system. Gale Smith's cause of death was uninhibited suffocation."
Douglas raised a hand, but the dean answered the question before it could be asked.
"It appears he simply stopped breathing, Mr. Martin."
No one spoke. Little could be said that would be appropriate in such a moment, so all elected to remain silent.
Even Dr. Bird was quiet, rubbing his forehead with one hand. He looked exhausted, his eyes red and carrying dark bags. His shoulders hunched low and there was a slight tremor in both hands. Mary guessed that no one was sleeping very much.
"I hope you all will act with great vigilance from here on out. We don't know how dangerous the situation is; without a motive we can't say for sure if Gale Smith was the only intended victim. All of you, please, be very careful." The dean straightened and backed toward the door. "Thank you all for your hard work and discretion. I'll see you all soon." With that, he turned and let himself out, disappearing up the stairs with soft footsteps.
Charles let out a deep sigh, getting up off the barrel that he'd perched on. "Glad to know we still know nothing."
