“Ten researchers, all with class-5 funding have now met … unfortunate fates.”
Arianne’s left eye winced. A conspiracy? This was getting far too deep into Administration dealings.
“Er, I’m happy to help, you know, but -.” she said.
“You have been chosen because you knew Professor Golden, because you were asleep for all the recorded murders, and because we need to keep this matter … DISCRETE!”
The bells of the cathedral rang out, while confetti made from seven hundred funding submissions poured from its windows. Jets of blue flame leapt from the Rector’s raised hands and engulfed the falling paper to the cries of the latest shriek-wolf.
“Will you assist?”
Arianne glanced to her left to a statue of a demonic owl sitting in a nest of shredded top-flight journal papers.
“I guess I can lend a hand.” Arianne said.
“Professor Long will tell you more.”
Arianne turned to leave.
“Oh, and one more thing - the Administration would like this dealt with quickly. If you would like to progress at all in your career, you would be wise to act fast. You have 100 years.”
Space-bollocks, thought Arianne, and legged it for the door.