Logan became quite interested in the process and did his best to follow the professor's explanations of quantum mechanics and the supposed structure of the universe.
His math wasn't good enough to understand the mathematical aspects of the professor's work, though. That led him to begin studying advanced math in his limited spare time.
His interest in the Clovis culture led him to co-author a paper with Professor Berensten that was accepted by a journal and published. This added to his reputation, but he discounted the experience.
If he graduated and got control of the trust, he'd never have to work for a living unless he wanted to. He studied archaeology because it made him feel closer to Serensaa, not because he hoped to find employment in the field.
Physics was of interest because it had the potential to explain what had happened when he'd traveled through time.
Professor Wolf tried to get him to consider grad school. Logan could get a fellowship in the physics department, if he applied. The professor recognized his ability, and obviously hoped he'd enroll. Logan wasn't sure about that. It all hinged on whether he felt he could figure out how to return to his lost love.
The year fled by. In retrospect, he saw it as a continuous blur of activity. He'd mastered his classes, earned good grades, and it was almost a letdown when he found himself graduating after the spring session.
Professor Berensten was on the podium to award him with a special certificate from the archaeology department.
He accepted it gracefully, all the while thinking of Serensaa. She seemed closer now, somehow. Perhaps the money could be used to fund studies in time-travel. If he could just get more help for Professor Wolf.
Serensaa constantly called to him across the years. Nights were the worst. She lived in his dreams. He often found himself waking up, either in a cold sweat, or with tears on his cheeks.
With his diploma in hand, Logan entered Schmitzke's office a few days after graduation. Now was the time. The man would have to abide by the terms of the trust.
He was treated the same as the last time he came in. Forced to wait until Schmitzke had time for him, despite his scheduled appointment. Logan resented the attorney's cavalier treatment. He promised himself that once he had control of the trust, he'd hire someone else. He didn't want to see Schmitzke again.
When the attorney finally ushered him into the conference room, Logan had regained control of his anger. This was the last meeting between the two, as far as he was concerned. He meant for it to be as brief as possible.
He didn't wait for any amenities. He started immediately. “Here's my diploma. I want you to assign control of the trust to me.”
Schmitzke drew back, the corners of his mouth drawing down simultaneously. “It's not quite that easy, young man. For starters, I'll have to verify your transcript. That will take some time. Anyone can get a diploma printed up.”
Logan tossed a sealed envelop on the table. “Here's an official copy of my transcript. I thought you might want to see it.”
The attorney reached out, extracted the transcript from the envelope with two fingers, and looked it over.
After a couple of minutes, he said, “It looks like you somehow managed to pass your courses and end up with enough hours. What's this special studies course? Is that in the university catalog?”
“It was a guided research project under the direct supervision of the archaeology department head, Professor Berensten. It resulted in a published journal article. She was kind enough to allow me to take credit as lead author.”
Schmitzke frowned, then replied, “Well, I don't know. The trust provides me with considerable leeway in interpreting the terms. I sincerely doubt that your grandfather had a liberal arts degree in mind. He, as you know, held quite a number of patents in the automotive field. He really only respected engineering and mathematics. Your degree is in a soft science, hardly a science at all, really. I don't think I can agree that you've met his criteria.”
Logan's face turned red. With an effort, he said, “I've read the trust. The wording simply says I have to graduate in four years. I have. Besides, you've known my major field for two years. If it really wouldn't satisfy the terms, you should have told me long ago.”
Schmitzke grinned, mirthlessly. “It's not my job to babysit you. You were given a copy of the trust. You chose your major field. Not my concern.”
Logan gritted his teeth. There was something terribly wrong. He tried another tack: “Look, Mr. Schmitzke, all you have to do is to release the control of the funds. It's simple.”
“Well, Logan, it's not so easy as all that. However, I assure you I'll take it under consideration. Now I have to meet an important client at the club. I have to go now.”
He quickly rose and strolled out of the room, leaving Logan to show himself out.
Outside, Logan looked around. There was a coffee shop nearby with wireless service. He went in, ordered a mocha, then pulled his laptop out of his backpack.
Once online, he ran a quick search for a different attorney. They all looked about the same. He couldn't make up his mind from the ads, and besides, he didn't want to accidentally choose one who was a friend of Schmitzke.
He finished his coffee, then reached for the computer, but stopped to answer his phone. It was Professor Wolf. He had a question that he wanted to ask.
“Logan, when you first traveled into the past, did you see a flash of light?” he asked.
Logan said, “Uh...well, I – You know that I was under the influence of psychoactive substances for two of my three trips. The third one, I was struck on the head. I'm not sure my memory would be very useful.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Just tell me if there was a flash.”
“I think there was.” He thought for a moment, and added, “Actually both times. I saw a flash when I was hit, but I think it was due to the impact,” Logan replied, trying to visualize the incidents.
He suddenly remembered his current problem. “By the way, Professor, do you know of any reliable lawyers? I've got a legal problem that involves a trust my grandfather left for me.”
Thrown off stride, Professor Wolf, paused a moment, then said, “My daughter is an attorney. She's quite successful. Maybe you could call her?”
“What does she specialize in?” Logan asked. He didn't want to waste time with someone who only dealt with traffic tickets or maybe divorces.
“Uh, I'm not sure,” Wolf said. “I mean, she's told me, but it's not related to physics, so I...I guess I'm not sure. You know, I try to avoid attorneys as much as possible. I think...no, I'm really not sure, but maybe she does general litigation, law suits...that sort of thing, you know? We don't talk about it much. Would you like her number?”
Wolf was obviously thrown off by his request. Logan sighed, then said, “I'll give her a call. Would you please text her number to me? I don't have anything to write on where I am.”
Wolf agreed to text the number as soon as he hung up.
Logan added, “Professor, I've been trying to recall my time trips. I'm pretty sure there was a blurring of my surroundings, it was lighter, but not a real flash, if you get what I'm trying to describe. Things blurred, then grew bright, then I was there, and the environment distracted me from considering what had just happened. It was too different and it took all of my attention.”
“That may be the information I need, Logan. Thank you. I'll let you know how my calculations come out.”
Wolf's phone clicked off, ending the call.
Within a minute, Logan's phone vibrated. The text had arrived. He dialed the number and scheduled the first available appointment with Wolf's daughter.
There had been a cancellation, and she could see him late that afternoon.
Her office was in a small office park on the east side of town. Logan felt better about that. At least she wasn't right downtown in an expensive office next door to Schmitzke. There was a chance that they weren't friends.
He waited in the lobby until she came
out to greet him.
“You must be Logan Walker,” she said, offering her hand. “I'm Ms. Richardson. Let's go to my office. Sorry, but the conference room is a mess right now. There's evidence and depositions scattered all over in there.”
Logan nodded and followed her.
She turned back, and asked, “Want some coffee or a soft drink?”
He accepted a bottle of water. Then they sat in her office. It wasn't luxurious, instead it had the aura of a working office. There were law books opened on the credenza, and several stacks of paper were arranged on her desk.
She took out a pad and a pen, scratched some notes, and asked, “Can I call you Logan?”
Without waiting for his answer, she continued, “Give me an idea of what you want with my service. It doesn't have to be complete, just enough to let me know if we are wasting time or not.”
Logan leaned forward, took a breath and began to tell the story.
“My grandfather, who died six years ago, set up a trust for me. It was supposed to be turned over to me if I could graduate from college in four years or less. I've graduated, but the trust administrator, who is an attorney, says he doesn't have to give the money to me. He's been planning on giving it to a charity. The charity thing was part of the trust document. It says that if I fail to graduate, the money should be donated to charity.”
She looked up, and asked, “How much money?”
Logan answered by pulling out a statement, and pushing it across the desk to her. Her eyes widened as she looked at the bottom line.
“Logan, you're going to be quite wealthy. What grounds did he give for not turning the trust over to you?”
“He says that he has a lot of leeway in interpreting the trust wording and that, since my grandfather was an engineer, he knows he would have been disappointed because I didn't get an engineering or math degree. He said he'd take my request under advisement, but I know he's going to donate the money. It's the only way he can get his hands on it.”
She looked at his face carefully. “That's a serious charge you've just made. What makes you think that he is trying to gain control of the money?”
He pulled out the results of his research and pushed it over to her.
“I'll summarize that so you won't have to go through it all. There was an archaeology professor, George Dameron, who I thought didn't like me. Now I know he was helping Schmitzke, the trust administrator. He was doing everything he could to make sure I didn't graduate.”
She said, “That's the guy who disappeared, right? I heard about that. You said 'Schmitzke' is the attorney?”
He nodded.
She said, “I've never met him, but I know his reputation.” She frowned, seeming to express disapproval. “Go on.”
“I became suspicious. Dameron was having an affair with a student, and I thought I'd research him. Dameron was married to Schmitzke's sister, Janice. That's one connection.
Then I researched the charity that Schmitzke had mentioned. It's called the Student's Democratic Assistance Fund.
That just happens to be run by a Samuel Friedholm. His wife's brother, Jeffrey, is married to Schmitzke's other sister, Rachael.
It took me a while to find, but it's all in public records. Beyond those connections, I don't have any evidence, but it seems to me that they must have been conspiring to get the money.”
He paused, then added, “Oh, I also checked on the SDAF charity. It doesn't have a very good rating. Only about five percent of donations actually go to the recipients. The rest is apparently used for administrative overhead, salaries, and fund raising.”
She nodded, studying his research. Without looking up, she asked, “Do you have a copy of the trust documentation?”
That, too, was in his backpack. She scanned the forty pages, stopping at times to take notes.
“Well, I can help you, in fact, I'm anxious to help. This is the kind of situation that gives attorneys a bad name and I don't like it. Do you have any money for a retainer?”
Logan hesitated. He didn't have much. “Maybe only about a thousand dollars that I earned this summer working for my Dad.”
She smiled, and said, “I'll take half of that for a retainer. That will be enough for now. If we get into a real battle, I may have to charge differently, but that's for later.
What I'm going to do first is write Schmitzke a letter demanding he turn the trust over to you. I'm going to lay out the relationships between the parties and inform him that it looks to me like there's a conflict of interest. If we're lucky, that will be enough. If not, if he wants to fight about it, it could get expensive.
Knowing what I do about him, I think I'll call someone I know who is involved with the state Bar committee. Maybe I can convince him to call Schmitzke and talk to him about this situation. In fact, I may have to file a complaint with the Bar.”
That didn't sound like legal work to Logan. More like some kind of strong-arm tactics. He didn't care as long as it worked.
He rode his motorcycle back toward his apartment, stopping along the way to have a hamburger. Maybe this would work. He certainly hoped so. Meanwhile, he was now free to concentrate on his work with Professor Wolf. Finding Serensaa was uppermost in his mind.
Ms. Richardson called him three days later. “Hi, Logan. Good news. I had to get my friend to lean on Schmitzke. Schmitzke is already facing some other complaints with the Bar. The good news is he's assigned the trust to you. I have the necessary documentation at my office. Can you stop by to sign today?”
It didn't take him more than thirty minutes to walk through her front door. The paperwork didn't take long.
When it was done, she asked, “Now that you're a wealthy man, what are you going to do with the funds?”
Logan had been thinking about it. “I'm going to leave them in the current investment vehicles for a time. I don't want to do anything too quickly. Would you be able to help me with any legal needs I have later?”
“Sure, I can help, but don't ask me to recommend investments. That's outside my area of expertise,” she answered.
“How about I give you, say, ten thousand as a retainer against further work, just so we have our ongoing relationship formalized?” he asked.
She smiled. “That will do nicely. Now here's a checkbook for the primary trust account. You'll need the notarized documents you just signed to prove to the bank that you're now the administrator in addition to the trust beneficiary.”
They shook hands. She said, “It's been a pleasure, Logan. Call me any time you need help or just to check in. I'd be interested to hear how you're doing.”
The motorcycle seemed to float on air as he drove away. Serensaa seemed closer than ever.
Chapter 24: AGAIN, THE FOX
A red Mercedes SL convertible rolled up to the Crystal River dig site. It turned in to a dusty parking space, idled for a moment while the top was raised, then shut off. Logan climbed out. He was dressed in new jeans and a simple tee shirt.
He locked the car and set out across the area. The university tents were gone. The dig had been shut down when Dameron disappeared. It seemed empty and lonely.
He stood in the area where the tribe's fire had been. The sea breeze made whispering noises in his ears and ruffled his hair. The wind suddenly seemed to be full of spirits, all calling to him from down the ages.
Tears came to his eyes. It wasn't the spirits so much as it was a single spirit, a clear and bright one with a streak of craziness running through her that pulled painfully at his heart. He looked at the ground then at the distant seashore, waiting for his vision to clear.
A tingling feeling gradually came over him. He turned, not really expecting anything, but there it was. A gray fox was looking at him from a clump of palms. Logan's breath came short for a moment, then he moved towards the animal.
It watched until he drew close, then backed into the underbrush and vanished. He pushed through the bushes, searching. The fox had disappeared. He wondered if he'd really seen it. It
took several minutes to search through the clump and the brush. There was nothing there.
He returned to the center of the open area, and then walked thoughtfully to his car. There must be something, some way. He felt strongly that the fox had been trying to tell him something important. It couldn't have been the same animal, that was absurd, but still...
He drove around the area for a while. There was a neighborhood nearby. He cruised the streets for lack of any concrete plan. The houses were nice, but not really impressive, despite the fact that most of them fronted on a series of canals that gave access to the Gulf.
Paradox: On the Sharp Edge of the Blade Page 28