‘It’s not any kind of official visit, Graham. He’s coming a couple of days early to see the sights and we’re going to have a talk about Valdevan. It has no bearing on your grant application if that’s what you’re concerned about. He wants an update on what we’ve been doing and wants to meet Gavin.’
‘Can’t imagine why,’ said Sutcliffe sotto voce, something that attracted a cold stare from Simmons. ‘I still think I should have been informed. Professor Ehrman is a distinguished visitor, whatever the reason for his presence. Perhaps I could invite him to dinner after your meeting.’
‘We’ve already agreed on an informal meal to talk further about cell division.’
Sutcliffe didn’t try to hide his annoyance. He was determined not to be stymied. ‘I still feel the department should welcome him properly, particularly at a time when Grumman Schalk is set to play an important part in our future and that of the university. Perhaps it’s not too late to lay on a lunch up at Old College. I think I’ll see what Liz can do.’ Sutcliffe turned and left, totally preoccupied with the details of his proposed lunch. Simmons was left sitting at his desk, looking over his glasses at the departing figure who didn’t close the door. ‘Bonne chance, mon général,’ he murmured.
Max Ehrman called on Thursday afternoon to say he would be arriving in Edinburgh on the first shuttle up from Heathrow in the morning. He declined Simmons’ offer to pick him up at the airport, preferring instead to make his own way into the city, but said that he would call him from his hotel — the Balmoral in Princes Street — as soon as he got there. When he did, Simmons told him about Sutcliffe’s plan to lay on a special lunch for him at Old College.
Ehrman let out a sigh that spoke of frustration with well-meaning people. ‘That’s very kind of him, but frankly I would have been just as happy with coffee and a sandwich and a chat round the table with you and your student.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Simmons. ‘That was the way it was going to be until the powers-that-be found out about your visit. I’m afraid it’s now out of my hands. Our head of department insists on honouring you.’
‘You mean he hopes to help pave the way to a big block grant for his department,’ said Ehrman.
‘That too,’ agreed Simmons.
‘Do you think we’ll get a chance to talk at all today?’
‘It’s my guess that the great and the good will take up most of your afternoon, but I could book a table for dinner — just you, me and Gavin, if you haven’t had enough of Edinburgh academics by then.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Any requests about food?’
‘I suggest we let your student decide.’
‘Fine. We’ll pick you up at your hotel at eight.’
Gavin opted for Chinese so Simmons booked a table at the Orchid Lodge in Castle Street, thinking that it would be within walking distance for both the Balmoral Hotel and Gavin’s flat in Dundas Street. He, living out of town, would, as usual, have to drive and not drink, but he’d walk down to the Balmoral from the medical school and then back again after the meal to avoid parking problems in the centre of town.
Later that morning, Simmons met Max Ehrman for the first time, in a situation that both of them found slightly bizarre and warranting knowing smiles, as they were introduced to each other by Graham Sutcliffe who had hijacked Ehrman on his arrival and subjected him to a half-hour monologue on the strengths of the department before conducting him on a whistle-stop tour of the labs.
‘Hello, Frank,’ said Ehrman, extending his hand.
‘Nice to meet you, Max. Come and meet my students.’
‘Actually, Frank,’ interrupted Sutcliffe, looking at his watch with the exaggeration of a bad actor, ‘We’re rather pushed for time. Maybe later?’ His hand was already on the door handle.
‘As you wish,’ said Simmons coldly. ‘Mustn’t let the soup get cold.’
Sutcliffe shot Simmons a look of disapproval.
‘See you later, Frank,’ said Ehrman as he turned to leave, his awareness of tension in the room bordering on slight embarrassment.
Gavin was still in the lab at seven thirty so he and Simmons walked down town together, cutting along Chambers Street to join North Bridge — another connecting link between the Old and New Towns, which in turn led down to the Balmoral Hotel at the junction with Princes Street.
‘So, what’s the plan, how do we tell him?’ asked Gavin.
‘We tell Professor Ehrman that his company wasted twenty million dollars... with great tact and diplomacy, Gavin,’ said Simmons. ‘Rubbing his nose in it is a definite no-no. Can we agree on that at the outset?’
‘Sure.’
The doorman at the Balmoral, wearing some marketing man’s idea of traditional Scottish dress, opened the door for them, but gave Gavin the once-over as he passed by, his carefully honed powers of observation taking in that Gavin’s denims were more functional than trendy.
Ehrman was waiting for them in the lobby. His jeans were trendy, a fact the designer label endorsed, and his soft leather blouson had expensive written all over it. ‘You must be Gavin,’ he said with a smile. ‘Good to meet you.’ He turned to Simmons. ‘Hello, Frank, finally we get to talk, huh?’
‘How was your day?’ asked Simmons.
‘I’ve had worse. I kind of liked Old College. It carries the weight of its history well and the Playfair Library — well, that was something else. Where are we off to?’
‘Gavin decided on Chinese. It’s a ten-minute walk to the restaurant.’
They walked west along Princes Street with Ehrman cooing appreciatively about the views of the castle and asking about the Scott Monument, built to commemorate Sir Walter Scott.
‘One of Scotland’s literary greats, but not as well known as Robert Burns,’ said Simmons.
‘Now, I’ve heard of him,’ said Ehrman. ‘Can’t say the same about Scott though.’
‘At least Scott’s intelligible,’ said Gavin. ‘Burns could be writing in Serbo-Croat as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Gavin is English,’ Simmons explained in a stage whisper.
‘Ah, the English and the Scots...’
Frank joined Ehrman in a gin and tonic, his rationale being that the measures served in Scottish hotels and restaurants wouldn’t push a gnat over the limit when it came to breath tests, but he would still have only the one. Gavin had a bottle of German beer.
‘So how have you been getting on with your Valdevan experiments?’ Ehrman asked Gavin as he snapped a piece off a prawn cracker.
Gavin stole a quick glance at Simmons who gave him a nod of encouragement. ‘Okay. In fact, we’ve got some news for you.’
‘Really?’
Simmons had a mental image of someone lighting a fuse.