The Dinosaur Feather

Including the police.’ Professor Fjeldberg gave Clive a mystified look. ‘He doesn’t respond to e-mails, he doesn’t answer his telephone and he’s not in his office.’
    ‘Perhaps he needs some space,’ Clive suggested, compassionately. ‘After the sad news, I mean.’
    What on earth was going on? Surely there was a limit to how many of his arch enemies could die or vanish before he would receive a more heavy-handed treatment by the authorities.
    ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Professor Fjeldberg replied. ‘Right, here we are.’
    Clive had heard accounts of the Vertebrate Collection at the Natural History Museum in Denmark and his expectations were high, but even so, a ripple of anticipation ran through him when Fjeldberg and he entered. The ceiling was high and the room was filled to bursting with fine, original wooden cupboards with glass doors. The porcelain handleson cupboards and drawers bore Latin inscriptions explaining which animals were kept behind the glass. Beautiful, hand-painted posters hung in the few places where there were no cupboards. Everything was unbelievably old and tasteful. There were study areas where each desk was equipped with angle-poise lamps that were at least fifty years old. The desks were made of dark varnished wood, and each had an old, leather-upholstered armchair with wooden armrests.
    ‘It was the moa skeleton you wanted to see, wasn’t it?’ Fjeldberg found a stepladder and started climbing it.
    ‘Here we go,’ he said, opening one of the glass doors.
    ‘Do you need a hand?’ Clive asked. With his thin legs in khaki trousers, Fjeldberg looked old and very frail balancing on the ladder.
    ‘You can take the old beggar, when I manage to get him out.’ Fjeldberg pulled out the drawer and stood on tiptoes.
    ‘What on earth?’ he exclaimed. ‘He’s not here.’ Professor Fjeldberg felt inside the drawer. Then he climbed down.
    ‘I don’t believe it.’
    Clive stayed behind, somewhat baffled, while Fjeldberg marched back to the entrance. He switched on the ceiling lights and a rather merciless white glare revealed a layer of dust everywhere.
    ‘He must be here somewhere,’ Clive heard Fjeldberg mutter to himself.
    Clive tried to find him between the cupboards by following the sound of his footsteps, now here, now there, but as Fjeldberg appeared to be checking the room from end to end, he escaped from Clive who eventually decided to stay put. The room was a little eerie, in a deserted, beautiful way. Heshuddered. A
Pteropus Lylei
hung suspended above his head with its wings unfurled. It had tiny white teeth and its eyes were hollow sockets.
    ‘Found it!’ Fjeldberg exclaimed triumphantly. Clive started walking and found the old man at a large desk.
    ‘Someone has been studying it, but didn’t book it out. And omitted to put it back. It happens. We have a number of students working with birds at the moment. Including one of Helland’s, by the way. It could have been her. Her viva’s coming up, so she has a good excuse, I suppose,’ he added and sighed.
    ‘Oh, so what will she do now?’ Clive asked. Professor Fjeldberg sighed again.
    ‘I don’t know much about it, she’s registered with another department. But as far as I know she’s only waiting to defend her dissertation, then she can graduate. I don’t know who will examine her in Helland’s place. We don’t have that many palaeoornithologists in Denmark . . . Perhaps you might extend your stay and examine her?’
    Clive was well aware that Professor Fjeldberg was teasing him.
    ‘I would have to fail her,’ he said, archly. ‘If she has written her dissertation in line with Helland and Tybjerg’s scientific arguments, I don’t think she has grasped even elementary evolution, and that surely is a fundamental requirement for a biologist.’
    Fjeldberg looked briefly at Clive and then he said, ‘Why don’t we say that I let you work here for a couple of hours until . . .’ He glanced at his watch. ‘12.30 p.m.? Then I’ll pick you up, and we can have a bite to eat. I’ve ordered in, sandwiches and so on.’
    Clive nodded.
    The door closed behind Professor Fjeldberg and Clive was alone. He pulled out a chair and sat down, took out his magnifying glass and started examining the skeleton.
Dinornis Maximus
. Fabulous. In relatively recent studies, scientists had successfully isolated DNA from bones of the long-extinct bird and proved that the female had been 300 per cent heavier and 150 per cent