Page 39 of Absent Remorse

“I told you,” Simon said. “I’m Agent Phelps, with the FBI.”

“FBI?” It seemed to take several seconds before the meaning of the letters registered with the former professor. Instead of responding, though, he staggered off, back in the direction of the living area.

“Hey, wait!” Simon said. “I need to talk to you. I want to ask you some questions.”

“Questions, questions…” Quern stumbled around into the living area. “Everyone has questions. Why are you setting all these puzzles? Why are you drunk for a tutorial again? Why did the Anglo-Saxon letter thorn die out and get briefly replaced with a y? Why, why, why?”

Simon latched onto just one of those questions. “Tell me about puzzles, Professor. Do you like puzzles? Do you make them?”

Professor Quern seemed to be ignoring him, though, going over to the screens and setting the cameras going. Simon saw himself on the screens along with the other man.

“This… is another episode of the drunken professor,” Professor Quern slurred, staggering back out of shot for a moment or two before coming back into it. “The FBI are here! I think they’re going to arrest me! Are you going to arrest me, Mr. FBI?”

“I’m here to ask you some questions,” Simon said. “I’m told that you’re an expert on ancient and obscure languages.”

“Notanexpert.Theexpert!” Professor Quern said, jabbing a finger into the air. He almost fell over with the movement. “There is no language set that I haven’t at least seen.”

Meaning he was potentially well placed to have come up with the symbols for the puzzles.

“They told me at the university that you were fired,” Simon said.

“Notfired. I had tenure! Ichoseto leave when they axed my course. They said that my behavior was… was unprofessional!”

Simon could see the anger there in the other man’s expression. Was it enough anger that Professor Quern might have started killing because of it?

“What exactly did you do?” Simon asked.

“Nothing! Practically nothing, anyway. Just a few puzzles, a few quizzes that my students couldn’t get right! I told them that it would count towards their final grades. I told them that they needed to prepare, but could they manage acrostics in ancient Aramaic? No!”

Simon looked at the screen beyond the professor. Reactions to his attempts to stream his questioning were running down the side. So far, it seemed his audience were enjoying the chaos of it.

“And why are youhere?” Simon asked, gesturing to the warehouse.

“A question that torments us all, but none may answer,” the professor replied. “Wife threw me out. Said I’d ruined things by giving up my post. God, I need a drink.”

Simon suspected that was the last thing he needed.

“I started doingthisjust to survive. I decided I could lecture anywhere, and people seem to like my take on ancient languages.”

Simon imagined it had more to do with watching a professor who was clearly drunk so much of the time.

“Which reminds me,” the professor said. “Can any of my chat tell me whatthis

translates as?”

He held up a handwritten sheet of what looked like Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Was that a coincidence, or was this his way of taunting Simon with the similarity to the puzzle?

“Professor, can you focus?” Simon asked. “Do the names Aiden Merr, Alicia Greening, Amy-Rose Ferne or Amanda Grieder mean anything to you?”

“Names, who cares about names?” the professor said. “Wait… Merr, wasn’t he a donor at the university, or some such? Horrid little man.”

The professor had a connection to Aiden Merr? Simon found himself wondering about the others, wondering where exactly they’d gone to college, or if they might have come into contact with Quern somewhere else.

“Professor Quern, can you turn the camera off, please?” Simon said. He didn’t like trying to question the other man in the middle of a livestream.

“But my audience, my viewers!” Professor Quern complained.

Simon went to turn the cameras off, but the professor got in his way, pushing him back hard enough that the professor almost fell over with the effort. He pointed an accusing finger at Simon.

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