“I freaked out, I’m so sorry. When Prokop didn’t come forward, I felt terrible that I didn’t call, and the more time passed, the worse I felt. But the pictures sucked, I don’t have the right lens with me, they’re so blurry, you can hardly tell it’s her. They prove nothing. I don’t even know what they show and I took them. Soon it just felt like, it’s done. He’s gone. It won’t bring him back. It wouldn’t make any difference—”
“Of course it makes a difference!” Cady shouted, losing control. “My brother may have been murdered. “Do you know what my family has gone through? The questions? The doubt? The blame? It has destroyed us. It has destroyed me!” Her chest heaved. “I need those pictures.”
Lee looked frightened. “I’ll give them to you. I have them saved to an external hard drive in my room. You can come to my room and get it later tonight.”
“No, no ‘later tonight.’ You’ve held on to these long enough. What are you doing right now?”
“I’m supposed to meet my parents at the T station. They’re here for the Bauer champagne reception at the Faculty Club. But we can go to my room—”
“No, wait, the reception might be perfect. Who’s going to be there?”
“Everyone. The finalists, their families, advisers, the judging committee, and recruiters and representatives from top graduate programs and the big corporations. It’s a big deal.”
“Perfect. When is it?”
“The event starts at five. Afterward is the presentation ceremony, when they announce the winner.”
“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” Cady spoke with newfound authority; Lee wasn’t going to be just any soldier, she would be hers. “You’ll bring a flash drive with all the photos to the reception and I’ll meet you there to get it. You do that, and this will never involve you again. But if you don’t find me and get the drive in my hand, I’ll go to the head of the Bauer committee right then and tell him what I know. In fact, I’ll tell him whatever I want. And then I’ll tell the police.”
Lee nodded. “You got it.”
But Cady was already walking away, disappearing into the shadowy tunnel. She had won the battle, but the war was far from over.
56
Cady crossed the threshold of the Harvard Faculty Club and the air was different, filled with the sweet-stale scent of fresh-cut flowers and doors that remained shut. Her feet sank into a plush oriental rug as she took in the lobby, more like a drawing room of an elegant manor house, with leather couches and plush upholstered chairs arranged before an enormous fireplace. Wainscoted walls with damask wallpaper in a champagne hue boasted gilt-framed portraits of serious-looking white men through the ages. They looked disapproving of Cady’s presence.
“Name, please?” A man wearing a crimson blazer and holding a clipboard appeared at Cady’s side.
“My brother is one of the finalists,” she answered. “My parents are already inside. I’m late.”
“Welcome, and congratulations. The reception is in the reading room. Coat check to the left.”
The reading room was a grand parlor in full-on party mode: Flower arrangements decorated every surface, groups of people, dressed more corporate than cocktail, chattered over the strains of a student string quartet, and formal waitstaff made their rounds with gleaming silver trays of hors d’oeuvres. Three robustly green ficus plants in marble pots sat framed by a large Palladian window, where just outside the trees stood bare; even the change of seasons had no power compared to the Harvard Faculty Club. Considering there were only five Bauer finalists, Cady was surprised there were so many people. Moving through the crowd, she saw many wearing name tags from major corporations, one decorated general in full Army dress uniform, and the rest were faculty from Harvard as well as other universities and graduate schools—MIT, Yale, the University of Chicago, even Stanford and Caltech. Many had a year following their name, indicating they were Harvard alumni themselves.
There was some movement in the people around her, as a line of young men wearing white tie and tails entered the room. They formed a semicircle and one announced, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are Harvard’s signature all-male jazz a cappella group, the Din and Tonics …” As the other guests shuffled for a better view of the singers, Cady got on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd for Lee, or her real target, Prokop, but she didn’t see them. Cady needed to get to the other end of the room, where the majority of the crowd was still mingling by the bar. She slipped behind the row of a cappella boys and spotted Nikos holding court with two corporate types, but unfortunately his adviser wasn’t with him. He looked handsome in a trim charcoal suit with a pocket square in an appropriate shade of crimson. A beaming older couple stood nearby, they had to be his parents. Nikos clearly took after his mother; her thick, sable-colored hair matched his to a T, and she looked impossibly chic in a cream Chanel suit with a sparkling emerald brooch. His father was a shorter, silver-haired version of his son in a sharp black suit, and he only occasionally glanced down at his smartphone. Everything about the couple looked elegant and expensively maintained, but they didn’t look very huggable. She ducked in the other direction; Nikos would only complicate the confrontation with Prokop. This was something she had to do alone.
Cady almost didn’t recognize Lee when she saw her standing by the buffet table, Lee looked so different in girly civilian garb, a pale blue sweater set with a black skirt and chunky black heels. She was much less threatening when she looked so uncomfortable.
Cady tapped her on the shoulder. “Do you have the flash drive?”
Lee was about to answer when a petite Asian woman stepped out from behind her.
“LeeAnn, is this one of your friends?” the woman asked expectantly.
“Cady, this is my mom, Xinwei. Mom, Cady.”
Lee’s mother had a warm smile, with shoulder length hair and dated, curled bangs, and was modestly dressed in a silk floral blouse and black slacks. “So nice to meet you.” She shook Cady’s hand with both of hers and introduced Lee’s father, David, a tall man with thinning light brown hair, but a full handlebar mustache. He wore a bolo tie, glasses, and a serious expression that Cady recognized from Lee.
“Here.” Lee discreetly pressed the flash drive into Cady’s palm. “They’re all there, but I have my laptop in the coatroom if you want to check it.” She paused. “I am sorry.”
Cady squeezed the flash drive once, savoring the cool metal in her hot hand, before slipping it into her coat pocket. She looked at Lee’s face and saw someone who needed this award, who maybe had let herself down in the course of trying to get it. Cady had let herself down enough times to understand.
“I believe you,” Cady said.
Lee surprised her with a hug and whispered into her ear, “Go get her.”
Having the photos in her possession sent electricity coursing through her, and Cady felt a red, hot focus as she weaved through the crowd. Finally she caught sight of a flaxen mane she was looking for. Mikaela Prokop standing by the bar, wearing a long-sleeved black dress with a low scoop back. She was speaking to two smitten older gentlemen in expensive suits. Lithe limbs, fair hair falling on creamy skin, rose lips curling into a knowing smile, and a MacArthur Genius Award to her name. She was a bombshell with a PhD, even the old guard craved her approval. It took a woman to see through her. Prokop was purporting to laugh at something the white-haired man said, when she shot a sideways glance in Cady’s direction. She excused herself from the conversation by raising a single, slender finger to the gentlemen, before striding confidently toward Cady.
Prokop fixed on Cady with that predatory gaze, her eyes the color of a coming storm, betraying nothing behind her empty smile. Cady had hoped to surprise her, but now as Prokop was advancing on her, anxiety mingled with her anger and almost took her breath away.
In heels, Prokop towered over Cady. “Miss Archer, so good to see you.”
“What did you d
o to my brother?” Her voice sounded smaller than she wanted it to.
“Ah, Eric. Of course I am thinking of him today. I always told him he was the boy who would be king, and the Bauer Award should have been his Excalibur. We should toast him.” She raised her champagne flute. “To Eric.”
Cady’s entire body was shaking. “You killed him.”
She gave the same fake laugh she had just performed for the old men. “My God! I could not have heard you right. Come, let’s talk where it is more quiet.” Prokop clasped her hand around Cady’s upper arm with surprising force and spun her away from the crowd, keeping her close as if they were old girlfriends but never loosening her grip. She led her through a nearby door and into an empty room with an elliptical spiral staircase and checkerboard-tiled floor before Cady yanked her arm free, the physical force releasing something within her. Even as tears came to her eyes, her voice was stronger.
“You pushed him out the window that night. You murdered him.”
“No, no, my dear.” Prokop bent at the waist and placed her hand on Cady’s shoulder, speaking to her as one would console a child. “You can’t possibly think that’s true. I loved your brother.”
Cady spat in her face.
Prokop’s glass shattered on the floor as she recoiled in shock and disgust.
But now the words spurted from Cady like blood from a cut artery. “I know you were there that night—I have pictures. Pictures of you in his room, fighting with him right when it happened. You couldn’t control him anymore, so you got rid of him!”
Prokop wiped the saliva from her cheek. Her rose lips curled into a sneer, but her voice remained measured and calm. “I was nowhere near your brother when he died, and I won’t tolerate your baseless accusations. Security!” she called out.
“He figured out you were selling your research to Russia and using him to do it. He was going to report you for being a fucking spy! I have proof—I found the last drop!”
For a moment, Prokop’s icy façade cracked. Her lips parted and her stormy eyes showed something new: fear.
Just then two blocky men in black suits jogged into the room. “Ladies, what’s the problem?”
“This girl has assaulted me. Please remove her immediately.”
“Miss, you’re going to have to come with us.” The security guard beckoned for Cady to come with him, but Cady backed away.
“No,” Cady said, pointing a finger at Prokop. “You need to take her, she’s a killer and a spy—”
Prokop scoffed. “She’s delusional, a family history of mental illness. She spat on me.” She raked her fingers though her hair, exposing two freshwater pearl earrings—earrings Cady remembered she had seen before, on Nikos’s bedside table.
She stared, slack-jawed, at Prokop as the guard continued his approach.
“Miss, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The guard’s voice snapped her back to attention.
“No, listen to me, I’m telling the truth!” She backed right into the chest of the second guard, whose arms closed around her. “Let go of me, I have proof, I can show you!”
“C’mon, let’s take her out this way.” The first guard gestured to his partner, directing him.
The guard holding her swung her around, but just as he did, he slipped on the broken glass and spilled champagne and dropped to one knee, and Cady burst from his grasp.
“Get her!” Prokop shouted.
The security guard lunged for Cady, but she darted out of the way and bolted for a third door on the opposite side of the room, guessing it led back to the party.
Cady burst into the main parlor room only to slam into the row of Din & Tonics, breaking the line and the harmonies, falling to the ground and taking two of the singers with her. Save for a few gasps, it was deathly quiet as she struggled to untangle herself from the tuxedoed men. From her hand and knees on the carpet, she looked up to see a roomful of eyes staring down at her.
Two sets of strong arms slipped under hers as a guard appeared on each side and easily lifted her up off the floor in one swoop, carrying her right back out of the room. As she was carried backward, she saw the receding crowd crane their necks to watch her before a frowning waiter closed the door after them. Prokop had vanished. Her body went limp with defeat.
She found herself being taken out through the staff kitchen. Staff members in chef’s whites stared at her, and a waitress leaned over to whisper something to a boy washing dishes.
The younger guard on her left chuckled. “They’ll be talking about that one for a while.”
“Oh, for sure. You made quite a scene in there, little lady,” said the older one, his gruff Boston accent coming through. “I got a daughter almost your age, full of the same piss and vinegar. Why is it you girls love drama?”
“It’s not drama.” Cady tried to stay focused and respectful. “That professor is a spy, she is selling U.S. government research to Russia. I have photographic proof she killed my brother to cover it up.”
“Joey, didn’t you say you saw that movie on Netflix?” he said, making the younger laugh.
“You don’t have to believe me. Just please let me speak to a detective, I’ll show them my evidence.”
“We ain’t cops, hon, we’re private security hired for the party. And Harvard doesn’t pay enough for handling Russian spies,” said the older one. They passed through the exit that led outdoors. “But if I see you coming around this building again, I’ll call the police and save you the cab fare.”
57
The security guards tossed Cady out, sending her stumbling onto the lawn where she slipped on the frost-covered grass and fell to her hands and knees, but she was undeterred. If they wouldn’t call the police, she would. She let the cold, wet ground sink into her jeans and reached into her coat pocket for her cellphone, but it was missing. It must have fallen out during the scuffle. Then a much more horrifying thought hit her: Did she still have the flash drive? Cady scrambled to her feet and frantically checked her coat and pant pockets. She laughed aloud with relief when she found it. That meant Prokop wasn’t going to get away with this.
It was dark now, Cady wasn’t sure what time it was. She crossed the small courtyard and sat on a bench to plot her next move. Just then, another side door of the Faculty Club opened, releasing light and Gershwin tunes. Cady’s body flexed, ready to run, but the figure coming toward her wasn’t one of the guards again, this man cut a much slimmer silhouette.
“Cadence!” Nikos called as he jogged over to her. When the door closed behind him, his outline melted into the dusky gray light save for his pale skin and a fiery red pocket square tucked into his jacket. “What was that? I saw those a cappella boys go flying like bowling pins and then a flash of red hair between two gorillas of security guards, was that you? Are you all right?” He threw his arms around her.
She tensed under his embrace.
“What’s happened?” He looked at her with concern.
Cady searched his face, her mind swimming with new questions about the man across from her. “Prokop. I was arguing with her, she got me kicked out.”
“Prokop? What on earth were you arguing about?”
“Eric.”
“And? Did she say something about him that upset you?”
“She said …” Cady had been too distracted to make the connection at the moment, but it was clicking into place. “She said she called him ‘the boy who would be king,’ and that the Bauer should’ve been ‘his Excalibur.’ ”
“And this offended you in some way?”
“It’s a reference to King Arthur.” She leveled her gaze at him. “Eric didn’t really give you that book, did he?”
“The Sword in the Stone? Of course he did. Maybe he spoke about it to her too—”
“No. Archimedes is the teacher. You’re not Archimedes, Prokop is.”
Nikos gave a l
augh, but his eyes didn’t look amused. “If he gave it to her, how do I have it?”
Cady shrugged. “Maybe you took it from her house. You’re sleeping with her. Her earrings were on your bedside table.”
Nikos opened his mouth as if to protest, but he stopped himself, pursing his lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t even care. Just answer me this: Did you ever really care about Eric?”
Nikos sat back and crossed his arms, but he didn’t answer.
Cady shook her head, thinking of all the pieces that didn’t fit. “Were you even his friend? Eric never mentioned you to me or anyone in my family, you’re nothing like him. But you were his competitor, for the Bauer Award, for Prokop’s attention. I don’t think you were Eric’s friend. You were his rival.”
He smirked. “Friend, rival, you say tomato …”
“So why lie about it, why paint this rosy picture to me?”
“I wanted you to like me.”
“But why?”
“Revenge, I suppose.”
“Revenge against Eric? What did Eric ever do to you?”
“He left me.”
Cady stared at him, incredulous, but his impish affect had vanished. His jaw clenched.
“He left me when I needed him most. Love and hate are close to one another, you’re likely experiencing this toward me right now. I loved having a worthy opponent in your brother, and I imagine he felt the same. Since my freshman year, beating Eric Archer was my raison d’être. The Bauer Award was to decide once and for all who was top dog—until your brother dropped out. Literally.”
Cady recoiled. “Well he’s dead, so you won.”
“Win by forfeit doesn’t count!” Nikos snarled, startling her. “I wanted to compete. Now when I win the Bauer, it will have an asterisk beside it, because Eric wasn’t there.” He sprang to his feet, pacing while he spoke. “He figured out the loophole—the clever bugger—that there is nothing so sacred, so inviolate as unrealized potential. Now he’s the James fucking Dean of the Physics Department, the Greatest Who Ever Wasn’t. And it’s bollocks! But now they all have to have something nice to say, even Mikaela Prokop says to you, ‘Oh, he would’ve won.’ Well, he wouldn’t have! It was me. It was always going to be me!”
Ghosts of Harvard Page 40
