Dangerous Minds (Knight and Moon #2)(13)

“I can’t get this dang thing out,” Vernon said. “It got wedged between something in there. Offhand I’d say Tin Man got a mean streak.”

“We aren’t sure Tin Man did this,” Riley said. “It could have just been a random maniac.”

Emerson handed the Tesla key fob to Riley, and an iPad to Wayan.

“What is this?” Wayan asked.

“It’s an iPad,” Emerson said. “I loaded Angry Birds onto it for you.” He motioned to the car. “Everyone in. The game is afoot.”

Riley looked over at Emerson. “You said that two nights ago.”

“I like saying it,” Emerson said. “It’s one of my favorite things to say. The game is afoot. The game is afoot.”

Wayan Bagus and Vernon got into the back seat, and Vernon leaned forward.

“Where are we going?”

“George Mason University,” Emerson said. “I have some questions to ask the vulcanologist.”

Vernon grinned. “Well, shoot, Emerson, it’s about time. Course, them scientists living in their ivory towers don’t know anything but theories. I’ve got what you call practical experience.”

Riley put the car into gear and drove down the driveway. “Vernon, do you know what a vulcanologist studies?”

“I sure do.” He ear-muffed Wayan Bagus. “It’s all about lady parts.”

“A vulcanologist studies volcanoes,” Emerson said. “You’re thinking of a vulva-ologist. And also, there’s no such thing.”

“Well, shoot. That’s disappointing.” Vernon removed his hands from Wayan Bagus’s ears and turned to his cellphone. “Emmie, I got another one of them emails threatening to sue us for defamatory comments in the blog.”

“Who’s threatening to sue us this time?”

“Government lawyers. They didn’t like the entry I posted last night.” He grinned. “It was awesome. I called it ‘Death Parks: Fact or Fiction?’ They say I’m causing irreparable damage to the reputation of the national parks and inciting panic.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard from Tin Man,” Riley said. “Shocking that he didn’t sneak into your RV and whack your laptop with his hatchet.”

Emerson looked over at her. “I suspect you made your statement in jest, and while it was a humorous thing to say, there is an underlying element of perhaps.”

“Perhaps what?” Riley asked.

“Vernon’s blog goes out at midnight. Two hours later someone inserted a hatchet into the hood of your car. Perhaps it was Tin Man. Think about it.”

“Okay, I might consider the possibility of a connection, but why me?” Riley said. “I didn’t write the stupid blog.”

“Perhaps he decided you were a good target,” Emerson said. “You separated yourself from the pack.”

“Yeah, and it would have been a bitch to stick a hatchet in the Maybach,” Vernon said. “That thing’s built like a tank.”

“I need to report the hatcheting to the police,” Riley said. “My insurance company is going to want a police report.”

“Waste of time,” Emerson said. “I’ll trade this car for your Mini. I can use the Mini for a lawn ornament. I like the addition of the hatchet.”

“I have destroyed the greedy pigs’ defenses,” Wayan Bagus said. “I have secured the survival of the angry birds.”

“That’s good, Little Buddy,” Vernon said. “Let’s see what you do when I bump you up a level.”

“Child’s play,” Wayan Bagus said. “I am the master of this game.”

Thirty minutes later Riley pulled into the Exploratory Hall parking lot at George Mason. A large, modern-looking brick building with a wetlands area behind it and a greenhouse on the roof, Exploratory Hall housed the Department of Atmospheric, Oceanic, and Earth Sciences.

Wayan set his iPad aside and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Am I to be the Dalai Lama today?” he asked.

“It’s not in my game plan,” Emerson said, leading everyone across the parking lot and into the building.

Vernon looked around. “I always knew some day I’d get to college . . . and here I am.”

“It’s vastly overrated,” Emerson said, stopping at the elevator, tapping the up button. “It’s far better to be born rich.”

“Contentment is the greatest wealth,” Wayan Bagus said. “It is better to be born contented.”

“Do we know where we’re going?” Riley asked.

“I want to talk to Professor Marion White,” Emerson said. “She’s on the third floor, and she’s currently having office hours.”

Marion White was at her desk when Emerson knocked on her open door. She was in her midthirties with dark brown hair pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck. A sliver of red tank top peeked out from under the deep V-neck of her white lab coat. The tank top showed a couple inches of cleavage.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” Emerson asked. “I have some questions about mantle plumes.”

“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” Marion said, and she gestured toward some chairs surrounding her desk.

Her office was small and filled with books, papers, and various lava rocks. Scaled-down models of volcanoes covered a folding table set against one of the walls. Charts and maps and whiteboards covered most of the wall space.