Jack paused for a minute. He had gotten so carried away with answering the challenging questions he had been asked, that he had completely forgotten who he was talking to. He had dropped his guard. Had he said too much by talking about Kiki?
Don't mention the sea of adventure.
He decided that the best course of action was to talk about his final year project in Cambridge, which had been a study of Kiki's intelligence. Among other things, he had learned that she was able to count up to twelve, to solve problems in order to get food, to use tools, and to recognise herself in a mirror. Having won a prize for the best undergraduate project that year, he had just submitted his findings for publication in a journal.
Dr Tipperlong asked him a few questions about his project and then turned his attention to other matters.
"What were you reading in reception when you were waiting for me?" he asked.
Jack's heart missed a beat. The article was about puffins in the Outer Hebrides—the exact setting in which he and Dr Tipperlong had first met.
Don't mention the sea of adventure.
But what should he say about it? Dr Tipperlong had seen exactly what he had been reading. He had to be careful here. To say too much about it would give him away. But to say nothing, or that he didn't know, would reflect just as badly on him.
"Oh, yes, an article about puffins. An interesting article."
"Yes, puffins in the Outer Hebrides. Was there anything particular that you found interesting about it?"
Jack hesitated for a moment. It sounded like a leading question. But he was determined not to follow.
Don't mention the sea of adventure.
"Well, puffins are related to the Great Auk," he said. "They're both members of the Alcidae family. They diverged from a common ancestor about 28 million years ago. They certainly had a lot in common. I'm sure a detailed comparison of their respective genomes would be most informative."
For a moment, Dr Tipperlong was impressed. There was no denying that he was interviewing an ornithological prodigy—and not only that, an ornithological prodigy who was an expert in his team's own speciality. But there was still the elephant in the room. He was all but certain that this Jack Trent had been the child who, eleven years previously, had pushed him into a puffin burrow, made off with his boat, and left him to be taken hostage by a gang of dangerous career criminals. If that really were the case, then prodigy or not, it would be a deal breaker.
"Have you ever been to the Hebrides yourself?" he asked.
Jack's heart started to beat faster. This was getting a bit too direct. How to respond to this one?
Don't mention the sea of adventure.
But at the same time it was a tricky one. He was applying for a PhD in a group that specialised in the study of Atlantic sea birds. To say that he hadn't been there wouldn't do him any favours either. And he hadn't been back there since his adventure eleven years ago, despite his best intentions.
"I was offered a commission there last year," he said carefully. "Unfortunately I had to turn it down because it clashed with my finals and my wedding. But I'd have taken it in a shot if it hadn't. I've done quite a lot of work in Scotland over the years. My sister and my brother-in-law live near Glenrothes, and I stay with them whenever I go up. They were both students at St Andrews."
Dr Tipperlong frowned. Jack had answered his question without answering his question. He decided to try another tack.
"What would you do if you were on a field trip to an island in the Hebrides that you thought to be uninhabited and you found four children there with no adult in charge?"
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He really was in the lion's den here. But at the same time, he was irked at the question. He had often thought about what Horace Tipperlong should have done but hadn't.
"Well why would you find four children on an uninhabited island in the Hebrides with no adult in charge in the first place?" he said firmly. "One way or another, there's something wrong. They could be stranded, or lost, or cut off by the tides, or the adult in charge could have gone missing. One of them could be injured. The first thing that I would do would be to call the coastguard. I certainly wouldn't assume they were playing at being Just William or something like that."
Horace Tipperlong removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes thoughtfully. There was no doubt about it now: this Jack Trent was the boy who had pushed him into the puffin hole and made off with his boat all those years ago. But this Jack Trent clearly also had his own opinions about those events, and quite clearly wasn't prepared to go down without a fight.
He replaced his glasses. "You sound like you've been in a situation like that before," he said.
Blow, thought Jack. He has recognised me. What do I do now?
"What makes you say that?" he said. "Have you? Or is this all just theoretical? I was asked a question a bit like it at my Cambridge interview four years ago, you know. The interviewer asked me what I'd do if my sister was kidnapped."
"I think you know the answer to that as well as I do," replied Dr Tipperlong, slowly, firmly, and icily.
"Dr Tipperlong," said Jack, "I'm a scientist, not a social worker. I don't think I've ever been on a field trip where I've been confronted with stray children in unexpected places."
"I have," said Dr Tipperlong. "Eleven years ago to the day. I was in the first year of my PhD. On a field trip to collect some DNA samples from sea birds. I had just landed on an island that I thought was uninhabited only to be accosted by four of the most unruly children I have ever encountered in all my life. And I think you know…"
"Did you call the coastguard?" interrupted Jack firmly. "Or the police?"
"I didn't get the chance," said Dr Tipperlong. "They ambushed me, jumped on me, tied me up, beat me over the head and then made off with my boat before I could say a word. Next thing I knew, the adults in charge of them turned up, took me away and locked me in a cabin in a boat somewhere along with another fellow called Cunningham or something. I think he must have been an ornithologist too. Turns out they were some sort of criminal gang who didn't take kindly to scientists intruding on their turf. But that's why I don't do field work but stick to the lab. Science does have its occupational hazards, you know."
Jack's jaw dropped open. Either Horace Tipperlong's memories of the event were completely distorted beyond recognition, or he was talking about a completely separate incident.
"Anyway," continued Dr Tipperlong, "two days later, two of those vicious children turned up on the boat. They let this Cunningham guy out but pushed me back down the hatch leaving me there to face the criminal gang. Fortunately the police turned up two days later, but not before I'd been subjected to some pretty appalling treatment. I was in hospital for several weeks afterwards."
Again, more distortions. Jack had done nothing of the sort. He had been trying to rescue the man, who had very nearly sabotaged the rescue operation altogether by creating an almighty racket, calling him a "villainous boy" and alerting the guard. It had been a miracle that Jack, Philip and Bill had managed to swim to safety themselves before the gang got to them. The only reason why Horace hadn't gone with them was that he said he couldn't swim and just sat huddled in a corner while the criminal gang had swarmed on board the boat.
Dr Tipperlong leaned forward.
"I'll cut to the chase," he said. "I know who you are. You know that I know who you are. You were that villainous boy who tripped me up and pushed me in the hole, were you not? So, that being the case, tell me why I should give you this studentship."