October 2, 2018
Norman, Oklahoma
Bert Springer had a full schedule when he returned home to Norman, Oklahoma. Despite the fact that the head of his department wanted the faculty to be visible in outside professional endeavors, Bert wasn’t granted any additional administrative time for these responsibilities. Ernie had forwarded his checklists and summaries of his staff interviews shortly after the survey, but not his completed report of Dr. Drake’s research. Bert wanted this off his desk. Even though surveyors often went over their forty-eight-hour deadline for report submission, Bert realized it was only a matter of days before the U.S. Biosafety Association would be calling.
On that warm October day, he could hear the band practicing for the next football game through the closed windows. Having grown up in New York, Bert never thought he would end up in a place like Oklahoma, but here he was. He had graduated from S.U.N.Y. Stony Brook on an ROTC scholarship, followed by three years of active duty at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. He found living here easy. Housing was affordable. The people were friendly. The lady at the DMV actually smiled and called him “Sugar.” Plus, he’d met his wife, a native Sooner.
After obtaining his PhD in microbiology, the University of Oklahoma offered him a position as an adjunct and then, relatively quickly, promoted him to assistant professor on tenure track. With his uncomplaining attitude, solid research skills, and good evaluations from students, Bert aimed to become head of the department.
The band was still at it when he put in a call to Roy Williams. Because his calls to Ernie had gone unanswered, he wanted to let Roy know about the delay on recertification. The ever-helpful Kathy Walsh answered.
“Kathy, hello, this is Dr. Springer—Bert.”
“Yes, so nice to hear from you,” Kathy replied.
“I was hoping to speak to Mr. Williams about a little snag we ran into. Certification may be delayed.”
“Well, you just missed him. He’s headed to an off-campus meeting. Looking at his schedule, hmmm, he’s going to be off campus for several more meetings this week. Best to send an email. But thanks so much for letting us know about the delay. I’ll pass your message on to the staff so they don’t panic. We all worked hard to get ready for the inspection.”
Bert left his contact information and hung up. He wondered again how on earth Roy managed to have such a capable assistant in this age of cutbacks. Everyone else had to work off their email, cell phones, and Outlook calendars.
He was correct about the U.S. Biosafety Association. Their call came an hour later, inquiring about the report. Not wanting to blame Ernie directly for the tardy submission, he made excuses about workloads from their primary employers. Then, he redoubled his efforts to locate Ernie.
They had previously communicated by cell phone and email. Both methods had proven unsuccessful. He remembered that Ernie worked at Invotech in St. Paul, and with help from the internet, he found the main number. He was transferred three times to Ernie’s voice mail, only to be told it was not accepting messages.
After placing one more call to the receptionist with a plea to speak to any human in Ernie’s department, Bert finally got to a lab tech.
“This is Ronald?” said the voice at the other end of the line.
Bert introduced himself and explained he was trying to reach Dr. Pedersen.
“Dr. Pedersen? He’s on vacation, right? Down in Texas? He called to say he was taking a few more days’ vacation. Some R&R in the desert? It’s already been cold and wet up here but now it’s sunny again?”
That the young man would turn all his sentences into questions irked Bert. Maybe it was a generational thing. He persevered. “I need to get a message to him. It’s important. Do you have any way to get in touch with him other than his cell phone?”
Ronald said the caller would have to go through HR for that information. “But I doubt they’ll give it out?”
Bert left Ronald his contact information and signed off. He didn’t care about the weather report in Minnesota and was not hopeful that Invotech HR would help him. He decided to call the Gulf National Laboratory again later in the day. He wanted to speak directly to Roy Williams before he called the U.S. Biosafety Association back.
Saint Paul, Minnesota
Allison Pedersen took her morning coffee and phone out to the deck. It was unseasonably warm for a fall day in St. Paul. After the first cold snap, the temperature was back in the 70s again. She looked at the sky when she heard a flock of geese overhead. They were in a perfect V formation, heading south. They knew winter was coming soon.
She checked her phone for at least the tenth time that morning. Still nothing from Ernie. It had been nine days since he had left for Texas and his U.S. Biosafety Association survey. His phone message on September 26th said that he was going to take a few more days in Texas and meet his college buddy, Carl. They planned to spend time in Big Bend National Park on the southern U.S. border. He told her he would be home by September 28th. Just needed a few days to clear his mind, he had said, sounding worn out.
Allison understood completely. Ernie had been working overtime between his job at Invotech, U.S. Biosafety Association surveys, and other freelance assignments. He referred to the assignments as “consultations.” She knew he was trying to earn extra money any way he could. He’d confided to her that he felt like a failure having to scrimp and save to cover his daughter’s tuition. Allison tried to reassure him that it would all work out. They could economize. Even take out a home equity loan.
Theirs was a second marriage for both. It had been working out so well. Allison had learned from the failure of her first marriage that both parties needed space and respect. She vowed not to hover and act suspicious as she had with her first husband.
Allison met Ernie when he came to a book signing where she worked. They started to chat as she was tidying up the desk and chairs after the event. He came again for a workshop or reading every week. He feigned interest in topics like container gardening, slow cooking, and calligraphy to run into Allison. Finally, he asked her out. They became best friends and fell in love. Neither knew that was possible.
She tried his phone again. Today it was dead. Not even a click over to voicemail. She tried a text. Undeliverable. She had assumed cell service would be spotty in the wilds of the Rio Grande Valley, but it was now four days past his expected return. She decided to call Carl.
When she hung up, she sat still, waiting for her head to clear. Carl was home in El Paso. He hadn’t heard from Ernie in over six months. He wanted to help Allison, but, as he blathered on, she just wanted to get off the phone. She promised to call him back when she knew something.
She called the hotel Ernie had told her he was staying at. They told her he had checked out on September 25th.
She calculated that Ernie had been missing for seven days. She decided to call the police in the last place she knew he had been. He was now a missing person. She dialed and cleared her throat, ready to make her report.
“Gulf County Police,” a young female voice chirped.
“I need to report a missing person,” Allison began.
“Please hold. Let me transfer you to…”
Allison began to worry that she would get nowhere. The next voice on the phone was another young voice, this one male. He identified himself as Kevin Briggs, Communication Division. He listened to her without interrupting.
Briggs explained he needed to ask a series of questions. Some of them might seem personal, but it was only so that the police could focus the search. Allison described her husband as Briggs posed the questions. Age forty-five. White. Five-eleven. About 185 pounds. Short brown hair, light brown eyes, no facial hair, and a scar on his chin. No tattoos.
“Mrs. Pedersen, are you sure your husband was in Galveston before he disappeared? Could he have gone somewhere else, some place he didn’t want you to know about?”
“Yes. I’m sure it was Galveston, Texas. The Third Coast Hotel said he had checked out on September 25th.”
A few more questions. “Do you think your husband was in any kind of trouble? Does he have any problems with drugs or alcohol?”
“Only that he’s been worried about money lately.”
“Okay, your report’s on its way to the Criminal Investigation Division. I’m going to give you a case number and an email address. The next thing we’ll need are some photographs of your husband. We recommend you talk to friends and family to see if anyone else has heard from him. You can expect a call from us in twenty-four hours with an update. One more thing, a hard thing. Try not to worry. My grandpa went missing last year, and our police department tracked him down in a day.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” Allison said.
Despite the horror that was enveloping her, she hadn’t expected the kind words at the end of her call.
Galveston, Texas
Kathy Walsh looked out her window at the tankers moving up the ship channel to Houston. She kept thinking about the recent events happening at her lab. Something was off. Seriously off. Dr. Drake’s death and the loss of some of her research suggested malfeasance. She wondered if she had a responsibility to let someone outside the lab know. She hated the thought of casting a shadow on the lab’s reputation. Just then another call came in from Dr. Springer.
“Oh, Dr. Springer, let me put you through to Mr. Williams,” Kathy said. “You caught him.”
Kathy connected him to Roy Williams, placed her phone on mute and listened. “Mr. Williams, this is Bert Springer from the U.S. Biosafety Association. You’re a hard man to track down.”
Williams took so long to respond that she thought the line had gone dead.
“Yes,” Roy eventually replied.
“I wanted to let you know we’ve run into a complication completing your report. The U.S. Biosafety Association won’t be able to rule on your recertification until we get it turned in. I wanted to let you know about the delay.”
Another pause, then, “Okay.”
“While I have you on the line, I wonder if you could help me out here. What’s missing is Dr. Pedersen’s evaluation of the proposed research. I can’t seem to get in touch with him.”
“And?” Another monosyllable from Roy.
“And I was hoping, with your approval, that I could go over the proposal with Dr. Drake by phone and finish this up.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Let me explain this again. If we don’t finish the report, your division of the Gulf National Laboratory will not be recertified and will have to reapply and pay for a new survey in six months. I assume you report to someone at the lab who would be disappointed if that happened.”
“You misunderstand the situation, Dr. Springer. We won’t be submitting the research Dr. Pedersen reviewed. We’ve had to make some changes and will put you in touch with another of our division’s investigators. I’ll get back to you.”
Bert stammered into the phone, “But, but… That will mean a significant revision of our report.”
Roy said, “Please alert your supervisors. We’ll be in touch.” The phone went dead when Roy hung up abruptly.
Kathy was stunned. What was going on in her lab?
After his conversation with Dr. Springer, Roy Williams decided to go off campus. He was on the verge of a panic attack. He exited the security checks, got into his car and headed down Harborside Drive. He drove past the cruise ship terminal and turned right onto the causeway to Pelican Island. Although it was in the high 80s, he rolled the windows down to get some air.
He parked along the waterfront at Seawolf Park. It was a grassy picnic area on a spit of land that jutted out into Galveston Bay. Its lack of shade, struggling foliage, and rickety tables were witnesses to the harsh weather it withstood.
Roy had been coming here for as long as he could remember. He discovered it when he was in medical school. At the right times of day, he could see the Mosquito Fleet of shrimpers scuttle past. It was a popular spot for land-based fishermen to cast their lines. Roy thought the folks fishing that day wanted to be alone as much as he did.
It was at times like this that Roy let himself ruminate. It had been such a grand and successful plan for years. He grew up in West Texas. His dad worked on the oil rigs that sprouted from the prairie. Roy was a good student and a good-looking young man. When his hairline receded in his late twenties, he shaved his head and still looked strikingly handsome. After college in Lubbock, he had no intention of returning to his windswept hometown and getting his hands dirty in the oil patch.
He was accepted to medical school and entered U.T.M.B. a year ahead of Louise, Marnie, and Gen. His plan was to get a residency in ophthalmology or dermatology, having calculated that these specialties had the best reimbursement/misery ratio. In his second year, his grade point average dropped. Without a 4.0, he would not gain acceptance into his preferred specialties. He started to cheat on exams and was promptly caught. As a powerful object lesson for the rest of the students, the dean of the medical school let it be known that Roy Williams had been expelled for cheating.
After his expulsion, Roy decided to regroup and played his last trump card. He had been having an on-again, off-again affair with a married professor of microbiology. His partner, Ellen, had wanted to end it, but she was addicted to their affair. Roy enjoyed the sex but had little emotional investment in the relationship.
Still playing a long game, he used his connection with Ellen to get into the microbiology program. She pulled some strings, and, in a year, he had his masters. Roy demanded a job as a researcher in exchange for his continued silence about their affair. Over the following years, he worked diligently and climbed the professional ladder.
When the Gulf National Laboratory opened in 2008, he was handed his position as Chief of the Insectary Division. Even as he was on a prestigious professional trajectory, the government paycheck didn’t match the goal he set as a medical student.
He stayed on the fishing pier with his elbows on the railing above the rocky shore and continued to try to calm his jangled nerves. What the hell am I doing?