Death of the Rat

CHAPTER TWO

  The following day dawned grey and drizzly. Janet cursed the slippery roadway as she pedalled her bike along the river path toward the tennis courts. As she arrived she noted that five of her team members were already rallying, the two 'A' team members playing singles, and Penny Adams setting up smashes for Metcalfe and Tanagawa. After another minute or so Judy Nicholas arrived, breathless and apologetic, but there was no sign of Diane. They hung about for a while, then Janet elected to proceed with the round-robin tourney of the 'B' members, Metcalfe and Tanagawa taking the first set, and Judy rallying with Janet to keep warm. It was an excellent occasion to evaluate the girl's game, Janet reflected. She made some mental notes of tips on her foot placement and racket preparation for later.

  Meanwhile, the drizzle had let up, although the court surface was still damp favouring the big hitter Suzi Tanagawa, who proceeded to make short work of Liz Metcalfe. The latter then easily defeated Judy. The rankings had been settled accordingly when Diane Bennett drove up in her car.

  "I thought the weather was too grim for us to play," she said with a smirk.

  "Well, it's too bad, but we've decided the pairings for Saturday," replied Janet picking up her gear. "LeBlanc and Chang for the 'A' team, Tanagawa and Metcalfe for the 'B' team, Adams and Nicholas as standby players. You can come along as an additional standby after Judy, if you like, to join us, "she said to Diane. The latter turned away muttering inaudibly under her breath.

  Janet pedalled up to the Biology Building after arranging an early afternoon practice to allow her to fit in the dinner engagement. She doubted she would see Diane again at team practices.

  It was well past noon by the time that Janet had finished setting up her experiment and had her technician, Julia, started on the next phase. She hadn't bothered with lunch, but was buried in a pile of lecture notes, texts, and handouts for next morning's class when John Antwhistle burst into her office, as Janet described it later, like a storm cloud ready to spawn a tornado.

  "What the hell do you make of this?" he thundered, brandishing a copy of the Faculty Review.

  Janet frowned as she recognized the familiar silhouette of a pterodactyl-like creature over the weekly column by the anonymous Archaeopteryx. The article was headed 'FAMILY COMPACT PREVAILS IN SELECTION PROCESS' and went on to reconstruct in dramatic terms how the voting would break down in the committee to select the new Principal. It started off with a fairly straight-forward tribute to the Acting-Principal and his stop-gap role in filling an awkward void. However, the article continued, this should not be interpreted as an endorsement of any attempt to perpetuate this temporary situation. Mr. Nicholas himself would have the sagacity to perceive the inappropriateness of any such measure. As for the other members of the Regents, he must recognize the necessity to appoint somebody with academic credibility in the position of Principal, if the fundamentals of scholarship were to be maintained in the Institution. Owing to the make-up of the committee it had the potential to decide in favour of a choice proposed by Regents of the University. These gentlemen, the article went on, though dedicated volunteers in the service of the Institution were captains of industry, politicians, professionals, who could not fairly be presumed to sympathize with the ideals and standards of academia. The vote, as confirmed by a source close to the selection process, would inevitably go 5-3 for the Regents. Accordingly, it was the responsibility of faculty members at large to enunciate their views to all members of the committee , not just their faculty representatives. A write-in ballot coupon was attached below the article for those who wished to support the position above, to sign their names and forward to the Dean.

  "Now," said the Professor, controlling his ire with some difficulty, this surely discredits the concept of confidentiality, in the committee! The faculty looks bad, very bad," he said grimly. "I knew that old Tupperman was growing senile. But I didn't think he was much concerned about his part in the proceedings, let alone to the point where he would leak matters in the committee to the revolutionary rabble over in the Arts Faculty," and he snorted in the manner of one characterizing the nether regions of Hades.

  "The danger lies in alienating progressive elements among our esteemed Regents,” he went on. "For example, that fellow you may have noticed in passing yesterday as you were leaving. Young Goldsack."

  Janet's eyebrows went up. She was not familiar with the power-elite of Essex, but the name of Goldsack was synonymous with wealth and philanthropy in the community. The family, Goldsack, over the years had contributed extensively to various large endowments to the University.

  "The senior Goldsack had been chairman of the Regents prior to Nicholas, and was similarly antediluvian in his views and politics. The son, our present member, is considerably more enlightened, and came to see me to express his worries about the way Nicholas is running things. The point is if we can come up with a credible candidate, Goldsack Jr. might split from the camp of the Regents. But this sort of publicity could queer all that. It gives us a black eye," he concluded ruefully and angrily.

  Janet tried to show appropriate concern. In truth, the matter of the appointment of a Principal, which had become something of an obsession with some of her friends and colleagues, was of less moment to her than scheduling of her experiment and lecture preparation to allow her to meet her team on the tennis court. There were also several key literature references that she wanted to collect at the library. Janet glanced, she hoped surreptitiously, at the clock in the corner, but the Professor was quick to pick up the gesture.

  "Well, I shouldn't burden you with all this stuff," he apologized in a more subdued voice. Janet attempted to reassure him of her interest, but he departed with alacrity, and a farewelI, "See you at dinner then."

  After he had gone Janet dug into the texts and revised some of her rough notes. She made progress with this, but tediously. Finally, after rereading what she had just written, she threw the pad down in frustration. When Professor Antwhistle had been in her office she had paid him little heed, her thoughts on the task at hand. Now that she tried to concentrate on the latter her mind kept returning to the issues he had raised. It was doubly irritating that the cause of her increased teaching load should also indirectly interfere with preparing the lectures. An added distraction was a gnawing sense of guilt. She should be troubled by paternalism at the top of University governance, but since it had no more direct impact on her life than a dictatorship of some remote country it was very hard to feel more than passing interest. Purely academic, she muttered to herself as she strode out into the lab to survey the progress of her experiment.

  By dint of considerable effort Janet managed her affairs so that experiment, lecture preparation, tennis practice, and personal cleanup were all completed, in that order. At 6:30 sharp, she got off the bus and walked the short block and a half to Professor Antwhistle’s cottage. The latter, a white brick Victorian gothic structure, was located in a quiet, older section of town, set well back from the street, and surrounded by an undisciplined bank of honeysuckle and forsythia. As usual the front door was ajar, and Janet could just make out the figure of the Professor bustling about in the kitchen. She came upon him completely covered up by a long canvas apron and brandishing an immense basting spoon. The clutter of pots, pans and implements was indescribable. It was difficult to conceive that this was the same man who had developed the delicate conditions for microdissection of living cells, and the removal and transplantation of miniscule organelles from one cell to another. That he enjoyed his culinary depredations was quite apparent, for he chuckled and hummed to himself as he basted a roasting pan loaded with meat and vegetables. Perhaps this semi-controlled sloppiness was an antidote to the painstaking precision of his laboratory work. The aroma was tantalizing, reminding Janet that she had foregone a noon meal.

  "Ah, un trés joli Beaujolais!" exclaimed the Professor, taking her proffered wine bottle. "We'll just let that breathe a bit," said he extracting the cork. "Now, how about a short snort, pre-dinner?
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  Janet accepted a stein of lager, and together they walked back the length of the hall to the front parlour. The latter was the Professor's formal entertaining room. It was obvious that it was seldom used or occupied otherwise . The furnishings were heirlooms of similar vintage as the house itself. Incongruously on the walls and tables were assorted objets d'art of various sorts and styles.

  "How do you fancy my latest acquisition?" he asked, eagerly indicating a menacing welded bird that seemed poised to make a predatory swoop from its perch in a corner of the room. "The work of Thomas Audette," he explained.

  Janet knew of Professor Antwhistle’s penchant for young artists, and his promotion and patronage of their efforts to market paintings and sculpture. His home played a secondary role as gallery, and, at times, free studio or accommodation for indigents who were striving to make a living from their artistic endeavours. This interest presumably stemmed from his own early career as a student of the arts; though he had diverged successfully into the science of biology, a struggling artist still evoked in him a sympathetic reception. Over the years this had resulted in his acquisition of a weird and eclectic assortment of objects, such as the large metal bird.

  Having made some polite murmurs about the winged monster, Janet sat down in a chair immediately below. This was the one place in the room where she would be unable to see it. The creature reminded her uncomfortably of a flying dinosaur.

  "I must get you over sometime to meet young Audette,” he continued. "Just the opposite to me. Started out as a biologist, now he has switched full tme to sculpture. I'm sure you'd get on fabulously together."

  Janet tried not to appear too sceptical about this pronouncement. It seemed somewhat unlikely from her feelings toward the lowering beast above her. Moreover, it embarrassed and irritated her that the Professor should make this transparent attempt at match making. Although she had no desire to live as a hermit, the celibate state suited her present goals in life. Pressures from friends and family to alter that state occurred with regularity. Surely the Professor, a long established bachelor himself, must be all too conscious of the resentment arising from such pressures. Janet was about to set the record straight on this point when the arrival of the other dinner guests fortuitously forestalled any further development of the topic. She choked down her irritation and the remainder of her beer while the Professor went to answer the door .

  Bob Hayes and the recently widowed Margot Elster had adapted quickly to the life of the Department, and they had entered with equal ease into the evening's activity. Since the demise of her husband, Karl, Margot had been under the protective custody of Bob Hayes in particular, and the Department in general. There still lingered an undefined air of collective guilt and sympathy for the girl that was amplified by her advanced state of pregnancy. John Antwhistle. showed his concern by hovering over her throughout the dinner solicitously inquiring for her health, and loading her plate with extra servings. Now, after the ample meal and the statutory rubber of bridge, the foursome relaxed over a cup of tea and some macaroons supplied by Jan's landlady.

  "You ladies came on with a vengeance on the last hand," said the Professor with a sigh. "With two aces out I thought we'd pickle you on that vulnerable slam."

  "Just lucky that I had enough entries to set up the spades in dummy for a discard of my losing diamond. Margot's good cards!" replied Jan, bowing to her partner. Bob, who was not an ardent bridge player contrived to steer the conversation to another topic.

  "This place seems alive with intrigue and rumours about the proposed new Principal. I've heard several people, all equally definite in their views, that it's going to be a retired diplomat, a famous neurosurgeon, or an opera diva! "

  The Professor laughed wryly, "in fact, virtually anyone except a respectable academic."

  "Is it really possible for a bona fide academic to do the job?" asked Margot. "I thought it would need somebody with more service and administrative experience, political ability."

  "Yes, but political ability to do what?" rejoined the Professor. "Let's suppose we recruit someone with skills of a politician, and I don't deny that he will need such skills to cope with our jolly band of Regents. He has to epitomize the academic spirit of this place, to the scholars who live within these walls and the public without."

  " I rather thought that was the job of the Dean," said Janet.

  "Our present Dean did perform that function perforce in the ancien regime," replied the Professor. "But that was more by default than by design. The previous Principal, old Pinkney, now he played the role of Chairman of the Board, hand in glove with Mr. Nicholas. It was often impossible to detect where the office of the Regents and the Principal were separated." (Jan noted the derogatory connotation of the modifier ’old’ in this context. In fact, Dr. Pinkney had been a contemporary of John Antwhistle.)

  "What is the proper dividing line?" asked Bob. "I'm not trying to be obtuse," he put in by way of explanation, "but I really feel rather vague about these division of powers and duties."

  "As Jan has rightly put it the Dean heads the academic functions to the best of his ability based on the resources dispensed to him from on high, The Regents, on the other hand, by statute own the real property of the University, receive directly all grants, endowments, and ratify disbursements, both operating and capital The Principal, in the ideal performance of his duties, sits betwixt these two worlds: the real world of the Regents; the intellectual world of the academics. Literally, he should ensure and justify our continued survival, articulate our common goals, and set policy and planning priorities for teaching and research upon consultation with our Dean and other academics."

  "Such as you," added Jan.

  "Such as all of us. It seems remarkable to me that people who would normally rise up in rebellion if their civil lives were not subject to democratic principles, can endure an authoritarianism in university governance that has not shown it’s face since the era of, in the words of Archaeopteryx, the family compact!"

  "Who is this fabled creature?" inquired Bob. "I was much amused by his commentary on your selection process."

  "I for one was not highly amused, snorted the Professor. "Although the picture painted is accurate enough. He, or she, and he nodded knowingly toward Janet, "for we should not take for granted the gender of the beast, has access somehow to private information, or else he has made some excellent suppositions."

  "Perhaps it will be a good thing to air some of these authoritarian practices," suggested Janet. "You yourself were commenting on that possibility earlier as I recall, and you couldn’t publish the situation in your position. Archaeopteryx has probably done us a favour by forcing a more open look at the process."

  "You may be right," conceded the Professor grudgingly, "though the timing was rather bad for reasons I already passed on to you. Ideally I suppose the whole situation should be debated by faculty and the Regents. They, poor fellows, need some educating of what this place is all about! Our late Principal kept them in the dark as much as possible, diverted funds to his own pet projects--"

  "Such as photophysics and Solarcon," added Janet.

  "Just so." The Professor look at her with surprise," I must confess that you sometimes amaze me. I thought you were completely apolitical about these campus machinations, and I find you to be as knowledgeable as --" (For a moment he paused, groping for the correct comparison)

  "As Archaeopteryx," responded Bob laughingly .

  "Indeed," agreed the Professor. "You see, I told you we shouldn’t make assumptions about gender."

  "And I’m not about to confess to anything in that direction," Janet retorted quickly. "Anyway, I haven’t time for such activities. I have to spend too much energy on teaching these days," she rejoined pointedly to the Professor.

  "Also, ethics would forbid me from hiding behind a pseudonym. You know," she said turning to Bob, "that I have been appointed one of the custodians of morality at Essex U. Which reminds me that I also have a meeting of the
Ethics Committee tomorrow morning.

  "That must be a committee with a pretty broad mandate ," said Bob. "How do you ever get through your agenda?"

  "So far we've only been exploring terms of reference. We have no itemized agenda for definite action yet, just generalized philosophizing."

  "The typical academic solution!" said the Professor. "Everyone can agree eventually upon generalities, motherhood declarations. Wait until you have some specific breach of conduct to contemplate. When you have some concrete case in future, that’s when the feathers will fly! "

  In the event his prophecy was aptly realized, and more immediate than future in its fulfilment.