Crossing Savage Read Free

Scotch.
    The bartender took Jeremy’s order and promptly placed a gin and tonic in front of him. Jeremy continued to skim through the paper and sip his drink. It had been a long day. He would get to his email in due time, but for now he intended to enjoy his drink and newspaper.
    He came to the international section, which was mostly a collection of one-paragraph pieces picked off the wire services. A story on the lower right corner of the page caught his eye:
    Body Found at London Ritz
    The body of a man, believed to be a hotel guest, was discovered at the Ritz at Piccadilly Circus. According to London police the cause of death is still under investigation, but early reports suggest the man died of ricin poisoning.
    Jeremy was no biochemist, but he was pretty sure ricin was not a substance someone was likely to encounter in daily life. The deceased had been identified as Professor Mark Phillips of Georgia Tech in Atlanta.
    Jeremy read the name again, thinking he had surely made a mistake. After all, he was tired and was on his second drink. But he had made no mistake. There it was, in black and white— Mark Phillips .
    â€œNo, that can’t be…”
    Mark Phillips was a friend and long-time colleague. They often met at conferences, and Mark had offered to host Jeremy’s family should they ever wish to vacation in the States. In fact, Jeremy had expected Mark to be at this conference.
    Mark… dead? How could he come in contact with ricin? It just didn’t make any sense.
    Jeremy was stunned. His arms collapsed to the bar with the crumpled newspaper still clenched tightly in his fists. He stared at the story.
    The bartender approached. “Is everything all right, sir?”
    Jeremy seemed to not hear the bartender as he stared in silence at the crumpled paper.
    â€œSir, may I get anything for you?”
    He looked up from the newspaper but not at the bartender. “No. I’m fine.”
    Jeremy continued to nurse his drink. His thoughts went back to his many visits with Mark. They had first met years before at a conference on petroleum exploration. Mark and Jeremy hit it off from the beginning. They often enjoyed discussing their work; Mark was passionate about his theories on abiogenic oil formation—the theory that oil is not derived solely from dead plant and animal material but is also a product of inorganic reactions. Jeremy was part of a small group within British Energy that shared similar ideas.
    In fact, that was why Jeremy was here at the Hedberg Conference. Tomorrow morning he was scheduled to present a paper discussing recent progress on correlating significant new oil-producing fields with predictions from the abiogenic group.
    My paper, yes . Jeremy glanced at his watch—it was almost 8:00 P.M. He decided to finish his drink and go back to his room and try to sleep. Suddenly, Jeremy felt very, very tired.

    Jeremy woke the next morning, five minutes before his alarm. He felt rested despite being upset by Mark’s death. He would contact Mark’s family when he returned to London. This morning, he needed to focus on presenting his paper. He dressed quickly in a gray suit and white shirt with a golden-yellow patterned tie.
    He was scheduled to present his paper in a special breakout session focused on abiogenic theories of oil and gas production. With the theories no longer cast off as nonsense, the professional community now allowed for a small portion of the mainstream conference to be devoted to this rather unorthodox collection of hypotheses.
    Jeremy walked confidently into the meeting room. It was still early; the session would not begin for fifteen minutes. At the front of the conference room was a small stage, elevated maybe twelve inches from the floor, containing a podium in the center with a table and four chairs to its left. The first group of three speakers along with the session chairman would be seated at the table.
    Since Jeremy was scheduled to be