Tell them it's religious mania and they might need a restraining jacket.'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN By the time we'd got Mayberry into an ambulance Ogilvie had left the office and gone home. I didn't bother ringing his home, but I did ring Penny because I thought she ought to know about Mayberry. Mary Cope answered again and said that Penny wasn't in, but this time I pushed it harder. She said Penny had gone to Oxford to attend a lecture and wouldn't be back until late. I rang off, satisfied I wasn't being given another brush-off. Before seeing Ogilvie next morning I rang Crammond. 'What's new on Mayberry?' 'He's at King's College Hospital-under guard in a private ward.' 'Did he recover?' 'Not so you'd notice. It seems like a complete breakdown to me, but I'm no specialist.' 'A pity. I'll have to talk to him again, you know.' 'You'll have to get through a platoon of assorted doctors first,' warned Crammond. 'It seems he's suffering from everything from in-growing toenails to psychoceramica.' 'What the hell's that?' 'It means he's a crackpot,' said Crammond sourly. 'The head-shrinkers are keeping him isolated.' I thanked him for his help and went to see Ogilvie. I told him about Mayberry and his face was a study in perplexity. 'Are you sure Mayberry isn't pulling a fast one?' I shook my head. 'He's a nutter. But we've got him, and a psychiatrist will sort him out for us.' 'I'll buy that-for the moment.' Ogilvie shook his head. 'But I wouldn't call psychiatry an exact science. Have you noticed in court cases that for every psychiatrist called for the defence there's another called for the prosecution who'll give an opposing opinion? Still, supposing Mayberry is established as a religious maniac without doubt, there are a few questions which need asking.' 'I know. Why did he pick on Penny-or the girl he thought was Penny? Did he act of his own volition or was he pointed in the right direction and pushed? I'll see he gets filleted as soon as he can be talked to. But you're avoiding the big problem.' Ogilvie grunted, and ticked points off on his fingers. 'Supposing Mayberry is crazy; and supposing he wasn't pushed-that he did it off his own bat, and that Penelope Ashton was a more or less random choice among the geneticists. That leaves us up a gum tree, doesn't it?' 'Yes.' I put the big question into words. 'In that case why did Ashton do a bunk?'
I was beginning to develop another headache. I'd had second thoughts about ringing Penny; it wasn't the sort of t hing to tell her on the telephone. But before going to University College I rang Honnister and told him the score. He took it rather badly. His voice rose. 'The wrong girl! The inefficient, crazy bastard picked the wrong girl!' He broke into a stream of profanity. 'I thought you ought to know. I'll keep you informed on future developments.' I went to University College and was about to enquire at the reception desk when I saw Jack Brent standing at the end of a corridor. I went up to him. 'Any problems?' 'Nary a one.' 'Where's Penny Ashton?' He jerked his thumb at a door. 'With her boss. That's Lumsden's office.' I nodded and went in. Penny and Professor Lumsden looked very professional in white laboratory coats, like the chaps who sell toothpaste in TV ads. They were sitting at a desk, drinking coffee and examining papers which looked like computer printouts. Lumsden was much younger than I expected, not as old as I was; pioneering on the frontiers of science is a young man's game. Penny looked up. A look of astonishment chased across her face and then she became expressionless, but I noted the tightening of muscles at the angle of her jaw and the firmly compressed lips. I said, 'Good morning, Dr. Ashton-Professor Lumsden.
Could I have a word with you, Penny?' 'Well?' she said coolly. I glanced at Lumsden. 'It's official, I'm afraid. In your office, perhaps?' She said shortly, 'If it is official…' and regarded me distrustfully. 'It is,' I said, matching her curtness. She made her excuses to Lumsden and we left his office. I said to Brent, 'Stick around,' then followed Penny who led me along another corridor and into her office. I looked around. 'Where's the microscope?'
Unsmilingly she said, 'We're working on things you can't see through microscopes. What do you want? Have you found Daddy?' I shook my head.
'We've found the man who threw the acid.' 'Oh.' She sat at her desk.
'Who is he?' 'A man called Peter Mayberry. Ever heard of him?' She thought for a moment. 'No, I can't say that I have. What is he?' 'A clerk in a City office-and a religious maniac.' She frowned, then said questioningly, 'A religious maniac? But what would he have to do with Gillian? She's an Anglican-and you can't get more unmaniacal than that.' I sat down. 'Brace yourself, Penny. The acid wasn't intended for Gillian. It was intended for you.' 'For me!' Her forehead creased and then she shook her head as though she wasn't hearing aright 'You did say… for me?' 'Yes. Are you sure you haven't heard of this man?' She ignored my question. 'But why would a religious maniac… ?' She choked on the words. 'Why me?' 'He seemed to think you are tampering with the laws of God.' 'Oh.' Then: 'Seemed? He's not dead?'
'No, but he's not doing much thinking right now. He's gone off into some kind of fugue.' She shook her head. 'There have been objections to what we've been doing, but they've been scientific. Paul Berg, Brenner, Singer and a few others objected very strongly to…'
Suddenly it hit her. 'Oh, my God!' she said. 'Poor Gillian!' She sat rigidly for a moment, her hands clasped together tightly, and then she began to shake, the tremors sweeping across her body. She moaned-a sort of keening sound-and then fell forward across her desk, her head pillowed on her arms. Her shoulders shook convulsively and she sobbed stormily. I located a hand basin in the corner of the office and filled a glass with water and returned quickly to the desk, but there wasn't much I could do until the first shock had abated. Her sobbing lessened in intensity and I put my arm around her. 'Steady on. Drink this.' She raised her head, still sobbing, and showed a tear-stained face. 'Oh, Gillian! She'd be… all right… if I… if I hadn't…' 'Hush,' I said. 'And stop that. Drink this.' She gulped down some water, then said, 'Oh, Malcolm; what am I to do?' 'Do?
There's nothing to do. You just carry on as usual.' 'Oh, no. How can I do that?' I said deliberately, 'You can't possibly blame yourself for what happened to Gillian. You'll tear yourself apart if you try. You can't hold yourself responsible for the act of an unbalanced man.'
'Oh, I wish it had been me,' she cried. 'No, you don't,' I said sharply. 'Don't ever say that again.' 'How can I tell her?' 'You don't tell her. Not until she's well-if then.' She began to cry again, and I said, 'Penny, pull yourself together-I need your help.' 'What can I do?' 'You can tidy yourself up,' I said. 'Then you can get Lumsden in here, because I want to ask you both some questions.' She sniffled a bit, then said, 'What sort of questions?' 'You'll hear them when Lumsden comes in. I don't want to go through it all twice. We still don't know why your father went away, but it seemed to be triggered by that acid attack, so we want to find out as much about it as we can.'
She went to the hand basin and washed her face. When she was more presentable she rang Lumsden. I said, 'I'd rather you don't say anything about your father before Lumsden.' She said nothing to that, and sat at the desk. When Lumsden came in he took one glance at Penny's reddened eyes and white face, then looked at me. 'What's happened here? And who are you?' 'I'm Malcolm Jaggard and I'm a sort of police officer, Professor.' To divert him from asking for my warrant card I added, 'I'm also Penny's fiance.' Penny made no objection to that flat statement, but Lumsden showed astonishment.
'Oh, I didn't know…' 'A recent development,' I said. 'You know, of course, of the acid attack on Penny's sister.' 'Yes, a most shocking thing.' I told him about Mayberry and he became very grave.
'This is bad,' he said. 'I'm deeply sorry, Penny.' She nodded without saying anything. 'I want to know if you or anyone in your department has been threatened-anonymous letters, telephone calls, or anything like that.' He shrugged. 'There are always the cranks. We tend to ignore them.' 'Perhaps that's a mistake,' I said. 'I'd like some specifics. Do you keep any such letters? If so, I want them.' 'No,' he said regretfully. 'They are usually thrown away. You see… er..
. Inspector?' 'Mister.' 'Well, Mr. Jaggard, most of the crank letters aren't threatening-they just tend to ramble, that's all.' 'About what?' 'About supposed offences against God. Lots of biblical quotations, usually from Genesis. Just what you might expect.' I said to Penny, 'Have you had any of these letters?' 'A couple,' she said quietly. 'No threats. I threw them away.' 'Any telephone calls? Heavy breathers?' 'One about six months ago. He stopped after a month.'
'What did he say?' 'What Lummy has described. Just what you might expect.' 'Did you get the calls here or at home?' 'Here. The telephone at home is unlisted.' I turned to Lumsden. 'You've both used the same phrase-'Just what you might expect'. What might I expect, Professor Lumsden?' 'Well, in view of our work here…' He threw out his hands expressively. We were still standing. I said, 'Sit down, Professor, and tell me of your work, or about as much as you can without breaking the Official Secrets Act.' 'Breaking the Official Secrets Act! There's no question of that-not here.' 'In that case, you won't object to telling me, will you?' 'I don't suppose so,' he said doubtfully, and sat down. He was silent for a moment, marshalling his thoughts, and I knew what was happening. He was hunting for unaccustomed simple words to explain complex ideas to an unscientific clod. I said, 'I can understand words of three syllables-even four syllables if they're spoken slowly. Let me help you. The basis of inheritance is the chromosome; inside the chromosome is an acid called DNA. A thing called a gene is the ultimate factor and is very specific; there are distinct genes for producing the different chemicals needed by the organism. The genes can be
