Ken Follett - the Third Twin (1996)

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?”

Berrington was exultant. She looked wonderful, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing, but she was digging her own grave. Maurice was antagonized by every word.

Then Jeannie seemed to realize what she was doing, for she suddenly changed tack. “On the other hand, none of us wants bad publicity for the university,” she said in a milder voice. “I quite understand your concern, Dr. Obeli.”

Maurice softened immediately, much to Berrington’s chagrin. “I realize this puts you in a difficult position,” he said. “The university is prepared to offer you compensation, in the form of a raise of ten thousand dollars a year.”

Jeannie looked startled.

Berrington said: “That ought to enable you to get your mother out of that place you’re so worried about.”

Jeannie hesitated only for a moment. “I’d be deeply grateful for that,” she said, “but it wouldn’t solve the problem. I still have to have criminal twins for my research. Otherwise there’s nothing to study.”

Berrington had not thought she could be bribed.

Maurice said: “Surely there must be another way to find suitable subjects for you to study?”

“No, there’s not. I need identical twins, raised apart, at least one of whom is a criminal. That’s a tall order. My computer program locates people who don’t even know they’re twins. There’s no other method of doing that.”

“I hadn’t realized,” Maurice said.

The tone was becoming perilously amicable. Then Maurice’s secretary came in and handed him a sheet of paper. It was the press release Berrington had drafted. Maurice showed it to Jeannie, saying: “We need to be able to issue something like this today, if we’re to kill this story off.”

She read it quickly, and her anger returned. “But this is bullshit!” she stormed. “No mistakes have been made. No one’s privacy has been invaded. No one has even complained!”

Berrington concealed his satisfaction. It was paradoxical that she was so fiery, yet she had the patience and perseverance to do lengthy and tedious scientific research. He had seen her working with her subjects: they never seemed to irritate or tire her, even when they messed up the tests. With them, she found bad behavior as interesting as good. She just wrote down what they said and thanked them sincerely at the end. Yet outside the lab she would go off like a firecracker at the least provocation.

He played the role of concerned peacemaker. “But, Jeannie, Dr. Obeli feels we have to put out a firm statement.”

“You can’t say the use of my computer program has been discontinued!” she said. “That would be tantamount to canceling my entire project!”

Maurice’s face hardened. “I can’t have the New York Times publishing an article that says Jones Falls scientists invade people’s privacy,” he said. “It would cost us millions in lost donations.”

“Find a middle way,” Jeannie pleaded. “Say you’re looking into the problem. Set up a committee. We’ll develop further privacy safeguards, if necessary.”

Oh, no, Berrington thought. That was dangerously sensible. “We have an ethics committee, of course,” he said, playing for time. “It’s a subcommittee of the senate.” The senate was the university’s ruling council and consisted of all the tenured professors, but the work was done by committees. “You could announce that you’re handing over the problem to them.”

“No good,” Maurice said abruptly. “Everyone will know that’s a stall.”

Jeannie protested: “Don’t you see that by insisting on immediate action you’re practically ruling out any thoughtful discussion!”

This would be a good time to bring the meeting to a close, Berrington decided. The two were at loggerheads, both entrenched in their positions. He should finish it before they started to think about compromise again. “A good point, Jeannie,” Berrington said. “Let me make a proposal here—if you permit, Maurice.”

“Sure, let’s hear it.”

“We have two separate problems. One is to find a way to progress Jeannie’s research without bringing a scandal down upon the university. That’s something Jeannie and I have to resolve, and we should discuss it at length, later. The second question is how the department and the university present this to the world. That’s a matter for you and me to talk about, Maurice.”

Maurice looked relieved. “Very sensible,” he said. Berrington said: “Thank you for joining us at short notice, Jeannie.”

She realized she was being dismissed. She got up with a puzzled frown. She knew she had been outmaneuvered, but she could not figure out how. “You’ll call me?” she said to Berrington.

“Of course.”

“All right.” She hesitated, then went out.