Wyl shuddered at the remaining phantom sensation of Ailbe's touch. He didn’t like being touched by any man except Rod. “Wow…so this isn’t only grading papers, it’s also production.”
“Right. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t deserve an A,” Ailbe said.
Wyl grasped Ailbe's end goal. The projects all dovetailed, but the true viability is determined only after the student works are combined. “Sounds interesting. I’m eager to check more projects.”
“Let’s take a walk.” Ailbe led Wyl down the hall to the lab. “Here is where we do much of our programming work.” The well-lit lab included 30 Mac computers.
“This is quite a setup.” Wyl studied one of the computers. “What are the specs on the Macs?”
“The best money can buy,” Ailbe boasted. “i7’s, with 64 gigs of RAM and 2 terabytes of flash storage. These computers can handle everything.”
“Impressive,” Wyl said. “Connection?”
“Running through the campus network, of course. This lab includes a dedicated fiber connection with a 10-gigabyte pipe. All thirty computers can access the web at the same time.”
Wyl never entered such a well-equipped lab outside US government facilities. "I'm happy to help the students achieve their goals.”
“We’ll begin project input next week,” Ailbe said. “This week, you and I will review each submitted project to ensure they are error-free. Next week, I’ll have them all in the lab putting their projects together and working to ensure everything goes as planned. By the 28th, they’ll have completed the data entry, and we can do a trial run of the project.”
The 28th for a trial run? Wyl thought. The 29th is the day he plans to launch the cyberattack.
“Well, let’s start with lunch,” Wyl said. “Where are you taking me?”
“We have a decent canteen here on campus,” Ailbe said. “We can grab a couple of sandwiches and come back to my office for a chat over lunch.” Ailbe winked as he said the word chat.
“Chat, eh?” If Ailbe wanted to play a game, Wyl must play along. “After our chat, I can delve into more projects.”
“Follow me,” Ailbe said.
“Lead the way.” Wyl figured Ailbe thought he was a pushover, precisely what he wanted him to think.
* * *
O’Brien strolled down the hallway of the Arts Millennium Building on the Galway University campus. Reaching his destination, he tapped the doorframe of Declan Knowlan’s office.
Declan glanced up from his desk. “Yes, sir?”
“Mr. Knowlan, I’m Chief Superintendent O’Brien of Garda. Might I have a word with you?” A brief flash of alarm showed in Declan’s eyes.
Declan forced a smile and stood. “By all means, Chief Superintendent. Won’t you come in and have a seat?” He motioned toward the chair before his desk.
“Thank you.” O’Brien entered the office and sat in the comfortable cloth chair.
“What can I do for you?” Declan occupied himself, straightening the papers on his desk before he sat and gazed at O’Brien.
“Mr. Knowlan, may we have a private conversation?” O’Brien nodded his head toward the open door.
“Aye. Let me close the door.” Declan moved around the desk to shut his office door. “Now, what warrants your visit?”
“I’ll come straight to the point, Knowlan,” O’Brien said. He dropped the familiar Mr. from his name. “Phone records show MacGowan telephoned you at unusual times within twenty-four hours of each of the suspicious student deaths. I need you to tell me about the nature of those phone calls, and in return, I might consider a deal.”
“And what makes you think I have anything unusual to report?” Declan perched his butt on the corner of his desk, one foot dangled with the other foot planted on the floor, remaining above O’Brien in a superior position.
“Knowlan, you and MacGowan have a habit of talking on the telephone every afternoon. On two occasions, you connected for a brief morning conversation.”
“I assume you have recordings of these conversations, Chief?” Declan folded his arms across his chest.
“No, but the coincidence between the two calls and the two murders is something I want to follow up on.” O’Brien removed the small notebook and pencil from his pocket. He flipped open the notebook and wrote.
“Chief, on both occasions, Dr. McGowan’s lab experienced connection problems. He called to find out if my campus encountered similar difficulties. A simple yes or no question needs no further explanation. I fail to understand how a quick phone call is tied to a criminal investigation.” Declan glared at O’Brien, his brow furrowed and his jaw set.
“I assume you reported these problems to your IT department?” O’Brien asked.
“Chief, a temporary outage requires no trouble ticket or IT involvement.”
“I understand…” O’Brien made notes.
“Chief, if you have an accusation, make it. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.” Declan stood to open the door.
“Very well.” O’Brien folded his notebook and stuffed it and the pencil into his pocket before heaving his ample frame from the office chair, huffing as he stood. He stopped in the doorway and faced Declan. “I’m watching you, Knowlan. Coincidences are never coincidental.” He paused. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
O’Brien turned and left.
* * *
Back in Ailbe’s office, they sat to enjoy their lunch. Wyl sat in front of the desk, with Ailbe in his usual seat.
“So, how long have you been gay?” The crinkle of waxed paper crowded Ailbe’s words.
