The Dinosaur Feather(161)

“The living room now looked as if it was lit by twilight. The walls were covered with tanks from floor to ceiling.

“‘Spiders?’ I whispered.

“It turned out that he had seventy-two spiders, of which thirty-four were lethal, thirty-nine scorpions, all lethal, four venomous snakes, as well as cockroaches, mice, and crickets for food. He explained it all very cheerfully. Along the wall to the left were more bundles. Books, binders, science journals, and CDs would be my guess.

“I asked him why he kept his possessions like this, and he replied it was nature’s way of storing her possessions. Eggs and food, always packed in clusters, piles, and heaps. He was merely emulating nature.

“He told me it was just an experiment and it was just for fun, but he hesitated.” Professor Moritzen stopped and stared at Søren.

“I don’t really know why I’m telling you all this.”

Søren cleared his throat.

“Please go on. It’s important.” Søren gazed straight at Professor Moritzen who briefly looked as if she had lost the thread.

“I don’t know . . . I left . . .” she shuddered. “And I was sad . . . but also angry with myself. It’s not like I had found child porn or funding. I wondered what was troubling him, but I didn’t know him very well anymore. I concluded his usual invincibility had vanished or was weakened, and I spotted an opportunity to stick the knife in.” Professor Moritzen looked straight at Søren. “After the meeting I caught up with him. I told him I had decided it was time to tell Asger the truth. He replied he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Two days later I was officially informed that more than three quarters of the grant had been awarded to my department, specifically to two of my projects. I arrived at my office to find champagne corks popping. My younger colleague, who had attended the meeting with me, beamed and said that whatever I had said to Helland, it had worked. And he congratulated me. He hugged me. I was speechless, and for five naive minutes exactly I thought we had been given the money on merit. Then I understood. Helland had bought my silence.

“In the weeks that followed, I was torn. Morale in the department was sky-high, and we held one ambitious strategy meeting after another. We could afford a new electron microscope, we could invite three postgraduates on a planned trip to our overseas projects, and we could afford to participate in two upcoming symposia in Asia and America. The atmosphere was euphoric. I saw Helland several times, but still he never once looked through my window, even though I’m certain he knew I was in my office. I also saw Asger several times. He was radiant, having been offered a fellowship at the department. I had never seen him so happy. It was more food for thought. Should I let Helland get away with buying my silence?

“I made up my mind one afternoon when I saw Asger with Erik Tybjerg. They walked right past my window, laughing out loud at something, so Asger completely forgot to wave. The next day, I informed Helland that his blatant bribe had been accepted on one condition. He would put himself forward for the next election to the Faculty Council, and when he was voted in he was to make sure my department would never be short of funds again. I tried to gauge how badly he wanted Asger to remain a secret. It was clearly of the utmost importance, because he consented. Asger remained fatherless, I became a blackmailer, and Professor Helland kept his job. I lost no sleep over this. Our parasite research saved lives in the Third World, and my son was spared a father who didn’t want him. It went on for years.” Professor Moritzen blinked. “Lars was good at securing grants, exceptional, even. Once the grants were awarded, he got creative. The money was allocated across the system and when it reached individual budgets, it was disguised and moved along so that when it finally came to us, no one was keeping an eye on it anymore; no one asked questions.”

“So what happened?” Søren wanted to know.

“There was an election, and the new government had other plans,” Professor Moritzen said bitterly. “It slammed the money box shut and threw away the key. From now on, every unit within the institute had to submit a half-yearly report explaining how grants had been spent, along with research results. Every kroner had to be accounted for. The new government was highly mistrustful, and it soon became clear it cared nothing for our work unless it was profitable. There was a major management shuffle, and Professor Ravn was appointed as the new head of the institute. In consultation with the Faculty Council, he decided to close Coleoptera Taxonomy—”

“What’s that?”

“A small unit, specializing in beetle systematics. It had a staff of two: one was an older professor of taxonomy on the verge of retirement and the other was a young, upcoming invertebrate morphologist . . .” Professor Moritzen looked at Søren with tears in her eyes.