Ian McEwan - Solar

Then his heartbeat steadied, and he seemed to return to the room and adopted from nowhere a no-nonsense tone. 'Disrupting tomorrow's event would be highly prejudicial to our own interests and those of the locality and is clearly out of the question. It's virtually impossible anyway.' He leaned forward confidentially. 'Have you ever tried cancelling a US Air Force fly-past, Mr Barnard?'

No one smiled.

Beard continued. 'The second point is this. As I remember, the cover sheet of Tom Aldous's notes is marked confidential. For the exclusive attention of Professor Beard. I believe this confidentiality has been breached. Thirdly, before his death, Mr Aldous and I worked intensively on artificial photosynthesis. He used to come to my house, so often in fact that, as everybody knows, he ran off with my wife. When we were working together, I did the thinking and talking, Tom did the writing. In our democratic times, Mr Barnard, science remains a hierarchical affair, unamenable to levelling. Too much expertise, too much knowledge has to be acquired. Before they become old fools, senior scientists tend to know more, by objectively measured standards. Aldous was a lowly post-doc. You could say he was my amanuensis. And that was why the file was marked for me, and no one else. I have scores, if not hundreds, of pages of my own notes covering the same material, all properly annotated and dated, and certainly pre-dating the Aldous file. If you insist on wasting the Centre's resources coming to court, I'll make them available. But you will be paying my costs, and I shall take advice on whether to sue Mr Braby personally for defamation.'

Toby Hammer's slumped back had begun to straighten a little and there was hope, or the beginning of hope, in his eyes as he watched his friend.

The lawyer continued much as before. 'We have letters Aldous wrote to his father describing his ideas and his intention of putting them before you in this file. He wanted you to use your influence to get funding. We know from many sources that your interest at the time was confined to a new kind of wind turbine.'

'Mr Barnard,' Beard spoke in the falling tones of gentle, steely admonition. 'My life's work has been in light. Since the age of twenty, when I learned by heart the poem of that name by John Milton. Some twenty-five years ago, I received the Nobel Prize for modifying Einstein's photovoltaics. Do not try to tell me my interests are or were confined to wind turbines. As for Tom's letters, he would not be the first ambitious young man who made grand claims about his achievements to a father who was still supporting him.'

Beard drew his dressing gown around him, and nodded reassuringly at Hammer.

Barnard conceded nothing. He simply moved to his next point. 'This is not central to our case, it merely corroborates it. We have transcripts of a recording of a speech you gave in the Savoy Hotel, London, in February 2005. We find that it was mostly derived from various paragraphs in Mr Aldous's file.'

Beard shrugged. 'And those paragraphs were derived from me.'

'We also have,' Barnard said, 'notes made by Mr Aldous in the year before he met you, and these demonstrate a deep interest in global warming, ecology, sustainable development, and various calculations, the sort of things that were developed in this file. And before you tell me, Mr Beard, that he must have got these from you somehow, even though he didn't know you, you should be aware that our office has researched thoroughly every public lecture, radio talk, media interview, newspaper opinion piece, every course you gave at university, and there is nothing of yours that touches on artificial photosynthesis, nor is there a single mention by you of climate change or renewable energy in the months and years before Mr Aldous died and his file came into your possession. Hardly what one would expect, is it, Mr Beard, from a public figure like yourself making breakthrough discoveries in the field?'

Hammer had slumped again, and at last Beard was angry. What was this ludicrous man doing in his room, sitting so primly on the bed which minutes before had supported the glorious form of Darlene? Beard was on his feet, one hand holding his dressing gown in place over his private parts, the other jabbing a finger towards Barnard's face. 'Climate change? You're conveniently forgetting that I was head of the Centre before I ever knew Tom Aldous. No win, no fee, is it, Mr Barnard? Looking to get rich? Well, take this back to your Mr Braby. Tell him I know a shabby opportunist when I see one. We've made something beautiful here and he thinks he can hitch a ride. He's also stupid enough to think that a court will believe that this is the kind of work a graduate student can dream up alone. Tomorrow our site will be delivering clean low-cost electricity to Lordsburg. Tell Mr Braby to watch it all on TV, and we'll see him in court!'

Barnard had also stood and held his briefcase against his chest. He was shaking his head, and when he spoke his voice was tight with a new emotion, indignation or pride or some blend of the two. 'There is one further development you should be aware of. Mr Braby is no more. Last month was the Queen's birthday and to mark the occasion as special she invited him to become her knight of the realm. He is now Sir Jock Braby.'

Beard moaned in exasperation and made a show of clapping his hand to his forehead. But there was a look of panic in Hammer's eyes. If Braby had the Queen of England on his side, what possible chance did they have in an English court of law?

Beard said, 'It's all crap, Toby. Don't listen. This is the Queen's Birthday Honours List. She doesn't choose it, she knows fuck all about it, and they all scramble to be on it, every booby and arriviste from science and the arts and the civil service who wants to strut about the place hoping to be taken for a member of the minor aristocracy.'

There was a silence after this outburst, and then Barnard sighed and took a step around the bed towards the door. 'Shall we assume then, Mr Beard, that Her Majesty hasn't gotten round to choosing you?'

Beard said crisply, 'I'm not at liberty to say.'

Barnard let his briefcase swing down and dangle at his side. Toby was now on his feet. Barnard said, 'Well, on behalf of Sir Jock Braby and the National Centre for Renewable Energy, I want to put it to you one last time. If you agree to call off tomorrow's media event and agree to revisit the patents situation, you'll find us sympathetic collaborators who will certainly find a role for you in the development of a technology which rightly belongs to the Centre. If not, then our first move will be to go to court to freeze all exploitation until this matter is resolved.'

Hammer, turning to Beard, looked like he was about to go down on one knee. 'Michael, that could take five years.'

Beard was shaking his head. 'No, Toby. I say no.'

Barnard said, 'The British government has deep pockets, at least in this affair. They're keen to see the Centre own the patents and show the taxpayer a decent return.'

Hammer clutched at the lapels of Beard's dressing gown. 'Listen, we owe a lot of money. No one's going to sign with us until this is straightened out. We can't afford lawyers.'

'We've put in all the work,' Beard said as he pushed Hammer's hand away. 'If we roll over now, we'll be lucky if they take us on as lavatory attendants.'

'Gentlemen,' Barnard said. 'I'm pretty sure we can offer you something better than that. And Mr Hammer's right. When news of our legal contest becomes public, people will not want to do business with you. Surely it's in your interests too, not to make a splash tomorrow.'

'I'm putting this as politely as I can,' Beard said. 'Please leave.'

With the faintest pursing of his thin lips, Barnard turned and opened the door. Over his shoulder the orange desert sky was fading through yellow to luminous green.