Free No Time to Die by Kira Peikoff Page B

where greatness was possible. She couldn’t give him back his absent dad, but she could give him a shot at free Columbia tuition and proof that you could successfully pursue a dream. If only she could get tenure.
    What if her efforts weren’t enough? Due to cost-cutting measures, the department had just one spot available, and Mitch was already in good favor with Professor Adler, the department chair. If only Helen would return her calls! Her closest friend, who up until last week had been a fellow professor in the department, would know just what to say—but she’d been impossible to reach since her resignation. As if to add insult to injury, Adler had announced that no one would be hired to replace her in the department—another casualty of the grim economic forecast—so Natalie and Mitch were forced to continue battling for the only tenured spot available.
    Someone rapped on her door again, this time harder.
    â€œNatalie, are you in there?” a gravelly voice demanded.
    She recognized it and jumped up to open the door.
    â€œDr. Adler! I didn’t realize that was you—” She broke off when she saw Mitch Grover and several other faculty members standing behind him, looking apprehensive. “What’s going on?”
    â€œWe have an unexpected meeting in 14-L,” Adler said. “Right now.”
    Mitch met her confused expression with a shrug: I know nothing.
    â€œWe?” she questioned.
    â€œThe whole department. Come on.”
    She locked her office and joined the procession down the austere white corridor, falling into step behind the others, only mildly curious. Odds were it would be another bureaucratic time-waster. After they quickly rounded up the rest of the fifteen-member staff, they filed into the largest conference room on their floor, which looked out over Columbia’s cobblestone campus and magnificent domed library. Inside, the walls were adorned with framed clippings of past and present staff members’ accomplishments—prizes won, discoveries made, patents granted. A long rectangular table of polished mahogany took up most of the room, surrounded by black leather executive chairs.
    Two stern-looking men sat at the head. One was stout, bald, and typing on a BlackBerry with two agile thumbs. The other was lanky, gray haired, and exuded dignity as if in a conscious effort to appear authoritative. His sharp chin was lifted high, his posture erect, his navy suit expertly tailored. Natalie watched him watch everyone trickle in and sit down. She noticed how carefully he assessed each person without seeming obvious. Their eyes met when his rested on her. His steely gaze felt more like a challenge than a greeting. She stared back, refusing to be intimidated.
    He looked away to address the room, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming on such short notice. My name is Les Mahler. I’m the chief of the Justice Department’s Bioethics Committee, and this is my colleague . . .” He looked to the man on his right.
    â€œBud Pinter, FBI,” he said, briefly holding up a gold badge in a black case. “Executive assistant director of the Science and Technology branch.”
    The room was as quiet as a cemetery. Natalie felt her heart quicken. What in the world could these men want with Columbia’s Biology Department? She looked around and saw that the other professors also seemed concerned, shifting in their seats and glancing at each other. Seated up near the men, Adler looked grim. What did he know?
    â€œOf course, you all are wondering why we’re here today,” Les Mahler continued, his voice deeper than Natalie had expected out of his slender frame. “I’m afraid we have some upsetting news about one of your former colleagues. As you probably all know by now, Dr. Helen McNair resigned from her position last week after an internal controversy.” Les looked at Adler, who nodded his