It was the sound of heels that snapped Geoffrey Haden to attention. Not a normal sound in a subterranean hideout. From habit, his spine went rigid, and the built in reaction pissed him off. Pressure at his temples intensified from the distraction.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his chestnut eyes to focus beyond the computer. Gene codes flashed across his screen, but he left it to the computer to decipher. The program was designed to babysit the data so he could occasionally pry himself away to do other things. Like fume.
All around him fans in the duct work buzzed to keep the supercomputers running at optimum temperature, a temperature incompatible with human comfort. But the only human elements in his labs were the researchers and genetic samples kept under lock and key.
At this late hour of the afternoon, that left only him for the breathing inhabitants. His research assistants were trapped away above ground in classrooms, leaving Geoffrey alone, in near perfect solitude, broken only by mechanical effort at keeping him frozen.
So where was the annoying sound coming from? More precisely who?
At any given moment, Geoffrey had ten different computer simulations running to mash through data, five assistants pestering him for insights to jumpstart their careers, three articles in different stages of being written or fought with, and the normal annoyances of professorship in the form of emails, text messages, and meetings. No email or text had warned him of intruders, and he did not need any unscheduled irritation now.
Broken from his myopic concentration, he cussed internally if some nitwit had let a media personality in without proper authorization. With the latest scandal having hit the newspapers, even he, in his lair, could hear and feel the buzz of egos and nerves pushed too close to snapping. Sadly the concrete and steel sealing off his lab was impervious to egos and their wrath.
As far as he could figure some idiotic student had gotten caught with his pants down in a public zoo and had what was coming, but inevitably the school would be dragged into it to make the story even more sensational. Damn reporters. Wasn't there something more important to report than a half-cocked student with a libido for brains?
Geoffrey pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and ran a hand through work tousled hair that matched his eyes and possessed the healthy shine of being wet right out of a shower. He shoved his chair back into the smooth metal wall that left no space for germs to hide, and unfolded his body to seek out who the intruder was. Intruders had nowhere to hide either.
Media or not, they were getting a thrashing very suitable for printing and full of easy to recognize adjectives that required no explanation or long winded diatribes.
It was her smell that led him, more than the sound of heels which had now stopped. Getting up his nose hit cooler air, and the slight hint of cleaning disinfectant was no barrier to rose perfume that hung in a cloud. The aroma huddled, scared off by the metal and plastic surroundings, and he used it to track her.
"Hello, Geoffrey," a voice sung. "You're hard to find in his maze. How do your rats do it?"
Geoffrey spun around. Diane. Diane Chesterfield, the Chancellor's secretary and gatekeeper of his sacred schedule and audience.
"Saw that lovely head of yours coming, and thought I'd surprise you." She came around from behind a mainframe and leaned up against it as if at a party and relaxing over a glass of wine. She was definitely not the type to drink beer- too mundane and fattening.
Her black linen dress was demure but striking against Nordic skin and topped off by black velvet shoes not normally worn in the workplace. He snapped his head back up to her face and tried to wipe the confusion off his face.
"Have I bothered you at a bad time?" she asked knowing damn straight he could not be honest while on the job.
"Course not," he lied. "Did I forget to reply to an email?"
"No, you're very good about that." She stressed the word 'very' and stood up to wipe any wrinkles free in her skirt, patting the short skirt down around her thighs. "The Chancellor needs to see you first thing in the morning tomorrow before his regular meetings start. 9AM?"
She raised her chin to look up at him, her peaked lips fending off a smile. "I hope the early morning will be acceptable? I believe it will only be an imposition to you? No one else will be angry at me for setting up the early affair?" she confirmed with her gaze, her eyes looking at his clenched knuckles.
Geoffrey cracked his knuckles wishing he could use one of the computer dollies and move her out the door. Gritting his teeth to moderate his tone, he replied. "Of course. The Chancellor is a busy man," and so am I he thought. "I'll be there." He paused. "Normally such things are set up by email. Is there a problem?"
Diane looked at him and shook her head, letting her long blond hair swirl. "Of course not, Geoffrey, no problem that I can see at all. But this is a very important meeting and David wanted to make sure you would be there. With the lateness of the day, I promised to hand deliver the request."
Geoffrey let the coolness of the air get to him. "Everything is okay?" It had to be about his grant. Something this big could only be very bad or very good news. He was not going to accept bad news when he was this close. David had to agree.
"I'm sure you and David will be able to see eye-to-eye on things. Just promise me, Geoffrey, you will be there. It would be very bad for you if you were late." She winked at him. "Why don't you escort me out now?" She put out her hand, making his chivalrous training kick in to take hold of it.
Geoffrey reluctantly took the offered hand. She squeezed in close to him as if concerned the floor might rupture under her feet and send her plummeting into the earth's core. "I don't know how you put up with it Geoffrey. It's so cold here. Makes me want to grab hold of you to stay warm." She rubbed her body up against his.
