Freeman made to say something, but Anna continued regardless.
“It’s unbelievable that you dare to assume Longisquama is an archosaur which, according to many experts is by no means certain, and simultaneously you reveal a naive understanding of falsification. It’s not enough to claim Longisquama is bird-like, that’s quite simply not a convincing reason to let Longisquama push Archaeopteryx off the throne.” Anna glanced at Freeman before she went on, knowing full well Freeman was on the verge of exploding.
“I have two further theoretical science disparities associated with your argumentation concerning feathers, then I’ll let you go. In an article in Nature in 2001, you state it’s impossible to establish whether predatory dinosaur feathers are homologous with those of modern birds, because the claim cannot be tested biochemically. But elsewhere…” Anna leafed through her notes. “More specifically in your 2001 book The Birds, on page 114, you claim that it ‘is not scientifically correct to use biochemical analyses to determine if Longisquama’s appendage was animal or vegetable,’ which, for me, is a striking example of the inconsistency which characterizes most of your general argumentation. You let the validity of an argument depend on the actual situation, and that isn’t in accordance with prevailing rules for good science.”
Professor Freeman was white as a sheet.
“Last, but not least, you write in 2000 and in 2002, in Science and Scientific Today respectively, it’s impossible to imagine that a structure as complex as a feather might have evolved independently in different situations, which is likely to be correct. However, the inconsistency arises the moment you, on several occasions in 1996, 1999, and 2000, argue brazenly that other, equally complex structures found in both birds and dinosaurs, such as the half-moon-shaped carpal, might well be the result of convergent evolution. Isn’t it absurd that the feather, according to you, could not have evolved independently, while the half-moon-shaped carpal could?” Anna raised her eyebrows and looked at Professor Freeman.
“Have you finished?” he groaned.
“Yes,” Anna said. “I’ve proven the same kind of sweeping inconsistency and absence of methodology with respect to your arguments about stratigraphic disjunction, the carpus, the furcula, the ascending process of the talus bone, the fingers of the bird hand, and the orientation of the pubic bone. However, I think my time’s up.”
Nothing happened for several seconds. The air stood still and Anna’s heart raced. Then Professor Freeman pushed back his chair and walked out.
Anna let herself fall into Freeman’s empty chair. She heard his footsteps fade away; she heard the doors close, and she sensed how his defeat was absorbed by the stillness of the room. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal.
“You can come out now, Dr. Tybjerg,” she said.
She didn’t say it very loud; she knew he was close by.
Anna and Dr. Tybjerg put Karen and Lily on the number 18 bus. Tybjerg was less than thrilled, but Anna had insisted and helped him into his jacket as though he was a child.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Anna promised. Karen looked dubious.
“Karen, I’ll be there in an hour,” she repeated, gravely. “If you make the batter, I’ll make pancakes when I get home.”
Lily shouted with glee and Karen relented.
When the bus had departed, Tybjerg said, “I’ve never met your daughter before.”
And Anna replied, “No.”
Then they caught a bus to Bellahøj police station. Tybjerg seemed drained and kept squinting in the light.
They introduced themselves at the reception but didn’t even have time to sit down before Søren Marhauge came racing out and looked from Anna to Dr. Tybjerg, dumbfounded.
“Er, hi,” he said. “Glad you’re here.”
They were put in separate interview rooms. Dr. Tybjerg gave her an anxious look before his interview began, but Anna shook her head gently. You’ll be fine, she signaled.
The interview lasted thirty minutes. Søren’s questions were precise and thorough, and she tried to reply likewise. When Søren told her that Asger Moritzen was dead, the tears started falling down her cheeks. Søren got up. He’s about to hand me a tissue, she thought, to wipe away my tears, tell me to pull myself together, be strong. But he didn’t. He squeezed her shoulders gently and told her she was free to go once she signed her statement.
Back at Anna’s they ate pancakes and, later, lasagna, salad, and ice cream.
“We’re having a party,” Lily said, again and again, and Karen and Anna laughed every time.
When Lily had been put to bed, they sat in separate chairs in front of the fire and shared a bottle of wine, while Anna told Karen the story from beginning to end, even though some of it was probably confidential. She didn’t care. When she had finished, Karen looked at her for a long time.
“You need to open the door to Thomas’s office.”
Anna closed her eyes and didn’t respond.
“Anna—”
“I’ll open it,” she cut in. “I’m not scared of opening it. There’s nothing behind it. The room’s empty.” She straightened up.
“But first I have to do something I really am scared of.” She glanced at Karen.
“Stay where you are,” she went on. “Don’t say anything, don’t do anything, please. Just be here, all right?”
Karen nodded.
Anna stood by the dark window, her hand on the telephone, looking down into the street, now slushy with melted snow. She could see Karen’s reflection in the glass; she was sitting in the chair to the left of the stove with her legs curled up, her chin resting on her knee. Anna breathed right down into her diaphragm, then she picked up the telephone and pressed Thomas’s number. It was past eleven, and it rang six times before he answered, drowsy with sleep.
“It’s Anna,” she said.
Thomas sighed.
“What do you want?” he said, as though she rang him constantly. “I was asleep. I’m working shifts.”
“I’m calling to tell you I forgive you.”
“What?”
“I’m saying,” Anna cut the letters out of a large, heavy sheet of metal, “that I f-o-r-g-i-v-e you. I forgive you for messing up my and Lily’s life.” Her voice gained strength. “I forgive you for being a fraud. I forgive you for never really loving me, and I forgive you for being cold. I forgive you for being a coward, I forgive you for all the stuff you haven’t got the guts to face, I forgive you for all your lies and your habit of blaming everyone but yourself. I forgive you for only seeing what you want to see, I forgive you for—”
“Do you know something, I don’t need to listen to your crap,” he said and slammed the telephone down.
Anna looked out across the street.
“No, I don’t suppose you have to. But I forgive you anyway, damn you,” she said and added into the telephone: “Except one thing. I’ll never forgive you for depriving Lily of her father.” Then she hung up.
She turned around and faced Karen, who was still sitting in front of the stove and said, “Why don’t we take a look at your new room?”
Karen smiled.
Johannes was cremated on Thursday October 18. The day before Anna called Mrs. Kampe to ask when and where, and she replied it was a small and private service but Anna was welcome. When Anna arrived at the chapel of Charlottenlund Church at 12:50 p.m. she encountered ninety-five goths in full costume. It was a glorious sight. Mrs. Kampe stood away from the crowd, looking lost.