“I don’t think you killed Lars,” Anna said, gently.
“I loved Lars,” Mrs. Helland said.
Anna walked home from Herlev. It took her ninety minutes. The cable ties and screwdriver were back in her jacket pocket; the mission had been called off. The night was crystal clear and the wind had died down. The cold was biting. She walked briskly, swinging her arms. For a moment, she was the only person alive, the only one who millions of stars had come out to see.
There was a beeping sound from her back pocket. It was almost one thirty a.m. It was probably Karen who had woken up and was worried about her. She fished out her mobile and stopped under a bus shelter.
It was a text message from Johannes.
Can we meet? it read.
Anna stared at the display in disbelief.
Chapter 14
On the morning of Saturday October 13, Clive went looking for a florist, and when he found one he meditated on the vagaries of life. Here he was, buying flowers for Helland’s funeral. He had skipped breakfast at the hotel, and when he had got the flowers he stopped for coffee and a bagel. He thought about Kay. About what she might be doing. They had met through mutual friends. Kay hadn’t been the most striking woman present that night, but she had exuded something old-fashioned and meticulous, which appealed to Clive. They quickly became a couple and married on the anniversary of their first date. A common enough story, Clive thought, and there was nothing wrong with that. Franz and Tom had followed in quick succession and Kay stayed home with the children while Clive went to work. So far their marriage had been undramatic. In fact, it reminded Clive very much of his parents’ marriage with one exception: Clive made an effort with Kay. He knew she didn’t always understand his work, but he made a point of keeping her informed about major developments. They had always spoken politely to each other, both when they were alone and in front of the children. Clive knew he had behaved well. He had no interest at all in other women; he didn’t drink or gamble. Nor had he ever hit Kay. Until now. He looked out at the gray capital and cursed Jack. Jack was responsible for the vast majority of drama in Clive’s life. He was a thirty-year curse that had refused to release him. Clive had never suffered as much as he did when Jack became a teenager, lost interest in him, and moved away. Not even his intellectual clash with his father had cost him so dear. He had been unable to sleep and had desperately wished for Jack to come back. The anguish faded only slowly. He thought it must be fate when he met Jack again. Clive was a scientist and didn’t believe in fate, but when he spotted Jack in the university lobby, he refused to accept it was a coincidence. Their paths kept crossing and all they had to do was reach out. But Jack didn’t reach out. Clive had given him hundreds of chances, but Jack hadn’t followed him since childhood.
Clive massaged his eyebrows. He wouldn’t think about Jack. His lecture was at six o’clock and before that there was Helland’s funeral.
The church was full to the rafters when Michael and Clive entered. The tall superintendent, Marhauge, sat right inside the door, in the last row, and he nodded kindly to Clive. The usher took his flowers, and Clive looked for a vacant pew. Michael fell behind, but Clive was pushed forward and ended up sitting near the front. At least two hundred people were there. The coffin, decorated with flowers, shone brightly in front of the altar. In the first pew, to the right, were two distraught-looking women in black who spoke in hushed voices. They had to be Helland’s family. Clive found it unreal that Helland had a family. Helland, that evil man. Several men sat in the front pew to the left, suggesting Helland had been one of several brothers. He had certainly had many friends and colleagues.
Diagonally behind him, Clive spotted a young woman who was looking in his direction. She had light brown bobbed hair, sneakers on her feet, and she wore jeans and an inappropriate army jacket with a hood. She seemed very angry.
What on earth was she staring at? He tried to follow her gaze, but no one stood out in the sea of people in front of him. Everyone was busy taking off their coats and opening hymnals. He realized the young woman was staring at him. At that moment the service began.
Later, at the Bella Centre, Clive noted to his delight that around one hundred and twenty people had shown up to hear him speak. He trawled the audience for familiar faces but found none. A heated debate followed the lecture. Clive knew the routine and had, by now, been on the receiving end of so many attacks that he would have been very surprised if his audience had responded with silence. Yet he noticed the results of the cartilage condensation experiment weren’t considered as revolutionary as Michael and he had hoped.
“It’s an interesting experiment,” someone said. “But it doesn’t cancel out the 286 apomorphies linking modern birds to dinosaurs.”
“I agree,” another said, nodding in Clive’s direction. “The ontogenesis of the bird hand is one of the weakest areas of the dinosaur theory. But we have to live with that. We can’t know the embryonic development of dinosaurs, for obvious reasons. But even without an insight into embryonic development, we have more than sufficient evidence to conclude that there’s a relationship. We really do, Professor Freeman.”
“Yes,” a third person called out. “It’s the equivalent of doing a thousand-piece jigsaw of the New York skyline. Only one piece is missing, and yet you claim you can’t see what city it is.”
“I agree,” a fourth person said.
Clive inevitably reached the point where he simply stuck to his guns and dismissed all criticism. Two people walked out, fewer than usual. He wasn’t facing a polite and sympathetic crowd who lapped up his every word, but they weren’t bad, either. He thought their eyes showed evidence of genuine interest.
One hour later the room was deserted. Clive couldn’t hide his disappointment. A few members of the audience had come down to shake his hand, but he didn’t feel the cartilage condensation experiment had won over anyone. He couldn’t see why. It was a good experiment.
“What do you think?” he asked Michael. “It felt like they didn’t quite follow.” Clive shook his head with frustration. Michael seemed distracted by something. He had been busy taking down the large, colorful posters but had stopped.
“Michael?”
Michael didn’t react until Clive was right next to him.
“Earth to Michael,” Clive said.
“Clive,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
Clive looked baffled.
“The department is closing,” Michael explained. Clive gasped. “The decision has been made. Our department will be merged with the department of Vertebrate Morphology and you…” Michael touched his head and said in an anguished voice, “There isn’t a position for you. That’s the official version. You’re being made emeritus professor. On paper. Of course, we’ll continue to include you. Well, I’ll include you in my projects, definitely. I was supposed to tell you before we went to Europe. But I couldn’t. I’ll understand if you’re angry.”
“But why?” Clive stuttered. He was stunned.
“I’m on your side, Clive,” Michael hastened to add. “It’s not that. Look at the condensation results. I support you. But every day new evidence emerges suggesting we could be wrong. We have to allow for the possibility that we might be wrong. The department of Bird Evolution, Paleobiology, and Systematics has become synonymous with your scientific position and that was never the intention. It can’t happen; it’s hurting UBC. We’re known as the Creationist Faculty. We have fewer students than ever, and you know what that means.” He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “No one takes our graduates seriously, they can’t find work, and the faculty desperately needs money. We have to change course if we’re to have a hope of increasing our student numbers. And you’re too well known, Clive. The feeling is that we can’t save the sinking ship as long as you’re the captain.”