Ainslie was confused. "Is this organization something, or someone, that I know?"
"I don't think so. The person most concerned is the chairman of the board of trustees of South Florida University." Figueras consulted a paper on his desk. "His name is Dr. Hartley Allardyce. Would you be agreeable to a meeting?"
Life was full of unexpected twists and turns, Ainslie reflected. He answered, "What can I say but yes?"
6
"This may surprise you, Dr. Ainslie," Hartley Allardyce said, "but we've been talking about you a lot at our university ever since your talents and background became so widely known."
"Yes, it surprises me," Ainslie said. "Lately, almost everything surprises me."
It was three days after his conversation with Major Mark Figueras. Now Ainslie and Allardyce were at dinner together at Miami's downtown City Club. Ainslie found it strange to be called "Doctor." Though it was valid scholastically, he had not heard it spoken aloud for years, and even as a priest he hadn't used it. In these present circumstances, though.. .
Dr. Allardyce, who seemed to enjoy talking, continued, "The public loves a local hero, always has, and you became one when you solved those hideous crimes. The bonus was that you did it intellectually, using scholarly knowledge, which is why you're so admired by educators, myself included."
Ainslie smiled self-consciously and murmured thanks.
Waving the interruption aside, Allardyce went on, "What has happened to you, in terms of becoming a public figure, could not have occurred at a more opportune time both for me and for others whom I represent. And, I hope, for you."
Hartley Allardyce was as impressive an individual as his name implied. He was silver-haired, handsome, and deeply tanned, with a confident manner and a buoyant smile. He had been born to wealth, then had enlarged it as the head of an international investment fund, enriching others also. At the same time he was passionately interested in higher education, hence the South Florida University connection.
"I've been chairman of the SFU trustees for six years," he explained, "and in all that time have wanted to develop a lecture program on comparative religions. We have a Department of Religion and Philosophy, of course, but it doesn't deal with comparatives to the extent I'd like."
Allardyce paused as a waiter served their main course, filet mignon with bearnaise sauce. "By the way, I hope you like this wine. It's an Opus One, originated by two of the world's great vintners Robert Mondavi in the Napa Valley and the late Philippe de Rothschild in Bordeaux. Do try it."
"It's superb," Ainslie reported, and it was. He had heard of the famous wine, though on a detective-sergeant's pay he could never have afforded it.
"Let me get to the point," Allardyce said, "as to why you're here. Most university students these days are opting for the hot-action areas of education: business, medicine, law, and engineering. But I'd like to show our young people the value of studying comparative religions.
"Diverse religions say so much far more than conventional history about the times in which people live, and their state of mind in every age and society; their fears, hopes, and pleasures; what they dread, consciously and subconsciously, with death always high on the list; and whether there's anything beyond death, or merely oblivion no doubt the greatest fear of all. Do have more wine, Dr. Ainslie."
"Thank you, no. I'm doing fine. But before we go any further, there's something I want to say."
"The. last thing I wish is to monopolize. Please go ahead."
"Something you ought to know, Dr. Allardyce, is that while I'm fascinated by comparative religions and always have been, I do not believe in any of them. Haven't for a long time."
"I already knew that," Allardyce said, "and it makes no difference. It may even make you more objective. You're sure about no more wine?"
"Quite sure, thank you."
'So the reason I've brought you here is that I have, just recently, raised enough money to build a new Religion and Philosophy Center on campus. A good deal of it comes from a personal friend who is on the point of pledging several million Dollars. However, since reading about you and your unique qualifications, my friend has added a condition to the gift. In addition to the building, there'll be an endowment for a professor in comparative religions, to be described as a distinguished scholar. The point is, Dr. Ainslie, my friend wants you."
Ainslie's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Totally."
"May I ask who your friend is?"
Allardyce shook his head. "Sorry! Sometimes wealthy donors prefer to stay anonymous; nowadays there are good reasons. Anyway, the commitment on the university's part would initially be for three years, and the annual stipend would be one hundred thousand Dollars. Forgive me for bringing up money, but it's necessary sometimes."
There were several seconds of silence before Ainslie said, "I can forgive you for that, Doctor. And perhaps, after all, I will have more wine."
"There'll be a few formalities," Allardyce said momerits later. "Though nothing you can't handle."
* * *
Karen was thrilled about the pending appointment. "Oh, honey go for it! It's so right for you. You're an authority on the subject, and you're so good at teaching. I haven't told you this, but after what happened at City Hall, I phoned Ruby Bowe to say thank you for me, and for Jason. Among other things, she told me how the younger detectives appreciate what you've taught them, and how they all respect you."
He reminded Karen, "There are some more interviews I have to go through before the offer's firm."
"You'll sail through them."
* * *
A succession of interviews took place, the most important with the university's provost, Dr. Gavin Lawrence~uiet spoken and small in stature, but with a firm no-nonsense presence. The provost, with a file open in front of him, looked up from it and commented, "You're certainly academically prepared to go this route."
"There's one thing I have to make sure you know." Ainslie repeated the nonbelief declaration he had made to Allardyce.
"That's in here, too." The provost touched the file. "Hartley wrote a report, saying he appreciated your honesty. So do I, and I agree it's not a barrier." Lawrence leaned back, bringing his fingertips together as he spoke. "Actually, I hear rumors that some of our religion and philosophy professors have discovered their faith waning as they've accumulated more knowledge, of which in religion there's been a great deal these past two decades. That happens sometimes, don't you think?"
"It happened to me."
"Well, it makes no difference here, because we simply don't ask about the religious leanings of our faculty. What we do care about, of course, is scholarship and honest teaching. I trust that's clear."
Ainslie nodded. "Perfectly."
"There's something else we'd ask of you. From time to time we would like you to give public lectures on your subject. I think, with your name, you'd draw quite a crowd, and since we charge admission..." The provost smiled benignly.
As to Ainslie's three-year commitment, "At the end, if everything has worked well, there might be a faculty opening, or some other institution might want you. It's always a help if students like you, and I have a feeling they will. The students really are the key.
"There's one final thing," the provost said. "Tell me a bit about how you would teach comparative religions."
Ainslie was startled. "I've done no preparation . . ."