Blue with Black Dots (The Caprice Trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

She went to the book exchange to get her books but found out she couldn’t collect her pre-ordered books with her name only.  She was told she had to go to the student center circulation room to get her student ID.  She would need some form of identification to retrieve her student ID.  She walked back to her flat to get her passport.  She felt a hair of relief realizing she had her British passport.  She was feeling enough like an outsider that using her American passport would have stacked bricks on a drying foundation.  She went to the student center circulation to retrieve her student card.  There were few cards left but there was no card for her.  She had registered within the week.  Most students had registered months before the beginning of courses.  They had time to mail in recent photos and have their ID cards laminated.  Because she did things out of the usual order, they didn’t have her ID card prepared.  It meant she couldn’t pick up her books, which were already paid for.  She was told it meant she couldn’t borrow books from the library either.  It left her up against a wall.  She was supposed to do all her reading as a way to be active in her lecture with Professor Spice.  But she didn’t have access to her own books.  She wasn’t worried about the other course on her schedule but the textbook and companion piece for Analysis of Corporate Finance with Professor Spice were necessary, otherwise it would slow her down.  She went back to the book exchange to ask about ordering the book, not as a student but as a private person who wanted the books.  To do it she would need proof of affiliation with the University of Strathclyde, student or alumni.  She had a registration form in her purse.  It was good enough.  They ordered the book for her, she charged it to her Agency credit card. 

She still had two weeks to get her books.  She needed a more ready solution.  She was a ghost on campus.  She knew no one.  She had all the drawbacks of being a student without the benefits.  She thought of asking some of her building mates what other possibilities existed.  They were all students, perhaps not in her class but Georgia had been a bona fide university level student before.  She knew there were channels among students themselves—perhaps a former student with an old edition.  She even thought of someone with notes from a prior semester.  It was tough to think about because she was under advice to keep to herself. 
Step Down
would be more manageable from an operations standpoint if she were less involved with other students on campus.  Intelligence activities focused on one simple dynamic, explanation.  Everything had to be explained.  To have friends, she would have to explain things about herself.   She was instructed not to make friends.  Mild acquaintances were her limit.  The Agency didn’t want her coming into close contact with other people because they would ask questions.  If she wasn’t coming home, they would want to know why.  In fact, the fewer people who knew her face and name the better, because she was operating under her real name.  Georgia’s problem to get her hands on the required textbooks played to her advantage.  It kept her out of her flat and away from her flat mates.  The more they saw her coming and going the more they’d get used to seeing it.  If she stopped spending the night in her flat, they’d wonder why.  Instead, Georgia spent her nights in the student library.  Without a student ID she couldn’t borrow books from the library.  But nothing prevented her from using the card catalogue to find the required books and sitting down and reading them.  That’s what she did.  She spent a total of six hours at the campus’ main library taking extensive notes.  Because she couldn’t leave with the book, she had to leave herself enough of an anecdote to recall all of the case studies. 

Georgia made sure to attend her other classes.  They were more relaxed, for more than one reason.  They weren’t as early as her class with Professor Spice and she wasn’t at work.  She had a Quantitative Business Methods class at half passed noon on Tuesday and a Business Statistics class Wednesday evenings.  Then she had a repeat of her Analysis of Corporate Finance lecture with Professor Spice on Thursday mornings.  Even though Professor Spice was a great lecturer, Georgia learned more in her other classes.  Without the stress of trying to become more than a student, she was a good student.  She learned a lot.  Liza told her to find a bright spot.  Ironically, it was her other courses that were the bright spot.  Having to match herself to the handsome professor wasn’t as high stakes as going undercover but it was stressful by definition. 

Thursday morning started off with coffee.  She purchased a percolator for her room.  The kitchen and showers were communal but she kept jugs of water in her room.  She mixed her own brew and kept a mug sitting on the small desk in the corner.  She could hear the other girls stirring.  All bedrooms were on the same side of the flat, the kitchen was on the opposite side.  The bathroom was down the hall.  Georgia avoided using kitchen or bathroom the same time as the other girls.  It was simpler than at Middlesex.  There were only two other apartments in the flat.  That meant only two other girls as oppose to three in Middlesex.  It was a better setup, only two people for her to brush off and ignore—easier than three.  She loaded up on granola bars and bitter chocolate that she had in her suitcases.  She kept a roll of bagels that she had purchased from a near campus store.  She ate her bagels cold to avoid using the toaster, in the kitchen.  She didn’t want to interact with the other girls.  When she stopped spending nights in the flat, the lack of interaction would be nothing new.  She ate one cereal bar, one chocolate bar and one bagel.  She wasn’t concerned with nutrition.  She just wanted a full stomach so it wouldn’t make noises during her early morning lecture.  She thought about her other classes, the Owen Spice-free classes.  She didn’t care if her stomach made noises in her other classes.  She took them for the subject matter.  With Owen Spice, she took the class for the professor.  It wasn’t so different from other students.

She wasn’t the first one in the classroom.  It was 7:15am and there were already five students in the room. Georgia found her third row seat open and sat down.  She took her notepad out of her handbag and gave herself time to look over what was already written.  More and more students began to file into the classroom.  Georgia noticed the increasing number of students but stayed focused on her notebook.  A shadow came closer to her but she thought she would ignore it as it passed by.  The shadow didn’t want to be ignored.  Georgia looked up to see a young man staring down at her. 

“Can I help you?” said Georgia.

“I noticed you’re new to the class,” said the young man, “My name’s Russell.”  Russell held out his hand.

“I think we live in the same building,” said Russell.  Georgia scanned the collection of faces she saw, since moving into her building at the beginning of the week.  Russell was right.  They were in the same building.  His face belonged to one of the three boys huddled on the ground floor of her building the day she moved in.  She had taken a nap then gone out for food.  He was one of the three that stood near the door.  She passed them on her way out. 

“Georgia,” she said, “How do you do?”

“How do you do?” said Russell, “We’ve got a group of study mates together for this class if you’re keen.”

“Um,” said Georgia, “I don’t have my books just yet because I’m a transfer.”

“Oh really,” said Russell, “Where are you transferring from?”

“Middelsex,” said Georgia, “In London.”

“Oh really,” said Russell, “I have a school mate or two studying there.  Strathclyde is supposed to be better but there you’re in London, so you party much more than you study.”

“True,” said Georgia.

“Well,” said Russell, “You’re welcome to join our study group anytime you’re ready.”

“Thank you Russell,” said Georgia, “To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a solo studier.  I just concentrate better that way but we’ll see how it goes.  Let me get a feel for the course and then I’ll be able to make my assessment.”

“No problem,” said Russell, “Let us hear from you.”

“I will,” said Georgia.  Russell walked back toward the other side of the room to sit with a similar-looking young man.  Georgia was instructed to dress like Professor Spice’s ex-wife.  The theory was that whatever attracted Professor Spice to his wife, in the first place, could be triggered at a subconscious level.  It was believed to have a small probability of backfiring because from all accounts, he had split with his wife more for professional reasons not personal ones.  As nearly as could be said, the divorce between Professor Spice and his wife was amicable. 

Georgia was experiencing a side effect.  Her dress wasn’t only appealing to the Professor.  She was getting extra attention as well.  She decided to show Russell that she didn’t really need help from his study group.  Professor Spice walked into the room at 8:28am.  It was the same time he had arrived on Monday.  Georgia’s heart skipped a beat and her throat seemed to tighten making it difficult to breath.  She was prepared for the emotional strain on her body, the shortness of breath.  The Agency had prepared her for it.  She focused on a single object.  For her, it was an orange.  It had to be something simple, like a piece of fruit.  She tried to hold the image of the orange in her mind for ten seconds, thinking of nothing else.  She was successful.  She tried again, this time for fifteen seconds—twenty.  After running the exercise three times her mind was stable.  It became another day at the office.  She saw the bright spot.  If Russell had taken notice of her, not once but twice, then perhaps she was making strides with Professor Spice.  She looked at the tall man standing behind his lectern and thought up one word—trap.

The professor began with a story.  Georgia guessed it was from his days as an MP, just before he admitted as much.  The story was about an English fertilizer company that was struggling under new regulations for chemicals that it could put in its fertilizers.  The company decided to liquidate itself while it thought it could still secure a decent market price.  The company was sued by its shareholders, after paying all its creditors.  The Professor asked the group what would be the top three likely reasons the shareholders would sue.  One astute student said that the company was sued because the shareholders lost the going-concern value of the company, when it decided to liquidate, thereby depriving the shareholders of any future value.  The professor consented that could be a reason.  Georgia listened.  Another student, female, stated that the shareholders weren’t allowed to vote on the liquidation, as Professor Spice said, it was a decision made by the board of directors and management of the company.  The professor also acquiesced that it was a good reason for suing the company.  Not wanting to keep another female student in the professor’s mind, Georgia raised her hand.  The professor called on her, trying to remember her name. 
Miss?
 
Standing
. 

              “I agree with the comments that have been made so far,” said Georgia, “But I would think fair value is fair value.”

“Ok,” said Owen, “Tell us what you mean.”

              “Well,” said Georgia, “One comment was that the shareholders felt they were deprived of the value of the company as a going-concern because of the impromptu liquidation and the other comment was that the shareholders say it should have been put to a vote.  But I would think that before deciding on whether or not you’ve been deprived of fair value or going-concern value or any type of value you would want an accounting of what the fair value of the company is, thereby giving the shareholders a reasonable idea of what their individual stakes are worth.  At that point, they could decide whether the liquidation was warranted or even put it to a vote.  But without knowing the fair value of a company today it seems that the shareholders would want that first before deciding or voting on whether a liquidation makes sense.”

“You’re absolutely correct Miss Standing,” said Owen, “Did everyone get what Miss Standing said?  It is, in fact, the grounds upon which the shareholders were suing.  They said before making a decision to liquidate there should have been and accounting by an outside auditor.  Of course the managers of the company rebutted with the fact that they thought an accounting of the company by an outside auditor would cause needless delay and the impending regulations about chemicals in fertilizers would erode shareholder value.”

“This is just a follow up question,” said Owen, “But whom do you think should pay for the accounting?”  Georgia had proved her point.  She knew the material.  She didn’t want to overdo anything.  In fact, she stayed mostly silent for the rest of the class.  She had to.  Georgia wanted to get the attention of Professor Spice without gaining the suspicion of her classmates.  She didn’t need to be seen as trying to get the professor’s attention.  It could ruin her chances altogether.  The professor might back away from her, if he felt that other students were noticing he was partial.  Georgia wanted him to maintain that impartiality.  She needed to be seen as impartial, as well.  It would make her job easier.  Nothing between her and the professor could seem mechanical.  It all had to be organic.  That was her job.  The mechanics had been planned out by the Agency.  They weren’t stepping on her toes, so she wouldn’t step on theirs.  Georgia was just another student who knew her material.  That was it.