The Veritas Conflict (10 page)

“Hey, Mansfield!” Several colleagues from his department beckoned to him from across the room. “Join us. We were just debating whether or not your last article in the
Journal of History
was actually a rip-off of Tully’s book.” They gestured at one of the junior professors at the table, who grinned, shaking his head. “And whether you’ll still be assigned to Sanders once the powers-that-be learn the horrifying truth.”

“Actually, you jokers need to check your dates. I think my article was originally written when Bill Tully was still in diapers.”

Guffaws rose from the table.

“And if the powers-that-be want to see something
really
horrifying, they should’ve seen your fielding error in that game yesterday, Jack. But I’ll leave you to argue about this behind my back.” He nodded further down the room. “I might join someone else for lunch.”

He skirted tables filled with energetic first-day-of-class discussions.
Father, help me to reach out in Your love this year
. He approached a lone figure at an otherwise empty table. She glanced up from the magazine she was reading, and her eyes narrowed.

“Sharon, mind if I join you?”

She stared at him a moment, then slid a few books off the chair beside her.

Mansfield nodded agreeably and took the seat, silently giving thanks for the food. “So did you have a good summer?”

“What do you want?” She returned her attention to her sandwich.

“Nothing, really. I just saw you down here by yourself and thought I’d see how your summer went.”

“It was fine.”

“What did you do? Did you go to San Francisco again?”

“Did I go to Sodom and Gomorrah, do you mean?”

Mansfield glanced up at her cynical expression. “Sharon, I really just wanted to hear how your summer went. Honest—no other agenda.”

She sighed. “It was great. I got to see Leslie—you knew she was transferred from UCLA to Berkeley?”

“Yes, I believe you told us that last semester.”

“Well, we just hung out for a few weeks, had a nice slow pace. She took me to a couple of little restaurants she found. We spent a few days at a bed-and-breakfast on the coast.” She smiled maliciously at Mansfield. “Very romantic.”

“Sounds like you had a relaxing time. What’s the coast like there? I’ve never spent much time in the Bay area.”

Sharon briefly recounted the details of her vacation. Mansfield prayed silently, watching her face.

“… and then Leslie and I and several other friends and their partners went over to meet with one of the city councils about this terrible proposal that would have allowed anyone renting out rooms to students to turn down gay couples, just because of their precious religious convictions.” She picked up her coffee cup, muttering to herself. “Of course, come to think of it, you probably would’ve been on
their
side.”

Mansfield didn’t speak for a moment. He could feel a muscle in his jaw twitch.
God, give me Your love for Sharon
.

“I would never want to see someone’s civil rights violated, Sharon. I would never want a prejudiced person to hurt you or your friends.”

“But you agree with that rental proposal, don’t you?”

“Well, let me ask you a question.”

“Oh, here it comes! This is where you get all judgmental on me, right? If you would’ve stoned me four thousand years ago, why would you rent me a room today? Something like that?”

“No, nothing like that.” His gaze was direct, and he held her eyes until she looked away. “The question is whether or not the people who rented rooms were allowed to turn down
any
type of couple. As I have told you before, I don’t agree with the gay lifestyle, but I also don’t agree with straight people living together before they’re married, or with married people committing adultery, or with any other type of sexual activity outside of marriage. I would hope that a Christian home owner would show the love of God to everyone, but I can see how someone might prefer not to support any lifestyle that God says is outside His best plan for us.”

“Well, let’s not stray outside of God’s plan, by
all
means! Let’s just keep us as second-class citizens, keep us back in the days when we felt we had to stay in the closet and deny our happiness because it offended someone’s delicate sensibilities! By all means, let’s allow people like you to hate us, unchallenged.”

“Sharon, why do you think that I hate you just because I disagree with you? I don’t hate you. I would like to be your friend.”

Sharon took a big swig of her coffee and set the cup down. “I have a hard time being friends with people like you.”

“Well, at least you’re honest about it.” Mansfield raised his glass to her.

“I don’t get you, Mansfield.” Sharon stood suddenly and picked up her belongings. “I have to get to my lesson plans.”

She nodded good-bye and was gone, weaving her way out among the tables. Mansfield took a deep breath.
Gee, that went well
.

Several colleagues passed by his table, giving cheerful greetings, exchanging handshakes. One stopped, plate in hand, to slap him on the back. “You old son of a gun, trying to put me out of business! They’re talking about reassigning me from Sanders to make room for your class.”

Mansfield was chagrined. “Boris …”

“Just kiddin’ with ya. I asked to be reassigned next year so I could concentrate on my two smaller seminars.”

Mansfield put a hand over his heart, a smile playing on his lips. “Thank goodness. I thought our friendship was doomed.”

His colleague slapped his back again and moved away. Mansfield started to dig into his plate again when he felt someone approach from behind.

“Professor, may I have a word with you?” The voice was familiar, rich and resonant.

“Anton.” Mansfield nodded as Anton Pike came around to stand beside the table. “Of course. What’s up?”

“I need to speak with you about your unilateral request to the registrar to increase the size of your class.”

“It
is
my class, Anton. I hardly think a unilateral request is inapprop—”

“The decision to significantly increase class size is more than an administrarive decision. You really should’ve come to the academic steering committee first. The registrars office sent me their preliminary approval as a formality.” He smiled down at Mansfield, his tone sympathetic. “I was forced to tell them to cancel the request and send it to committee. The committee will address the issue of whether it’s appropriate to have a megaclass in the history department at a later date.”

Mansfield folded his hands together. “And when might that be?”

“Whenever we have space on the agenda, Professor.”

“Meaning not while you are chairman, Anton?”

The business professor looked back at him with that same half smile.

Mansfield remained calm. “I’m afraid that whenever is not good enough, Anton. I’ll have to appeal this higher up. This issue has been in the works for a long time—long before you became chairman of the academic steering committee.”

“And
as
the chairman I can tell you that the final decision on which issues advance
to the higher levels of the administration rests squarely with me. Now you could choose to go over my head, but that wouldn’t be a good idea.” He paused, and his voice took on a casual tone. “You know, I overheard your colleagues back there talking about whether you plagiarized Bill Tully’s book.”

Mansfield let out a chuckle. “Yeah, right.” He glanced up at Anton, and his voice dropped. “You can’t be serious. I wrote that article years ago. We were joking about the timing, but no one would ever think—”

“What I would be forced to tell the administration—were the subject to ever come up, of course—was that what I overheard didn’t sound like joking. And the article
was
just published. The supposed date of writing could’ve been changed, although it would be hard to imagine that an esteemed professor such as yourself would resort to such tactics.” Anton looked away, his voice distant, his fingers smoothing their way along the chair back. “It’s such a shame that even when a charge has no merit, an academic investigation can make life rough on the accused.”

Lord, You are my shield and my buckler. Help me respond to this
. Instantly, Mansfield felt a drawing back, a caution in his spirit.

“Anton, your tactics are inappropriate and demeaning, but if that’s how you want to get your way, fine. I will respect your position as chairman of the academic steering committee.”

He watched as Anton inclined his head in a nod and moved away, leaving several nearby diners to look at Mansfield curiously. He smiled at them, wondering what they had overheard, and returned to eating. It was several minutes before he realized he wasn’t tasting anything on his plate.

“There’s no way around it, Anton.” The voice on the other end of the line was quiet but intent. “James Statton says we are almost certain to lose the lawsuit. We need over half a billion in cash, and we need it soon.”

Anton Pike leaned back in his executive leather chair, twisting the phone cord between his fingers, his mind grappling with the unwanted news his brother was sharing.

“There’s no way of funneling the money from the shadow companies?”

“Not now. The money is more than there, obviously, but the regulators will have us under a microscope from the second we file the papers. It would be bad if we tipped our hand.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Well then, it looks like you’re right. We’ll have to do an initial public offering on Helion and sell off just enough shares to raise half a billion.”

“I’m always right. That’s why I’m running the business side and you’re just running the substructure.”

Anton snorted. “Just the more important of the two. Your side wouldn’t make the money if my side wasn’t effective, now would it?”

“And your substructure would fall apart if my work didn’t keep it attractive, would it not?”

“The chicken and the egg, my dear Victor.” Anton relaxed a little and put his feet up on his mahogany desk. “I’m sure our forebears have had the same argument for generations.”

“I’m sure.” A pause. “So any news on your end yet?”

“It’s a little early to be sure, but several students from last year’s classes show great promise. And I’ve already heard the same from our people elsewhere. I’m sure there’ll be enough Fellows this year to allow you the next phase of expansion.”

“Excellent. And the opposition?”

“In check for now, but still very much there. Today, I narrowly avoided one potential problem that would’ve greatly expanded the oppositions influence.”

“Is that the one I think it is?”

“As usual. There are others, but he’s definitely some sort of linchpin in the Enemy strategy.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Victor spoke slowly. “It occurs to me that you may not have the ability to mitigate the blight much longer. We may have to remove the obstacle.”

“I don’t think that will work. He’s too well respected for the usual damage to be credible.”

“I didn’t say ‘move,’ brother. I said ‘
remove’
. ‘Permanently.”

“Hm. Let’s file that away for future reference. It certainly would be pleasing to eliminate the hazard. But that may not be—”

“You and I both know that this is a critical time. Progress has been steady, and any backtracking now is an unnecessary disruption. We must hold—”

He stopped speaking abruptly, and Anton could hear another soft voice in the background. Victor came back on the line. “I need to go. One of the newer Fellows has just joined me for … ah … a private briefing on the status of her business line.” There was a rustling on the line. “I’ll be there in a moment, Johanna. Why don’t you ask Alfonse to get you something from the fridge?”

Anton chuckled. “Johanna. The lovely little graduate from two or three years ago?”

“Four, Anton, four. Give me some credit.”

“Oh, I do. I do. How long has this been going on?”

“About three minutes. She has made a couple of unfortunate mistakes, and since she’s already here for a team meeting, she offered to come back this evening to discuss how she could make up for them.”

“I’m sure she shows great promise as a Fellow, Victor.”

“Great promise.” There was a click as the line went dead.

Johanna slipped through the side door without turning on the light. With a quick glance around, she headed down the path toward the conference center near Victor’s house. She looked up at the sparkling sky and grinned.
Victor
. Not Mr. Pike, not the famous CEO, but Victor.

The ocean wind from the nearby bluffs whipped her light jacket, and she could feel the gentle tingle of sea salt hitting her left cheek. Right where his last kiss had left off. She shivered with remembered pleasure. Would anything in her career path change now that she had consolidated her hold on his affections?

She pondered a moment, frowning.
Consummated
would be a better word; Victor was hardly the monogamous type.

Coarse gravel crunched under her feet. The conference center, with it’s elegant hotel rooms and meeting facilities, was just a few hundred yards away. The path was not well lit. Annoying for the occasional late-night meetings or midnight inductions held at the house but handy for a hidden getaway.

If you have to hide, you’re doing something wrong
. A fragment of uninvited memory floated to the surface.
Unless the only consequence of discovery is being “It
.” She shook herself, annoyed. Why was she thinking of that stodgy old history professor now of all times? His archaic ideas of right and wrong had fueled many a heated debate during his office hours. Heated on her side, that is … he always stayed infuriatingly calm.

Johanna shoved her hands in her pockets and scowled. Even four years out of school he could still ruin her fun. Why had she ever listened to him in the first place?

Another nighttime scene rose before her eyes. She was walking through Johnston Gate, the driving snow stinging her eyes as she crossed Massachusetts Avenue and headed for the small movie theater on a nearby side street. In front of her on the corner, a young woman shivered, holding a baby in one hand and a cup of coins in the other. The baby was wrapped in a fluffy blue bunting, but the woman’s mismatched clothes were tattered and she had no gloves or hat.