more information for me because we have a major problem.”
“Now what?” Stevens sat down in his armchair. “You people always create problems and then blame the world for not helping you out.”
“He escaped from the hospital sometime in the early morning.”
“Escaped? Shit. Well, it’s your problem. My job was to bring you the doctor for a change of identity so you could use him to track down his old Beirut friends and the terrorist cell. I did my job and quite frankly I couldn’t care less if you’ve gone and messed up your job.”
“But he could draw attention to us, and ultimately to you.”
“Then put out an alert to the police. After all, he has the face of a known assassin.”
“And when they find him and he divulges his true identity?” the voice said. “Someone is certain to start an investigation. And the terrorist cell may accelerate their timetable before we find out who they are. No, we’ll find him quickly, and if we can’t capture him then we’ll eliminate him. In the meantime my people will track down all the American students at AUB that year and put pressure on them. One of them must know something about these terrorists.”
“If you’re going to hunt him down, use some of the money we keep lavishing on you people and hire real professionals. I don’t want you implicated. If anyone finds out about your activities on American soil it might tip the opinion polls the wrong way.” Senator Stevens paused, hearing only silence in his receiver. “Are you still there? Have you fainted or just shit in your pants?”
“I’m still here, Senator. I was just thinking about what this little incident might do to your illustrious career…”
“Don’t threaten me, you bastard. Go find your lost doctor.” He clicked his cell phone shut and tossed in onto the sofa. Muttering, he returned to his desk. “They’re all the same. Too much religion and definitely too much inbreeding.”
Chapter Eight
Sweet Briar College
The brick buildings and grounds looked the same. So did the coeds walking to class in the cold air, or sharing cigarettes in the parking lot next to the library. Everything seemed the same, except him. Not only did he have the face of someone else, he was no longer a part of this place. Professor Matthew Richards was dead.
Was it foolish to come back? Wasn’t this the first place his pursuers would look? He needed that diary. The one Samir helped him buy that day in the bazaar. If there’s any hope of making sense of what was happening he’d have to recall his experiences in Beirut. The problem was, his memory was a bit foggy about that period. Actually, his memory was a bit foggy about nearly everything. But then that was the purpose for making Scotch one’s sole liquid intake. Dull the memories and pain of the past, present and future.
Matt calculated it had been six or seven weeks since he’d had a drink. He had to admit he did feel better physically. Hadn’t felt so light and energetic, except maybe in his teens when his body was hard and his hormones were on the rampage. Youth is definitely wasted on the young. Matt parked the stolen car at the far end of the faculty parking lot and cautiously headed for the Admin Building.
“May I help you, sir?” An attractive young student looked up from behind the counter in the faculty office. He recognized her immediately. One of his senior biology students, a bright African-American who studied hard and held down several jobs on campus. Sweet Briar College attracted two types of young women: the daughters of the rich and famous for whom money was no object, and bright students from middle- and lower-income families who helped defray the $26,000 tuition through scholarships. Even though she had a scholarship, this student still had to work.
Her “sir” caught him in mid-stride. He forgot he was a stranger. Would he ever get used to being himself on the inside and someone else on the outside? “Actually, yes. My name is William Stubbs. I’m Dr. Matthew Richards’s cousin. Is there someone I can speak to about picking up his personal effects?”
The student’s eyes registered sorrow. “I’ll go get Ms. Parsons, the assistant dean of faculty affairs. Please have a seat, I’ll be right back.”
Wonder who they got to take over my classes? Matt sat and fidgeted in the chair. As the seconds ticked by he grew more and more uncomfortable. How soon before they started looking for him? He shouldn’t have come back.
“Hello, Mr. Stubbs? My name is Fiona Parsons, assistant dean of faculty affairs. Sara tells me you were inquiring about Professor Richards?” She was a slightly overweight woman whom Matt had met once before, at the infamous faculty party where he drank more than usual and tried to French kiss the college President.
“Yes.” Matt stood and shook hands. “I’m Bill Stubbs, Matthew’s cousin. His father, Dr. Wilson Richards, is away in South America and asked me to collect Matt’s personal effects. I have some identification if you need it,” he said, reaching for his wallet.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Stubbs. I’m sorry to tell you this, but-but just a few days after Professor Richards’s accident, the faculty house he lived in caught fire and burned down. We’ve been unsuccessful at reaching his next of kin. I don’t enjoy being the bearer of bad news. I’m certain there were mementos and personal effects his family would have wanted. Professor Richards was an unusual man, so… so full of life, shall we say?”
They’re way ahead of me. Someone had burgled his residence and burned it down to destroy any possible evidence. He tried to remain calm. “What about his office here on campus?” Matt smiled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Maybe he kept some personal effects there?”
“Why yes. Some of the students helped pack up his books and papers. A few pictures, boots, umbrellas, cardboard boxes, that sort of thing. They’re stored over at the campus maintenance shed. I’ll call and tell them you’re coming over. Shall I say right away?” she asked, picking up the phone.
Matt nodded. Just books, umbrellas and boots? He tried to recall what had been stored in his office. There was a chance one of the boxes contained the diary. He had to look. Ms. Parsons put down the phone, Matt thanked her and turned toward the door.
“Don’t you want directions, Mr. Stubbs?”
“I think I can find it. Thanks for your help. I’ll just load up the car and be on my way.” He quickly exited the small building.
“That whole family is weird,” remarked the dean as she returned to her office.
Matt moved quickly along the tree-lined asphalt road toward the maintenance shed. The brick and corrugated iron building was located at the rear of the campus. Snow still lay in piles over much of the campus. Bare branches of maple and elm trees defined themselves against the slate sky. “Bizarre,” he muttered to himself, raising the collar of his coat-the other guy’s coat. Not only did he not recognize himself in the mirror, now he was a stranger on a college campus where just a few weeks before he was recognized by everyone.
Can’t people see beyond the face!
He passed several students. They kept their heads down against the wind. As he approached the senior bench he spotted a woman. He’d never seen her on campus before, but she looked familiar. Tall and attractive, she was deep in conversation with one of the women teachers from the biology department.
Then he remembered. The outspoken reporter from the International Herald Tribune, the reception for Dr. Melikian. This time her auburn hair was flowing around her shoulders, not piled up on top of her head. He recognized her athletic figure, confident gait, prominent nose, and light-olive skin. Caution tightened his gut. What is she doing here?
The two women, deep in conversation, drifted across the large open quadrangle that formed the center of the campus. Matt followed. When they arrived at the library building, the women shook hands and the biology teacher disappeared inside.
Matt took the calculated risk and approached the reporter. “This is a strange coincidence,” he said, smiling. “Didn’t I see you at the reception for Dr. Melikian several weeks ago? I’m William Stubbs, Dr. Matt Richards’s cousin. I’ve come to collect his belongings.” Matt stuck out his hand, which she took and shook lightly. She stepped back for a good look at him in the morning light. “So what brings you to Sweet Briar, Ms…? I’m sorry, I recognize the face, but not the name.”
