Prologue

The desk paperweight exploded through the window, caused by the rage of a general struggling to keep his temper in check. Broken glass shattered, fleeing from a man prone to kill first and to never apologize.

The esteemed leader’s patience thinned with every passing second as he glared at the sniveling lab assistant kneeling at his feet. The general had not waited so long for such a prize simply to be impeded by one man’s incompetence.

“Imbecile. I know what the message says. I want to know what it means,” the general seethed in Arabic at the cowering analyst.

The commander’s penetrating, black glare seared into the quivering frame beneath him.

“I-I am trying–” the wretched man began.

“Are you going to kneel there and tell me that we have the greatest weapon hidden from the world within our grasp, and you’re not going to give it to me? Tell me that you are going to get it for me.”

His voice rose as the underling covered his ears. The general knocked the lab assistant’s hands away so that there would be no misunderstanding. He needed answers. The general licked his scarred lips, shaking the note held in his leathery hand at the analyst’s face. His voice grew louder with each articulated word.

“What…does…the…message…MEAN?”

The hulking form of Demas viewed the pitiful scene from the shadows as the general grilled the frail researcher. The large assassin relished the opportunity to watch this mighty leader in action.

The general possessed a large following at his disposal, not by chance, but because his followers did so willingly. He possessed unquestionable leadership and charisma, his vision drawing most warriors to him…but this, an opportunity to witness firsthand how this unfathomable leader could pull information from the most unlikely of places.

Demas’s glistening, dark eyes reflected his anticipation. He sneered, knowing that the foolish researcher should have been better prepared. One must be ready to give answers to General Irshad bin Omar al-Azim. Such an esteemed leader did not tolerate anything less.

The analyst lowered his arms, shoulders sagging, staring at the floor. “I-I don’t know. We usually receive the-the messages in Arabic. This m-message was sent partly in English…and p-partly in…Greek. I d-do not understand why…”

Demas noted an unquenchable anger ember within the general that steadily grew to an inferno about to explode. Irshad’s patience approached its apex.

 “P-p-please…” the desperate man begged, realizing that his leader was arriving at a decision.

“Enough. I don’t need excuses. I brought you here to do a work.” He paused, studying the analyst. “To give me answers.”

The general’s gravelly voice echoed off the decorated walls. Demas’s eyes widened, guessing as to what the general would do next. The leader of al-Ahad glared down at the pitiful researcher. The general’s scarred face twisted into a terrifying grimace as he scowled at the man, his dark brow glimmering with a heavy sheen of perspiration despite the cool air flowing through the comfortable room.

The stoic leader leaned close to his prey.

 The man shrank as his master’s voice lowered to a barely audible growl.

“Over three years we have spent waiting… searching… killing. Your incompetence will not deny me the opportunity to once and for all unleash the wrath of Allah upon those that have deserved it for so long.”

The analyst sat frozen in fear, not daring to wipe the general’s spittle that had landed on his face.

Adrenaline surged through Demas’s massive frame, fueled by the power exuding from his leader. The warrior’s thick forearms clenched and unclenched, his colorful dragon tattoo dancing with the ripples of his muscled forearm. Demas had done more than his share of intimidation, interrogation, torture, and killing. In fact the general ordinarily left such matters in his giant hands, but this was no ordinary time…and certainly no ordinary matter.

These were the days of legends.

This moment could shape history.

Demas tensed in anticipation. The time had arrived when the analyst would provide the general with what he so longingly desired, or the fool would pay for his ignorance. Demas secretly relished the thought of seeing this meager soul punished.

“Tell me it has been found,” threatened the general.

He would not be denied what he longed for so desperately when it lay at his fingertips.

“What w-w-was sent…was diff-different than before,” the little man stammered. “No sense, n-no logic, a d-different t-type of code.” His eyes changed as he looked up in hope. “But I can d-do it, Great One. I can…can decipher it. P-Please…Please give me more time. J-just a l-little more t-time.”

With one swift, fluid movement, a large knife appeared in Irshad al-Azim’s raging hand. The quivering man’s ferret-like eyes gaped, encircled by bloodshot, ivory rings. He shuddered with a sob, lowering his head, blubbering uncontrollably.

The general snatched the researcher’s arm, slamming it on the desk. With one agile motion of his dark-skinned hand, the general sliced off part of the little finger of the scientist’s trembling left hand. The little man screamed in agony, clutching his hand protectively to his body, trying to stop the flow of blood. Irshad nonchalantly tossed the severed finger to Demas, scowling at the analyst without remorse.

“You will get that back when you give me the meaning of the message.”

The pitiful man looked up, realizing that he was being allowed to live…at least a little longer.

“Oh, th-thank you, Great One,” he muttered between sobs. “Thank you for your m-m-mercy.”

Irshad motioned to Demas with a grimace. The warrior approached and gathered up the sniveling wretch to drag him out of the room.

Demas paused with his hand on the door when he heard the general pound his desk. He turned, witnessing the general crumple up the coded message in frustration, casting it against the wall. The big man stepped through the opening with the researcher in tow, closing the door with indifference as to what had happened in the brief meeting. The inability to gain what the general most desperately wanted would not last long. He had been around the staunch leader for too many years to know that he would not accept failure. A slight smile tugged at Demas’s lips. The spy cleverly placed in the west that had sent the message had proven more than capable.

He knew that it was only a matter of time.

Al-Ahad would prevail.

Chapter 1

“Plato is quite possibly the most influential philosopher in the history of the world,” Professor Reed Robinson asserted.

He enjoyed making controversial declarations to spur discussion and debate. Though he thoroughly believed his claim, he knew that he had some convincing to do in the minds of the thirty or so philosophy students seated before him.

In over ten years of teaching at Princeton University, he preferred instructing on Plato more than any other ancient philosopher. Reed’s doctoral thesis had been on Plato, specifically, the many aspects of Plato’s contributions to modern society and Western thought.

“What has Plato conveyed so far in this dialogue?” Reed pressed, eager to see the responses he could generate from the bright faces before him. A hand immediately shot up from a blond student in the front row of the amphitheater-shaped room. “Yes, Christopher.”

“I think Plato wanted to provoke discussion on the different forms of government?”

Reed raised his eyebrows, glancing towards the ceiling, feigning thought. “Not exactly, though he did mention many different forms of government in this particular dialogue.”

The class discussion for the past few days had been on Plato’s dialogue, The Republic. With the exception of The Laws, The Republic was the longest of Plato’s works and, in Reed’s opinion, by far the best.

“Anyone else?” Another hand hesitantly rose from a librarian-looking brunette. “Anne?”

The young girl ran a nervous hand through her dark hair. She pushed her small glasses up the bridge of her nose. “He seems to me to want to discuss more than simply the form of government ruling a people, he also appears to convey how important it is that the people governed choose wisely who will be ruling over them.”

“Good, Anne.” Closer, Reed thought to himself. “Now, why do you believe Plato would want to emphasize such a point?” Another hand rose. “Yes, Mitch.”

A confident, dark-haired young man cleared his throat.  “Maybe not so much the people chosen to govern but more the power used by said government.”

Reed nodded his head, smiling in approval. “I believe that is what Plato wanted to teach, and not only the power but the justice that is determined by such a government. Justice was an extremely important topic to Plato, especially in The Republic.”

A lengthy discussion followed for the next twenty minutes on the topic of justice and the definition of justice before the conversation turned back to Plato’s dialogue. Reed called on a pretty blonde seated in the middle of the classroom.

“Professor, one thing that bothers me is that Plato thinks that the American government is the second worst form of government, second only to tyranny. Hasn’t the United States proven that a democracy is the best form of government by creating the most powerful and productive country in the history of the world?”

“A very interesting point Susan.” The intuitive question gained the attention of the entire class. All sat quietly, eager for the response. “Actually, the United States was formed as a republic and not a democracy.”

Reed paused to allow the students to digest what he had said. He hesitated to simply give answers freely. He wanted the class to discover the answers and leave school thinking for themselves. He wanted them to earn the right to become Princeton graduates.

“But this is a valid point that Susan brings up,” Reed continued, wanting to elaborate on this topic. “Why would Plato not approve of a democracy?”

Christopher gathered his courage, trying to justify his previous response. “Because he believed that many bad people are worse than just one bad person.”

“Excellent, Christopher.” Christopher sat up straighter as Reed pressed the discussion forward. “And what would cause him to believe that?”

He scanned the young faces waiting for a response. When no answer came, Reed turned and wrote in Greek on the whiteboard.

Μή χείρον βέλτιστον

“This is a Greek phrase, ‘Mē cheíron véltiston.’ Roughly translated, it means ‘the least bad is the best.’ Plato believed that an aristocracy is the best form of government.” He turned back to the class. “Now what would cause him to believe that?”

The ensuing discussion resulted in the pros and cons of an aristocracy, leaving the class pondering over the validity of the different forms of government. Did all governments portray bad characteristics?

Did a perfect form of government exist?

Reed wandered about the class sparking thought and discussion while answering questions.

After some debate, Darius, an African-American athlete on one of the Princeton sports teams, carried the discussion of government further. “So Professor, if the perfect government doesn’t exist, then what was this ‘ideal government’ that Socrates alluded to in The Republic?”

Reed smiled in satisfaction as the topic of conversation led exactly to where he intended.

“Interesting that you would bring that up, Darius, because Plato’s next work we will study speaks of this ideal government that Socrates alluded to.”

He walked back to the front of the classroom and opened his satchel to retrieve his copy of the subject matter.

“The next of Plato’s writings that we will discuss is Timaeus. This work supposedly took place the day after the characters’ discussion in The Republic. Like so many of Plato’s works, Timaeus is also written in the form of a discussion between characters.”

He pulled out a few papers, briefly glancing at them.

“Only four total characters exist in Timaeus. They are two philosophers, Socrates and Timaeus, and two politicians, Hermocrates and Critias.”

With only ten minutes of class left on a late Friday afternoon, many students became restless. They randomly began to close their books, placing items in their backpacks, waiting for Reed to give them their assignment. After a couple of months of classes, an inviting, week-long fall recess awaited them.

Reed picked up a remote control from the podium, activating the overhead projector. A screen lowered, covering most of the whiteboard. He accessed his PowerPoint lecture, specifically for this topic, from the room computer.

“In this dialogue, the character of Critias introduces an advanced civilization which portrayed characteristics of power and technological advancement. This civilization conquered much of the known world when the Greeks, in their supposed ‘ideal state’ or government, helped the Egyptians repel this powerful people in a mighty battle. You know the civilization as…” He paused purposefully to add extra emphasis. “…Atlantis.”

The class immediately stopped preparing to leave, every ear perked up at this surprising revelation. Reed clicked the remote. A fanciful city surrounded by three moats appeared on the screen. Atlantis was captioned in bold letters above the picture.

Darius recovered the quickest. “This is where the legend of Atlantis came from? Plato?”

“That’s correct, Darius.” The reaction to this revelation is always the same, Reed reflected. “The first recorded reference that we have is in Plato’s Timaeus. His following dialogue, Critias, expounds a bit more on Atlantis, but all other references and intimations to the fabled continent through the centuries are drawn from these two lone dialogues.”

“But I thought that Atlantis was a very advanced civilization that existed on some lost island somewhere,” a young girl seated near the front of the class wondered aloud.

“That is the common perception, Jessica. Plato’s character, Critias, describes Atlantis in that manner, but most authorities are in agreement that Atlantis is simply an analogy for readers to examine their own ideas about government.”

Reed looked out over the forlorn looks. He smiled wistfully.

“I hate to dash any dreams or fantasies, but Atlantis never really existed. After thousands of years of searching, not one shred of evidence has ever been found. Thousands of books and movies have been derived from Plato’s descriptions and yet not a single trace of proof.”

He glanced at the looks of doubt that he saw all too often in lectures and conferences at which he spoke.

“After all these years, wouldn’t you believe that someone would have found something regarding Atlantis besides Plato’s words? At least some form of physical evidence with the technology available today?”

The class didn’t know how to respond. Hopeful eyes continued to stare at him. He released a long sigh.

“Look at this logically. Plato was a master teacher that constantly used analogies in his teachings. He continually sparked thought and debate through controversial claims. He speaks of the city of Athens existing nine thousand years before his time when it is clear that Athens did not exist that long ago. There were no such people known as Greeks that far back. The Greeks in Plato’s time weren’t concerned so much in portraying facts correctly as they were expressing an idea or theory to generate thought and debate. Can you think of a better way to generate discussion on the ideal government than to bring up a never-before-heard legend out of the blue?”

A pause ensued as the students contemplated what Reed had said.

Anne broke the silence, forgetting to raise her hand. “That makes sense. People tend to dwell on the fanciful and unexplained for some reason.”

“But what a buzz Plato created,” Mitch chimed in, also dismissing the formality of hand-raising. “You have to admire the guy for that. I seriously doubt that even he knew of the interest that Atlantis would generate.”

Reed nodded, smiling in approval at Mitch’s comment. He was glad to see that someone was showing respect for the great philosopher. Plato had given so much to the world – the United States constitution itself had its beginnings in Platonian thought.

“But what if… just what if it did exist?” Christopher pressed.

“I don’t believe that it really matters whether it existed or not,” Reed answered. “What I do believe is what we conclude from Plato’s teachings and how we incorporate that into our personal philosophy of government.”

Reed’s response didn’t satisfy Christopher.

“But I thought you believed that Plato was a real thinker, a real Greece Monkey?” He snickered, looking around for approval of his joke. When no one reacted and all returned his gaze with blank stares, he stated more meekly, “You know, as in elbow grease.”

Darius rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s not funny when you have to explain your own joke.”

Christopher sulked, sinking in his seat, folding his arms, stating quietly, “You would think that Plato would have derived the idea from somewhere.”

Reed smiled, clicking forward through a few slides. “This statement was made by a professor from the University of Arizona who I believe summed up the majority of the educated world’s opinion best regarding Atlantis, and I quote, ‘The continuing industry of discovering Atlantis illustrates the dangers of reading Plato. For he is clearly using what has become a standard device of fiction – stressing the historicity of an event as an indication that what follows is fiction. The idea is that we should use the story to examine our ideas of government and power. We have missed the point if, instead of thinking about these issues, we go off exploring the sea bed. The continuing misunderstanding of Plato as historian here enables us to see why his distrust of imaginative writing is sometimes justified.’”

Christopher shook his head, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. He didn’t want to leave the classroom with a feeling of defeat.

“But why would Plato even bring up Atlantis if it never existed?”

Reed paused, contemplating how to respond.

Why does this question, of all the questions and wisdom that can be learned from Plato, always arise? Why must people insist on believing in something that simply isn’t there?

Though he knew that this question was inevitable, he still couldn’t help but wonder why people would rather talk and gossip about the mysteries and vague doctrines contained within masterpieces when so many more sound principles longed for discovery.

He surveyed the class, smiling to relieve the tension.

“Why don’t I let you make your own judgments about what Plato intended?” He backed through a couple of slides to get his lecture back on track. “In Timaeus, we have the first recorded reference to Atlantis or when the word ‘Atlantis’ is first brought to the world’s attention. In fact, this is the only time that Atlantis is even mentioned in this entire dialogue, as if Plato’s reference is only in passing.”

He paused to let the class absorb what he had said. The class stared at him, waiting for him to proceed. He set some background for the eager students.

“Just before this paragraph that we are about to read, Plato explained that a wise, well-respected Greek statesman named Solon traveled to Egypt where an Egyptian priest related the following description of Atlantis to Solon.”

Reed highlighted the text with a laser pointer and began to read aloud as the class followed along with curious interest.

“Many great and wonderful deeds are recorded of your state in our histories. But one of them exceeds all the rest in greatness and valour. For these histories tell of a mighty power, which unprovoked, made an expedition against the whole of Europe and Asia, and to which your city put an end. This power came forth out of the Atlantic Ocean, for in those days the Atlantic was navigable; and there was an island situated in front of the straits which are by you called the Pillars of Heracles; the island was larger than Libya and Asia put together, and was the way to other islands, and from these you might pass to the whole of the opposite continent which surrounded the true ocean; for this sea, which is within the Straits of Heracles, is only a harbor, having a narrow entrance, but that other is a real sea, and the surrounding land may be most truly called a boundless continent. Now in this island of Atlantis, there was a great and wonderful empire…”

Reed finished the rest of the paragraph.

Darius commented with obvious disappointment in his voice, “That’s it?”

Reed nodded. “That’s it. At this point Critias, who is speaking, believes that he is getting ahead of himself and asks Timaeus to give some spiritual and creational background to Socrates and Hermocrates. The next of Plato’s works, Critias, goes on to explain more of the government, topography, and even plants and animals.” He turned his palms up, shrugging his shoulders. “But that’s it. So as you can see, the majority of what we have come to know about Atlantis is speculation and imagination drawn from two isolated accounts of Plato. The story of Atlantis is more about government and Athens than it is about a sunken civilization.”

He glanced at the clock.

“Since we are breaking for fall recess and won’t be meeting until the week after next, your assignment over the break is to read the entire account of Timaeus and bring me a summation of the dialogue and what you believe Plato wanted his readers to learn from it. It needs to be at least five pages, double-spaced, and due next class period.”

Reed couldn’t help but smile as an audible groan rumbled from among the students as he turned off the overhead projector. The screen retreated back into the ceiling. Reed didn’t revel in students’ grief so much as he expected such a reaction after having taught this group for almost two months.

He looked forward to this fall break as much as the students, wanting to get some chores and projects done around the house. Since this was his last class of the week, his extended October vacation was just beginning.

Reed wished the students a good week, put his teaching aids and Plato’s dialogues into his satchel, and started to leave when his cell phone vibrated, reminding him that he had received a text during class. He glanced at the message left by his wife.

Probably wanting me to pick something up, he thought in exasperation.

Though he wasn’t fond of texting, it was the only way Kate seemed to communicate with him anymore.

Reed read the message, requesting that he pick up some milk and eggs at the grocery store. They had been married for over twenty years, yet the closeness just wasn’t there anymore. She first started text-messaging him because he couldn’t answer phone calls while teaching, but soon they each found it more convenient to communicate through text messages rather than speaking over the phone or discussing things at dinner.

How could we let it slip this far? We had such a wonderful courtship.

He supposed that the initial attraction was due to the fact that they were such natural opposites of each other. He portrayed an easy-going and passive demeanor, whereas, she was outgoing and liked to speak her mind. He liked sports, mountain climbing, and science but she liked drama, liberal arts, and had earned a degree in music. He thought logically and cautiously. She acted spontaneously and creatively. He possessed thick, straight brown hair and a slender, athletic build, whereas, she displayed beautiful, blonde, wavy hair and…

He smiled, a hint of mischievousness in his eyes.

She would have his head if he thought anything other than her having nice curves and a slender figure, which she very much possessed, despite giving birth to two children. He was glad that their two boys were now out of the house and off to different colleges, though that did leave him and Kate uncomfortably alone at home and–

“Reed?”

His thoughts were interrupted by his boss, the Chair of the Philosophy Department. Reed sometimes wondered if Professor Adib “Mark” Suhrawardi’s lot in life was to make him miserable.

“Hello, Mark. Is this about midterms?”

“No, though you do need to get those results to Charlotte or one of the other department secretaries as soon as possible.”  Mark’s dark eyebrows rose in warning across his tan complexion. “I’m letting you know that you have a couple of men in your office that would like to speak with you. They said it was urgent.”

Reed glanced up in surprise while putting his phone into his satchel. Every so often a husband and wife would drop by to speak with him regarding a child attending the university but this was a change. He didn’t usually get visitors this late in the day.

“Did they say who they were?”

“No, they just insisted on speaking with you immediately.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

Reed wished that Mark would stop lurking around his office. He always seemed to appear at the most inopportune moments. He pulled his cell phone back out and texted his wife, letting her know that he might be a little late but that he would stop by the grocery store and pick up what she needed. Since his office resided in the same building as where he taught on Fridays, he ascended a flight of stairs and walked down the hallway to his office.

As he entered his ornately-decorated room, he found himself in the company of two clean-shaven men in dark, pressed business suits. The men rose to greet him from the cushioned chairs situated across from Reed’s mahogany desk. He noticed their firm handshakes and confident looks.

“Am I being audited?” Reed asked nonchalantly, trying to break the tension.

“No, Professor Robinson.” The large, African American on the left smiled comfortingly. “We are not from the IRS. We are from the Department of Homeland Security.”

Reed raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Well, this is new.

The slender, Caucasian man on the right remained stoic and silent, flashing a badge to Reed. They took their seats as he did.

The large, African-American continued, “I’m Agent Wilson and this is Agent Roth. We would like to ask you a few questions. Do you mind if we close the door?”

Department of Homeland Security? What could this be about?

Reed rose and closed the door.

“May I offer you gentlemen a drink?”

“No, thank you. We’re on-duty,” Agent Wilson responded politely.

Reed returned behind his desk, sitting across from the two agents with a bewildered look on his face. “What would you like to ask me?”

Agent Wilson continued with an amicable smile, “Are you an acquaintance with anyone named Janet?”

Reed paused, pondering the man’s question. “No, not that I am aware of…I mean, I might have met someone named Janet over the years, but no one comes to mind.”

Agent Wilson paused as if assessing Reed’s response, then continued, “Does the word ‘swan’ mean anything to you?”

That was an odd thing to ask.

Reed glanced at Agent Roth to verify the validity of the question. Agent Roth’s olive eyes stared back, unmoving, not displaying any emotion. Reed turned back to Agent Wilson.

“You mean other than a bird?”

“Does the word ‘newt’ mean anything?”

Reed snickered before he could catch himself. He tried to cover his nervousness with a quick answer.

“Similar to a salamander, I believe. Why?”

He stared at the agents, trying to determine the reasoning for the odd questions. Agent Wilson continued without acknowledging Reed’s response.

“Does a great, green, steel eye mean anything to you?”

Reed stared back at Agent Wilson without blinking.

“No, of course not.” He felt himself losing patience. “What kinds of questions are these? What is this all about?”

Agent Roth spoke for the first time, his voice low and calm. “Professor, we will get to the point shortly if you will be patient a little longer.”

Reed sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. Agent Wilson accepted Reed’s lack of response as affirmative and resumed his questioning.

“Professor, are you familiar with the word Ατλαντίς?”

Reed was surprised to hear Greek and a little amused at Agent Wilson’s attempt at pronunciation. He relaxed a bit as he felt Agent Wilson wasn’t necessarily trying to attack him.

He shrugged and quipped facetiously, “It’s Greek to me.”

Neither Agent Wilson nor Agent Roth reacted.

Reed’s smile slowly faded. He recovered as best he could from his poor attempt at humor.

“Yes, of course I know what it means. I am a professor of Greek Philosophy. It is the Greek word for Atlantis.”

Both agents glanced at each other, something silently communicating between them. Agent Roth nodded and Agent Wilson turned back to Reed to continue his line of questioning.

“Professor Robinson, are you associated with any terrorist group or organization?”

Reed stared back at Agent Wilson as if he were ludicrous.

“Absolutely not.” He felt the tension creeping back into his body again. “What are you implying? What do any of these questions have to do with me?”

Agent Wilson reached into his coat pocket.

“We intercepted a communiqué a few nights ago that has us concerned.”

Reed returned the two agents’ assessing stares with a blank look.

Agent Wilson removed a small piece of paper from his jacket, slowly unfolded it, and slid it across the desk towards Reed. The two agents carefully monitored Reed’s reaction as his gaze transferred from them to the piece of paper placed before him.

Two lone sentences leapt back at him from off the page.

To find Ατλαντίς , use the great green steel eye of newt and a swan.

Search for Janet to lead you to Reed.

He stared for what seemed an eternity at the last word of the message. He raised his head with an unbelieving look, sitting in shock under the glares of the two men waiting expectantly.

Chapter 2

“You can’t possibly believe that this has any reference to me,” Reed exclaimed.

He returned the waiting glares of the two agents with an air of expectation of his own.

“Should we?” Agent Roth asked.

Reed received the distinct impression that Agent Roth was about to become much more involved. He leaned forward with his arms on his desk, addressing the two agents with as much confidence as he could muster.

“There must be thousands of Reeds. Why would you possibly think this ‘Reed’ has anything to do with me?”

Agent Wilson answered, attracting Reed’s attention, keeping him off-balance looking from one agent to the other.

“We are following many leads, you just happen to be one of them.”

“But why me?”

Agent Wilson continued smoothly, “As you have pointed out, the name Reed appears in the message and you have given many lectures on Atlantis at conferences and seminars, not to mention in the classroom.”

“Not Atlantis, Plato,” Reed corrected. “But that cannot possibly mean that I know–”

“As you see,” Agent Roth interjected, drawing Reed’s confusion back to him, “part of the message sent is in Greek, of which you also seem to have an understanding. You must admit that you being an expert in Plato, knowing Greek, and your name on the message itself would appear to be more than coincidence. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Reed’s eyes narrowed as he determined how to respond. It was quite a stretch to still link everything to him. He strongly suspected that the agents were hiding something, or more likely trying to get him to admit to something.

“How would you know that I speak Greek or that I am an expert in Plato and not simply a Philosophy Professor?”

A knowing smile crept across Agent Roth’s face. “Let’s just say that we have done our homework, Professor.”

“Are you saying that you believe this note is a threat to national security?” Reed inhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure. He picked up the note from off of his desk and studied it for a few brief seconds. “This message speaks of eyes of newts and swans, sounds more like witchcraft or some type of hoax to me.”

“It’s not a hoax and certainly has nothing to do with witchcraft, Professor Robinson.” Agent Wilson’s voice resonated smoothly and evenly.

Reed couldn’t believe that these two men were serious.

How could this have anything to do with me?

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I wish that I could help you, but I am afraid that I can’t. I haven’t the slightest idea what this message means.”

He looked down at the paper in his hands reading through the words again. Agents Wilson and Roth sat quietly, watching him until he looked up at them. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for them to continue.

When neither spoke, he tossed the small piece of paper down on the desk and stood up to give the two agents the impression that he was done talking and ready to leave. The agents sat planted in their seats, warily observing his reactions. They didn’t give any indication whatsoever that they were going anywhere.

Agent Roth leaned forward, picked up the message and placed it in his pocket, his actions slow and deliberate. He returned his attention to Reed, placing both of his hands on the desk while standing.

“I’m afraid we can’t let you go, Professor. We need to take you in for further questioning.”

Reed’s pulse accelerated. “But I’ve already told you everything I know.” The agents didn’t respond or move. “Really, I have no idea what this is all about.”

“We believe that you do know something, Professor,” Agent Wilson responded with a polite smile.

“This is ludicrous. This message is so vague. How could you possibly believe this has anything to do with me?”

“Because, Professor,” Agent Roth responded evenly, saving what he was about to say for this very moment, “this message was a call made from your office phone.”

Reed opened his mouth to respond but froze as the significance of Agent Roth’s accusation hit him full force. The blood fled in a rush from Reed’s face. He felt as if he’d been hit with a club in the stomach. He slumped into his chair, his hand reaching up and rubbing his forehead.

“But…but I never…I don’t know…how could that be?”

A call from my office? Who would have done such a thing? How could the agents know a call was made from my office?

“You’re sure this message came from my office?”

Agent Wilson nodded, gauging Reed’s reactions. “We have been monitoring another line and traced the call to your office number.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Then you have nothing to fear if we take you in for further questioning.”

“But as I said before. I’ve told you everything that I know. I don’t know anything else.”

Both agents hesitated, still studying Reed’s reactions. Agent Wilson broke the silence.

“If you didn’t make the call,” he put a doubtful emphasis on the if, “then who else might have called from your office?”

Reed contemplated the question, desperate to transfer the focus to someone else…anyone else.

Who did have access to my office?

“Let me think.” Reed thought through the possible perpetrators. “The janitors would have a copy, campus security, the department secretary, and…” he paused in thought, “my department head would have a copy. A few days during the semester, I leave my door unlocked when major assignments are due so that students are able to hand them in.” He motioned to the wire basket full of papers on the edge of his desk. “Was my office unlocked when you arrived?”

“No, Professor Suhrawardi let us in? Is he one of the people that you mentioned that possesses a key?”

Of course, Mark would let them in. Anything to irritate me.

“Yes, he’s the Chair of the Philosophy Department. Was the call made during the day or later in the afternoon or evening?”

Agent Wilson looked over to Agent Roth who nodded affirmatively.

“The call was made late in the evening,” Agent Wilson responded, looking back to Reed.

“The door would have been locked then if I wasn’t in my office.”

“Professor Suhrawardi has already seen us here,” Agent Wilson noted. He thought the matter through, arriving at a decision. “We would like to speak with him before we leave with you.”

“I know my rights. I can’t be taken in without undue cause or a warrant. I have a right to a lawyer.”

Agent Roth didn’t hesitate. “I would say that we have more than undue cause, Professor, and when it comes to national security, we are awarded a bit of leniency. You may call a lawyer when we arrive at our destination. Why don’t you take us to Professor Suhrawardi’s office,” he coaxed firmly.

Agent Roth motioned towards the door, letting Reed know that it was now time to leave. Panic gripped him. He felt his heart pounding more with each passing moment. He rose and led them out of his office, locking the door behind him, feeling as if he were in a drunken stupor. He wondered if this would be the last time he would see his office, then shook his head, disgusted that he was being so dramatic.

I have nothing to worry about. I haven’t done anything wrong.

As they walked towards Mark’s office, the agents flanked him, keeping a step behind, out of habit, to discourage a suspect in their custody from trying to get away. As they arrived at Mark’s office, Reed knocked, feeling like a common criminal.

“Come in,” a voice called from the other side of the door.

Upon entering, they found Mark sitting across from another professor of the Philosophy Department. Mark looked up, surprised to see the two men he had let into his colleague’s office accompanying Reed, but recovered quickly.

“Come in, come in. Professor Carrington and I were just finishing up.”

Reed chanced a quick glance towards his fellow professor. She captured his gaze with intelligent eyes and pursed lips caught in a sensual smirk. His wife had shown a twinge of jealousy at department get-togethers towards Danielle, suspecting that the alluring professor had feelings for her husband. Reed often wondered why such a beautiful lady would never bring a date to the department socials.

He nodded politely to her. “Sorry if we’re cutting your meeting short, Danielle.”

She sat across from Mark’s desk, her long legs crossed beneath a knee-length, black skirt. Her olive-toned arms folded across a stunning, red blouse that was conservative, yet flattered her form just enough without blatantly advertising her slender figure. Her hazel eyes smiled at him beneath shimmering, shoulder-length, black hair that accented her face perfectly.

“Hello, Reed,” she responded in a demure voice. “No need to apologize. We really were just finishing up.”

He returned her smile, turning quickly away. She rose, shaking Mark’s hand.

“Thank you for taking the time, Mark. I will take into consideration what you suggested and also make sure that I get the mid-terms to Charlotte before I leave for fall recess.”

She stood, smiled politely at the two agents, and then gracefully walked out of the room. Reed noted that Mark couldn’t help but watch her exit as his boss pulled the door closed behind her. Mark returned his attention to the three men in the room and motioned to the chairs on the other side of his desk, inviting everyone to sit down.

“Now, what may I do for you gentlemen?”

Agent Wilson didn’t respond right away as if taking in the surroundings. He then looked Mark directly in the eyes with a stern face.

“I’m Agent Wilson and this is Agent Roth. We’re from the Department of Homeland Security.”

Agent Roth flashed his badge so that Mark could see. The philosophy department head raised his eyebrows in surprise, indicating to Reed that he had no idea who these men were.

Agent Wilson continued, “We’re following up on a disturbing message that was sent from this university a few days ago from Professor Robinson’s office number.”

“A message? What kind of message?”

“We can’t say. What we can say is that it involves national security and we are taking Professor Robinson in for further questioning. We would expect you to keep this strictly confidential and not allow rumors to flow. Please tell Professor Carrington to keep our appearance quiet as soon as possible. You two are the only ones who have seen us with Professor Robinson.”

“I will advise her right away.” Mark looked over at Reed accusingly. “What kind of messages?”

“Oh, you know, Mark, threats to national security, witchcraft, that sort of thing,” Reed quipped, trying to lighten the mood. He felt uncomfortable enough as it was.

“Be serious, Reed,” Mark countered. “These gentlemen don’t look to be in a joking mood. Is there any credence to their claim?”

“Of course not, Mark.” Reed sat up sharply in his chair. “What kind of question is that?” He shifted uneasily. “You know me better than that. I’m guessing that it was a fraternity initiation or some joker that broke into my office.”

Mark nodded at Reed’s response, returning the inquiring gazes of the agents. He responded in a confident tone.

“Agent Wilson and Agent Roth, I assure you that Professor Robinson has been a model instructor here at the university. We have stringent background checks and pride ourselves in employing only the best.”

“We appreciate your loyalty, Professor Suhrawardi, but Professor Robinson has been here for some time and your background check would be outdated,” Agent Wilson replied matter-of-factly. “He also has tenure, so there isn’t much that you could likely do anyways.”

Mark bristled at being reminded of Reed’s tenure.

“Another concern that we have,” Agent Roth chimed in, “is that if Professor Robinson didn’t make the call, then someone had access to his office. We understand that you have keys, correct?”

“Are you implying that I…” Mark started, surprised to be put on the defensive.

“Not necessarily, but what we would like from you is a list of everyone that would have keys to his office and for you to document the last time that any on the list accessed his office.” Agent Roth contemplated his words. “Other than you letting us in, of course.”

“Of course,” Mark stammered.

“Someone will contact you shortly to pick up the list.”

Mark looked over at Reed, still addressing the agents, “Will Professor Robinson be back to teach after fall recess, or do I need to start planning on a substitute?”

Reed thought he sensed a hint of hope in his boss’s voice.

“We don’t know yet.”

Reed sat in silence. He was past irritation and bordering on paranoia. He pondered his current situation as the men discussed his immediate future. All acted as if he weren’t present. His mind returned to the message that had been sent from his office phone. He mulled it over in his mind when a sudden realization occurred to him.

He blurted, “Why would I put my name on a message sent from my phone? You would have to believe that I would be more intelligent than to implicate myself?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Your name was on the message?”

Agents Wilson and Roth abruptly rose. Reed received the distinct impression that he was starting to divulge too much. Agent Roth reached out to shake hands with Mark.

“Thank you, Professor. Remember, strictly confidential.”

“Of course.” Mark returned the handshakes and held on to Reed’s hand longer than the others. “Don’t worry, Reed. I’ll have Danielle or someone else cover for you if you’re not back in time.”

“I’ll be returning, Mark. I have nothing to do with,” he waved his hand dismissively, “whatever this is.”

Mark grimaced, shaking his head. “Good. This would not look good on the university.”

“Thanks for the support, Mark,” Reed replied cynically as the two agents escorted him out of the office.

***

Reed sat with a sulky look, locked in the back seat of the agents’ dark-colored sedan. They exited the nearly-vacated parking lot under the dim light of dusk. Most of the students and teachers had left for home, eager to begin fall break.

Home. Where I should be. How did I get into this mess?  He reflected again on the communiqué sent from his office. It all started with that message. Why would a message about Atlantis, a mythological island that has had no bearing on history whatsoever, be of any concern to national security?

Reed studied the two agents in the front seat. These men certainly believed the message to be serious.

Maybe the message alludes to something or someone, he pondered, or more likely is some sort of code. He shook his head. No matter. These men will know soon enough that I have nothing to do with this.

The sedan turned left out of the parking lot when Reed glimpsed a blaring light to his right. What happened next was a blur. The car rocked with an eerie crunch of metal on metal. Reed knocked his head on something hard, dazing him momentarily. Shock washed through him as the car slid sideways. The impact threw the agents and Reed to the driver’s side of the vehicle, teetering precariously on two wheels. The agents’ vehicle crashed down onto all four tires as the other vehicle retreated, releasing the government car from its grasp. Reed absently rubbed his arm that had knocked against the door, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Agent Roth reacted quickly from behind the steering wheel, pushing Agent Wilson off of him. The agent’s dark head rested limply on the headrest, his eyes closed, blood trickling down his face from his receding hairline.

Reed snapped his attention back to the large vehicle that had struck them, possibly a truck or SUV. The passenger’s headlight no longer functioned. He watched as the vehicle stopped backing away and paused, like a one-eyed beast waiting patiently to pounce. Reed suspected that it was only a matter of time before they were rammed again, the vehicle waiting, as if to see how the sedan’s occupants would react.

Agent Roth turned the ignition trying to restart the car, but the engine only sputtered and churned. He muttered something under his breath, then yelled back to Reed.

“Stay here.”

Agent Roth forced open his door, scrambling towards the front of the car. A squeal of tires penetrated the silence. Agent Roth reached into his coat pocket, his attention focused on the oncoming truck from the opposite side of the sedan. Just seconds before impact, Agent Roth shouted something, but Reed couldn’t distinguish the words over the roar of the truck as it crushed the defenseless car.

Reed heard a bone-jarring crunch as the truck slammed into the sedan a second time. It struck the car farther back, closer to Reed. He felt himself get thrown about the cab among shattered glass until he found himself lying on the back seat looking up at the ceiling. He covered his eyes as glass fell about him.

He heard the roar of the truck and sat up to risk a look, afraid of what he might find. He saw the lone headlight backing away. He frantically looked about and found Agent Roth unmoving in the darkness under some trees lining the side of the road. The agent’s arms lay limply at his sides. Reed looked back at the truck and saw that it was waiting as before. Fearing another strike, he fumbled for the door handle on the opposite side of the vehicle but found that he was unable to open it. No matter what Agent Roth had told him, he was not going to sit and wait to get mangled by an onslaught. He struggled to get out the shattered window, fleeing towards the trees bordering the parking lot.

Feeling like a coward, he paused, wondering if there was something that he could do for the agents. He turned around, planning to drag the unconscious Agent Wilson out of the vehicle when he witnessed the sedan get hit a third time. Reed didn’t wait to see what would happen next. He turned, escaping into the surrounding foliage.

He cleared the trees, appearing in an adjacent parking lot when a small compact car skidded in front of him, sliding to a halt. The passenger door flew open. He heard a familiar, feminine voice shout.

“Get in.”

Chapter 3

Reed didn’t hesitate, eager for any help. He jumped into the car beside Danielle, slamming the door.

“Are you okay?” she asked, obvious concern emanating from her face.

“We need to get to the police,” he gasped, ignoring the question.

She fumbled to put the car into gear, then sped to the exit at the opposite end of the parking lot. She turned the car onto the main university campus road, both occupants craving to separate themselves from any trouble.

“What happened? I thought I heard cars crashing,” Danielle asked.

“I don’t know.” Reed paused to catch his breath. “We were driving, when all of a sudden a large vehicle came out of nowhere and crashed into us.”

“Us? Who was with you?”

Reed wasn’t sure how much he should say. “Those men you saw me with in Mark’s office.”

“Who are they? Are they okay?”

He pondered his response, deciding to tell her the truth. “They’re agents from the Department of Homeland Security, and no, they’re not all right. We need to go get help.”

Danielle’s lips narrowed, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Government agents? Are you in some kind of trouble, Reed?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Reed answered a bit too sharply, feeling immediate guilt at lashing out at her. He turned to look absently out his window as he tried to relax. “But they certainly seem to think that I’m involved in something.”

He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

“Okay. Relax Reed,” she coaxed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m here to help you.”

“Sorry. I’m just…”

She obviously wasn’t aware of what he had been through. He turned to tell her that being accused of spying, or treason, or whatever had just happened, wasn’t his favorite experience in the world. But the words wouldn’t materialize as he witnessed a soft smile that soothed his apprehension. He quickly recovered, returning his gaze back to the window in thought.

Her attention returned to the road. “So where to?”

“I guess the campus police is closest,” he muttered without looking at her.

“All right then.”

She set a course for the nearest authorities, the Princeton University Campus Police.

***

“I’m telling you, Professor, there ain’t nothin’ there.”

A young officer sat, looking across his desk at Reed. He felt himself flinch, but wasn’t sure if it was due to the man’s grammar, or the young nurse that sat next to him, attending to his scrapes and bruises.

“What do you mean nothing’s there?”  He looked up from a bandage being applied on his forearm.

“I mean we dispatched an officer to the attack site and there ain’t nothin’ there.”

“There should have been car parts, or glass, or bodies, or something.”

“You’d think so.”

Reed glared back at the young officer. “You think I went out and did this to myself?”

“I’m not sayin’ that, Professor. What I’m sayin’ is, without evidence, I can’t do much more than file this here report takin’ your statements of the incident.”

Reed sighed after a few moments of reflection. “Of course. I’m sorry, Officer.”

He was glad, and a little surprised, that the officer didn’t ask what he was doing with two government agents. He felt that would have been one of the first questions that he would have wanted answered.

“Did you get the license number or color of the vehicle?”

Reed sighed. “No, it all happened so fast. It was dark and the headlight was shining in my eyes.”

“Well, I think that’s it then,” the officer replied, closing the manila folder containing the report.

Danielle walked up holding a bag of chips from the vending machine as the officer finished. “Are we free to leave then?” she asked.

The officer risked a glance at her slender figure. “Yes, unless there’s somethin’ you can add.”

“No, I didn’t see anything. I heard crashes, hopped in my car, and drove over towards the commotion when Professor Robinson popped out of the trees.”

“Right. Then, y’all are free to go. Give us a holler if you think of anythin’ else.”

Reed couldn’t understand how such a disaster could be cleaned up so quickly. But even more perplexing to him was, where were the two agents?

“Are you positive your man arrived at the correct place?” The officer nodded with an irritated look. Reed sat puzzled. “There is no possible way that everything could be gone. Both agents were laying there. Poor Agent Wilson was a bloody mess.”

“The agent from,” the officer reopened the file to check his notes, “the Department of Homeland Security?”

Reed assessed the officer’s attitude, trying to determine if he was being sarcastic or not. “Yes, they were both unconscious.”

“It does seem kind of unbelievable,” the officer agreed.

Reed studied the officer as he turned away to finish his report. He decided the officer was simply doing his job and thanked him. He looked over at Danielle, wondering if both she and the officer thought he was crazy. But she had mentioned that she heard the crashes.

Reed sighed.

“I’m ready to go,” He said to Danielle. He paused, gauging her response. When she didn’t say anything but searched her purse for her keys, he continued with obvious remorse in his voice, “I’m sorry to have imposed upon you tonight.”

“Think nothing of it.” She brushed off any inconvenience with a smile. “I didn’t have anywhere that I needed to be. I would have just been going home.”

They walked out of the police building to Danielle’s car. As he opened the door and climbed in, Reed pondered whether he should turn himself in to the government, or what action he should take next.

“I don’t think that officer believed me.”

Danielle started the car and headed towards the parking lot where Reed had left his car.

“Well, think about it, Reed. If you were in his place, would you? I don’t know that I would believe you if I didn’t know you better, or heard the crashes myself.”

He thought over what she said. “I guess you’re right.” He stared out the car window in the darkness seeing inklings of the campus buildings pass by. He sighed. “I wonder if the government will come looking for me?”

“If those men actually are from the government?”

He looked at her with a puzzled look on his face. “What do mean? Do you think they were lying?”

“I don’t know…but if they really are government agents, why wouldn’t the FBI or the CIA be investigating you instead of the Department of Homeland Security?”

“I don’t know what to think. It’s not like I get arrested every day,” he said in frustration.

They both sat for a few minutes in silence. Reed could just make out the Firestone Library as they ambled past, the Collegiate Gothic architecture casting ominous shadows on the Princeton campus.

Danielle broke the silence. “So, what did this message say that was so important?”

“Nothing really, a bunch of nonsense. The agents believed it to be from a terrorist organization or some fanatical group. If that’s the case, then it must have been some sort of code to pass information along. I really don’t believe that it was anything more than a hoax or a dead end.”

“Maybe, but then again why…” she trailed off as she glanced in her rearview mirror. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you say the truck that hit you had only one working headlight?”

“Yes. Why?”

Reed looked at her. Seeing her wide eyes staring into her rearview mirror, he turned back to get a good look through the rear window. One headlight, fairly high off of the ground, approached the rear of Danielle’s car. For the second time in the space of only a few hours, his heart started to race.

“Maybe it’s not the same one,” he said, his voice filled with doubt.

The truck fell in behind them, following from a distance. Danielle turned at a couple of crossroads to see what the truck would do. It turned as she did but maintained the distance between them so that it was difficult to identify the truck as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared.

“Why are they staying back and not running us off the road?” Reed pondered out loud.

“I’m grateful they’re not,” Danielle answered. After a few moments of thought, she continued, “Maybe they just want to see where you’re going?”

“How would whoever it is know that I’m in here?” Reed looked out at the road ahead of them and saw the turnoff out of Princeton that led to his home. “Turn here on the 206,” he barked.

She swerved, taking the turn quickly, the wheels squealing in disapproval.

“What now?” She stared ahead, eyes wide in fright.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, her slender knuckles tense with anticipation.

“I don’t know. Just give me a minute.”

Reed glanced back and saw the truck make the turn. It kept the same gradual pace steadily behind them. He shook his head in frustration.

What is going on? Why me?

He returned his attention to the darkness. In the sunlight, they would have been able to see the lush greenery as they passed, but in the gloom, the omniscient trees acted as specters curiously viewing the insignificant, tiny visitors. Reed absently watched branches pass overhead in the glow of the headlights.

“Let’s not risk going back for my car. Maybe we can lose them in one of the overgrown driveways along the way to my house. When you make this next turn, punch it and get as far ahead of the truck as you can.”

She nodded, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror. The truck followed behind, continuing to maintain its distance. As they made a turn around some dense shrubbery, Reed saw a set of taillights a few hundred yards ahead of them.

Perfect.

“Okay, go.”

She pushed the pedal to the floor, accelerating quickly. Reed reached for his seatbelt.

“I’m not making you nervous am I?” Sarcasm rippled from her voice.

He was happy to see that she wasn’t as scared as she had previously appeared to be. “No, no. You’re doing great.”

He smiled reassuringly as his seatbelt clicked into place. He didn’t want to admit to her that he was as scared as he had ever been in his life. He wondered if she felt the same and was simply good at hiding it.

Everyone faces crises differently, he thought to himself.

The taillights ahead disappeared around a bend. He looked back and saw the lone headlight clear the turn they had just taken.

“When you take this next bend, I believe there’s a driveway on the left that is covered in growth. Hide in there, turn off the lights, and remove your foot from the brake pedal.”

She nodded.

He looked back, witnessing the truck speeding up, trying to make up the distance that had been placed between the two vehicles. Danielle followed the bend in the road and, even looking for the driveway, Reed still had to point it out to her. He had the advantage of driving this road almost every day for the past twenty years. She pulled into the driveway, turning off the car lights. After some tense seconds, they watched through the rear window as the truck screeched around the bend and sped up to catch the taillights in the distance.

“Let’s wait a few minutes until we’re sure they’re gone.” Reed caught a glimpse of her bright, hazel eyes. He turned away to watch the road. “Thank you for all of your help tonight. I don’t know what I would have done.” He observed her reflection in the window.

She visibly relaxed, her hair bouncing lightly as she turned towards him. He didn’t dare look back at her. He could feel her eyes on him. He watched her reflection give a reassuring smile.

“You’re welcome, Reed. I have rather enjoyed myself tonight. I haven’t had this much excitement in a while.”

He couldn’t believe that she actually might be enjoying this. He knew one thing. He had never been in fear of his life before. He now knew that he didn’t like it one bit.

Why on earth would someone be trying to run me down?

“Why would someone be after you?”

“I was just wondering that myself.”

“Maybe there’s more to that message than you thought.”

“I don’t know.”

He pondered the note again, but it still sounded like muffled garbage to him.

“You know, you say that a lot, Reed. In case Kate has never told you, ‘I don’t know’ is not what a girl wants to hear.”

He smirked, appreciating her attempt to lighten the mood. Kate actually had told him that more than he cared to admit. He knew that his wife might be getting worried and thought it best to get home.

“We’re close to my house. Would you mind dropping me off there? I’ll have Kate drive me down to the university to get my car.”

“I would be happy to.” She turned on the headlights and pulled out of the driveway. “Where do you live?”

“In Belle Mead. We’re just a few miles away. Let’s backtrack on 206, then we’ll turn in a few miles on River Road to dodge that truck. I’ll guide you from there in a back way.”

He and Kate had lived in Belle Mead for the majority of their marriage. The small town had been a wonderful place to raise two boys. The families and neighbors in the community were among his dearest friends. The quaint town had been an ideal escape from the university.

Initially, Kate had been attracted to the unique street names, such as Whispering Lane, Willow Run, and Ichabod Crane Lane, but all it took was one drive through the neighborhood and they were sold. They decided that this was the place for them, even before previewing any houses with a real estate agent.

Should I call the police? Reed wondered, but then decided against it until he could give a better description of the vehicle. As long as we’re not in any present danger, he convinced himself.

Reed navigated Danielle through the darkness until they turned onto his street. They approached his house, a comfortable, two-story brick home. Lights shone through the main floor kitchen windows. Danielle pulled into the driveway lined with well-manicured shrubbery, parking in front of the double-car garage door.

Reed felt a lump in his throat, like this was some kind of date. He knew that he shouldn’t be feeling anything.

“Uh, thanks again, Danielle…for everything.”

“Anytime, Reed.” She gave him her alluring smile and asked, “Do you mind if I wait with you and Kate for a little while? I’m a little nervous to head back out on the road with that truck running around, besides I could use the ladies’ room.”

Reed hesitated a little too long as he realized that she was asking to come in. She didn’t say anything more. She simply sat in her seat, innocently waiting for his response. He didn’t want to tell her that if he brought her into the house, Kate would have a conniption. His wife had been very vocal in her suspicions that Danielle had feelings for him, insisting that he was too naïve or unperceptive to notice a woman’s advances. The two women had met at department functions and other university activities. Kate had made it perfectly clear to him that she didn’t care for Danielle in the least. What would Kate now say after she found out that they had been driving around together alone in a car?

Under the circumstances she’ll understand, he thought, trying to convince himself.

“Uh, sure,” he finally answered, more to himself than to Danielle.

She turned off the engine as Reed opened the passenger door. He couldn’t remember his front walk being so long as Danielle followed him to the front door. He fumbled with his keys, not ever remembering his front door to be so foreboding.

He pursed his lips, shaking his head as he remembered Kate’s text message. He was showing up without milk or eggs and with the one person that Kate liked least of all. He hesitantly turned the key in the lock with a deep sigh.

This should be good.