Page 17 of The Presidents Shadow

“University IDs or security passes,” he says.

“We have an appointment to see Dr. Atticus Henry,” I say.

“Certainly,” the guard says. “I just need to see your IDs or passes.”

Tapper to the rescue. Cool and confident, he begins. “Well, Dr. Henry didn’t tell us we needed…”

But I don’t want a delay. I can’t wait for Tapper to win his verbal debate with the guard. I’d better take care of this. I enter a mind-control manipulation. Tapper hasn’t even finished his sentence when the guard says, “Very well, Mr. Cranston. Dr. Henry is expecting you. If you like, I can call a Harvard guest leader to accompany you. That way, if you’re new to the campus—”

“No, thank you,” I say.

We walk north through Harvard Yard.

The sun is hiding behind some very gray clouds, and the air seems muggier than it was just a few minutes ago. The crowd of students, tourists, and residents seems, oddly quieter.

“Does anyone else hear that?” asks Hawkeye. “A splashing,sort of. It’s like a bunch of kids have jumped into the river and decided to fool around.”

“I bet that’s exactly what it is,” says Tapper. “Kids will be kids, if you can recall.”

Hawkeye shakes his head ruefully. “Not really.”

We keep walking, intent on meeting Dr. Henry.

CHAPTER 22

THE CROWD THICKENS, then begins to move a little faster. The odd splashing sound is still in the air, and the sky begins to darken. All around us, young people have stopped to stare up at the sky, talking excitedly to one another. There’s a sudden swell in the crowd, and it grows, becomes more jostling, as it seems everyone who was down by the river is now running away from it.

“Is something weird going on?” asks Tapper.

“I have no idea,” I say. And, in fact, I don’t.

The crowd grows as it gets closer to us and starts to move faster, packed, touching, polite but pushing and jockeying around for openings that don’t exist.

“Joey!Come on,” a young woman next to me yells. There’s real impatience in her voice. And maybe a touch of… fear?

The crowd is growing bigger, thicker. Now it’s like a bunch of people herding together to get into a movie theater or a ball game, blocking our way.

“Lamont!” Tapper yells over the crowd, but we’re being pushed away from each other.

“Meet up at Dr. Henry’s office,” I yell, hoping that Hawkeye can hear me as well. I can’t see him anymore.

Now everyone in the crowd has noticed the change in the weather. A pleasant springlike day has turned into a heavy, humid tropical jungle. Everyone is hot. Everyone is sweating.

I turn to a young man trying to squeeze past me.

“Where is everyone going?” I ask him.

“Right now, we’re just trying to move away from the river,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, remembering the splashing sound. Is this some kind of party gone wrong?

“Because ofthat,” he says, pointing to the horizon.

Some kind of fog is floating up from the river, choking out Harvard Yard.

“That looks like steam,” I say.

“The river is boiling!” a woman screams, her voice carrying in the dense air.

---