by Patty Jansen
Tess dumped a handful of leaves in the box. About the size of her hand, star-shaped with a purplish midvein. Solanum ecuadoriense, the most successful weed ever.
Snip, snip.
And no one knew exactly where it had come from. Somewhere in South America, they said, hence the name, but none of the old botanical works of the 1800's mentioned the plant. Nor did anyone know how it had found its way across the globe to almost every western country.
Snip, snip. Another handful of leaves went into the box.
And tonight, 500 conference guests would sit down to a meal of Maya Apple salad from a plant family in which many members were highly poisonous.
Snip, snip.
But a plant family which had had brought humanity potatoes and tomatoes.
Snip, snip.
But no one ever eats the leaves of those.
Snip, snip.
The door slid open, letting Dr Remi into the glasshouse. As medical doctor and not a member of the Agriculture Department, he rarely came here. With his immaculate suit and gold watch, he didn't belong.
Tess rushed to the polystyrene box on the desk, peeked in, decided she had probably picked enough leaves, and turned back to Dr. Remi, holding the box in her arms.
He stood watching the healthy crop of leaves, a kind of dreamy expression on his face. Air rushing out the cooling unit above the door ruffled his hair.
'Uhm--Dr Remi? I've got the leaves here.'
He held out a piece of paper to her. 'Tess, I thought you might like to apply for this.' The symbol of the Gowler Institute, a prestigious research facility adorned the top of a job ad. They wanted a weed biologist.
'Yes, I've seen that ad, but it says they want someone with at least five years' experience . . .'
'Tess, how many weed biologists are there in this country? In the world? How many of those are already employed and would consider moving?'
'But . . .' Her cheeks grew hot.
'Try it. Put my name in your resume. This guy . . .' He pointed at the bottom line in the ad. ' . . .is a good friend of mine.' He grimaced, sliding a folded sheet between the ad. 'You also might find it beneficial if you joined.'
Only after he had left, carrying the box of leaves, did Tess flick to the pamphlet. The Galston League.
* * *
'Hi, Tess.' Andrew waddled to the cafetaria, across the lawn.
Tess guessed he had already dressed for the conference dinner, but the jacket he wore had been stuffed in a bag a year ago and left there until this afternoon. His shirt missed a button and his tie was the loudest, ugliest pink she had ever seen. She gaped. 'Uhm--hi Andrew.'
A cloud of scent indicated liberal use of cheap aftershave. Ocean Breezes, from Target. It reminded her of those innocent, fun-filled dinners at the pizzeria. When they were both students and jobs, clothes and the brand of his aftershave didn't matter. When they laughed and talked while walking home, and she thought he looked at her in a certain way, but either she had imagined it, or he had been too shy to do anything about it.
He grimaced and tugged at his tie. 'Yeah--my rabbits thought I looked funny, too. Like a whale in a dinner suit.'
She stifled a snort of laughter; this was the Andrew Trenbarth she knew. She caught sight of herself in the reflection of the glass doors of the cafetaria. Damn, she hated wearing dresses. With her stick-thin figure and total absence of female curves, they looked positively ridiculous on her. Who am I to judge him on what he looks like?
'Why did you tell me to meet you here?' he asked.
'Andrew, why did you come to see Professor White?'
Andrew settled opposite her, pushing an empty coffee cup out of his way. 'You know way back when we were still looking for possible uses of Maya Apple?'
She nodded. Andrew had been part of that project.
'When I started in the animal house, Edgar ordered a series of experiments. He used rabbits. You know me, Tess . . .' He smiled at her. 'I am a big softie and I try to find homes for used experimental animals. I have a little niece who lives on a farm. She breeds rabbits for . . . you know--Christmas--'
Tess snorted. 'Geez Andrew, what were you saying about a good home?'
'Ow--they lived their lives in straw. They were happy rabbits.' He laughed. 'Anyway, these rabbits, my niece wanted them for what rabbits do best. And you know what? They didn't. Oh--they themselves bred, but their offspring were all infertile. Thirty-seven rabbits, and all of them offspring from animals we used in the Maya Apple trial.'
Tess gaped. 'Have you told Edgar?'
'That's what I've been trying to do, but every time I called, he was out, or busy.'
'He's been ill.'
'Yes, I know that. I can't believe how it's changed him.'
'He hasn't been the same since his illness--actually since the University berated him for not bringing in enough external funding. He just doesn't believe in companies paying money for research; he says research is a public good and should benefit the public--for nothing.'
'Idealistic old man. He stood still while time went on.' But Andrew said it with a tone of deep sadness in his voice.
Tess sighed. 'But he's good. I'll miss him when he retires.'
'So will I. That's why I think this is important, Tess. This project is his baby. I mean, millions of people are going to be eating this stuff. Heaven knows some already are. If Maya Apple causes some long term health problem, it's going to be a major disaster for Edgar, for ourselves, for the University, for everyone. Anyway, I have the rabbits at my place at the moment.' He grinned. 'Can you imagine what my flat looks like? I took some blood samples, and I really don't like the results.'
'But Professor White complied with all the requirements to clear Maya Apple for human consumption. It's been analysed it to death.'
'So says that slithery snake of a Dominic Remi, but have you ever seen any results of these trials?'
Was he insinuating . . . Tess stared at him, eyes wide. Her cheeks grew hot. 'As a matter of fact, yes, I have. I even helped with some of them. If there was anything going on, don't you think I would have spoken up? I think you're taking your dislike of Dr Remi a bit far.'
Andrew averted his eyes and sighed. The late evening sun glistened in drops of sweat on his upper lip. Tess wanted very much to tell him to take a hike, but the Andrew she knew from their time with Professor White had been very bright, and seldom wrong. Plus he rarely spoke unless he felt certain about something. Plus that leaflet Dr Remi had given her that afternoon still gave her the shivers. If, just if, he was right about the Galston League and Mexico City, and if . . . This is going to cost me my PhD. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'Could you show me what you've got?'
* * *
Almost six o'clock.
Tess cringed. The cocktail party would have begun. Dr Remi would be fuming about where she was. This had better be worth it.
Andrew took a key out of his pocket, unlocked and opened a door to his left, stepped into the dark entrance . . . kicked something. 'Holy . . .' He switched on the light.
Ripped and crumpled sheets of paper covered the floor and the desk. Drawers of filing cabinets stood wide open, disgorging their contents. A breeze made the curtains stir, pushing bits of broken glass off the windowsill.
'Holy shit, my laptop!' In a few steps, Andrew crossed the room, swiped the mess of paper off his desk . . . and uncovered his computer, still on. He breathed out a sigh of relief. This was weird. Which thief would come in here, smash the window and leave a laptop computer on the desk? A cold feeling slithered down her spine. 'Andrew, where are those results you were going to show me?'
'I had them here, in this . . .' He opened a drawer. Empty.
Horrified, Tess grabbed Andrew's arm. 'Come. We have until seven before the dinner starts.'
High heels weren't meant for running, and how she made it from the animal house to the Agriculture Department she didn't know. The sprinklers came on as they crossed the lawn, dousing them both with water. Andrew, pan
ting behind her, cursed loudly.
Tess unlocked the door to the shadow-filled foyer of the department. They ran down the corridor, where Tess tried the door handle to Professor White's office.
It opened.
She stepped inside, switched on the light. The familiar room lay before her. The professor's desk, two banks of filing cabinets containing all his research papers. Who would have thought she would ever come in here to spy on him? She gestured at the filing cabinets. 'Right. I start on this side, and you on that side. Let's hope we can find something.'
Tess opened the drawer and rifled through paperwork, reading labels. 'Correspondence.' She pulled out that file. The Department of Primary Industry, a few overseas Universities. A letter from a colleague at another University. Dear Edgar, Thank you for your helpful information regarding the applicant. We have now employed a female graduate to the position . . . Tess shivered, an uncomfortable feeling creeping over her. Was she crazy or did this letter imply Professor White had advised his colleague against employing Andrew?
She turned over a few more documents. Ah--an internal mail envelope from the animal house. She held it up. 'Is this it?'
Andrew nodded.
Tess undid the fastening. Stuck her hand in.
Nothing. She began, 'It's empty--'
But Andrew stood staring at the wastepaper basket, filled with shredded paper. His mouth fell open as he picked up a shred. 'This is it. See? This is my writing. I use a green pen like this.'
Images crossed Tess' mind of how Professor White would have shredded the document under Dr Remi's watchful eye. She could not, would not, believe that her dear old supervisor had deliberately done this.
'He knew,' Andrew whispered. 'He knew about the problems and he did nothing. Why? Why?'
Tess dropped the envelope on the desk and stared at Andrew. 'I don't know,' she half-cried, seeing the last four years' work flash before her eyes. All for nothing. 'I don't know. I don't know.'
She opened another drawer and pulled out one file after the other, throwing them on the floor. Andrew bent down and pushed aside wads of data sheets, correspondence with medical professionals, government agencies…
'Tess, look at this.' He held up a letter written in an untidy scrawl. It said, A little help from an old friend. Stapled to the letter was an empty seed packet and the envelope in which the letter had been sent, with an address stamp on the back. Tess' heart almost stopped when she read the first line: J. Galston.
She ripped the seed packet from the staple, looked inside, shook it. Into her hand fell a single Maya Apple seed.
Andrew's face had gone white and his eyes met hers in a horrified look.
Tess understood the events of the last few months. Professor White's illness, his fervent idealism, the altercation with the University administration, his unfavourable reports on Andrew. This was the final act of a bitter man. A man who couldn't accept he had to make way for the younger generation.
Then they both said at the same time, 'The dinner.'
'Quick!' Andrew grabbed her arm and dragged her out the office. Down the hall, out the door into the cool night. Crossing the lawn, Tess kicked off her shoes, not caring about glass or rocks. As long as they got there in time. Up the stairs, into the foyer, through the open doors into the main hall.
Professor White stood at the dais, a pencil in an insecure hand. Conference guests listened to him while waiters distributed plates of food. Dark green leaves, red mid-veins.
Tess ran into the hall. Yelled, 'Stop eating!'
Professor White looked up. A murmur rippled through the crowd.
At their embarrassed or pitiful looks, Tess gulped--all those people watching her--but pressed on, 'It's true. The Maya Apple caused infertility in second generation rabbits. The Galston League has deliberately released this weed to for the purpose of making people infertile . . . to reduce the world's population . . .'
Shouts of 'ridiculous' and 'get an ambulance' rent the air.
Tess felt dizzy.
A warm but rather sweaty hand grabbed hers. She turned around, seeing Andrew's face through a haze of tears. She hated herself, how she was always so shy, and would rather cower in a corner than speak before a group of people.
'I can vouch for her,' he said. He held up the letter. 'And we have proof.'
His face ashen grey, Professor White took the microphone. 'Calm down, calm down everyone. I'm sure this is the result of a misunderstanding.' But his voice trembled.
Tess tried to hate him, but felt nothing except pity for this old, desperate man.
'I'm sorry, but my concerns are with the public. Until Andrew has been proven right or wrong, this,' she picked up a plate and held it up, 'should stay where it is: in the lab.' But then her attention fell on the salad. Dark green leaves, some red colouring in the veins, but . . . She frowned. 'What's this? This is not Maya Apple.'
'Very good,' sounded a voice from behind her. 'They're rhubarb leaves.'
Tess whirled and there stood Dr Remi, a smug smile on his face as his gaze shifted from Tess to Andrew and their linked hands. 'Edgar's favourite students, forming an . . . interesting partnership to discredit the old boss. Yes, we used rhubarb leaves because we didn't quite have enough to make the salad.'
What a liar! 'That's not true. You used rhubarb leaves because you were getting cold feet over this. Fearing Andrew was getting too close to the truth. That's why neither of you wanted to talk to him.'
Dr Remi shouted, 'You will hear more of this Trenbarth. I don't take kindly to being accused of scientific impropriety.'
Now Tess yanked herself out of Andrew's grip and yelled in his face, 'Scientific impropriety? Belittling Andrew? Calling him fat? Making sure he doesn't get a proper job? Receiving packets of Maya Apple seed from Jeremiah Galston?'
Dr Remi snorted. 'You are talking a load of nonsense you can't prove. Now if you just kept with your research--'
'And be an accomplice?'
Andrew came up to stand behind her. 'For your information: I have a whole room full of rabbits. I can feed them Maya Apple; there's plenty of it all over the place. I can work out procedures more experimentally sound than my niece's rabbit breeding efforts in the barn.'
Tess broke in. 'And I will help him. If needs be, I will . . . re-do all the work that has gone into my PhD . . .' Her voice faltered; Andrew renewed his grip on her hand.
Dr Remi swallowed visibly.
'That shall not be necessary,' said a confident female voice. The murmur died down.
The University's chancellor rose from her table. 'I heard your name is Trenbarth? Is that the Andrew Trenbarth who won the University medal a few years ago?'
Andrew inclined his head, as if she mentioned something of which he didn't wish to be reminded.
The Chancellor's brown eyes now fixed on Tess. 'And you are?'
'Tess McLaren, Professor White's student.' A stab went through her. 'Or rather, I was Professor White's student.'
Tears pricking in her eyes, Tess fought to keep her composure. Four years of work for nothing.
Under the gaze of all diners, the Chancellor led both of them into the foyer, where carpet muffled their footsteps. 'Thank you Dr. Trenbarth. And, Miss McLaren--if you speak to the Head of Department I'm sure we can arrange something to have your thesis approved.'
Tess shook her head. If she didn't do the right thing now, it would haunt her until the end of her career. 'I have to write it again.' She pushed away tears and looked up into the Chancellor's face. 'I want to write it again. It will be the best thesis ever on how to get rid of Maya Apple.'
A tiny smile crossed the Chancellor's face. 'Then I want you to know, Tess, that you have my full support. I've suspected involvement of the extreme arm of the Galston League on campus for a while. I want to do everything to make sure that the name of the University is held up. Please come to my office on Monday, and I will look at the financial side of the matter, if you need to extend.'
'Thank you.' She licked her
lips. 'What about Professor White and Dr Remi?'
'They can stay--for now, but we will monitor their activities. However, I suspect, Dr Trenbarth, there will be a senior position coming up in the Agriculture Department fairly soon. You might consider polishing up your resume.'
She and Andrew locked gazes for a few seconds, then she turned and went back into the hall.
'Phew,' Andrew said. 'You know, Tess, this is the first time that I've heard you make a decision for yourself. A pretty courageous decision, too.'
'What? Don't you agree with it?'
'I do agree with it. I don't know if I could have done it.' He shrugged. 'All that work . . .'
'Please Andrew, stop it; you'll make me cry.'
His soft and meaty arms enclosed her. 'You'll never need to cry if you do what you believe in. You know that if you want help, you'll only need to ask?'
Then she did almost cry. 'Andrew, can you please take me out of here?'
'OK. Want pizza?'
She looked up at him. 'At Giorgio's, like when we were students?'
'Sounds good to me.'
She smiled at him, took his hand and led him into the night air.
About this story:
I spent years doing research crawling around paddocks and counting population densities of introduced pasture plants. Those plants were 'good guys', mostly plants that provide a high content of nitrogen in an Australian scrubby grassland of very poor nutritional value. But many-a-time, when I was walking out there with my little counting apparatus, I wondered what would happen if all the quarantine procedures failed to pick up a harmful plant and it was released into the wild, only to become something worse than the cane toad.
Straight through the Heart
This story was published in ZineWest 2007, and gained a Highly Recommended nomination in their annual competition.
One morning, Thomas prepared for work.
Mobile phone, jacket with big pockets, USB, matchbox, packet of cigarettes, balaclava.
He picked up his gun and caressed the length of the double barrel, the polished wooden handle. At a touch of his finger, the magazine opened. He slid open the matchbox and took out the bullets. Two of them, polished to perfection and gleaming in the morning light.