She turned to face Jones.
‘Isn’t it just great? Thomas says it’s the least he can do. He’s going to use some foundation money or something. I don’t know. Anything to do with finances is a mystery to me, but Thomas says he’s pretty sure he can carry the university’s governing bodies with him.’
She paused, still beaming at Jones, who made no reply.
‘It’s marvellous, isn’t it?’ Connie continued, apparently unaware of, or simply untroubled by, Jones’s silence. ‘And you won’t believe the other marvellous thing. Thomas has actually known about Marion and me for a long time, since even before his father died, we think, though he’s never said that, and he’s quite happy about it. But he says he’s grateful to us for not going public, and grateful to you too, Sandy, for being discreet about our relationship when you revealed what you did to the press.’
Jones again said nothing. Connie carried on regardless.
‘And Dom and Gaynor are coming for the weekend. We want to thank them properly for everything.’
Jones spoke then, addressing Connie directly for the first time, quite curtly, with a harsh inflection in her voice.
‘Yes, and you’ll certainly have a lot to tell them.’
‘What?’ Connie sounded puzzled, uncertain, as indeed had been Jones’s intention.
Jones turned away and walked to the window. Only when she had her back to the other two women did she start to speak again. She couldn’t look at Connie. She just couldn’t.
‘I have a copy of Paul’s Theory of Consciousness,’ she said quietly.
There was a silence in the room, broken eventually by Marion.
‘Why, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it, Connie? Isn’t it?’
Connie said nothing.
‘I’ve studied it thoroughly,’ Jones continued. ‘I now have a pretty damned good understanding of it.’
Connie still didn’t speak. Jones took a deep breath and swung around to face her. Connie had sat down on the chair by the bed and was staring at Jones. Her green eyes wide open.
‘And you know what that means, Connie, don’t you?’
Connie shrugged, and still did not speak.
‘It means I know that Paul’s theory makes no sense at all. It’s fake. He was no closer to solving the mystery of consciousness than I am! His paper is garbage. A load of drivel. Crap!’
Connie leaned forwards in her chair, her eyes blazing.
‘And what exactly makes you so goddamned sure of that, Dr effin’ Jones. You’re just a TV scientist. You’re the fake. Paul was the leader in his field. The number one man. You abandoned the study of consciousness over twenty years ago.’
Jones sighed. ‘No Connie. You can’t bluff and bluster your way out of this one. I have quite sufficient knowledge. I worked long enough with you both. And, as you’ve always told me yourself, I have the gift, don’t I? No, Connie, no. There is no effective theory of consciousness. Just a garbled inconsequential jumble of—’
‘Maybe you’ve lost the gift, Sandy,’ Connie interjected. ‘You’ve certainly forgotten Radin’s rule. The mystery of consciousness could only ever be explained in new language.’
‘This wasn’t language at all. I went over and over it. Paul’s theory is rubbish. And you know that. You must have known that all along.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Sandy.’
Jones laughed grimly. Short and sharp.
‘You never give up, do you Connie Pike? You could always talk the hind leg off a donkey. It won’t wash any more. You knew the theory was rubbish, and you used that, you played games with it for your own ends. But then the whole thing spiralled out of control, didn’t it? Horrendously out of control. And you hadn’t bargained for that.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sandy.’
‘Oh yes, you do.’
Connie stood up abruptly. ‘Well, if we really must have this ridiculous conversation, shall we continue it downstairs? I don’t want Marion upset.’
‘No.’ Marion’s voice was surprisingly strong. She hauled herself further up onto the pillows. ‘No. Stay here. Both of you. Please Sandy, I want to hear this.’
Jones turned to her.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘You don’t know anything do you, Marion? You’ve even lost a leg because of this fucking mess, and she still hasn’t told you, has she?’
‘Told me what?’ Marion was sitting quite upright now, her eyes firmly focused on her partner. ‘What haven’t you told me, Connie?’
Connie sat down again.
‘I don’t know. I have no idea. Sandy seems to have all the answers. Let her tell us both. If she must.’
Jones looked at her. The woman had always had guts. She was still fighting to save the situation. But this time that was impossible. Even for Connie Pike.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll be as brief as I can and then you can ask me any questions you like, Marion. You deserve to know everything. Paul Ruders was a sick man. A very sick man. He had Alzheimer’s Disease and his mind was barely functioning at all by the end. I know this because a rather well-connected friend of mine has been doing some investigating. He gained access to Paul’s medical records. Apparently the problems began even before Gilda died. But, like many victims of this bloody awful disease, Paul refused to accept that his mind was affected in any way. He thought, or maybe he just kidded himself, who knows with Alzheimer’s, that his work was as valid, as considered, and as properly thought-out as ever. His communication skills were so highly developed that he covered up amazingly well, certainly during relatively short periods of time spent with people. You, Connie, were the only person who spent a lot of time with him. Even Ed saw very little of Paul latterly. He told me that. You covered for Paul, Connie. But his mind was in bits. He was convinced that he had solved the mystery of consciousness, and, of course, he shared his thoughts, and his work, such as it was, with you. He always did. And he shared his allegedly ground-breaking theory with you too.
‘You, of course, were well aware the work was worthless. But you decided to use it. RECAP was indeed under threat, more than ever before, in spite of the success of the Global Consciousness Project worldwide. My friend also found out that you lost your last major grant over a year ago. You saw a way to use Paul’s deluded attempt at a theory of consciousness for your own ends. You thought that if the American government were convinced of the existence and the merit of his theory, RECAP would not only be saved, but its existence would be guaranteed. Certainly for your lifetime.’
Jones paused.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Marion, and her voice sounded very weak.
‘Connie knew about Ed’s brother, Michael, or Mikey MacEntee, being in the FBI,’ continued Jones. ‘She was also aware, as we all were, that he wasn’t the brightest kid on the block. In fact, God only knows how he got into the Feds. Anyway, Connie decided to exploit him, too. She used Mikey to draw attention to Paul’s alleged theory, a theory that she knew would attract enormous interest at the highest level—’
‘Oh my God,’ Marion interrupted.
Jones moved closer to the bed.
‘Yes, Marion. It wasn’t Ed, either knowingly or unknowingly, who was feeding his crazy brother information about RECAP. It was Connie. And Mikey, of course, jumped at the opportunity of being able to pass on exclusive, potentially revolutionary, information to his superiors, in order to acquire some self-importance. He always wanted desperately to be at the centre of things.
‘But Connie and Mikey were both right out of their depth. Yes, Connie had always talked about the suspicion in which people in high places held RECAP and its work. But she was also quite sure that the American government would not be able to resist the possibility of holding the secret of consciousness in its sticky paws — out of fear as much as anything. Fear of its ultimate power would also make it highly unlikely that the government would attempt to put the theory into use, and if they did, well it was actually rubbish, so it didn’t matter anyway.