Dark Deceptions Read Online Free PDF Page A

Confederates march into Pennsylvania.”
    “Right,” Nash said, nodding encouragingly, his beeper practically dancing against his hip. “Then what?”
    “General Meade kicks his ass,” Reggie Fenderman said, accompanied by general laughter.
    “I don’t know that I’d have chosen those exact words, but you’re right. The Army of the Potomac did indeed defeat Lee at Gettysburg
     in July 1863. Which, as we know, changed the course of the war. And tomorrow, we’ll find out why. For today, time’s up.” He
     nodded at the students, reaching down to shut off the insistent electronic device. Damn technology.
    Three giggling coeds waited at the foot of the dais. “Professor Brennon? We have a couple of questions.”
    He groaned inwardly. It wasn’t that he didn’t welcome inquiring minds, but these three were more about chatting up the prof.
     “Ladies, you know I’d love nothing better than to stay here and discuss the war with you, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting.”
    Emmett appeared in the doorway, assessing the situation with a mocking grin. When Nash had started teaching American history
     eight years ago, enrollment had jumped 25 percent—most of them female, much to the amusement of his colleagues.
    “They’re getting younger every year.” Emmett grinned.
    “Don’t remind me.” Nash closed his briefcase and shrugged into his jacket. “I got a pair of panties in the mail last week.
     Jesus, you’d think they’d be more interested in guys their own age.”
    “Hey, you’re our resident rock star,” Jason said, joining them as they walked down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of
     another classroom.
    Nash was currently chairman of the history department, and his dissertation on the role of espionage during the Cold War was
     considered, by some, the preeminent document on understanding various intelligence strategies used by both the United States
     and the U.S.S.R.
    “Tomorrow, your essays on Lenin are due,” Hannah was saying from a lectern at the front of the room. Her dark hair was cut
     short, strands spiking in every direction. “And starting next week, we’ll begin our discussion on Trotsky and the effect he
     had on the communist movement in Russia, so I’ll expect you all to have read the text. And, Martin, that means you.”
    Ignoring the resulting laughter, she quickly strode to the back of the room. “I swear to God, next year I’m going to petition
     to teach Western civ. It’s got to be a hell of a lot easier than trying to get this lot to understand the differences between
     communism, fascism, and democracy. So what’s with the summons?”
    “No idea,” Emmett said, still limping a bit from his injury in Southeast Asia. “Text just said to head downstairs.”
    “I’m betting it’s Avery,” Nash said as they walked out of Fischer Hall into the bright May sunshine.
    Sunderland College was located in central New York not far from the Connecticut border. Surrounded by rolling hills, stately
     farms, and vast nature preserves, the ivy-clad institution, founded in 1823, was a liberal arts college of the highest reputation.
     Nationally ranked among small colleges, Sunderland drew some of the greatest minds in the country. And serious students flocked
     to the tree-lined, bucolic campus to learn from the very best. There was even a joke that the reason the trees had lights
     in them was so that the squirrels could study at night. Which Nash had to admit had a certain ring of truth.
    “Great,” Emmett sighed. “Just when I was getting through to them about the subtle nuances of inflation, Avery calls. Every
     time my TA takes over, the upper-level classes regress at least a month.”
    “You should choose your TA more carefully next time,” Jason said, waving at Tyler, who had emerged from the humanities building.
    Teaching assistants were a way of life at Sunderland, particularly for those professors who were a part of the Aaron Thomas
     Academic Center.