“Yes” said the Provost, “he was like that. He performed countless small acts of kindness, most of which no one else ever knew. Thank you for your help. I’ll see you out.”
Upon his return the FBI agent said with raised eyebrows “Tea bow?”
“Thibaud, a French name. I’ll just go get him” answered the Provost.
The Provost entered the class room quietly. “Excuse me, Professor, but I must interrupt to speak to one of your students. Thibaud, could you accompany me to my office, please.” Thibaud mocked a look of worry in return to the several teasing comments from other students. “I’m afraid this is a serious matter, but all will be clear in a few minutes” the Provost explained.
Once inside the Provost’s office, following the introduction of the FBI agent, Thibaud was interviewed about his contact with Stephenson.
“You know Professor Stephenson?”
“Sure, I know Cal.”
“You were seen getting into a car with him?”
“I suppose so, we had a couple of weekends together” Thibaud said nonchalantly.
“Where did you go?”
“Cal took me to this kind of resort place in Vermont.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-two. I’m an exchange student and have already completed my Baccalaureate in France. I am attending here to continue my education, improve my English and be closer to things American. No need to worry about crossing state lines with a minor. Vraiment.”
“What did you do on these weekends?”
“How graffic do you want me to be?” He waited, but was met with silence. “Okay, Cal picked me up and we drove up to Vermont. He mostly talked about his life with Mr. Marcus. For a while it was sweet, but did nothing to put me in the mood. Once we got there, we’d have a nice dinner then go to the room and screw.”
“That’s it, dinner and relations?”
“On Saturday afternoons, while I soaked it up at the spa, he’d go off somewhere. He did not offer, I did not ask where. Another dinner, more fun in the sack and then back to the campus. We’d stop along the way at a big grocery store and buy all kinds of things for ‘Stu’, Mr. Marcus. But that was the weekend. I got to get off campus and eat real food, I got to get it on with a major stud, and that’s fine with me.”
“Can you provide me with the name of the resort where you stayed.”
“Sure, it’s the Solstice, near Burlington. Anything else?”
“When was the last time you saw Professor Stephenson?”
“I passed him as I came out of the Economics building around ten this morning.”
“How did he seem to you?”
“Handsome as ever.”
“Did he appear under any stress?”
“No, nothing out of the ordinary. He was a pretty relaxed guy, except when, you know, we were together.” Thibaud winked.
***
The FBI agent sat across from the Provost. “What can you tell me about Stephenson?”
“As everyone has mentioned so far, he was a good professor, well liked and respected by his colleagues and students. He came to us to fill an emergency vacancy due to an illness of one of our faculty” the Provost explained. “I was surprised by the source, however, Mr. Worthington, the college president. As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Worthington has little to do with the college or how it is run. That falls under my purview, including finding and selecting faculty, with the approval of department heads. Mr. Worthington came in to my office with Professor Stephenson’s complete curriculum vitae and letters of recommendation. On paper he looked acceptable, he interviewed well, and since classes had already begun, we acted to bring him on. It did disturb me, however, that Mr. Worthington considered him all the more acceptable for being, as he put it, ‘easy to fire’. Apparently there had been some friction among the faculty at UCLA where he had done his graduate work. Professor Stephenson alleged that some of the papers being presented by senior faculty had been, in fact, his work. As a graduate student, one has little influence. Further, there seems to have been some untoward interaction between Professor Stephenson and a graduate student and while that is beyond the interests of my office, Mr. Worthington made a point of mentioning it on several occasions. I was pleased to fill the position on short notice and then to have Professor Stephenson do an outstanding job.
The FBI agent continued, “And the student, Samir as you call him.”
“Oh my yes, Samir. Where can he be? He came as a freshman nearly four years ago. He has been a good student and is also well liked. While I knew him, as I try to know all the students, when a student is well behaved, he and I have relatively little interaction. I did keep a somewhat closer eye on him, with his special status as a foreign national of expressed interest to his embassy, but I made a point of not drawing attention to the fact in order to allow him as normal and full an experience as any student.”
The FBI agent thanked the Provost for his information and help through the process. He promised that while the investigation would continue, he had instructed his staff to be as subtle as possible. He then asked the Provost if there was an office he could use to collect his thoughts prior to reporting to the FBI brass. The Provost made the necessary arrangements.
***
Alone in the borrowed office, the FBI agent reviewed his notes.
The missing student, known as ‘Samir’ to the college community, was an enigma in several ways. He was the second son of the first son of the king of a small, but wealthy Arab nation.
The first son had died tragically a few years before, ostensibly at the hands of his own nation’s secret police. He had been a graduate student in California when suddenly recalled to his country. A few days later he was reported as having committed suicide by leaping from a palace rampart. The international community was in uproar, alleging that the young man had been murdered for suspected Western leanings and a possible homosexual affair.
The death of the first son was attributed by some to an ongoing rivalry between an emerging liberal and democratic movement and old guard nationalists. In the local culture, homosexuality was forbidden and any taint could undermine the legitimacy of the royal family. The nationalists made frequent, unveiled use of the secret police to enforce its political agenda.
Now the second son had been abducted and possibly killed. The testimony of his roommate and close friends indicated that they knew nothing of his royal background. He had been at the college since his freshman year, had performed well academically and was well liked. It was reported that he spent occasional weekends at the State University nearby, but whether that was with a social group of his own country, a girl friend or whomever, they did not have any information to share. The second son had kept that part of his life very private.
***
The FBI agent fretted as his staff, one by one, reported nothing. The student had not been found, either in the search of the roads and public transportation. Neither had a body been found. Stephenson had similarly disappeared. There were no stolen or rented cars. No one who appeared to know him had lent him a car. Marcus’s car sat in his garage. The female doctor had not been seen, though that seemed a minor detail. They would continue the searches, but after the thoroughness of the search so far, he did not expect to learn anything new.