Dr Horace Tipperlong.
Jack's first reaction on hearing the name was one of surprise mixed with relief. It was eleven years ago—probably, in fact, eleven years to the day—that the two of them had last met. He could still remember those events as if they were just yesterday. Swimming up to the enemy's boat with Philip, sneaking silently on board, locating the cabin under the deck where their friend Bill Cunningham was being held prisoner, and opening it up to let him out. He could still remember finding Horace Tipperlong down the hatch, also being held hostage. He could still remember Horace kicking up such a fuss that he had nearly sabotaged the entire operation. And he could still remember how he, Philip and Bill had managed to swim away to safety, leaving Horace sitting in the corner, refusing to come with them because he couldn't swim, facing an uncertain fate. He had never heard what had subsequently happened to the man, and had every reason to believe that he was dead.
The fact that he wasn't was like a weight off of Jack's shoulders. It was largely thanks to his own actions, and those of Philip, Lucy-Ann and Dinah, that Horace Tipperlong had ended up being taken hostage by the enemy in the first place two days previously. Sure, it had all been a ghastly misunderstanding, but it was perhaps understandable that the man had acted the way he had. He didn't trust any of them.
But did he recognise him now? Jack couldn't say for certain. He was several inches taller now than he had been back then, dressed in a suit and tie rather than shorts and a pullover, his hair freshly cut and neatly combed rather than tangled and messy after nearly a fortnight roughing it in the middle of nowhere. But his hair was still the same vibrant red colour and he still had that distinctive abundance of freckles that had persisted through years of adolescence and into early adulthood.
If so, what did he think of him? What had happened to him on the enemy's boat after they'd parted company? What did he remember about what had happened? And what to say if he brought the subject up? It occurred to Jack that his actions all those years ago now had the potential to sabotage the entire interview and cost him the research studentship of his dreams.
In any case, how come Tipperlong was not just an ornithologist but a university lecturer in the subject? The first thing Jack had done when first meeting him was to try and figure out just how much he knew, and it had only taken a couple of child-like questions to figure out that when it came to birds, the guy didn't have a clue what he was talking about. He had said he wasn't that familiar with sea birds because he normally studied "ordinary birds." What was that supposed to even mean? Then he had failed to identify Kiki as a parrot, thinking that she was some kind of a puffin instead. What kind of ornithologist would make a mistake like that?
He thought he would need to see if he could get to the bottom of that one. But at the same time, he would need to be careful. He didn't want to let on that he was the child who had pushed him into a puffin burrow and threatened to conk him over the head if he tried to escape. If Dr Tipperlong brought up the subject, he would feign ignorance, and act as if he didn't know what the man was talking about.
Don't mention the sea of adventure.
He followed Dr Tipperlong out of reception and up to his office. The man walked in exactly the same way as he had in the Hebrides all those years ago—with mincing steps, almost on his tiptoes, his elbows bent with his hands in front of him, pointing down, like a T-Rex. It wasn't for nothing that Lucy-Ann had addressed the man as Tripalong—a nickname that had stuck whenever they had spoken about him since.
Dr Tipperlong led him into his office, invited him to take a seat in a comfortable armchair, and offered him coffee and chocolate macaroons. This put Jack at ease somewhat. If Tipperlong had recognised him, he wasn't giving any indication of bearing grudges about it. He looked around the room. It was full of the usual stuff that one would expect to see in a scientist's office. Lab instruments for analysing genetic, isotopic and morphological samples from birds. Books, journals and articles on avian biology, conservation, and ecology. Teaching materials and lecture notes for university courses. Guides for student projects. A computer keyboard and monitor on his desk. Surprisingly little in the way of fieldwork equipment though. No binoculars, spotting scopes, or audio recording devices. No bird banding equipment or materials for habitat assessment. Evidently he didn't do much fieldwork nowadays but preferred to remain in the lab.
The interview got off to a good start. Dr Tipperlong started off by asking him to tell him about himself, and why he was interested in the project. Jack spoke at length about how he had learned about the Great Auk when he was twelve years old, how it had captured his imagination, and how he had hoped that perhaps there might be an isolated colony of them somewhere, in a remote and windswept place overlooked by scientists and hunters alike since the mid-nineteenth century. He spoke about his crushing disappointment in his mid teens of finally having to admit that yes, it really was as extinct as the scientific community said it was. He spoke about having watched Jurassic Park and having wondered if that kind of genetic technology could someday be applied to bringing the Great Auk back to life. He spoke about his excitement and joy on learning that de-extinction such as that really was an active area of research, and how his beloved Great Auk was one of the candidate species. It was clear to Dr Tipperlong that Jack was passionate about the subject, that in his mind he and this research project were a match made in heaven, and that he would be devastated if he didn't get it. But he still had to establish that he had what it takes, and that he was indeed the right candidate.
He followed up with a question about bird evolution, then with questions about genetic sequencing, conservation and reproduction. The questions got increasingly tougher as the interview progressed, but Jack was still able to answer them with confidence. He knew his subject like the back of his hand and felt increasingly at ease with every question that was thrown at him. It seemed that there was a lot of potential for the two men to develop a good working relationship.
But Dr Tipperlong was uneasy nonetheless. He thought he had seen this interview candidate before, and he had his suspicions as to where. His distinctive rich red hair. His distinctive freckles. His distinctive Home Counties, Sloane Ranger, public school accent. The fact that he had been reading the article about puffins in the Outer Hebrides in the reception area. The fact that he was called Jack. There was even something about his globe-trotting career as a freelance wildlife photographer that seemed to suggest to Horace that kind of personality. But he still wanted to be sure.
"Do you have any pets, Jack?" he asked.
"Yes, I've got a pet cockatoo called Kiki," replied Jack. "She's really intelligent—and talkative."
Dr Tipperlong nodded. This was further evidence that he had his man. That talking parrot was one distinctive thing that he remembered from his misadventure in the Outer Hebrides. White, with a yellow crest. He hadn't identified it then, but as sure as eggs are eggs he would identify it now. Cacatua galerita—the sulphur crested cockatoo. And he remembered her name as well. The boy had addressed her as Kiki.
"Tell me a bit about her," he said.