Jack would know perfectly well that the discovery of an allegedly feathered dinosaur meant late nights for Clive, who would need weeks to defend his position and refute the implications that the media and every other idiot would draw from the discovery. Jack not letting Clive into his life might be a coincidence, it might even be Clive’s own fault. But Jack not calling him, that was deliberate.
Clive called a meeting with his department that Monday, and later the same day they issued a press release announcing that UBC’s department of Bird Evolution, Paleobiology, and Systematics was obviously excited at the discovery of a feathered dinosaur, but that they had nothing further to say until they had been allowed to examine the specimen themselves. Afterward Clive completed an application to view the animal, knowing full well that it would be a great deal of time before permission was granted. Jack still hadn’t called.
The following January, the two Chinese paleontologists, Chang and Laam, finally described and named the animal and announced that it wasn’t a dinosaur. Clive was triumphant. They named it Sinosauropteryx, concluded it was an ancient bird, and consequently no one was surprised that it had feathers.
However, Clive’s joy was short-lived. Fossils started pouring out of China’s soil, literally, and in every subsequent case, Chang and Laam had no doubts: these weren’t ancient birds, they were dinosaurs. And they were all feathered.
Clive sent a reminder regarding his application, and when it was finally approved he flew to China immediately. It took him two weeks to examine Sinosauropteryx, and he also had a closer look at Caudipteryx and Protarchaeopteryx. Delighted, he called Jack and told him to hold the front page. Clive’s enthusiasm was infectious. “This is a rotten line,” Jack laughed, “call me when you get back.”
Clive spent another two days in China before flying home. He was overjoyed. Beipiaosaurus, Sinornithosaurus, Microraptor, Caudipteryx, and Protarchaeopteryx were obviously all ancient birds but not dinosaurs. Furthermore, the Chinese had turned out to be very welcoming, not at all reticent as he had been told, and the food was superb. One afternoon he strolled through a garden of cherry trees, whose white petals fluttered poetically onto passersby and wished Jack could have been there with him. If only they could have some time together. Jack was a science writer, one of the very best, but, of course, there was a price to pay. Jack shared Clive’s scientific views, Clive knew that, but Jack self-evidently couldn’t appreciate the discussion about the origin of birds fully, when he also had to consider so many other topics. If only they could have some time together, then Clive could explain the details to him. This would boost Clive’s position enormously. Scientific Today was selling better than ever, everyone in the science community read it and wanted to publish in it. Jack and he would once more be an unbeatable duo.
Across from the cherry-tree garden was a market, where Clive bought two bronze beetles in a glass dome for his sons and a large piece of silk for Kay. When he got back, he would ask Jack if they could go away together. Just for a couple of days. Just the two of them.
When he got back to Canada, Clive went to see Jack. He had written most of his paper on the plane, and when he landed in Vancouver the major themes of his arguments were outlined. Triumphantly, he slammed it down in front of Jack.
“Did you have a good trip?” Jack asked, smiling.
“Yes,” Clive said.
“Coffee?”
Clive declined. Jack went to get some for himself, and when he returned he closed the door behind him and called his secretary to say he didn’t want to be disturbed for the next fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, Clive thought. Jack let himself fall into the chair behind his desk and looked at Clive.
“I can’t print your paper,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve got doubts,” Jack replied.
“About what?”
“About the origin of birds.” He held up his hand to forestall Clive’s reaction, but Clive was speechless.
“For years your position was reasonable. We were missing many decisive fossils, phylogenetic methods were still unreliable, and there were problems explaining the reduction of bird fingers…. During all that time I understood perfectly well why you didn’t buy the dinosaur theory. But now? New evidence is discovered every week, Clive. And everything points to birds being present-day dinosaurs, don’t you see? More than 250 apomorphies link birds and dinosaurs. Two hundred and fifty apomorphies! Including feathers. Feathers! Not to mention that more than 95 percent of the world’s scientists today agree that cladistics is the accepted phylogenetic method. Everyone’s using cladistics, except you. You have an impressive résumé, Clive. No one would think less of you if you changed your position—on the contrary. That’s the very core of science. That a hypothesis stands until it’s replaced by a better-supported one. Remember Walker? He dismissed his own theory when it no longer held up. He won a lot of admiration for that.”
Clive stared at Jack and, in that moment, he hated him. He remembered once when Jack was little and had cut his finger on a knife and Clive had stuck his finger in his mouth. Suddenly, he could taste the blood again.
“I want my story on the front page,” he whispered.
“We already have a lead story.”
“I’ve been an ornithologist for thirty years,” Clive said. “And now you’re telling me that some fashionable paleontology theory is going to end my career?” Clive shot up from his chair, reached over the desk and grabbed Jack’s jaw.
“Look at me,” he hissed. “I was like a father to you. I got you out of that shit hole you came from. Everything you’ve got,” he gestured toward the enormous desk and the stacks of journals, “you owe to me.”
Clive let go of Jack’s face and pointed at his paper lying on the desk. Then he left.
The next issue of Scientific Today was published in mid-August. On the cover was a photo of Caudipteryx, its left wing partly unfolded and beneath it the headline: THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES: THE CRETACEOUS TURKEY.
Clive was satisfied.
In the autumn of 2005, Clive was invited to take the hot seat at a major ornithology conference in Toronto, where he would participate in a live TV debate with a young Danish paleontologist, Dr. Erik Tybjerg, who appeared to have been promoted from being Lars Helland’s PhD student to his errand boy. Clive had met the young scientist several times because Helland made a point of staying away from conferences, and he found Tybjerg intensely annoying. He was an upstart who thought he knew it all, and Clive would regard it as a considerable pleasure to bring him down on national television.
Clive made a last-minute decision to fly to Toronto via his hometown. Since the death of his father, he tended to visit his mother every other year. She was an old lady now, practically blind and living in a nursing home. Clive looked forward to seeing her lined face and feeling her hand in his. He left three days before the conference and stayed at a hotel near the nursing home. When he wasn’t spending time with his mother, pushing her around in her wheelchair, he slept like a log in his room, ate well in the restaurant, and even managed four walks around the local area before traveling onward on the fourth day.
He landed in Toronto, rested and exhilarated. He was met at the airport and driven straight to the conference center where he left his luggage with a cloakroom attendant, collected his entry pass, and strolled around the many interesting booths.
Half an hour later he took a seat in a comfortable red armchair on the stage. Opposite was an identical but vacant armchair. The stage was bathed in light and Clive found it hard to see properly, but he was aware of a large audience taking their seats in the auditorium. A well-dressed young woman came out to greet him, introduced herself as the assistant to the producer, and asked if Clive was ready to be hooked up to his microphone. Of course, Clive answered and complimented her on her appearance. He noticed the young woman’s perfume, and she stood very close to him while she attached the clip of the micro port to his lapel.