Part 4: To find an OED

"Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
To the rose garden." - T.S. Eliot

Last summer

The campus was a quieter beast than usual as Dr. Marc Bowden, professor of Engineering, rushed through the campus of Georgetown University. Bowden was a medium weight man about five foot nine, with unruly black hair, and soft gray eyes that caused some people to think that they had met him before. He was a professor of engineering at the university, and usually didn't pay much attention to his attire. Today, he was wearing blue slacks and a white shirt with tiny purple triangles in the background. He also gave the impression as being a student, as he carried a blue backpack, carried only by his left arm.

Bowden was meeting his book club friend for restaurant near campus. Bowden was running a bit late, because he didn't have a class after 10 am today, and had gone back to his office intending to grade some papers but had fallen asleep at his desk.

Summers always made him feel lazier than usual. This was one of the reasons that he always tried to have projects during the summer. With an I.Q. of 182, and two doctorates, Bowden had a tendency sometimes to get very bored if he wasn't really doing anything to keep his mind busy. Unfortunately, two weeks into the summer and he hadn't started a project yet. The spring semester had seemed to flow by, and then he had to prepare for his summer classes, and side projects had slipped his mind.

Dr. William Reid, professor of Russian Literature, was already waiting for his friend, reading a book at one of the tables. Dr. Reid was a tall man, who had once seemed lanky but in recent years had been growing portly due to age, and the content of his third marriage. His brown hair was cut very short, almost in a buzz cut, and his soft brown eyes were framed by very small and stylish black framed glasses. He was dressed in a tailored black designer suit, probably picked out for him by his wife, though it was wrinkled and seemed a bit like he slept in it.

"Aww, Marc. Did you know my son had a thesis published here? I just found it at the bookstore." William said looking up, and setting his glasses down on the table.

Marc sat down across from his friend. "Edward? I didn't even know he knew how to write." Marc had met William's two children, Edward and Penelope, and they were both bratty and spoiled teenagers. Their mother was a bit of a spoiled high shot journalist, so it hadn't surprised Marc when her children had similar temperaments.

The waiter came and brought them both glasses of ice tea, and bowls of soup. William had ordered while he had been waiting, but it didn't surprise Marc since the first person that arrived for lunch would order. Both he and William were creatures of habit and ordered the same things most of the time; it was also the reason they usually they had lunch at the same time each week on the same day at the same restaurant.

"Enjoy gentleman." The waiter said, giving them both a smile before heading off.

William chuckled. "No, not Peter. If that boy ever does something productive I would probably have a heart attack. No, my eldest son, Spencer."

Marc took a sip of his ice tea. "I didn't know you had any more children, you have never mentioned him."

William tilted his head slightly. "It is possible I never did. The divorce with his mother was a bit nasty, and in a way I am sure he thought I abandoned him when I abandoned his mother. I haven't really talked to him in seventeen years. I keep track of him always intending to, but I don't know what to say to him."

"What is his thesis on?" Marc asked, sensing that William probably didn't really want to talk about the situation with Spencer's mother. Marc wasn't one to press things.

"Oh, you'll like it, it's in one of your fields." William handed Marc the book.

It was Marc held the book he knew his project. He would find as much as he could about his friend's son, maybe even secretly contacting him to let the young man know that his father missed him and wanted to talk to him. Marc didn't know once he saw the picture of Spencer, he fell madly in love with the handsome face. Finding all the information that Spencer was perhaps smarter, and had beaten a lot of Marc's boasted of records only intrigued him more.

"Trouble is only opportunity in work clothes." – Henry J. Kaiser

Present Day

Derek Morgan impatiently consulted his watch as he entered the third store. He hadn't realized it would be this difficult to find a copy of the Oxford English Dictionary. The team had lucked out because Prentiss had a copy, but trying to find another copy was proving to be a hassle.

This was the last store on his list, though. The team had divided up the list of bookstores in D.C. and nearby cities to try to find a copy. They had assumed that a copy from the library, one, wouldn't be acceptable, and two, would probably all be labeled as reference so couldn't be removed from the library.

It was such an odd request for dictionaries instead of money. Though if it was money, the team would probably go to any means possible to try and get Spencer back. He was a priceless commodity. The book ransom though made Morgan a little fearful that something may have already happened to Spencer.

He walked quickly to the reference, almost bumping into a scholarly looking man flipping through Russian dictionaries. Morgan thought for a second the man reminded him of Spencer, but decided his mind was playing tricks on him.

Morgan found a copy of the OED, and had his hand to pull it off the shelf when a teenager with dyed-blue hair grabbed it. She had slipped by him when he had been looking at the guy, and was chewing gum and dressed like someone from the Tokyo Street scene.

"Hey little girl, I need that." Morgan told her, as she started to walk away.

The girl seemed bored, and blew a bubble with her gum. "You don't look like the nerd type, my father over there is."

The man looked up. He saw Morgan's badge clipped to his waist, gun holster, and anxious expression and gave him a soft apologetic smile. "Give the man the book, Penelope. I already have a copy of that anyway."

"I thought you needed another copy, dad." She said whined. She seemed to only have wanted the book because she saw Morgan reach for it, and didn't really care about it.

Morgan was surprised at her name, and didn't think it suited her. She was a spoiled brat. Much to mean to share the same first name as Garcia. "I really do need the book." He kept his voice calm, trying not to treat her like a suspect.

The man eyes dropped a little, a stern frown appearing on his face and for a second his expression almost seeming like the one Spencer made when he was disappointed. Morgan discounted it though; figuring other people had the exact same expression.

"Penelope! Just give the man the book. You knew when you grabbed it I didn't need it. You need to realize you can't have everything you want." The man said softly.

She handed the book to Morgan roughly. "Fine. I am telling mom, you are being mean to me again."

"Thank you." Morgan gave her a soft smile.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Morgan said quickly, walking by to go pay for the book.