the Third Twin (1996)

The day was already heating up. As she crossed the campus she asked herself what she wanted out of this meeting with Obeli. Her only objective was to be allowed to continue with her research. She needed to be tough and make it clear she was not to be bullied; but ideally she would soothe the anger of the university authorities and de-escalate the conflict.

She was glad she had worn the black suit, even though she was sweating in it: it made her look older and more authoritative. Her high heels clacked on the flagstones as she approached Hillside Hall. She was ushered straight into the president’s lavish office.

Berrington Jones was sitting there, a copy of the New York Times in his hand. She smiled at him, glad to have an ally. He nodded rather coolly and said: “Good morning, Jeannie.”

Maurice Obeli was in his wheelchair behind his big desk. With his usual abrupt manner he said: “The university simply cannot tolerate this, Dr. Ferrami.”

He did not ask her to sit, but she was not going to be scolded like a schoolgirl, so she selected a chair, moved it, sat down, and crossed her legs. “It was a pity you told the press you had canceled my project before checking whether you had the legal right to do so,” she said as coolly as she could. “I fully agree with you that it made the college look foolish.”

He bridled. “It was not I who made us look foolish.”

That was enough being tough, she decided; now was the moment to tell him they were both on the same side. She uncrossed her legs. “Of course not,” she said. “The truth is we were both a little hasty, and the press took advantage of us.”

Berrington put in: “The damage is done, now—there’s no point in apologizing.”

“I wasn’t apologizing,” she snapped. She turned back to Obeli and smiled. “However, I do think we should stop bickering.”

Once again Berrington answered her. “It’s too late for that,” he said.

“I’m sure it’s not,” she said. She wondered why Berrington had said that. He ought to want a reconciliation; it was not in his interests to be inflammatory. She kept her eyes and her smile on the president. “We’re rational people. We must be able to find a compromise that would allow me to continue my work and yet preserve the university’s dignity.”

Obeli clearly liked that idea, although he frowned and said: “I don’t quite see how.…”

“This is all a waste of time,” Berrington said impatiently.

It was the third time he had made a quarrelsome interjection. Jeannie choked back another waspish rejoinder. Why was he being like this? Did he want her to stop doing her research and get into trouble with the university and be discredited? It began to seem that way. Was it Berrington who had sneaked into her room and downloaded her E-mail and warned off the FBI? Could it even be he who had tipped off the New York Times in the first place and started this whole row? She was so stunned by the perverse logic of this notion that she fell silent.

“We have already decided the university’s course of action,” Berrington said.

She realized she had mistaken the power structure in the room. Berrington was the boss here, not Obeli. Berrington was the conduit for Genetico’s research millions, which Obeli needed. Berrington had nothing to fear from Obeli; rather the reverse. She had been watching the monkey instead of the organ-grinder.

Berrington had now dropped the pretense that the university president was in charge. “We didn’t call you in here to ask your opinion,” he said.

“Then why did you call me in?” Jeannie asked.

“To fire you,” he replied.

She was stunned. She had expected the threat of dismissal, but not the thing itself. She could hardly take it in. “What do you mean?” she said stupidly.

“I mean you’re fired,” Berrington said. He smoothed his eyebrows with the tip of his right index finger, a sign that he was pleased with himself.

Jeannie felt as if she had been punched. I can’t be fired, she thought. I’ve only been here a few weeks. I was getting on so well, working so hard. I thought they all liked me, except Sophie Chapple. How did this happen so fast?

She tried to collect her thoughts. “You can’t fire me,” she said.

“We just did.”

“No.” As she got over the initial shock, she began to feel angry and defiant. “You’re not tribal chieftains here. There’s a procedure.” Universities usually could not fire faculty without some kind of hearing. It was mentioned in her contract, but she had never checked the details. Suddenly it was vitally important to her.

Maurice Obeli supplied the information. “There will be a hearing before the discipline committee of the university senate, of course,” he said. “Normally, four weeks’ notice is required; but in view of the bad publicity surrounding this case I, as president, have invoked the emergency procedure, and the hearing will be held tomorrow morning.”