the Third Twin (1996)

39

THERE WAS A SMALL DEMONSTRATION OUTSIDE HILLSIDE Hall, the administrative office building of Jones Falls University. Thirty or forty students, mostly women, stood in a cluster in front of the steps. It was a quiet, disciplined protest. Getting closer, Steve read a banner:

Reinstate Ferrami Now!

It seemed like a good omen to him. “They’re supporting you,” he said to Jeannie.

She looked closer, and a flush of pleasure spread across her face. “So they are. My God, someone loves me after all.”

Another placard read:

U

can’t do

this to

JF

A cheer went up when they spotted Jeannie. She went over to them, smiling. Steve followed, proud of her. Not every professor would get such spontaneous support from students. She shook hands with the men and kissed the women. Steve noticed a pretty blond woman staring at him.

Jeannie hugged an older woman in the crowd. “Sophie!” she said. “What can I say?”

“Good luck in there,” the woman said.

Jeannie detached herself from the crowd, beaming, and they walked toward the building. He said: “Well, they think you should keep your job.”

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” she said, “That older woman is Sophie Chapple, a professor in the psychology department. I thought she hated me. I can’t believe she’s standing up for me.”

“Who was the pretty girl at the front?”

Jeannie gave him a curious look. “You don’t recognize her?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before, but she couldn’t take her eyes off me.” Then he guessed. “Oh, my God, it must be the victim.”

“Lisa Hoxton.”

“No wonder she stared.” He could not help glancing back. She was a pretty, lively-looking girl, small and rather plump. His double had attacked her and thrown her to the floor and forced her to have sex. A small knot of disgust twisted inside Steve. She was just an ordinary young woman, and now she had a nightmare memory that would haunt her all her life.

The administrative building was a grand old house. Jeannie led him across the marbled hall and through a door marked Old Dining Room into a gloomy chamber in the baronial style: high ceiling, narrow Gothic windows, and thick-legged oak furniture. A long table stood in front of a carved stone fireplace.

Four men and a middle-aged woman sat along one side of the table. Steve recognized the bald man in the middle as Jeannie’s tennis opponent, Jack Budgen. This was the committee, he presumed: the group that held Jeannie’s fate in its hands. He took a deep breath.

Leaning over the table, he shook Jack Budgen’s hand and said: “Good morning, Dr. Budgen. I’m Steven Logan. Wespoke yesterday.” Some instinct took over and he found himself exuding a relaxed confidence that was the opposite of what he felt. He shook hands with each of the committee members, and they told him their names.

Two more men sat on the near side of the table, at the far end. The little guy in the navy vested suit was Berrington Jones, whom Steve had met last Monday. The thin, sandy-haired man in a charcoal double-breasted pinstripe had to be Henry Quinn. Steve shook hands with both.

Quinn looked at him superciliously and said: “What are your legal qualifications, young man?”

Steve gave him a friendly smile and spoke in a low voice that no one else could hear. “Go fuck yourself, Henry.”

Quinn flinched as if he had been struck, and Steve thought, That will be the last time the old bastard condescends to me.

He held a chair for Jeannie and they both sat down.

“Well, perhaps we should begin,” Jack said. “These proceedings are informal. I believe everyone has received a copy of the rubric, so we know the rules. The charge is laid by Professor Berrington Jones, who proposes that Dr. Jean Ferrami be dismissed because she has brought Jones Falls University into disrepute.”

As Budgen spoke, Steve watched the committee members, looking eagerly for signs of sympathy. He was not reassured. Only the woman, Jane Edelsborough, would look at Jeannie; the others did not meet her eyes. Four against, one in favor, at the start, he thought. It was not good.

Jack said: “Berrington is represented by Mr. Quinn.”

Quinn got to his feet and opened his briefcase. Steve noticed that his fingers were stained yellow from cigarettes. He took out a sheaf of blowup photocopies of the New York Times piece about Jeannie and handed one to every person in the room. The result was that the table was covered with pieces of paper saying GENE RESEARCH ETHICS: DOUBTS, FEARS AND A SQUABBLE. It was a powerful visual reminder of the trouble Jeannie had caused. Steve wished he had brought some papers to give out, so that he could have covered up Quinn’s.

This simple, effective opening move by Quinn intimidatedSteve. How could he possibly compete with a man who had probably thirty years of courtroom experience? I can’t win this, he thought in a sudden panic.

Quinn began to speak. His voice was dry and precise, with no trace of a local accent. He spoke slowly and pedantically. Steve hoped that might be a mistake with this jury of intellectuals who did not need things spelled out for them in words of one syllable. Quinn summarized the history of the discipline committee and explained its position in the university government. He defined “disrepute” and produced a copy of Jeannie’s employment contract. Steve began to feel better as Quinn droned on.

At last he wound up his preamble and started to question Berrington. He began by asking when Berrington had first heard about Jeannie’s computer search program.

“Last Monday afternoon,” Berrington replied. He recounted the conversation he and Jeannie had had. His story tallied with what Jeannie had told Steve.

Then Berrington said: “As soon as I clearly understood her technique, I told her that in my opinion what she was doing was illegal.”

Jeannie burst out: “What?”

Quinn ignored her and asked Berrington: “And what was her reaction?”

“She became very angry—”

“You damn liar!” Jeannie said.

Berrington flushed at this accusation.

Jack Budgen intervened. “Please, no interruptions,” he said.

Steve kept an eye on the committee. They had all looked at Jeannie: they could hardly help it. He put a hand on her arm, as if restraining her.

“He’s telling barefaced lies!” she protested.

“What did you expect?” Steve said in a low voice. “He’s playing hardball.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said in her ear. “Keep it up. They could see your anger was genuine.”

Berrington went on: “She became petulant, just as she is now. She told me she could do what she liked, she had a contract.”

One of the men on the committee, Tenniel Biddenham, frowned darkly, obviously disliking the idea of a junior member of faculty quoting her contract to her professor. Berrington was clever, Steve realized. He knew how to take a point scored against him and turn it to his advantage.

Quinn asked Berrington: “What did you do?”

“Well, I realized I might be wrong. I’m not a lawyer, so I decided to get legal advice. If my fears were confirmed, I could show her independent proof. But if it turned out that what she was doing was harmless, I could drop the matter without a confrontation.”

“And did you take advice?”

“As things turned out, I was overtaken by events. Before I had a chance to see a lawyer, the New York Times got on the case.”

Jeannie whispered: “Bullshit.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked her.

“Positive.”

He made a note.

“Tell us what happened on Wednesday, please,” Quinn said to Berrington.

“My worst fears came true. The university president, Maurice Obeli, summoned me to his office and asked me to explain why he was getting aggressive phone calls from the press about the research in my department. We drafted a press announcement as a basis for discussion and called in Dr. Ferrami.”

“Jesus Christ!” muttered Jeannie.

Berrington went on: “She refused to talk about the press release. Once again she blew her top, insisted she could do what she liked, and stormed out.”

Steve looked in inquiry at Jeannie. She said in a low voice: “A clever lie. They presented me with the press announcement as a fait accompli.”

Steve nodded, but he decided not to take up this point in cross-examination. The committee would probably feel Jeannie should not have stormed out anyway.

“The reporter told us she had a deadline of noon that day,” Berrington continued smoothly. “Dr. Obeli felt the university had to say something decisive, and I must say I agreed with him one hundred percent.”

“And did your announcement have the effect you hoped for?”

“No. It was a total failure. But that was because it was completely undermined by Dr. Ferrami. She told the reporter that she intended to ignore us and there was nothing we could do about it.”

“Did anyone outside the university comment on the story?”

“They certainly did.”

Something about the way Berrington answered that question rang a warning bell in Steve’s head and he made a note.

“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.”

Berrington hesitated and looked to Quinn for guidance. Quinn stood up. “Sir,” he said, addressing Jack Budgen, “the witness shouldn’t be called upon to speculate.”

Budgen nodded.

Steve said. “But this is an informal hearing—we don’t have to be constrained by rigid courtroom procedure.”

Jane Edelsborough spoke for the first time. “The questions seem interesting and relevant to me, Jack.”

Berrington threw her a black look, and she made a little shrug of apology. It was an intimate exchange, and Steve wondered what the relationship was between those two.

Budgen waited, perhaps hoping another committee member would offer a contrary view so that he could make the decision as chair; but no one else spoke. “All right,” he said after a pause. “Proceed, Mr. Logan.”

Steve could hardly believe he had won their first procedural dispute. The professors did not like a fancy lawyer telling them what was or was not a legitimate line of questioning. His throat was dry with tension. He poured water from a carafe into a glass with a shaky hand.

He took a sip then turned again to Berrington and said: “Ms. Freelander knew more than just the general nature of Dr. Ferrami’s work, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She knew exactly how Dr. Ferrami searched for raised-apart twins by scanning databases. This is a new technique, developed by her, known only to you and a few other colleagues in the psychology department.”

“If you say so.”

“It looks as if her information came from within the department, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“What motive could a colleague possibly have for creating bad publicity about Dr. Ferrami and her work?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“But it seems like the doing of a malicious, perhaps jealous, rival—wouldn’t you say?”

“Perhaps.”

Steve nodded in satisfaction. He felt he was getting into the swing of this, developing a rhythm. He began to feel that maybe he could win, after all.

Don’t get complacent, he told himself. Scoring points is not the same as winning the case.

“Let me turn to the second claim you made. When Mr. Quinn asked you if people outside the university had commented on the newspaper story, you replied: “They certainly did.’ Do you want to stick by that assertion?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how many phone calls did you receive from donors, other than the one from Preston Barck?”

“Well, I spoke with Herb Abrahams—”

Steve could tell he was dissembling. “Pardon me for interrupting you, Professor.” Berrington looked surprised, but he stopped speaking. “Did Mr. Abrahams call you, or vice versa?”

“Uh, I believe I called Herb.”

“We’ll come to that in a moment. First, just tell us how many important donors called you to express their concern about the New York Times allegations.”

Berrington looked rattled. “I’m not sure anyone called me specifically about that.”

“How many calls did you receive from potential students?”

“None.”

“Did anyone at all call you to talk about the article?”

“I guess not.”

“Did you receive any mail on the subject?”

“Not yet.”

“It doesn’t appear to have caused much of a fuss, then.”

“I don’t think you can draw that conclusion.”

It was a feeble response, and Steve paused to let that sink in.

Berrington appeared embarrassed. The committee members were alert, following every cut and thrust. Steve looked at Jeannie. Her face was alight with hope.

He resumed. “Let’s talk about the one phone call you did receive, from Preston Barck, the president of Genetico. You made it sound as if he were simply a donor concerned about the way his money is being used, but he’s more than that, isn’t he? When did you first meet him?

“When I was at Harvard, forty years ago.”

“He must be one of your oldest friends.”

“Yes.”

“And in later years I believe you and he set up Genetico together.”

“Yes.”

“So he’s also your business partner.”

“Yes.”

“The company is in the process of being taken over by Landsmann, the German pharmaceuticals conglomerate.”

“Yes.”

“No doubt Mr. Barck will make a lot of money out of the takeover.”

“No doubt.”

“How much?”

“I think that’s confidential.”

Steve decided not to press him on the amount. His reluctance to disclose the figure was damaging enough.

“Another friend of yours stands to make a killing: Senator Proust. According to the news today, he’s going to use his payout to finance a presidential election campaign.”

“I didn’t watch the news this morning.”

“But Jim Proust is a friend of yours, isn’t he? You must have known he was thinking of running for president.”

“I believe everyone knew he was thinking of it.”

“Are you going to make money from the takeover?”

“Yes.”

Steve moved away from Jeannie and toward Berrington, so that all eyes would be on Berrington. “So you’re a shareholder, not just a consultant.”

“It’s common enough to be both.”

“Professor, how much will you make from this takeover?”

“I think that’s private.”

Steve was not going to let him get away with it this time. “At any rate, the price being paid for the company is one hundred and eighty million dollars, according to The Wall Street Journal.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeated the amount. “One hundred and eighty million dollars.” He paused long enough to create a pregnant silence. It was the kind of money that professors never saw, and he wanted to give the committee members the feeling that Berrington was not one them at all, but a being of a different kind altogether. “You are one of three people who will share one hundred and eighty million dollars.”

Berrington nodded.

“So you had a lot to be nervous about when you learned of the New York Times article. Your friend Preston is selling his company, your friend Jim is running for president, and you’re about to make a fortune. Are you sure it was the reputation of Jones Falls that was on your mind when you fired Dr. Ferrami? Or was it all your other worries? Let’s be frank, Professor—you panicked.”

“I most certainly—”

“You read a hostile newspaper article, you envisioned the takeover melting away, and you reacted hastily. You let the New York Times scare you.”

“It takes more than the New York Times to scare me, young man. I acted quickly and decisively, but not hastily.”

“You made no attempt to discover the source of the newspaper’s information.”

“No.”

“How many days did you spend investigating the truth, or otherwise, of the allegations?”

“It didn’t take long—”

“Hours rather than days?”

“Yes—”

“Or was it in fact less than an hour before you had approved a press release saying that Dr. Ferrami’s program was canceled?”

“I’m quite sure it was more than an hour.”

Steve shrugged emphatically. “Let us be generous and say it was two hours. Was that long enough?” He turned and gestured toward Jeannie, so that they would look at her. “After two hours you decided to jettison a young scientist’s entire research program?” The pain was visible on Jeannie’s face. Steve felt an agonizing pang of pity for her. But he had to play on her emotion, for her own good. He twisted the knife in the wound. “After two hours you knew enough to make a decision to destroy the work of years? Enough to end a promising career? Enough to ruin a woman’s life?”

“I asked her to defend herself,” Berrington said indignantly. “She lost her temper and walked out of the room!”

Steve hesitated, then decided to take a theatrical risk. “She walked out of the room!” he said in mock amazement. “She walked out of the room! You showed her a press release announcing the cancellation of her program. No investigation of the source of the newspaper story, no appraisal of the validity of the allegations, no time for discussion, no due process of any kind—you simply declared to this young scientist that her entire life was ruined—and all she did was walk out of the room?” Berrington opened his mouth to speak, but Steve overrode him. “When I think of the injustice, the illegality, the sheer foolishness, of what you did on Wednesday morning, Professor, I cannot imagine how Dr. Ferrami summoned the restraint and self-discipline to confine herself to such a simple, eloquent protest.” He walked back to his seat in silence, then turned to the committee and said: “No more questions.”

Jeannie’s eyes were lowered, but she squeezed his arm. He leaned over and whispered: “How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

He patted her hand. He wanted to say, “I think we’ve won it,” but that would have been tempting fate.

Henry Quinn stood up. He seemed unperturbed. He should have looked more worried after Steve made mincemeat of hisclient. But no doubt it was part of his skill to remain unruffled no matter how badly his case was going.

Quinn said: “Professor, if the university had not discontinued Dr. Ferrami’s research program, and had not fired her, would that have made any difference to the takeover of Genetico by Landsmann?”

“None at all,” Berrington replied.

“Thank you. No more questions.”

That was pretty effective, Steve thought sourly. It kind of punctured his whole cross-examination. He tried not to let Jeannie see the disappointment on his face.

It was Jeannie’s turn, and Steve stood up and led her through her evidence. She was calm and clear as she described her research program and explained the importance of finding raised-apart twins who were criminals. She detailed the precautions she took to ensure that no one’s medical details became known before they had signed a release.

He expected Quinn to cross-examine her and try to show that there was a minuscule chance that confidential information would be revealed by accident. Steve and Jeannie had rehearsed this last night, with him playing the role of prosecution lawyer. But to his surprise Quinn did not have any questions. Was he afraid she would defend herself too ably? Or was he confident he had the verdict sewn up?

Quinn summed up first. He repeated much of Berrington’s evidence, once again being more tedious than Steve thought wise. His concluding speech was short enough, however. “This is a crisis that should never have happened,” he said. “The university authorities behaved judiciously throughout. It was Dr. Ferrami’s impetuousness and intransigence that caused all the drama. Of course she has a contract, and that contract governs her relations with her employer. But senior faculty are, after all, required to supervise junior faculty; and junior faculty, if they have any sense at all, will listen to wise counsel from those older and more experienced than they. Dr Ferrami’s stubborn defiance turned a problem into a crisis, and the only solution to the crisis is for her to leave the university.” He sat down.

It was time for Steve’s speech. He had been rehearsing it all night. He stood up.

“What is Jones Falls University for?”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“The answer may be expressed in one word: knowledge. If we wanted a nutshell definition of the role of the university in American society, we might say its function is to seek knowledge and to spread knowledge.”

He looked at each of the committee, inviting their agreement. Jane Edelsborough nodded. The others were impassive.

He resumed: “Now and again, that function comes under attack. There are always people who want to hide the truth, for one reason or another: political motives, religious prejudice”—he looked at Berrington—“or commercial advantage. I think everyone here would agree that the school’s intellectual independence is crucial to its reputation. That independence has to be balanced against other obligations, obviously, such as the need to respect the civil rights of individuals. However, a vigorous defense of the university’s right to pursue knowledge would enhance its reputation among all thinking people.”

He waved a hand to indicate the university. “Jones Falls is important to everyone here. The reputation of an academic may rise and fall with that of the institution where he or she works. I ask you to think about the effect your verdict will have on the reputation of JFU as a free, independent academic institution. Will the university be cowed by the intellectually shallow assault of a daily newspaper? Will a program of scientific research be canceled for the sake of a commercial takeover bid? I hope not. I hope the committee will bolster JFU’s reputation by showing that what matters here is one simple value: truth.” He looked at them, letting his words sink in. He could not tell, from their expressions, whether his speech had touched them or not. After a moment he sat down.

“Thank you,” said Jack Budgen. “Would everyone except committee members step outside while we deliberate, please?”

Steve held the door for Jeannie and followed her into the hallway. They left the building and stood in the shade of a tree. Jeannie was pale with tension. “What do you think?” she said.

“We have to win,” he said. “We’re right.”

“What am I going to do if we lose?” she said. “Move to Nebraska? Get a job as a schoolteacher? Become a stewardess, like Penny Watermeadow?”

“Who’s Penny Watermeadow?”

Before she could answer him, she saw something over his shoulder that made her hesitate. Steve turned around and saw Henry Quinn, smoking a cigarette. “You were very sharp in there,” Quinn said. “I hope you won’t think me condescending if I say I enjoyed matching wits with you.”

Jeannie made a disgusted noise and turned away.

Steve was able to be more detached. Lawyers were supposed to be like this, friendly with their opponents outside the courtroom. Besides, one day he might find himself asking Quinn for a job. “Thank you,” he said politely.

“You certainly had the best of the arguments,” Quinn went on, surprising Steve by his frankness. “On the other hand, in a case like this people vote their self-interest, and all those committee members are senior professors. They’ll find it hard to support a youngster against someone of their own group, regardless of the arguments.”

“They are all intellectuals,” Steve said. “They’re committed to rationality.”

Quinn nodded. “You might be right,” he said. He gave Steve a speculative look then said: “Have you any idea what this is really about?”

“What do you mean?” Steve said cautiously.

“Berrington is obviously terrified of something, and it isn’t bad publicity. I wondered if you and Dr. Ferrami might know what.”

“I believe we do,” Steve said. “But we can’t prove it, yet.”

“Keep trying,” Quinn said. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “God forbid that Jim Proust should be president.” He turned away.

What about that, Steve thought; a closet liberal.

Jack Budgen appeared in the entrance and made a summoning gesture. Steve took Jeannie’s arm and they went back in.

He studied the faces of the committee. Jack Budgen met his eye. Jane Edelsborough gave him a little smile.

That was a good sign. His hopes soared.

They all sat down.

Jack Budgen shuffled his papers unnecessarily. “We thank both parties for enabling this hearing to be conducted with dignity.” He paused solemnly. “Our decision is unanimous. We recommend to the senate of this university that Dr. Jean Ferrami be dismissed. Thank you.”

Jeannie buried her head in her hands.