by E. J. Kay
Alec was roused from his contemplations by the plane landing with a bump on the runway. It taxied towards its nominated gate, drew to a halt, and Alec and his small party undid their seatbelts and started to get their belongings from the overhead lockers. As the door opened a cold March breeze blew into the cabin, reminding them that they had definitely left Africa. It had been another very cold winter in the UK and the wind still carried an icy edge. Lily shivered and pulled on her jumper. Outside the plane the cargo doors were already being opened and the crate containing the fossilised remains was unloaded by scissor lift. Once they had passed through customs Alec and his team found a small group of journalists waiting in the arrivals lounge; the regional BBC science correspondent and a couple of journalists from the local press. Not the mob that Juliet had expected. They answered the journalists’ questions as patiently as they could and then made their excuses and squeezed themselves into the cabin of the waiting UNWE van, with its precious cargo in the rear. Alec and Ben sat in the front, while Lily and Egraine belted themselves into the seats behind.
“Typical,” said Lily. “Men in front, women behind.”
“Yeah, great. They’re first through the windscreen,” said Egraine and Lily laughed. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should give the find a name. It doesn’t seem right to just keep calling her ‘it’. Don Johansson called his Australopithecine ‘Lucy’. I’ve got an idea for a name for our find.”
“What?” asked Lily.
“Well, I think we should call her Nimue[1]. She was the Lady of the Lake in Le Morte d’Arthur.”
“Oh I love it!” squeaked Lily. “The lady of the lake. Perfect!”
“What do you think Alec?” asked Egraine, leaning forward and brushing her mouth close to his ear.
Alec moved his head away. “Yes, why not. Better than letting the press decide.”
Egraine smiled. “Ben?”
“Not bothered.”
Lily and Egraine looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Nimue it is,” they both said together.
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The university had organised a civic reception, including the Mayor, the Lord High Sheriff, the Chancellor of the University and the senior management team, together with other local dignitaries and representatives from the press. The reception had been organised in the staff restaurant for three o’clock that afternoon, as Alec and his party of four (including Nimue) were due back around that time. Things had run pretty much to time, so at three-thirty pm the van arrived at the university, pulling into the loading bay in the underpass between the science building and the gym. Alec set about supervising the unloading until Ben reminded him that they were supposed to go up to the reception. Very reluctantly Alec left the unloading and went up to the refectory with his three research colleagues, but by this time it was past four o’clock.
Juliet was clearly irritated by the time he got there. She was annoyed that the party had been left waiting until after four for no good reason. She put a brave face on it and accompanied Alec whilst he was interviewed by the attending journalists, but at the first opportunity she took him over to one side.
“Alec, what took so long? When we spoke on the phone at three fifteen you said about ten minutes. We have some very important guests here.”
“I needed to be sure that the remains were properly handled. That’s much more important than attending some publicity stunt, Juliet. It was always going to be risky to organise something today, but you would insist on going for dramatic effect. If you think about what could have gone wrong I think the timing worked out OK.” Alec turned away and headed over to chat to Joseph, leaving Juliet fuming.
“What was that about?” asked Joseph. “Juliet doesn’t look too happy.”
“Oh, she’s annoyed at us being late for this bash. I mean, really, what does that matter in comparison to what I’ve brought back here? To tell the truth, I think she’s pissed at me because she’s actually worried about what this find could mean for her reputation.”
“Mm, actually, I need to have a quick word with you about that. Juliet asked me to talk to you to make sure that you don’t make any unwarranted claims about the relevance of this find to the AAH. She’s concerned about the effect it may have on the university’s mainstream position and the funding we receive.”
“I thought you were sympathetic.”
“Oh come on Alec, you’ve known me long enough to know my position on this. I think there are some interesting aspects to the AAH, but I have major issues with the timelines. Bipedalism and hair loss happened millions of years apart, from the best evidence we have, so I struggle with the idea that a single environmental change brought about everything that makes us human.”
“The hair loss evidence is genetic,” snorted Alec.
“But it’s still reputable evidence, Alec. Remember our tutorial discussions all those years ago about the importance of keeping an open mind in research? Archaeology suggests that bipedalism was around at least four million years ago, if not earlier. Genetics suggests that we lost our hair a couple of million years later. They are two pieces of evidence that are hard to reconcile with a single environmental event that led to the development of our most human characteristics.”
“The answer will lie with archaeology, I’m sure of it. There’s a lot more interpretation, and downright guesswork, than anyone would like to own up to in genetics. But bones are bones and can be dated pretty reliably, if they’re found in the right condition and in the right place.”
“But bones are also open to a lot of interpretation too Alec, you know that. And they tell a limited story. You have to be very lucky to find anything ancient that has hair or soft tissue evidence.”
“The Darwinius fossils from the Messel Pit[2] prove that it can be done though. And they’re more than forty million years old. For early Homo species we only need to go back two to three million years.”
“Yes,” admitted Joseph, “that’s true. But the Messel Pit is a very peculiar environment. You’re not likely to find anything with hair outlines and identifiable stomach contents in the African Rift Valley. Anyway, look, we’re going over old ground here. I’m just asking you to please be circumspect in your comments about the find.”
“So that Juliet can relax?”
“Well, yes, in a nutshell. She does also have legitimate concerns about funding streams. You know I’m not saying that you shouldn’t publicise your findings. I am on your side, believe it or not. We all know that the internet has led to information being available about our work much earlier than it would have been twenty years ago. It’s hard to work out of the public gaze these days and there are some good things about that. But, we do still have to apply proper scientific method before we make statements to the wider world.”
“Yeah,” grunted Alec. “Look, I need to get back to the labs. Would you make my apologies or goodbyes to whoever needs to be stroked?”
Alec put down his drink and walked quickly to the exit, head down. Joseph watched him go, shaking his head slightly, as Juliet made her way over to him.
“Has Alec gone already?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s eager to get back to the lab. It’s understandable, Juliet. He said thanks for the reception, though.”
She looked at him sceptically. “I’ll bet he did. Did you manage to have a word with him about our conversation earlier?”
“Yes, I did, and he seems to understand. Didn’t make his day though.”
“No, I’m sure. Well, let’s hope that we can have a period of peace and quiet now while he gets on with his analysis.”
“We can but hope,” sighed Joseph.
His hopes were not to be realised.
Chapter 5
Over the five weeks leading up to the Easter break Alec and his students worked long hours, gently cleaning the fossilised bones and shellfish and gradually laying them out to investigate the morphology. Alec worked very late most evenings on his own, and the university security staff beg
an to get used to him being there on their evening rounds. Usually the swipe card access was disabled at night and the doors locked, but special arrangements had been made for this project and so swipe access was available twenty-four hours a day. Alec often worked on until ten pm, occasionally even later, long after his colleagues had given up for the evening and gone to live their lives outside the lab. But Alec didn’t really have a life outside the lab. He didn’t have much of a life outside his own head. That had always been one of the reasons his many romantic relationships had ended. There had been no shortage of candidates, although the women who were interested in Alec generally had to work fairly hard to get noticed. He was a physically fit and good-looking man and he found women sexually attractive, but he could not seem to recognise the social cues that might show him that a woman was interested in him. And then, sooner or later, his relationships ended because he was never able to connect across the emotional gap. No matter how good the sex was.
Fortunately for him, technology had come to the rescue as far as some other forms of human interaction were concerned. He had really taken to social networking technologies. Communication without immediate personal contact was perfect for him. And the type of communication suited him, too. He could write as much or as little as he liked about exactly what absorbed him. He didn’t have to bother whether other people were interested, bored, or any other of the many human emotions that he had always found it so difficult to pick up on. He didn’t have to answer questions if he didn’t want to; didn’t have to look anyone in the face and try to read what they were feeling. He had never been able to do that successfully in any case. Joseph was very good at it, he realised that, but to Alec it was an occult art. So he blogged and Tweeted and took little notice of any comments or responses to his postings. Until the last couple of weeks, when he had spotted three or four comments on his blog that had been a little ... different. Not directly threatening, but written in a strange style. He thought it was probably just somebody having a go at him so he didn’t approve them, but he did decide that he would show them to Joseph soon. Just to see what he thought about them.
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The room was shadowy and cold. April evening sunlight was fading to scarlet as the balding man lit the candle and placed it on the dark mahogany dresser by the wall. The flickering flame illuminated a picture directly above it; a monk, tonsured and in a medieval habit. The candlelight reflected off a cut-throat razor lying with its blade open on the dresser top, directly underneath the picture. He picked up the razor and laid the cold metal flat against the skin on the uppermost surface of his left arm.
“This is your day, William. It is only fitting that I make this dedication.” He pulled the razor across his arm, shaving away the hair in a crescent swathe. “When we shave away all superfluous explanations, what remains is the truth.” He tilted the back of the razor up, the sharp edge pressing an indentation into his skin. Then pulled the blade slowly towards his body. “But sometimes the truth must hurt.”
Blood oozed out of the deep cut and trickled along his arm in a dark red rivulet, two small drops falling onto the parquet floor before he could staunch the flow with tissues. The monk in the picture looked on impassively as the man hurried from the room and climbed the stairs to the bathroom. There he took a pack of plasters out of a cabinet on the wall and peeled the backing strip away from a large one. Pulling the tissues off the cut he quickly applied the plaster, washed his hands and then dried them on the grimy towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door. He went back downstairs, pulled on his raincoat and returned to the candlelit room. He looked up at the picture with reverence. “I trust you will approve of my offering,” he whispered, picking up the blooded razor and pulling the hood of his coat up over his head. He blew out the candle and hurried out of the house.
Chapter 6
Whistling to himself, Joseph swiped his access card to open the lab door. Seven thirty in the morning, he thought, I must be keen. Alec had called him the previous evening, almost breathless with excitement. He had just finished the cleaning and reconstruction of the skull, and his research team had freed all the other bones from the surrounding matrix. Alec had told Joseph very little, except that her cranial capacity was around eight-hundred and fifty cubic centimetres, her fingers were long and curved and that the reconstruction of her pelvis made it clear that she had been bipedal in life. The shape of her skull made her look like an early Homo ergaster, but this was all pretty much what everyone had expected and didn’t explain why Alec was so excited. He wouldn’t tell Joseph anything on the phone, though. He said he had something that Joseph just had to see.
On entering the lab he quickly became aware of a strange smell. He was used to the dusty, earthy smell of fossils and dry bones, but this was different. More metallic. More organic. As he walked further into the lab he saw that two trolleys had been placed side by side. On one were the fossilised bones, laid out in the recognisable shape of a humanoid skeleton. The skull had been reconstructed and lay, face up, with six of the fossilised shellfish placed around it. On the neighbouring trolley was Alec, naked, laid out on his back with six fresh mussels placed around his head. Blood that had flowed from a wound to the back of his head, low down near the base of his skull, lay in a dark, congealed pool on the trolley. His eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Joseph’s first urge was to run; his second was to be sick. He followed both urges in rapid succession. When he emerged from the lab toilet he stood in the outer office, trying to regain control of himself until he was able to think more clearly. When he had stopped shaking quite so violently he picked up the phone to call Security.
“This is Dr Connor in Lab G0 twelve. I think there’s been some kind of accident here. Dr Whickham’s been ... Could someone get down here quickly?”
“Should I call for a first-aider too?” came the reply.
Joseph could feel a hysterical laugh forcing its way up from his chest. He swallowed it down hard. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I think you should call the police and an ambulance though. Yes, the police, right now. I think Dr Whickham is dead.”
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They sat in the empty classroom. The strengthening spring sunshine filtered through the grime on the windows, casting geometric patterns on the wall and floor. No one would remember this as a sunny day, though. Detective Inspector Elaine Kelly smiled at Joseph across the table. Her long, dark hair was held back with a large metal comb that flashed reflected sunlight as she bent her head to see over the top of her reading glasses. Detective Sergeant Jack Robson sat to her left, taking notes of the interview, and a portable recorder sat on the table between them. Kelly spoke to it.
“Eleventh of April at thirteen forty-five. Interviewing Doctor Joseph Connor.” She turned to Joseph. “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait around in the university all morning, Doctor Connor. It’s taken some time for the SOCO team and the pathologist to do their stuff. And we’ve been waiting for some information requests to come back. Perhaps we could start by you telling me what happened in your own words, please?”
Joseph nodded. “Yes, sure. Well, Alec called me yesterday to ask me to meet him at the labs first thing this morning. He’d just finished the preliminary cleaning and restructuring of the finds and he wanted me to take a look.”
“Why you?”
“Oh, well, I was Alec’s PhD supervisor at Birmingham ten years ago. We’ve worked together quite a bit since then. I suppose I’m what passed for one of Alec’s closest friends. He didn’t have many.” Joseph paused.
“Go on,” said Kelly.
“So, I came down to the labs at about half seven this morning, let myself in and then found Alec as you saw him.”
“Did you touch anything?” asked Kelly.
“No.”
“And then you called Security?”
“No,” admitted Joseph. “I went to be sick. Then I called Security.”
“Did you go back into the lab after your cal
l?”
“No, I didn’t. Lily, Egraine and Ben arrived and so I was occupied with telling them what had happened. They didn’t go into the lab, though. None of us were feeling too well so we just waited for the police. Oh, the security manager came down with some tea, but he didn’t go into the lab.”
“Your ID card gives you access to the labs twenty-four hours a day, does it?” asked Kelly.
“Yes.”
“I have to ask you this, Dr Connor. Where were you at around nine thirty last night?”
“At home.”
“Can anyone vouch for that?” asked Kelly
“Yes, my wife, my daughter and her friend who was round for dinner.”
“Did you leave the house at any time?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Thank you, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that we have to ask everyone with access to the labs the same question.”
“Of course,” said Joseph, trying to hide the fact that he was beginning to shake. He’d seen this kind of thing on TV, but to be actually asked to account for himself was devastating in a way he would never have believed.
“Good. Just a few last questions about Dr Whickham, if you’re still feeling OK?”
“Yes, I’m OK. Just rather shaky.”
“I’d have thought you’d be used to dead bodies,” said Robson. “Don’t you dig them up for a living?” Kelly shot Robson a disapproving look.
Joseph bristled. “Well, not really. I’m a paleobiologist, not an archaeologist. In any case, the dead bodies I work with on occasions aren’t friends of mine and they’ve been dead for long enough to begin to fossilise. Rather different.”
Kelly nodded. “Of course, but it would be helpful for me to know a little about Dr Whickham. Was he popular? You seemed to imply before that he didn’t have many friends.”
“Alec was an introverted man,” replied Joseph, trying to think of the best way to describe his dead friend. “Practical and unemotional, I would say. A good man at heart and very intelligent, but not very good with people.” I wonder if understatement is an offence, he thought to himself.