The man who sat behind the professor’s desk in Barklee’s Biology Department clearly did not belong there. Though his hair was the same iron gray as most of Barklee’s tenured professors, most of them had spent less on their electric cars than he had for the cane upon which he grudgingly leaned for support. And absolutely none of them would have dared to smoke a cigar inside the department.
This was not lost on Eddie Baumgartner, whose official title was “Associate Assistant to the Chairperson of the Biology Department,” but whose duties could more accurately be encapsulated by the word “peon.”
Two weeks before the semester started, the chair had decided to take a last-minute vacation to the Maldives. Before he left, he explained to Eddie that a personal friend would be using his office, and that Eddie was to assist him in any way he could.
“Vincent Montgomery is a highly-esteemed colleague whom I have known for a very long time. He is a brilliant scholar and likes to work in solitude. He will only be here for a short while, but will occasionally need someone to attend to minor details of his research. I have nominated you for the position. Will you accept?”
“Sure thing, professor.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Dr. Montgomery should be here early in the morning. I’ll be back in two weeks,” the professor said, smiling. “Just remember: while Vincent is here, the department belongs to him.”
“I understand.”
Eddie checked scholarly databases for any record of Vincent Montgomery, but could find none. However, giving such lavish treatment and power to any visiting faculty member was uncommon, so he knew that Dr. Montgomery had to be someone of particular importance.
Eddie spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning up in preparation for Dr. Montgomery’s arrival. Just as the professor had said, Dr. Montgomery arrived early the next morning in a black limousine.
“Welcome to Barklee, Dr. Montgomery. My name is Eddie, and I’m at your disposal.”
Dr. Montgomery nodded, tilting the brim of his Homburg. The limo driver placed two large suitcases on the sidewalk. Dr. Montgomery stood patiently until Eddie picked them up and led him to the chair’s private office.
“How long will you be staying?” Eddie asked.
“As long as necessary,” Dr. Montgomery said in an accent that Eddie could not place.
“As long as you are at Barklee, I’m at your service, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Promptly respond when I call. Otherwise, I expect total privacy.”
Eddie frowned. He had hoped that he could learn more about this man, but he did not seem particularly forthcoming with information. He wondered if Dr. Montgomery knew anything about Kwame’s off-the-books brain operations. Eddie decided to keep silent about it as he walked beside Dr. Montgomery.
Eddie had never cared about fashion, but something about Dr. Montgomery’s clothing suddenly made Eddie feel insignificant.
“So, where can I get a cane like that?” Eddie asked, noticing the intricate swirls and letter V emblazoned on top.
Dr. Montgomery ignored the question and entered the professor’s private office. He gestured to the floor, then the door. His wordless meaning was crystal clear. Eddie sat down the suitcases and left.
Dr. Montgomery spared no time setting up his computer, synchronizing it to the department’s equipment.
Eddie stood outside the door and took a deep breath. He would have one chance to get Dr. Montgomery’s attention. Eddie knocked on the door and opened it.
“Dr. Montgomery, I was wanting to pick your brain. I’m writing a fascinating thesis on the racial equality of garden slugs. I know what you’re thinking, but see, they have more racial diversity than humans, and I can prove that they have just as many racists, if not more. In fact…”
Dr. Montgomery turned and made eye contact with Eddie for the first time. Eddie instantly felt like a garden slug himself.
“I was assured by the professor that I would be guaranteed privacy,” Dr. Montgomery said. “If I have assumed incorrectly, then we have a problem.”
“Sorry,” Eddie said. “It won’t happen again.”
“An associate will arrive shortly. I expect that he will be given similar considerations.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said and shuffled off.
For the first time, he wished that his office — a repurposed closet — had not been located so near the chair’s office.
Over the next two hours, Dr. Montgomery called Eddie four times, each time giving him a new chemical concoction to process.
By the time Quinton dropped by, Eddie was buried in paperwork. Quinton peeked through the window of the professor’s office.
“Who’s that old dude? He looks like the guy on the fifty-dollar bill.”
Eddie panicked. He had not thought about developing a cover story. The professor did not want anyone knowing about him.
“That’s…my uncle.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yeah, he’s my Uncle,” Eddie said, desperately trying to remember his name, then remembering the ‘V’ on his cane. “Uncle Vincent. What’s up?”
“Something bad happened. Eve has…passed away. Professor Afolayan needs a full autopsy.”
Eddie had known Eve as a classmate, but not very well. Even though he was saddened that someone had died, he had never access to a fresh corpse before, and the research possibilities were exciting. Plus, any excuse to get away from ‘Uncle Vincent’ was more than welcome. He gathered his courage and knocked on the professor’s door and cracked the door open.
“I, uh, I need to go,” Eddie said. “Something important just came up.”
“I am aware of the situation,” Uncle Vincent said. “Bring the body to the lab.”
The door shut just as quickly as it had opened.
“How did he…?” Quinton stammered.
“I don’t care,” Eddie said, smiling. “You heard the man! Let’s go!”
They wheeled Eve’s body into the lab half an hour later. Uncle Vincent was standing next to another man at the examining table. The man’s face was hidden by a medical mask, but he appeared to be a middle-aged Asian. It was another face Eddie had never seen before.
“Lay the specimen on the table,” the man said.
Eddie and Quinton moved Eve’s body as instructed. Uncle Vincent only had to glance at the door once.
“I will tell you when I need you next,” Uncle Vincent said as he closed the door.
“Sounds like he needs a little Weak Power lesson,” Quinton said bitterly. “After tonight, I’m not taking that from anyone!”
“I know what you mean,” Eddie said. “I’ll see you later, man.”
Eddie moped down the hallway. He did not come to college for this. In fact, Eddie had only agreed to go to college so he could continue receiving a monthly check from his father.
At first, he thought that he had come up with a perfect solution. He chose the easiest degree program he could find — Creative Basket Weaving. But his father had insisted that he take a minor in biology, and required that Eddie had to seek a paying job, even if it was only part-time work.
Eddie worked at various part-time jobs, until he saw the job posting for assistant to the chair. It paid more than his job as a fry cook at the local McBurger Queen. It also had flexible hours, a relaxed dress code, and rendered him eligible to stay in university housing for free, even after he graduated.
The free housing was too good to pass up, so Eddie had kept his job in the department long after graduation. Though he only had a bachelor’s degree, as an employee of the department, he was eligible for greatly discounted classes. He had taken advantage of these, and within a few years had completed all the required classes for a biology major, as well as most of the graduate-level courses offered by the department. Despite — or perhaps because of — his sniveling, weak personality, professors across the Biology Department brought tasks to Eddie that they did not want to do. As a result, he was technically proficient with every program and machine in use by Barklee’s biology department.
An hour later, Uncle Vincent walked out of the lab and back towards the professor’s office, motioning for Eddie to follow him. While Uncle Vincent was studying the results of Eve’s blood tests, Eddie leaned closer to get a better look at his cane. It was large, but intricately hand-carved from a single piece of ironwood. Interweaving slivers of pearl and opalite raced up the sides, coalescing into a pearlescent globe with the letter ‘V’ carved on top.
He started to touch the cane, but Uncle Vincent’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. Though Vincent looked old, his grip was strong, and the pain Eddie felt was intense.
“Reconsider that move,” Vincent said. Eddie nodded quickly.
“Facist,” Eddie whispered, rubbing his wrist as he left.
Uncle Vincent noticed Eddie leave, but did not care. His attention was focused on the issue at hand: a full chemical analysis of Kwame’s formula. The test results from Eve’s brain matter came pouring out of the large printer near the door. Vincent handed the pages to his associate.
The man spent almost an hour studying the reports and making notes. As he had deduced from his remote studies of Kwame’s formula, there were several impurities in the compound that Kwame had been unable to see, but they could all be quickly fixed.
Uncle Vincent scribbled some notes on the front of the report. He hated getting directly involved, but he had to get Kwame back on track and, unknown to Kwame, back on schedule.