The Dreamer

Chapter 2: Suspicious Behavior

January 18, 2005. Tuesday evening.

Neal stayed later than usual at work to discuss the contents of the flash drive with Peter. Afterward, he headed straight for his class at Columbia. From the moment he exited the Federal Building, he paid more than the usual amount of attention to his surroundings. "Somebody's Watching Me" was playing in the back of his mind.

How had Azathoth's agents managed to conduct their surveillance without being spotted? Much had probably been done through cameras set up at strategic sites. The photos had all been taken in areas close to known locations—the Federal Building, Columbia, their homes. Initially, they might not have been tailed, but they could be now.

And the result of this heightened awareness? Nothing in the downtown area. Zilch for the subway ride. It was only after he'd exited the Columbia University subway station at 116th Street and was walking through the quad that he discovered a tail, and it was of the long, furry variety. It belonged to a squirrel who followed him the length of the quad, hoping for crumbs from the sandwich he was eating on the way to class. Neal rewarded the squirrel's diligence by tossing him a piece.

The piles of snow bordering the paths made Neal eager to lose himself in warm Italian landscapes in class. This was the first session of his course on Italian Renaissance painters, and he predicted it would be his favorite. The subject matter was one he was passionate about, and it was in his advisor's specialty. Neal had initially selected Sherkov because of his expertise in Western painting. When Sherkov found out he was fluent in Russian, their friendship was sealed. But that friendship also made Sherkov more demanding in class. Not that Neal was worried. The Italian Renaissance was his playground.

He opened the door to Schermerhorn Hall. Currently the person he was looking forward to wasn't a white-haired advisor but a certain green-eyed blonde. When he entered the seminar room, Fiona was talking with Sherkov at his desk. 

Neal helped himself to a cup of coffee from the carafe Sherkov supplied at his seminars and chatted with some of the other students while waiting for the seminar to begin. He knew most of them as they'd also attended Sherkov's course last semester.

When Fiona finished her conversation, she joined him. Greeting her, he asked about her discussion with Sherkov.

"I'll let him make the announcement," she said with an impish smile.

"So you're the one being mysterious now?"

"A pleasant change, don't you think?"

"I'll take that under advisement. After all, I thought I had the man of mystery act cornered."

"How are you at solving one?" she countered. "Last weekend I browsed through some of the second-hand stores near Washington Square. Any ideas as to what I found?"

Neal thought for a moment. "Here's a stab in the dark. Something that makes a sound and can be played in a band."

"I've become too obvious," she said with a laugh. "Still, I bet you can't guess which one." Fiona's look of elation told him she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret for long. She'd last by his reckoning three seconds at best. "It's a tin whistle," she added. "I'll bring it to band rehearsal on Sunday."

A tin whistle was a Celtic instrument so Neal understood her enthusiasm, but he did detect a roadblock. "Do you know of anyone who can play a tin whistle, flute, or anything similar?" he asked mildly.

Fiona with a flick of her hand dismissed his reality check. "A mere trifle. I plan to encourage Michael to take it up."

"Seriously?" Michael was the most nonmusical member of the group. Up to now, he'd been playing the tambourine and his enthusiasm more than made up for any minor misses on musicality. But learning to play the tin whistle would be several magnitudes more difficult.