Nondisclosure

by Geoffrey M Cooper

  He stared at us, and a moment passed as he got control of himself. I could almost picture the gears in his head shifting as his face morphed into the picture of the prototypical college president. A pleasant, reasonable man.

  Maybe he’d offer us tea.

  “Of course, I understand your priorities,” he said. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. Obstruction of justice? Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure I can explain.”

  “We’re talking about rape and murder,” Karen said. “And Michael Singer.”

  He sighed audibly and shifted his eyes to include me in his response. “All right, I know you’ve dug into the nondisclosure agreement I signed with Singer at Yale. But that’s standard academic practice to get rid of a tenured faculty member who’s gotten into trouble. Your dean did the same with Steve Upton.”

  I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “And then you continued supporting Singer here, where he’s raped and murdered one of our students. Was that a little tit for tat after he helped you get the president’s job?”

  “Look, I tried to explain this to you before,” Emerson said. “Singer was one of our top faculty members. He brought in more grant money than anyone else, and with this new Immunoboost thing, he would’ve made us the top research institute in the country. Supporting him was a no-brainer.”

  “A known rapist?” Karen said. “And when he did the same and worse here, you tried to protect him by framing Brad and having him arrested. He was part of an ongoing investigation that you attempted to obstruct.”

  “Wait a minute,” Emerson said. “I don’t know anything about Brad’s arrest. Are you saying it was some kind of setup? If that’s true, I’ll be happy to deal with the responsible parties. Most severely, I can assure you.”

  “The responsible party is Doug Westman,” Karen said. “Acting on your orders. He gave up the whole story to our detectives last night.”

  Emerson snorted and raised his eyebrows. “And all you have is his word for that? I don’t know why he would have done such a crazy thing. Maybe he thought it would please me. But we never talked about it.” He laughed. “And now Westman’s trying to make a deal to save his own ass. That’ll never hold up in court. My lawyers will get it thrown out so fast your heads will spin.”

  Karen smiled at him. “You might get off in court. We’ll see. But it’s not going to matter after I’m through with you. This is going to be sort of the opposite of a nondisclosure agreement. Now stand up and put your hands out. I’ll be nice enough to cuff you in front if you cooperate.”

  He paled when he saw Karen take out the cuffs, but he stood up. “You don’t have to handcuff me. I’ll go with you.”

  Karen grabbed his right arm and snapped the cuffs on. I grabbed his left and held it out for her to do the same. “Hope you don’t mind a little help,” I said.

  “Not at all. Would you like to walk out with us?”

  “Always happy to assist an officer of the law.”

  Emerson was squirming as we perp walked him out of his office, Karen on his right and me on his left. Alice was still at her reception desk. Her mouth dropped to the floor when she saw us. Emerson yelled at her to call his lawyer, but she seemed too shocked to move.

  Other staffers had the same reaction as we dragged him to the elevator, with Emerson yelling that they’d better not say anything about this to anyone.

  The lobby was empty when we got to the ground floor, having been cleared by the two uniformed cops who were standing at the front door. It was when we opened that door that all hell broke loose. We were greeted by three squad cars and news trucks from some half a dozen local television stations. Not to mention a crowd of reporters and photographers all yelling for attention. And a growing throng of interested bystanders.

  Emerson tried to hide his face from the cameras as we strong-armed him through the crowd, but his efforts to cover his face only accentuated the handcuffs. In the meantime, Karen answered a few of the reporters’ questions.

  Her simple statement, “Kenneth Emerson is under arrest for obstruction of justice in the case of Michael Singer,” elicited a frantic scrambling and jostling of video cams, microphones, and smartphones.

  One reporter shouted, “Isn’t Singer the man who was arrested last night?”

  “The murderer and rapist I arrested last night,” Karen clarified. “And now we’re bringing the man who made Singer’s crimes possible to justice as well.”

  “How did President Emerson do that?” another reporter yelled.

  “I can’t provide further details at this time,” Karen said.

  When we finally got Emerson into the back seat of a squad car, I was pretty sure he understood what Karen had done to him. But just to make it clear, she drove the stake home. “Check out the news later today. I bet they somehow get the full story.”

  His eyes had the frantic look of a cornered animal when the car pulled away.

  30

  The campus went crazy following Emerson’s arrest. The news media were all over the place, looking under all the rocks for anything they could dig up. As soon as the early reports came out, a crowd of angry students and quite a few faculty members took over the Presidential Palace in a massive protest, demanding Emerson’s immediate dismissal. The board of trustees initially put him on paid leave pending resolution of the charges against him, but that wasn’t good enough for the mob. They were screaming for immediate blood—nothing less than his resignation.

  Somehow the Globe got the full story, and it was all over the TV and internet by that afternoon. The initial report attributed it to “an anonymous but highly placed source.” Karen just gave me a knowing wink when I asked her about it. Anyway, that sealed Emerson’s fate. The trustees called another emergency meeting and voted to fire him by the end of the day. Not even a chance to resign.

  The Globe story described the roles Karen and I had played, so the news pack was after us. We decided to get out of Dodge and avoid more publicity by spending a few days at the inn we’d stayed at in New Hampshire. It seemed like ages ago.

  Neither of us answered our phones or responded to emails, and we had three idyllic days of relaxing, eating, and making love. Rosie enjoyed the relaxing and eating and was at least willing to tolerate the sex. I could have gone on forever, but the reporters somehow found us. When I got up and looked out the window on the morning of day four, I was greeted by the unwelcome sight of news trucks and reporters milling about in the parking lot. I guess we had become celebrities.

  I closed the shades before they spotted me and went back to bed with the bad news. Karen put a positive spin on it. “Time to sneak out of here,” she said. “Anyway, we have more work to do.”

  “I’m all for sneaking out and getting away from these jerks. But what do you mean more work? I know a nice place up in Maine where we could hide out instead of here. Rosie’d be welcome, and we can keep on doing what we’ve been doing.”

  I ran my hand down her naked back to accentuate the advantages of what we were doing. She smiled and stretched like a cat. “I like what we’re doing too. But you don’t want to let Sally Lipton get away with her role in this, do you?”

  I hadn’t thought much about Sally Lipton since returning from Madison. But Karen was right. “No, I guess I don’t,” I admitted. “Her signing the nondisclosure agreement enabled Singer to get away with it in New Haven. In a way, she was as guilty there as Emerson.”

  “Exactly,” Karen said. “And it’s even worse for a woman to help a rapist hide his crimes. She needs to pay for it.”

  “But how? You don’t have anything to charge her with—not like the way you went after Emerson.”

  “No, she hasn’t committed any crime. At least not that we know about. But think, why did she sign the nondisclosure agreement?”

  “Two reasons, I suppose. The first was that she wasn’t going to get tenure, and Emerson offered her a research faculty position as a fallback. That’s unheard of at a top university and against all
standard practice at Yale, where she would normally have had to leave if she failed to get tenure. Up or out. But Emerson broke all the rules to buy her off and let her stay.”

  “And the second was the money Singer paid her, right? The ongoing consulting fees that put you onto this in the first place.”

  “Correct. Although I bet the job was more important,” I said. “Singer probably just kept up the payments to make sure she stayed on the hook.”

  “So how do you think we should take care of her?” Karen had an enigmatic look in her eyes. A look that I could tell meant trouble for somebody.

  I tried for the same look in return, even though I didn’t think I could pull it off. “We take the job away from her.”

  “Exactly,” Karen said. “Can your friend down there give us a hand? We need to have an authority figure from the university with us when we confront her.”

  “I’ll give Martin a call,” I said. “Should we get out of here first?”

  By a lucky coincidence, we’d parked by a side entrance that wasn’t visible from the main parking lot. Within fifteen minutes, we gathered up our stuff and made it to the car without being spotted. No showers, not even breakfast and a walk for Rosie, until we were safely away from the inn via back roads to the highway. Then we found a rest stop where Karen and I could grab coffee and Rosie could eat and use the outdoor facilities. After that, Karen drove while I worked the phone to make the necessary arrangements. A few hours later, we checked into a hotel in New Haven, with time to shower and put on fresh clothes before meeting Martin.

  A woman was waiting for us with Martin when we got to his office. Martin introduced her as Eleanor Stoker, chair of chemistry, which was Sally Lipton’s department. She was young for a department chair, maybe early forties, but her solemn face and piercing brown eyes left no doubt as to her authority. She held up an envelope and said, “Martin thought I should come with you, okay? If Lipton’s done what you say, I want her out. Immediately.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she led the way out of Martin’s office. Once we were in the hall, two security guards swung in behind us and followed us to Lipton’s office in the Chemistry Research Building. The door was closed, but that didn’t slow Eleanor down. She barged in on Lipton talking to a young man, presumably a student, and unceremoniously said, “Get out.”

  The fire in her eyes brooked no delay, and he gathered his things and left as Karen, Martin, and I followed her in. The security guards waited outside. They seemed to know how this was going to go down.

  Lipton wasn’t as cowed as the student and tried for her usual snobbish dismissiveness. “What’s this about? That was my research assistant. We have work to do.”

  “Not anymore, you don’t.” Eleanor handed her the letter. “Your employment at Yale University is immediately terminated with cause.”

  Lipton jumped out of her chair. “What the hell are you talking about! You can’t do this.”

  “I can and I have.” Eleanor inclined her head to Karen. “Would you like to explain it to her?”

  Karen looked at Lipton as if she’d like to tear her apart with her bare hands. It was enough to make Lipton shrink back and abandon her posture of aggression. “You’ve covered up Michael Singer’s crimes ever since he raped Martha Daniels ten years ago at a party at your house. You protected him from the consequences of that by signing a nondisclosure agreement that Kenneth Emerson organized, and you’ve maintained your silence while he raped and murdered another student at BTI. Not to mention your culpability for Martha Daniels’s suicide.”

  Lipton turned pale and tried to say something, but Karen continued. “And all for what? A lousy position as a research faculty member when you weren’t good enough to get tenure. And some payoff money from Singer. Well, the money’s over. Singer and Emerson are finished.”

  Then Eleanor had the last word. “And so is your position here. And you should be aware that your file will state the grounds for your dismissal, so don’t harbor any hopes of finding another job somewhere else.” She opened the door, and the security guards came in. “These gentlemen will escort you off campus. Do not return. Your personal belongings will be mailed to your home address. Now get the hell out of my department!”

  Lipton was trembling and in tears by the time Eleanor finished. She let the security guards lead her away without further protest.

  When she was gone, Eleanor turned to us. “Thank you for ridding my department of that scum.” Then she turned and left.

  We were silent for a moment. Finally, Karen spoke. “She’s a good woman.”

  “Yes, there was no doubt in her mind about what had to be done,” Martin said. “Are the two of you satisfied?”

  “We would have preferred jail,” I said. “But we really didn’t have evidence for criminal charges. And this destroys her professionally. Since her career was her reason for doing what she did, at least the punishment fits the crime.”

  “Yes, it’s fitting,” Karen added. Turning to Martin, she said, “Thank you for your help. Brad’s told me how you were with him in this from the beginning.”

  Martin smiled. “No need to thank me. Just meet me at L’Auberge at seven. New Haven’s best restaurant. And Brad, bring your wallet.”

  He and I both laughed, a mixture of amusement and the release of tension. When he left, Karen asked what that was all about.

  “You’ll see,” I said. “The man does anything and everything for food.”

  L’Auberge looked like it was up to Martin’s billing. The rich, wood-paneled walls, crystal chandeliers, and tables set with sparkling silver and elegant china all spelled fine dining. We were seated at a corner table next to a large window with a view of the Yale campus and the Kline Biology Tower. An appropriate setting.

  When the server came over, Martin waved away the menus. “We’ll all have the eight-course tasting menu,” he announced. “And a bottle of your best champagne to start, the Cristal. That’s okay with you two, right?”

  I looked at Karen, and she laughed. “Sure. Sounds like there’ll be plenty left to take home to Rosie.” I could tell she was enjoying Martin in his favorite role as head gourmand.

  When the champagne came, Martin raised his glass. “To the two of you.” We clinked glasses, and he said, “You’re quite a pair. Between you, you’ve brought down a rapist and a murderer, not to mention the president of a major university. What’s next?”

  Karen smiled. “Well, at this point we’ve both lost our jobs at BTI, so I guess we’re free agents.”

  Martin chuckled. “You know that’ll be reversed. Brad, what do you want to do next? BTI is going to be looking for a new president.”

  “No, the board of trustees moved quickly for once and offered the presidency to my dean. Or maybe I should say drafted her into the position. Anyway, she’ll be good. One of the first things she did was to sign over all the rights to Immunoboost to Steve Upton, so he’ll be able to pursue whatever’s going to come from that project.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t keep him at BTI,” Martin said.

  “No chance of that,” I said. “Not after what he went through. In fact, there was talk about his suing us. But he’s happy with his new job at Berkeley, and giving him the Immunoboost rights put a stop to the threat of legal action.”

  The first course arrived with a flourish. Poached Maine lobster with roasted strawberries and an array of accompaniments. Martin tasted it and sat back with a look of pure joy.

  “Ahh, perfection. Well, maybe you’ll be the new dean, then.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure you mean that kindly, but I’ve had enough of the upper reaches of university politics. I’ll finish up my stint as department chair and then get back to the lab. That’s why I got into this in the first place.”

  Martin nodded. “I remember your telling me that one of your students had something good going. That should help get your research back in gear.”

  I winked at Karen, remembering how much trouble that had caused.<
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  “Ironically, it’s a collaboration my student started with one of Steve Upton’s,” I explained to Martin. “Which we’ll continue, although it’ll be a cross-country endeavor now.”

  Karen squeezed my hand under the table.

  “Funny how things work out,” Martin said. “How about you, Karen? Going to stay at BTI or go off and become chief of your own department somewhere? You’re duly famous as Boston’s finest now.”

  Karen looked thoughtful. And I wanted to hear the answer to that one myself. It was a question that made me nervous. And one we hadn’t talked about since she mentioned the job offer she’d gotten from Chicago.

  Finally, she said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I may look around a bit.”

  My stomach fell. Until she reached over and put her hand on my arm. “But it’ll be in Boston, with Brad.”

  I liked that—it had a good ring to it. We clinked glasses again as Martin signaled for more champagne.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It’s a pleasure to thank Florence Haseltine (executive director of Health Research, University of Texas at Arlington, and founder of the Society for Women’s Health Research) for a discussion of sexual harassment at the beginning of this project. Some of her thoughts helped Brad figure out what was going on!

  I’m again grateful to my friends Alexandra and Ken Adams, who read and critiqued the manuscript. Especially Alexandra, who went through it more than once.

  And special thanks to Audrey, Patti, and Beau for their patience, inspiration, and support.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Geoffrey M. Cooper is a retired scientist and academic administrator, having held positions at Harvard Medical School and Boston University as professor, department chair, and associate dean. He is the author of several scientific texts and is now using his experience in academic medicine as background for writing fiction. His debut novel was the award-winning medical thriller The Prize. He lives in Ogunquit, Maine.