the Third Twin (1996)

‘Thirty thousand dollars a year.”

“What do you think we should offer her?”

“It would have to be substantial. Another eight or ten thousand.”

“And the funding for that?”

Berrington smiled. “I believe I could persuade Genetico.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Call her now, Berry. If she’s on campus, get her in here right away. We’ll settle this thing before the ethics police call again.”

Berrington picked up Maurice’s phone and called Jeannie’s office. It was answered right away. “Jeannie Ferrami.”

“This is Berrington.”

“Good morning.” Her tone was wary. Had she sensed his desire to seduce her on Monday night? Maybe she wondered if he was planning to try again. Or perhaps she had already got wind of the New York Times problem.

“Can I see you right away?”

“In your office?”

“I’m in Dr. Obell’s office at Hillside Hall.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Is this about a woman called Naomi Freelander?”

“Yes.”

“It’s all horseshit, you know that.”

“I do, but we have to deal with it.” “I’ll be right over.”

Berrington hung up. “She’ll be here momentarily,” he told Maurice. “It sounds as if she’s already heard from the Times.”

The next few minutes would be crucial. If Jeannie defended herself well, Maurice might change his strategy. Berrington had to keep Maurice firm without seeming hostile to Jeannie. She was a hot-tempered, assertive girl, not the type to be conciliatory, especially when she thought she was in the right. She would probably make an enemy of Maurice without any help from Berrington. But just in case she was uncharacteristically sweet and persuasive, he needed a fallback plan.

Struck by inspiration, he said: “We might rough out a press statement while we’re waiting.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Berrington pulled over a pad and began scribbling. He needed something that Jeannie could not possibly agree to, something that would injure her pride and make her mad. He wrote that Jones Falls University admitted mistakes had been made. The university apologized to those whose privacy had been invaded. And it promised that the program had been discontinued as of today.

He handed his work to Maurice’s secretary and asked her to put it through her word processor right away.

Jeannie arrived fizzing with indignation. She was wearing a baggy emerald green T-shirt, tight black jeans, and the kind of footwear that used to be called engineer boots but were now a fashion statement. She had a silver ring in her pierced nostril and her thick dark hair was tied back. She looked kind of cute, to Berrington, but her outfit would not impress the university president. To him she would appear the kind of irresponsible junior academic who might get JFU into trouble.

Maurice invited her to sit down and told her about the call from the newspaper. His manner was stiff. He was comfortable with mature men, Berrington thought; young women in tight jeans were aliens to him.

“The same woman called me,” Jeannie said with irritation. “This is ludicrous.”

“But you do access medical databases,” Maurice said.

“I don’t look at the databases, the computer does. No human being sees anyone’s medical records. My program produces a list of names and addresses, grouped in pairs.”

“Even that …”

“We do nothing further without first asking permission of the potential subject. We don’t even tell them they’re twins until after they’ve agreed to be part of our study. So whose privacy is invaded?”

Berrington pretended to back her. “I told you, Maurice,” he said. “The Times has it all wrong.”

“They don’t see it that way. And I have to think of the university’s reputation.”

Jeannie said: “Believe me, my work is going to enhance that reputation.” She leaned forward, and Berrington heard in her voice the passion for new knowledge that drove all good scientists. “This is a project of critical importance. I’m the only person who has figured out how to study the genetics of criminality. When we publish the results it will be a sensation.”

“She’s right,” Berrington put in. It was true. Her study would have been fascinating. It was heartbreaking to destroy it. But he had no choice.

Maurice shook his head. “It’s my job to protect the university from scandal.”

Jeannie said recklessly: “It’s also your job to defend academic freedom.”

That was the wrong tack for her to take. Once upon a time, no doubt, university presidents had fought for the right to the unfettered pursuit of knowledge, but those days were over. Now they were fund-raisers, pure and simple. She would only offend Maurice by mentioning academic freedom.

Maurice bristled. “I don’t need a lecture on my presidential duties from you, young lady,” he said stiffly.

Jeannie did not take the hint, to Berrington’s delight. “Don’t you?” she said to Maurice, warming to her theme. “Here’s a direct conflict. On the one hand is a newspaper apparently bent on a misguided story; on the other a scientist after the truth. If a university president is going to buckle under that kind of pressure, what hope is there?”