Part 12 (2/2)
Sue Ling's eyebrows rose. ”That's unusual, isn't it?”
”He had news. It has to do with our Mr. Austin.”
”Oh?” She made a poor attempt to feign indifference.
”Abdiel knows why Semyaza is interested in him.”
”Why do I think that's not a good thing?”
”Because you know enough to be cautious.”
”But not enough to be scared out of my wits?” she asked.
”Are you?”
”Yes. Shouldn't I be?”
The professor grinned. It had taken a little more than a year of working together for Sue Ling to treat him as an equal rather than a professor. He was comfortable with her familiarity. More than comfortable.
”Are you going to tell me?” she asked impatiently.
”It's not my news to tell. Mr. Austin will have to tell you himself.”
She let out an exasperated gasp. ”Why bring it up if you aren't going to tell me?”
”Abdiel brought other news.”
”More news? Oh my . . .” She rubbed her bare arms as though she'd suddenly felt a chill. It didn't go unnoticed.
”You know the account he's been narrating to me?” the professor asked.
”The history of angels.”
”Yes, but more accurately, history from an angelic point of view.”
”Always the professor.” Sue Ling sighed.
”He wants me to write it down.”
It took a moment for her to a.s.similate the news. She stared at him blankly, then said, ”He's changed his mind.”
”I think it was changed for him.”
”I see. Is this because of Grant?”
”He didn't say directly, but I think so.”
”Are you going to do it?” she asked. ”You know the risk . . . of course you know the risk. You know it better than anyone.”
She was babbling. It wasn't like Sue Ling to babble.
”Yes, I know,” he said. ”It's not me I'm worried about. I want you to move back on campus. Work on your dissertation full-time.”
Sue Ling's chair screeched loudly as she pushed it back abruptly and stood. ”I don't see that that's your decision to make,” she said. ”And it hurts me that you'd even suggest it.”
”If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. How can I concentrate on the project if I'm worried out of my mind about you?”
She gathered up her books. ”You'll just have to find a way, because I'm not going anywhere. In case you missed the memo, this isn't your personal battle. You're not the one who determines who fights and who doesn't.”
The professor stared at her with sad eyes.
Sue Ling grew angrier. ”Don't sit there with that hangdog expression of yours as though you have a say in this. You don't.”
She whirled around to leave.
”I want you to reread Mr. Austin's biography,” the professor said to her back. ”Study it. Dissect it. Read between the lines. Grant told me Semyaza claimed credit for its publication. I want to know why.”
Sue Ling turned back. Their eyes met in silent understanding. He was conceding. She accepted with a nod. ”Don't ever question my loyalty again,” she said, close to tears.
”I won't.”
Sue Ling moved to his side. ”This is really happening, isn't it?” she said.
”To quote Dante: 'Whatever plot these fiends may lay against us, we will go on. This insolence of theirs is nothing new.' ”
Sue Ling sighed. ”The world is cras.h.i.+ng down around us and you're quoting Dante.”
”It's who I am.”
CHAPTER 11.
With my ident.i.ty badge clipped to my lapel I approached the metal detectors at the White House. A queue of staff and personnel formed a line in front of me, routinely opening bags, purses, and briefcases for inspection. The chatter was the usual going-to-work banter, but restrained. There's something about men with guns that puts a damper on things.
I'd taken a cab straight from the airport, after spending a couple of hours chatting with security over plush-toy pranks and false alarms. Seeing Myles's ghost onboard set off an alarm in my gut that had no snooze b.u.t.ton. Time was short. The president was in danger. I had to get someone to listen to me.
”Good morning, Mr. Austin.”
”Jeffrey. You're looking well.”
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