the Third Twin (1996)

“I got a phone call from Preston Barck, the president of Genetico, which is an important donor to the university, and in particular funds the entire twins research program,” Berrington continued. “He was naturally concerned about the way his money was being spent. The article made it look as if the university authorities were impotent. Preston said to me, “Who’s running the damn school, anyway?’ It was very embarrassing.”

“Was that your principal concern? The embarrassment of having been defied by a junior member of the faculty?”

“Certainly not. The main problem was the damage to Jones Falls that would be caused by Dr. Ferrami’s work.”

Nice move, Steve thought. In their hearts all the committee members would hate to be defied by an assistant professor, and Berrington had drawn their sympathy. But Quinn had moved quickly to put the whole complaint on a more high-minded level, so that they could tell themselves that by firing Jeannie they would be protecting the university, not just punishing a disobedient subordinate.

Berrington said: “A university should be sensitive to privacy issues. Donors give us money, and students compete for places here, because this is one of the nation’s most venerable educational institutions. The suggestion that we are careless with people’s civil rights is very damaging.”

It was a quietly eloquent formulation, and all the panel would approve. Steve nodded to show that he agreed too, hoping they would notice and conclude that this was not the question at issue.

Quinn asked Berrington: “So how many options faced you at that point?”

“Exactly one. We had to show that we did not sanction invasion of privacy by university researchers. We also needed to demonstrate that we had the authority to enforce our own rules. The way to do that was to fire Dr. Ferrami. There was no alternative.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Quinn, and he sat down.

Steve felt pessimistic. Quinn was every bit as skillful as expected. Berrington had been dreadfully plausible. He had presented a picture of a reasonable, concerned human being doing his best to deal with a hot-tempered, careless subordinate. It was the more credible for having a lacing of reality: Jeannie was quick-tempered.

But it was not the truth. That was all Steve had going for him. Jeannie was in the right. He just had to prove it.

Jack Budgen said: “Have you any questions, Mr. Logan?”

“I sure do,” said Steve. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

This was his fantasy. He was not in a courtroom, and he was not even a real lawyer, but he was defending an underdog against the injustice of a mighty institution. The odds were against him, but truth was on his side. It was what he dreamed about.

He stood up and looked hard at Berrington. If Jeannie’s theory was right, the man had to feel strange in this situation. It must be like Dr. Frankenstein being questioned by his monster. Steve wanted to play on that a little, to shake Berrington’s composure, before starting on the material questions.

“You know me, don’t you, Professor?” Steve said.

Berrington looked unnerved. “Ah … I believe we met on Monday, yes.”

“And you know all about me.”

“I … don’t quite follow you.”

“I underwent a day of tests in your laboratory, so you have a great deal of information on me.”

“I see what you mean, yes.”

Berrington looked thoroughly discomfited.

Steve moved behind Jeannie’s chair, so that they would all have to look at her. It was much harder to think evil of someone who returned your gaze with an open, fearless expression.

“Professor, let me begin with the first claim you made, that you intended to seek legal advice after your conversation with Dr. Ferrami on Monday.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t actually see a lawyer.”

“No, I was overtaken by events.”

“You didn’t make an appointment to see a lawyer.”

“There wasn’t time—”

“In the two days between your conversation with Dr. Ferrami and your conversation with Dr. Obeli about the New York Times, you didn’t even ask your secretary to make an appointment with a lawyer.”

“No.”

“Nor did you ask around, or speak to any of your colleagues, to find out the name of someone suitable.”

“No.”

“In fact, you’re quite unable to substantiate this claim.”

Berrington smiled confidently. “However, I have a reputation as an honest man.”

“Dr. Ferrami recalls the conversation very vividly.”

“Good.”

“She says you made no mention of legal problems or privacy worries; your only concern was whether the search engine worked.”

“Perhaps she’s forgotten.”

“Or perhaps you’ve misremembered.” Steve felt he had won that point, and he changed tack abruptly. “Did the New York Times reporter, Ms. Freelander, say how she heard about Dr. Ferrami’s work?”

“If she did, Dr. Obeli never mentioned it to me.”

“So you didn’t ask.” “No.”

“Did it occur to you to wonder how she knew?”

“I guess I assumed that reporters have their sources.”

“Since Dr. Ferrami hasn’t published anything about this project, the source must have been an individual.”