When she hung up, he clenched his jaw in frustration, as much with himself as with her obstinance. But when he watched
Professor David Wang watched the whole thing while sitting nestled in the trees at the east end of Dexter Lawn. He was in his early forties but often mistaken for someone ten years younger, a happy accident he attributed to not owning a car and either riding his bicycle or walking everywhere he needed to go. San Luis Obispo was a coastal town located halfway between the Bay Area and Greater Los Angeles but enjoyed a cool Mediterranean climate. It was the perfect place for an active and modest lifestyle, and it suited him well.
Like most professors at the university, David wore slacks and a collared shirt to lecture, but was often distinguishable on campus by his bright green Outdoor Research GORE-TEX rain jacket. Even when rain wasn’t in the forecast and the early summer temperatures ranged from the mid-fifties to the mid-seventies, the damp ocean air chilled him to the core, and he wore the jacket more often than not.
But this morning, he had left it at home, favoring more subtle attire that allowed him to blend in with his surroundings. He fancied himself one of the more popular members of the faculty, at least in the College of Engineering, and rarely was able to walk across campus without being noticed. Most of his students, undergraduate and graduate alike, recognized him and hailed him with friendly waves or shouts of, “Hey, Professor Wang!” He smiled at the thought, already missing most of his students who had moved off campus for the summer break but glad for their absence at the moment.
The campus had been planted in the middle of a roadless barley field, but Cal Poly sprouted into an institution with rich arboreal roots. From the orchards maintained by students in the 1900s to the Canary Island date palms lining the entrance to campus, David found peace in the abundance of greenery. Over the years, he had identified several carefully selected spots, known only to him, where he could escape the chaos of the classroom and breathe in the fresh air to rediscover his calm and practice the art of being still.
He sat in one of those spots now, absorbing the sound of the wind whispering to him through the California redwood, deodar cedar, and London plane trees, while admiring the woman Mantis had sent. She appeared confident and demonstrated competent tradecraft as she made her way to the designated dead drop in remarkable time, but it wasn’t entirely surprising she hadn’t seen him hidden in the trees.
The girl was beautiful, he thought. Mantis had spoken often of her, lauding her ability to recruit assets, so it came as no big surprise when the spymaster had assigned her to the operation. Even if she had missed him observing her, he didn’t really blame her. Even the mongoose sometimes misses the viper in the wild.
But it was that
She hadn’t seen the Black man in a colorful shirt follow her onto the lawn and duck behind a sycamore tree before she’d made the drop. At first, David had been worried the man would move to recover what she had left behind. But when the stranger followed her from Dexter Lawn, David was both relieved and concerned. Relieved that he could collect what she had brought him but concerned that her carelessness put him at risk.
David remained still until both Shanghai’s darling and her shadow disappeared. He waited another twenty minutes and observed his surroundings before standing with a heavy sigh and slipping out into the open. He crossed quickly to the bench, stooped to reach underneath and retrieve the memory card, then pocketed it and returned to his perch hidden in the trees.
He spent several more minutes watching the campus come alive around him as he organized his thoughts. He knew he needed to return to his office in the Computer Science building adjacent to the lawn to begin his task, but he had another appointment to keep first. More important than the damage it might do to his career aspirations if he missed it, he knew his absence might draw unwanted attention to the job that would occupy most of his day.
At last, he stood and walked along the red brick path bound for the five-thousand-square-foot 1928 Mission-style home. He would share his morning tea with the University president, like he did every morning. He would engage in small talk and hint at his desire for tenure, also like he did every morning, then he would lock himself away in his office to see what she had brought him.
But there was one more thing he needed to do first.
