Sloane blinked a couple of times before frowning. “An article about how the old tunnels should be declared part of Chicago’s heritage and protected for future generations? Unless they provide an exact map, I don’t see how that is helpful.”
Not answering her quip, Lance zoomed in on the part of the text where a Professor Radcliffe from Chicago University explained the historical value of the infrastructure and how it was a reflection of the city.
“He’s a professor of Urban History. He’s written quite a few papers on the tunnels here in Chicago, and I think that if anyone has the answers, it’s him.”
It was her turn to smile this time, her purpose returning with a vengeance. “Never thought I’d ever say it, but I believe I’m going back to school.”
Chapter 3
Well into the fall semester, the campus at the University of Chicago was bustling with activity. Many students hurried to their next course, or maybe it was the frigid weather that didn’t entice them to enjoy the beautiful surroundings.
Sloane fought the cold to stroll around a bit. Even with the shriveling shrubs and bare trees of November, the clear blue sky framed the prestigious architecture in a stunning landscape.
Eyes scanning the area, she knew that Professor Radcliffe’s office was inside one of the imposing buildings on 59th Street, or more precisely, the Social Science Research Building. After digging into the professor’s schedule, Lance had told her that the professor had several meetings in the mornings, mostly with his graduate students, and only one course in the afternoon. That was the one Sloane wanted to attend.
All her experience as a vice cop and undercover agent told her that knowing your target beforehand could be critical for any mission. She’d hidden her pink hair under a dark blond wig, knowing that older folks, especially scholars, might pre-judge her because of her hair color. It wasn’t a problem to reinvent herself for a mission, and she’d traded the combat gear for high heel boots, donning a deep gray classic peacoat over a navy pantsuit. Polished, classy, but forgettable, a woman who fitted right into this posh environment.
Shivering, Sloane checked her watch and headed for the building. At this time, the good professor was supposed to be in his library at the William Rainey Harper Memorial Library, giving her time to snoop inside his office. The distance between the two points took less than five minutes to walk. She figured it would take the old professor a little longer.
The sudden burst of warmth stung her cheeks when she entered the building, and she removed her leather gloves and put them in her handbag as she walked. Even though it was the first time she’d been there, Sloane entered the building with confidence, and to all outward appearances it looked like she knew where she was going, which made her even more invisible. So many people entered and exited the building, security wouldn’t notice her if she didn’t want them to.
The office was on the second floor, in the middle of the hallway, and as expected, the place was almost empty, with only two students taking the stairs to leave as she arrived. Not spotting any surveillance cameras, Sloane went straight to the door and, with nimble fingers, unlocked it in a matter of seconds.
Once inside, sunlight streamed the room and she whistled at the unexpected decor. Where she’d thought Professor Radcliffe would be conservative with chocolate leather chairs and dusty bookshelves, she instead admired a slick office with clean lines, light wood, and a definite contemporary style.
Several diplomas hung on one wall and beside them, black and white pictures of several cities. She recognized Moscow in one, and Budapest in another. She wasn’t sure where the most beautiful of them had been taken, and couldn’t tell if it was Chicago, but the subject was fascinating. Dark and dirty, but beautiful in showing ugly, decrepit structures, dark holes, and tunnels only lit with a single light beam.
The other wall contained low, suspended shelves and above them, an ancient map of the Chicago tunnels, one she’d used herself for research.
The desk was flanked with chrome cabinets, folders piled high on top of it, pens and pencils scattered about. There was a plug for a laptop, but no computer around.
There were scribbles on a notebook, but Sloane couldn’t discern what was written, guessing that the professor had very poor penmanship. On the other pages, the scribbles had turned into talented drawings. Done with a black pencil, there were building angles, parts of streets in a style that reminded her of the pictures she’d just admired.
It seemed the professor was full of surprises.
Time was running out, and Sloane slid out of the room, comforted that he was probably the well of knowledge she needed. Also, Lance had reminded her that he was their best bet, in fact, maybe the only one they had.
The course was to start in five minutes and as Sloane headed to the lecture hall one floor down, someone slammed hard into her. Instinctively, she reached toward the person in an attempt to avoid slamming her ass onto the marble floor, and the wall of flesh in front of her did the same. Experience made her brace against a potential attacker, but when she looked up, deep brown eyes met her blue ones. The bearded hunk was probably as stunned as she was, clinging to her for dear life, but too soon the hold loosened a bit, although without releasing her completely.
Thoughts flashed inside her mind in less than a second: realizing she should stop staring at him and react, a reminder that she was undercover and should act accordingly.
“Thank you, sir.” The sound of her voice was enough to make him move, steadying her and finally let her go.
Sloane didn’t have to fake being flustered. Now that she could see him from head to toe, she realized she’d probably been bumped into by a grad student, although he wasn’t as young as she’d first thought. He was dressed in dark brown pants with a dark sweater and a black leather jacket and boots.
“I’m so sorry, I’m late for my next course and I was running. Are you all right? That was quite a collision.”
Glad her wig hadn’t moved, Sloane straightened her coat, taking those few seconds to get back on track. “I’m fine. It was an accident, don’t worry about it.”
The student hesitated. “You’re certain?” He stopped himself from reaching for her again and hitched up his leather messenger bag instead.
Sloane didn’t have to look at her watch to know if she didn’t get going, she’d miss Professor Radcliffe’s course. So she smiled. “I’m still in one piece. No harm done.”
As there was nothing else to say, the hunk nodded and jogged away.
With a smile on her face, Sloane watched him until he had disappeared, and with a pang of regret, forced herself to go down to the lecture hall.
Luke hated being late for a lecture, especially since it was a full house, and he didn’t get that many of them during the fall semester. However, rumors of his new course brought a record crowd. He was ready, but a bit anxious. He wished he’d had a minute more to check his notes, but his sudden encounter with a blonde siren had finished sidetracking him.
The blue of her eyes was almost blinding, and her beautiful features had caught him off guard for a moment, especially the feel of her hips against the palms of his hands. Even through the thickness of her coat, it had felt as if he were touching her bare skin.