The Dinosaur Feather(35)

“I never told anyone,” Jack admitted. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. But anyway, he’s out now. Fifteen years inside.”

Molly and Jack had visited him the previous day. Jack never explained what his brother had done, and Clive didn’t want to pry. Fifteen years spoke volumes. Jack simply said that it had been good to see him. He’d got a job sorting bottles at a recycling plant, and he was pleased about that. Jack suddenly looked directly at Clive and said “thank you.” The words hung awkwardly in the air, and Clive had no idea what to say. Molly’s eyes welled up, and Kay got up to serve dessert.

Clive stretched out on the sofa, flipped past the photo of Jack and further into the journal. On page five, he nearly choked on his tea. The paper took up six pages and at the top “Helland, et al.” stood out. This was no minor puff piece run during a scientific dry spell. Clive sat up. The subject of the article was the femur of the Berlin Specimen, Archaeopteryx, which Helland and Tybjerg had visited Berlin to remeasure. The last approved measurement, undertaken in 1999 by the ornithologist Professor Clive Freeman, was not only highly inaccurate, it had also led to a series of unfortunate conclusions which—according to Helland, et al.—had distorted important arguments relating to the origin of birds to a very considerable extent. The question now was whether this data distortion was the result of that margin of error that should always be factored into science, or whether the measurements in question were the expression of deliberate manipulation. A brief summary of the incident at the 2005 bird conference in Toronto followed with a reproduction of the press release from Clive’s department, which placed in this context sounded like a total surrender.

Clive was so outraged that he knocked over the teapot when he got up. This paper ridiculed him, and Jack had approved it. His thoughts whirred around inside his head so fast that he could barely keep his balance. He held the copy of Scientific Today away from his body, like a burning oven glove he wanted to chuck outside as quickly as possible. When he opened the front door to get rid of it, Kay was in the process of bringing in the groceries from the car. He tossed the journal aside, but it landed on his foot. He picked it up again and it stuck to his fingers. Kay came to his rescue and grabbed him by the elbows.

“Clive darling, what’s happened?”

“Jack,” Clive snarled. He shook his hand to free himself from the journal and a page with a colorful DNA double helix came loose and spiraled down to the ground. Finally Clive broke free of the journal and stomped past Kay, around the house, and into the back garden where he stayed for an hour.

He didn’t come back inside until Kay opened the living room window and told him dinner was ready. At 9:30 p.m. he called Jack and suggested a meeting. No, no particular reason, nothing that couldn’t wait. A game of chess, perhaps. And, by the way, there was something Clive wanted to discuss with him.

Jack came the next day, and while Kay and he made small talk, Clive said nothing. They retired to Clive’s study for a game of chess. It was a mild summer evening, the window to the garden was open, and Clive could hear birdsong in the distance. He could also hear Kay loading the dishwasher in the kitchen. Jack, who pretended that nothing had happened, pondered his next move for a long time. Clive forced himself to remember that Googling “Clive Freeman” attracted 41,700 hits in 0.11 seconds. When on earth was Jack going to make his next move? Clive got up and mixed them both a drink.

“Why?” he hissed from the drinks cabinet. Jack gave him a baffled look. “Why do you want to destroy the credibility of the world’s finest and most respected natural science journal?” Clive slammed down his drink so hard on the desk that it sloshed over.

Jack’s reaction shocked Clive. Clive had imagined immediate contrition. Downcast eyes, a boy confessing to a man of superior intellect. The only thing he hadn’t imagined was Jack’s calm reply: “That’s precisely what I’m trying to prevent.”

“Then why have you allowed that article in Scientific Today? I demand to know why!”

Jack looked at Clive for a long time before he said: “Because it’s my journal, Clive, and I decide which articles are published.” Clive detected a faint tremor in Jack’s voice.

“It’s unscientific,” Clive shouted, and stamped his foot. “And you know it! You know that their arguments aren’t properly supported. What about the reduction of the fingers, what about the ascending process of the talus, eh?” Clive swirled the alcohol around in his glass and continued his rant.