door was open, so I walked right in. I’d already started my greeting when it registered that the back of the head at the desk was not Graham’s. At the sound of my voice, the man swivelled around and surveyed me with interest. Then he said, “Ah,” and shut the file he’d been reading. He turned and came gracefully to his feet, extending his hand. “Dr. O’Brien I presume.” His voice was smooth and gently self-mocking. It took me a moment to respond.
“Forgive me. I was expecting Graham. You are…”
“Madden Riesler. Please, call me Madden. I’m afraid Graham is tied up elsewhere.” He turned up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Research beckons. But I told him that I’d be delighted to conduct the tour myself. Elaine speaks very highly of you.”
“Really?” I tried not to sound too surprised. Elaine must really want me off her turf.
“Absolutely. I think she hopes to see you here in a more permanent situation, and I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“That’s very kind.”
“My pleasure. I have the greatest respect for Elaine’s work.”
He had taken my elbow and was guiding me out of the office. In another man I would have found this offensive, but not in Madden Riesler. It had to do with his manner. Charming, understated, slightly self-effacing, and very respectful. In fact, he was beguiling, and I tried to maintain enough objectivity to analyze my reaction.
In the corridor he began telling me about his lab and his research. I tuned out, nodded and smiled at random intervals, and took a moment to examine him. He was certainly handsome: lithe and small, with a quiet confidence that was unmistakably masculine. His eyes were electric blue, and the colour was accentuated by a faded denim shirt and jeans that casually set off his trim frame. While his face was young, slightly narrow with well-defined cheekbones, a prominent nose, and clear, unlined skin, his hair and close-cropped beard were a dramatic grey blending to white. The effect was startling, and very attractive, as if the best features of several different people had been pulled together and moulded into one. When he grinned I could see tiny wrinkles frame his eyes, but other than that, I would never have guessed that he was nearing fifty.
I suddenly realized that he’d stopped speaking. “Finished the inspection?” he asked, then chuckled.
“Caught in the act.” “And did I pass?”
I thought about that for a minute. Would I give this guy hundreds of thousands of taxpayers’ dollars to spend however he saw fit? You bet. Hand me the cheque and tell me where to sign.
It was a disturbing thought.
chapter ten
I was surprised to see that Riesler’s lab was almost empty. When I went to university research technicians rated only slightly higher than laboratory rats, and most of the techs had little choice but to work through lunch. Now, with unionization, things had obviously changed.
As Riesler held the door open for me he asked, “Did you have a chance to talk with Graham at all?”
I shook my head.
“Now that is unfortunate. You must try to catch up with him later.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t say this to my other students, but Graham is by far the most brilliant and productive researcher I’ve ever had in my lab, and with no fish biology background whatsoever. Of course, he went to a great school — Johns Hopkins — but in terms of fish, and fish genetics, he knew absolutely nothing. But then,” he leaned over, as if to whisper in my ear, “sometimes that helps. You approach problems differently, see things in entirely new ways.” He straightened. “And Graham’s publishing record is excellent. I don’t know how he does it really.”
That was curious. I didn’t remember seeing Connell’s name in the list of Madden’s co-authors. Maybe he worked on another species. “Does he work on salmon?”
Riesler looked surprised. “So you’re familiar with our work?”
“I’m interested in the Network. That’s why I’m here.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
He banged his forehead with the heel of his hand in an exaggerated, comical gesture. “Not you too? Why is everyone so interested in that damn Network? Is it the money? Because money isn’t everything, you know. Has Elaine mentioned the Asia project? It’s not necessarily cutting-edge research, I grant you, but in terms of the potential benefit to starving people, well, what’s more important after all.” I started to say something, but he put his hand up to stop me. “We’ll talk salmon if you insist, but not until you hear my Asia pitch. I could really use someone with your skills on that project. Just keep an open mind, that’s all I ask.”
He took my elbow and propelled me toward a steel door at the side of the lab. I had no choice but to move along with him. He pulled it open and we stepped into the hot, fetid air of the rainforest. The light was an eerie blue, filtered through the water of aquariums; rows of them, running floor to ceiling on shelves. Each one housed a single fish. They looked like goldfish but were bigger, the size of dinner plates. As the door clanged shut behind us they turned, in unison, to stare. It reminded me of a TV showroom with all the sets tuned to The Nature of Things.
“Impressive, isn’t it.” Madden was beaming, the lord of the manor. He moved slowly down the row, and I followed. As we moved, the fish, like synchronized swimmers, pivoted slowly, keeping track of our progress. Their aquariums were bare: no pebbles, no plants, just stark glass boxes with an air stone bubbling in the corner. There was barely enough space in each aquarium for the occupant to move.
“Very,” I said, trying to sound truthful. In fact, I found the room unspeakably sad, but Madden continued proudly.
“A few years back I was approached by an overseas aid consortium to do some work on aquaculture, on these guys. Tilapia. They’ve been farmed over there for generations, but the approach has been hit and miss, no real understanding of why some grow faster than others, some are more resistant to disease, that sort of thing. It wasn’t too challenging at first, I’ll grant you that, but one thing led to another, and now we’re on the verge of doing some very fine work. Within a year we’ll be seeing dramatic improvements in growth, yield, survival, and that means increased production. Just to put this in perspective, a lot of these fish farms are momand-pop operations in countries that are desperately poor. A very small increase in productivity can make a huge difference to the lives these people lead.”
He looked at me and his voice became soft and apologetic. “I hate to disappoint you, Ms. O’Brien… may I call you Morgan? But most of my time these days is focused here. What goes on out there,” he nodded to the lab beyond the door, “they don’t need me. Between my lab manager and Graham it runs itself.”
When we were back outside standing in the lab Riesler put his hand on my arm. “So, what do you think?” His enthusiasm was almost catching, but not quite. He caught my expression and sighed. “I can see it’s salmon.” I nodded. “Oh well.” He gave a good-natured shrug. “I gave it my best shot. But if that’s what you really want the person to talk to is JJ. He runs the day-to-day operation.”
When I spoke I kept my voice neutral. “But you must choose the researchers. Manage the allocations.”
With a look of satisfaction he shook his head. “Not anymore.” I was surprised, and he registered it. His voice took on an edge of impatience. “Look, I manage the science. That means
