The Third Twin Part 21

"Go right in, please, Professor," she said.

Maurice was sitting in the bay window overlooking the lawn. A short, barrel-chested man, he had returned from Vietnam in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down. Berrington found him easy to relate to, perhaps because they had a background of military service in common. They also shared a pa.s.sion for the music of Mahler.

Maurice often wore a hara.s.sed air. To keep JFU going he had to raise ten million dollars a year from private and corporate benefactors, and consequently he dreaded bad publicity.

He spun his chair around and rolled to his desk. "They're working on a big article on scientific ethics, she says. Berry, I can't have Jones Falls heading that article with an example of unethical science. Half our big donors would have a cow. We've got to do something about this." "Who is she?"

Maurice consulted a scratch pad. "Naomi Freelander. She's the ethics editor. Did you know newspapers had ethics editors? I didn't."

"I'm not surprised the New York Times New York Times has one." has one."

"It doesn't stop them acting like the G.o.dd.a.m.n Gestapo. They're about to go to press with this article, they say, but yesterday they got a tip-off about your Ferrami woman."

"I wonder where the tip came from?" Berrington said.

"There are some disloyal b.a.s.t.a.r.ds around."

"I guess so."

Maurice sighed. "Say it's not true, Berry. Tell me she doesn't invade people's privacy."

Berrington crossed his legs, trying to appear relaxed when he was in fact wired taut. This was where he had to walk a tightrope. "I don't believe she does anything wrong," he said. "She scans medical databases and finds people who don't know they're twins. It's very clever, as a matter of fact-"

"Is she looking at people's medical records without their permission?"

Berrington pretended to be reluctant. "Well...sort of."

"Then she'll have to stop."

"The trouble is, she really needs this information for her research project."

"Maybe we can offer her some compensation."

Berrington had not thought of bribing her. He doubted it would work, but there was no harm in trying. "Good idea."

"Does she have tenure?"

"She started here this semester, as an a.s.sistant professor. She's six years away from tenure, at least. But we could give her a raise. I know she needs the money, she told me."

"How much does she make now?"

'Thirty thousand dollars a year."

"What do you think we should offer her?"

"It would have to be substantial. Another eight or ten thousand."

"And the funding for that?"

Berrington smiled. "I believe I could persuade Genetico."

"Then that's what we'll do. Call her now, Berry. If she's on campus, get her in here right away. We'll settle this thing before the ethics police call again."

Berrington picked up Maurice's phone and called Jeannie's office. It was answered right away. "Jeannie Ferrami."

"This is Berrington."

"Good morning." Her tone was wary. Had she sensed his desire to seduce her on Monday night? Maybe she wondered if he was planning to try again. Or perhaps she had already got wind of the New York Times New York Times problem. problem.

"Can I see you right away?"

"In your office?"

"I'm in Dr. Obell's office at Hillside Hall."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Is this about a woman called Naomi Freelander?"

"Yes."

"It's all horses.h.i.t, you know that."

"I do, but we have to deal with it." "I'll be right over."

Berrington hung up. "She'll be here momentarily," he told Maurice. "It sounds as if she's already heard from the Times." Times."

The next few minutes would be crucial. If Jeannie defended herself well, Maurice might change his strategy. Berrington had to keep Maurice firm without seeming hostile to Jeannie. She was a hot-tempered, a.s.sertive girl, not the type to be conciliatory, especially when she thought she was in the right. She would probably make an enemy of Maurice without any help from Berrington. But just in case she was uncharacteristically sweet and persuasive, he needed a fallback plan.

Struck by inspiration, he said: "We might rough out a press statement while we're waiting."

"That's a good idea."

Berrington pulled over a pad and began scribbling. He needed something that Jeannie could not possibly agree to, something that would injure her pride and make her mad. He wrote that Jones Falls University admitted mistakes had been made. The university apologized to those whose privacy had been invaded. And it promised that the program had been discontinued as of today.

He handed his work to Maurice's secretary and asked her to put it through her word processor right away.

Jeannie arrived fizzing with indignation. She was wearing a baggy emerald green T-shirt, tight black jeans, and the kind of footwear that used to be called engineer boots but were now a fashion statement. She had a silver ring in her pierced nostril and her thick dark hair was tied back. She looked kind of cute, to Berrington, but her outfit would not impress the university president. To him she would appear the kind of irresponsible junior academic who might get JFU into trouble.

Maurice invited her to sit down and told her about the call from the newspaper. His manner was stiff. He was comfortable with mature men, Berrington thought; young women in tight jeans were aliens to him.

"The same woman called me," Jeannie said with irritation. "This is ludicrous."

"But you do access medical databases," Maurice said.

"I don't look at the databases, the computer does. No human being sees anyone's medical records. My program produces a list of names and addresses, grouped in pairs."

"Even that..."

"We do nothing further without first asking permission of the potential subject. We don't even tell them they're twins until after they've agreed to be part of our study. So whose privacy is invaded?"

Berrington pretended to back her. "I told you, Maurice," he said. "The Times Times has it all wrong." has it all wrong."

"They don't see it that way. And I have to think of the university's reputation."

Jeannie said: "Believe me, my work is going to enhance that reputation." She leaned forward, and Berrington heard in her voice the pa.s.sion for new knowledge that drove all good scientists. "This is a project of critical importance. I'm the only person who has figured out how to study the genetics of criminality. When we publish the results it will be a sensation."

"She's right," Berrington put in. It was true. Her study would have been fascinating. It was heartbreaking to destroy it. But he had no choice.

Maurice shook his head. "It's my job to protect the university from scandal."

Jeannie said recklessly: "It's also your job to defend academic freedom."

That was the wrong tack for her to take. Once upon a time, no doubt, university presidents had fought for the right to the unfettered pursuit of knowledge, but those days were over. Now they were fund-raisers, pure and simple. She would only offend Maurice by mentioning academic freedom.

Maurice bristled. "I don't need a lecture on my presidential duties from you, young lady," he said stiffly.

Jeannie did not take the hint, to Berrington's delight. "Don't you?" she said to Maurice, warming to her theme. "Here's a direct conflict. On the one hand is a newspaper apparently bent on a misguided story; on the other a scientist after the truth. If a university president is going to buckle under that kind of pressure, what hope is there?"

Berrington was exultant. She looked wonderful, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing, but she was digging her own grave. Maurice was antagonized by every word.

Then Jeannie seemed to realize what she was doing, for she suddenly changed tack. "On the other hand, none of us wants bad publicity for the university," she said in a milder voice. "I quite understand your concern, Dr. Obeli."

Maurice softened immediately, much to Berrington's chagrin. "I realize this puts you in a difficult position," he said. "The university is prepared to offer you compensation, in the form of a raise of ten thousand dollars a year."

Jeannie looked startled.

Berrington said: "That ought to enable you to get your mother out of that place you're so worried about."

Jeannie hesitated only for a moment. "I'd be deeply grateful for that," she said, "but it wouldn't solve the problem. I still have to have criminal twins for my research. Otherwise there's nothing to study."

Berrington had not thought she could be bribed.

Maurice said: "Surely there must be another way to find suitable subjects for you to study?"

"No, there's not. I need identical twins, raised apart, at least one of whom is a criminal. That's a tall order. My computer program locates people who don't even know they're twins. There's no other method of doing that."

"I hadn't realized," Maurice said.

The tone was becoming perilously amicable. Then Maurice's secretary came in and handed him a sheet of paper. It was the press release Berrington had drafted. Maurice showed it to Jeannie, saying: "We need to be able to issue something like this today, if we're to kill this story off."

She read it quickly, and her anger returned. "But this is bulls.h.i.t!" she stormed. "No mistakes have been made. No one's privacy has been invaded. No one has even complained!"

Berrington concealed his satisfaction. It was paradoxical that she was so fiery, yet she had the patience and perseverance to do lengthy and tedious scientific research. He had seen her working with her subjects: they never seemed to irritate or tire her, even when they messed up the tests. With them, she found bad behavior as interesting as good. She just wrote down what they said and thanked them sincerely at the end. Yet outside the lab she would go off like a firecracker at the least provocation.

He played the role of concerned peacemaker. "But, Jeannie, Dr. Obeli feels we have to put out a firm statement."

"You can't say the use of my computer program has been discontinued!" she said. "That would be tantamount to canceling my entire project!"

Maurice's face hardened. "I can't have the New York Times New York Times publishing an article that says Jones Falls scientists invade people's privacy," he said. "It would cost us millions in lost donations." publishing an article that says Jones Falls scientists invade people's privacy," he said. "It would cost us millions in lost donations."

"Find a middle way," Jeannie pleaded. "Say you're looking into the problem. Set up a committee. We'll develop further privacy safeguards, if necessary."

Oh, no, Berrington thought. That was dangerously sensible. "We have an ethics committee, of course," he said, playing for time. "It's a subcommittee of the senate." The senate was the university's ruling council and consisted of all the tenured professors, but the work was done by committees. "You could announce that you're handing over the problem to them."

"No good," Maurice said abruptly. "Everyone will know that's a stall."

Jeannie protested: "Don't you see that by insisting on immediate action you're practically ruling out any thoughtful discussion!"

This would be a good time to bring the meeting to a close, Berrington decided. The two were at loggerheads, both entrenched in their positions. He should finish it before they started to think about compromise again. "A good point, Jeannie," Berrington said. "Let me make a proposal here-if you permit, Maurice."

"Sure, let's hear it."

"We have two separate problems. One is to find a way to progress Jeannie's research without bringing a scandal down upon the university. That's something Jeannie and I have to resolve, and we should discuss it at length, later. The second question is how the department and the university present this to the world. That's a matter for you and me to talk about, Maurice."

Maurice looked relieved. "Very sensible," he said. Berrington said: "Thank you for joining us at short notice, Jeannie."

She realized she was being dismissed. She got up with a puzzled frown. She knew she had been outmaneuvered, but she could not figure out how. "You'll call me?" she said to Berrington.

"Of course."

"All right." She hesitated, then went out.

"Difficult woman," Maurice said.

Berrington leaned forward, clasping his hands together, and looked down, in an att.i.tude of humility. "I feel at fault here, Maurice." Maurice shook his head, but Berrington went on. "I hired Jeannie Ferrami. Of course, I had no idea that she would devise this method of work-but all the same it's my responsibility, and I think I have to get you out of it."

"What do you propose?"

"I can't ask you not to release that press statement. I don't have the right. You can't put one research project above the welfare of the entire university, I realize that." He looked up.

Maurice hesitated. For a split second Berrington wondered fearfully if he suspected he was being maneuvered into a corner. But if the thought crossed his mind it did not linger. "I appreciate your saying that, Berry. But what will you do about Jeannie?"

Berrington relaxed. It seemed he had done it. "I guess she's my problem," he said. "Leave her to me."

22.

STEVE DROPPED OFF TO SLEEP IN THE EARLY HOURS OF Wednesday morning. Wednesday morning.

The jail was quiet, Porky was snoring, and Steve had not slept for forty-two hours. He tried to stay awake, rehearsing his bail application speech to the judge for tomorrow, but he kept slipping into a waking dream in which the judge smiled benignly on him and said, "Bail is granted, let this man go free," and he walked out of the court into the sunny street. Sitting on the floor of the cell in his usual position, with his back to the wall, he caught himself nodding off, and jerked awake several times, but finally nature conquered willpower.

He was in a profound sleep when he was shocked awake by a painful blow to his ribs. He gasped and opened his eyes. Porky had kicked him and was now bending over him, eyes wide with craziness, screaming: "You stole my dope, motherf.u.c.ker! Where d'you stash it, where? Give it up right now or you're a dead man!"

Steve reacted without thinking. He came up off the floor like a spring uncoiling, his right arm outstretched rigid, and poked two fingers into Porky's eyes. Porky yelled in pain and stepped backward. Steve followed, trying to push his fingers right through Porky's brain to the back of his head. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a voice that sounded a lot like his own, screaming abuse.