Free Insects: A Novel by John Koloen Page A

asked.
    Azevedo stopped in his tracks and glanced around the room.
    “This is the dean’s office?”
    “Yes,” she said, nodding toward the sign on the plate glass door.
    “Well,” he said, haltingly. “I, um, perhaps, I don’t think I need to speak with the dean. My name is Professor Fernando Azevedo, and I’m an entomologist and come here in hopes that someone in this department can help me identify a crystal I’ve found in one of my specimens.”
    While Azevedo spoke, the young woman looked up his name in the university directory. She was thinking he was older than her grandfather and noticed that he was emeritus and had an office on campus.
    “I’m going to call Maria Montes. She’s an assistant professor in our analytical chemistry department. She should be able to help. She’s nice.”
    Azevedo nodded appreciatively, smiled and took a seat. The walls were lined with photographs of the dean shaking hands with important political and business leaders, which did not impress him. In his experience, deans had more in common with politicians than scientists. He had little respect for them as academics. But he understood that it took all kinds to run a university and held nothing against them personally. In fact, it was the dean of his department who arranged for his office and a part-time assistant, which he could not have done on his own.
    While his mind wandered from photo to photo, a youngish-looking woman entered the room, filling it with a subtle jasmine fragrance that reminded him of his mother. The woman approached the front desk, and the receptionist pointed to Azevedo. Approaching him slowly, she extended her right hand in greeting.
    “Hello, Professor Azevedo. I’m Maria Montes. I understand you have a question for us.”
    Azevedo rose, shaking her hand and bowing slightly.
    “Thank you for coming,” he said, “it’s not so much of a question as it is help in identifying a crystalline structure that I found in a specimen.”
    He handed her a folder containing printouts of the photos he’d taken as well as the specimen slides, which were in a small plastic case.
    “Hmph,” she grunted. “Let’s go up to my lab. I’m not familiar with this, but we should be able to identify it using your photos.”
    The lab was on the third floor, and as she led the way, Azevedo explained where he’d found the specimen and vaguely described his interest in it. Not being an entomologist, she listened politely as the old man talked. She then explained that they would try to match the crystalline structure to the reference photos in a database. She insisted it wouldn’t take long, which pleased Azevedo.
    As she predicted, Montes identified the crystal in less than five minutes.
    “It’s a quinoid,” she said excitedly. “Specifically it’s Tabebuia avellanedae , also known as Pau D’Arco.”
    “Really?” Azevedo responded, peering closely at the computer monitor.
    “Are you familiar with it?”
    “No, not really. I’m just surprised you found it so quickly. You’re certain of this, right?”
    “You can see for yourself,” she said, after printing out the screen and setting Azevedo’s printout alongside. “They’re identical.”
    Montes clicked on the Tabebuia avellanedae , which was highlighted, and a window opened with a description. It said that it came from the inner bark of the Purple Lapacho tree.
    “Interesting,” Azevedo whispered as he read the text over Montes’ shoulder. “So it’s a medicinal herb.”
    “Yes, but look at all the conditions it is associated with, everything from diabetes to parasites.”
    “Have you ever heard of it?” Azevedo asked.
    “No. You said you found your specimen in an insect?”
    “Yes, but I’m going to have to review my notes before I can draw any conclusions,” he said, dismissing the topic.
    “Of course,” Montes said, handing the printout she made to Azevedo. “I hope I’ve been helpful.”
    “Oh, yes, indeed,” Azevedo said,