Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(95)

“Eliot.”

“—and many in the department feel as though you have been too selective in your internship program. Dr. Carrey, for example.”

“The one whose son was rejected last year,” Eliot said. The math professor had called Eliot to beg for his child’s acceptance. That conversation had not gone well.

“That’s right.” Patterson did not meet Eliot’s eyes. “Many here take his side.”#p#分页标题#e#

“Good for them.”

“And many have noticed that you have not visited your internship program in Budapest at all since its inception.”

“I manage the students remotely.”

“Some say you don’t manage at all.” Patterson breathed heavily, as though under a great weight.

“I have tried to do my best working from here. I need to focus on my research.” Eliot felt his skin heat up slightly. He hated to lie, even a lie by omission. Truthfully, he could not bring himself to return to Hungary.

“That’s another thing. Since your contributions to the mathematical profession have waned…”

“I’m working,” Eliot said, lightly touching his fingertips together, “on a difficult problem.”

“So you may well be. But since you do not—or cannot—publish, we feel that it would be beneficial for you to increase your contributions in other areas. For example, taking on more students for your internship.”

“I take on many students each year to the academy.” Eliot tilted his head to one side, casually cracking his neck.

“But only one from this university!” Patterson pointed one finger in the air, as though he had made an important issue clear. “Only one!”

“Are the students from Pasadena inherently more qualified than those from other universities?”

“No, but many are qualified who are not picked. Dr. Carrey’s son, for example.”

“Dr. Carrey’s son is incompetent,” Eliot said. “He should not be practicing mathematics at all, let alone at the Hungarian Academy.”

Patterson licked his lips but ignored the insult.

“Then surely you could pick others. More than one!”

“Surely. But why should I favor Pasadena?”

“Pasadena University supports you and your fellowship, Dr. Herceg.”

“Eliot, please.”

Patterson leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, and Eliot knew just then what was on his mind.

“Your fellowship here is continued, in part, because of your contributions to the prestige of this university.” Oh. So that’s what he was driving at. Eliot realized why the department chair had been so eager to talk with him. This conversation had nothing to do with mathematics. Eliot spoke his next sentence carefully, as though wading through a particularly difficult proof. He wanted the point to be perfectly clear.

“Because of my financial contributions.”

Patterson paused.

“In part, yes. Yes, you are correct. This would all be much easier to handle if you continued to be as generous to our department as you have in the past.”

“What contributions do you make to this department, Dr. Patterson? Apart from teaching the mandatory lectures.” Eliot brushed his thumb against the stack of homework papers on Patterson’s desk.

“I teach all of the higher level courses I can manage with my schedule.” Patterson seethed. “But then again, I happen to enjoy making a contribution to this university.”

“The last contribution I made,” Eliot said, “was handed out as bonus grants to already-tenured professors.”

“Not at all!” Patterson cried out. “The money came from the general fund.”

“I’m no idiot,” Eliot said. “The year before my contribution there was no money for grants. I wonder where you happened to find such funds?”

“The grants were handed out to those who increased the prestige of the university!”

“By publishing reams of tedious, uninspired dreck. I fail to see how that does anything for Pasadena’s prestige.”

Dr. Patterson flushed a bright red. Eliot tried to remember how much of the bonus the department chair had claimed for himself. Although he couldn’t remember names, he remembered math, and the chair’s papers had been supremely lacking in actual mathematics. He focused his research almost entirely on statistical economics, and for the past few years had been pushing out newly-polished computer generated statistics on the same basic market algorithms, over and over again.

“But then…what of your research, Dr. Herceg?” Dr. Patterson said, trying to regain the upper ground. His forehead was beginning to glisten unattractively with tiny beads of sweat. “When was the last time you published anything?”