The Dinosaur Feather

seemed to have no hidden agenda. Yes, Clive had replied, it had taken some time. How annoying that we had to move so soon afterwards, Jack carried on. They were having cheese fondue in Clive and Kay’s freshly painted dining room when, out of the blue, Jack mentioned that his older brother had just been released from prison. ‘Is that right,’ Clive said, relieved to let the tree house slip back into the past where it belonged.
    ‘I never told anybody,’ Jack admitted. ‘It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. But anyway, he’s out now. Fifteen years inside.’
    Molly and Jack had visited him the previous day. Jack never explained what his brother had done and Clive didn’t want to pry. Fifteen years spoke volumes. Jack simply said that it had been good to see him. He had got a job sorting bottles at a recycling plant and he was pleased about that. Jack suddenly looked directly at Clive and said ‘thank you’. The words hung awkwardly in the air and Clive had no idea what to say. Molly’s eyes welled up and Kay got up to fetch dessert.
    Clive stretched out on the sofa, flicked past the photo of Jack and further into the journal. On page five, he nearly choked on his tea. The paper took up six pages and at the top ‘Helland et al.’ stood out. This was no minor dismissible piece of tittle-tattle in a scientific dry spell. Clive sat up. The subject of the article was the femur of the Berlin Specimen,
Archaeopteryx
, which Helland and Tybjerg had visited Berlinto remeasure. The last approved measurement, undertaken in 1999 by the ornithologist Professor Clive Freeman, was not only highly inaccurate, it had also led to a series of unfortunate conclusions which – according to Helland et al. – had distorted important arguments relating to the origin of birds to a very considerable extent. The question now was whether this data distortion was the result of that margin of error which should always be factored into science, or whether the measurements in question were the expression of deliberate manipulation? A brief summary of the incident at the 2005 bird conference in Toronto followed with a reproduction of the press release from Clive’s department, which placed in this context sounded like a total surrender.
    Clive was so outraged that he knocked over the teapot when he got up. This paper ridiculed him and Jack had approved it. His thoughts whirred around inside his head so fast that he could barely keep his balance. He held the copy of
Scientific Today
away from his body, like a burning oven glove he wanted to chuck outside as quickly as possible. When he opened the front door to get rid of it, Kay was in the process of bringing in the shopping from the car. He tossed the journal aside, but it landed on his foot. He picked it up again and it stuck to his fingers. Kay came to his rescue and grabbed him by the elbows.
    ‘Clive darling, what’s happened?’
    ‘Jack,’ Clive snarled. He shook his hand to free himself from the journal and a page with a colourful DNA helix came loose and spiralled down to the ground. Finally Clive got shot of the journal and he stomped past Kay, around the house and into the back garden where he stayed for an hour.
    He didn’t come back inside until Kay opened the living room window and told him dinner was ready. At 9.30 p.m. he called Jack and suggested a meeting. No, no particular reason, nothing that couldn’t wait. A game of chess, perhaps. And, by the way, there was something Clive wanted to discuss with him.
    Jack came the next day and while Kay and he made small talk, Clive said nothing. They retired to Clive’s study for a game of chess. It was a mild summer evening, the window to the garden was open and Clive could hear birdsong in the distance. He could also hear Kay load the dishwasher in the kitchen. Jack, who pretended that nothing had happened, pondered his next move for a long time. Clive forced himself to remember that Googling ‘Clive Freeman’ attracted 41,700 hits in 0.11 second. When on earth was Jack going to make his next move? Clive got up and mixed them both a drink.
    ‘Why?’ he hissed from the drinks cabinet. Jack gave him a baffled look. ‘Why do you want to destroy the credibility of the world’s finest and most respected natural science journal?’ Clive slammed down his drink so hard on the blotting pad that it sloshed over.
    Jack’s reaction shocked Clive. Clive had imagined immediate contrition. Downcast eyes, a boy