else done. No. How the science gets done is up to JJ, and when he’s home,” he pointed to an office in the back corner of the lab, “he’s usually hiding in there.”
He turned and started to cross the lab to JJ’s office, passing between several large tanks shimmering with salmon. In one, I caught the telltale crimson of sockeye. In another, huge fish shimmered an iridescent silver-blue. They were so spectacular I was momentarily trans-fixed. I felt Riesler come up beside me.
“Beautiful, aren’t they,” he said, leaning over.
“What are these?”
“Sockeye, but these ones are ocean phase, also know as sea run. Sockeye only turn red on their spawning migration. In fact, these fish are for Elaine. They came in yesterday. If you see her, tell her she can pick them up when she’s ready. There’s a tank open in the housing room.”
I filed that information away in my growing boy-is-Elaine-ever-in-deep-shit file. Riesler started to move off again, but I wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation.
“I’ll be talking to Jonathan Edwards as well. I understand he’s moved to Natural Resources.”
Riesler stopped and turned casually toward me. He seemed perfectly relaxed, and I could see no sign of tension or discomfort in his demeanour. “Yes. It was a most unfortunate occurrence. I suppose Elaine has told you a bit about that. But by all means talk to him. He’s a clever fellow.”
“What do you think of his new technique for determining salmon stocks by analyzing the scales?”
“I can see you’re well informed.” Then he spoke carefully, the objective scientist. “I think it shows promise, but he needs to substantiate his claims. JJ would actually be a better person to ask. As I told you, my life’s in there.” He motioned to the tilapia door. “At this point, JJ’s more up to date on the salmon work, but,” he lowered his voice, “JJ and Edwards don’t get along, so tread carefully.”
“Ah huh?” I waited, silent, but with a look of expectation on my face. It took a moment, but the disclosure side won out.
He sighed. “Suzie, that’s JJ’s wife… ex-wife, that is, at least, I think they’re divorced now. She’s a lecturer here. Anyway, she and Jonathan had a…” He searched for a word. I could have helped him out with several, some more savoury than others, but he found what he was looking for. “… tryst, I guess you’d say, at a conference a few years back. It was brief, or so I understand, but JJ never forgave him. He blames Jonathan for the breakup of his marriage. I would hope it doesn’t cloud his scientific judgment, but just so you know. He can’t necessarily give you a fully objective view of Jonathan’s work.”
The front wall of JJ’s office was a window from the waist up, and I saw someone stand and move from the desk to a filing cabinet. Riesler followed my eyes and his face lit up. He seemed relieved to change the subject.
“Oh good. JJ’s in.” Then he turned back to me quickly. “I hope this conversation remains confidential. I’m not sure who in the department knows,” then he touched my arm lightly, “but I’m sure I can depend on you to be discreet.”
Madden then moved off to JJ’s office. I gave myself a minute to think, admiring the fluid movement of the fish. They swam as if they were part of the water itself, liquid rather than bone and muscle. Madden Riesler was not what I had expected, so what didn’t fit?
When I was ready, I followed him into JJ’s office.
Madden was standing beside JJ, who was seated at his desk holding a DNA radiograph up to the fluorescent lights. Madden was speaking.
“I would have expected the dark band to… ah, here she is.” He performed a brief introduction then looked at his watch. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for the next fifteen, twenty minutes. I’ve got a call to make, but that should give you just enough time to talk.” He gave JJ a solid clap on the back and smiled at me. “This gentleman is the answer to all your questions.”
As Madden left the office JJ half stood and motioned to the wooden chair on the other side of his desk. Even with a lab coat covering his shorts and golf shirt I could see the broad shoulders and muscled thighs of a man who worked hard to keep his body buff, although the aesthetic was somewhat diminished by a ludicrous Prince Valiant haircut and large, beakish nose.
When he was reseated in his own chair he pushed it back on two legs and jammed his hands into his lab coat pockets.
“So what can I do for you?” His voice was unpleasant, high-pitched and slightly nasal, and the smile on his lips was forced. He was obviously going for a casual-yet-helpful demeanour, and it might have worked if not for his eyes. They were narrow and closely set, an abnormally pale grey-green, and they seemed to have a life of their own. While JJ’s body language and tone of voice declared his willingness to help, his gaze skittered around the room as if being controlled by another mind. It was disconcerting, and I began to wonder if it was some sort of nervous tick or neurological disorder. I thought it best to pretend I didn’t notice and forge ahead.
“What can you tell me about the Network?” “What’s your interest? Genetics? Population studies? Habitat renewal?”
“Finances, actually.”
The skittering stopped and he fell forward in his chair with a thump. “The finances? Why?”
I shrugged. “I’m interested in applying for funds. I need to know how it works.”
Pause. “And you’ve spoken with Madden?”
“Oh yes. He’s enthusiastic, but I need more details. He said I should look over a typical project budget that involves field and lab work to get some idea of the scope of these projects. Of how the funding and allocations work.”
“Madden suggested that?”
I nodded and smiled. We were getting somewhere. The eyes were on the move again and he’d laced the fingers of one hand so tightly through the fingers of the other that the knuckles were turning white.
There was a pause, then JJ hung his head dramatically over his hands, feigning deep thought. After almost a minute he took an audible breath, shook his head slowly, and dropped his voice half an octave to lend a certain gravity to the next statement.
“I’m sorry, but there are confidentiality issues at stake here. I can’t just pull out files and let you see who has applied for money and how much they got, no matter what Madden says.”
“It’s all on the public record,” I reminded him gently. “Remember? The taxpayers’ dollars at work? Anyway, I don’t need to know who the application came from. I just need to see some numbers.”
“I told you. I can’t just —”
“I’d really hate to bother Madden with something like this.”
He managed to glare at me for a second before his gaze lurched away, then he reluctantly stood up and moved to the bank of filing cabinets the filled the wall to my right. He slid a bottom drawer open, shuffled through the files, and withdrew a folder. He opened it and extracted a single piece of paper. Back at his desk he made a show of poring over the sheet and blacking out all references to the researchers and their home institutions. When he was ready he passed it across to me and pushed his chair back again. I could see a sheen of
