In a Gray’s Inn office, Lukas Parn stood impatiently until the clerk showed him through to a cluttered, book-lined room. Celeste Usman pointed to a chair on the other side of the desk.
‘Thank you for coming in.’
‘I like it,’ said Parn. ‘It’s like going to Harley Street. Old buildings, modern skills.’
‘Just so I can make sure we’re on the same page. I understand the surrogate mother accepted a payment in New York in full and final settlement of any contractual claim. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Parn. ‘She took advice from lawyers recommended by her university. This whole thing was a bit out of their wheelhouse, to be honest. All she wanted was enough to make sure her mother was OK. We settled on a six-figure sum. Mom’s in a larger apartment in the same building with all her utility bills paid and Talissa has some cash in the bank for once.’
‘And the parents?’
‘We made a big seven-figure offer to settle out of court, but they don’t want to take any money. They haven’t signed off on anything, but they say they’re happy with the way their son is. They call him a blessing.’
‘All right,’ said Celeste. ‘So now. The trial. You’ve all been cautioned, I presume.’
‘Yes, they came to see the three of us – me, Malik Wood and Delmore Redding. They read us our rights a couple of weeks ago. I was pissed that the arraignment hearing was so short. The judge seemed to wash his hands of it.’
‘I think that was always likely,’ Celeste said. ‘He was going to send it for trial because there’s a legitimate public interest. It’s not that the justice system wants to find you guilty, it’s more that they want the issues to be aired. They’ll want a jury too.’
There was a knock on the door.
Celeste showed in a large man in a suit with the white bands of an advocate. ‘This is my colleague, Thomas Rennard. He’s going to lead.’
‘What about you?’ said Parn.
‘I’ll be the junior. Thomas has more experience in this area than I do. He had a very good result recently in R v. Amazon. You probably read about it.’
Rennard pulled up a chair and helped himself to a chocolate biscuit from a plate the clerk had brought in earlier. He looked like a man who denied himself little.
‘So, Mr Parn,’ he said. ‘My colleague has given me the background. I understand we took our trousers down at the hearing.’
‘We did what?’
‘You agreed that the error took place in your clinic.’
‘Yes. I was advised that ––’
‘Good advice.’
‘I’m still hoping to protect the identity of the individual.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Rennard. ‘There’s a new law almost every month to protect the privacy of victims in criminal cases. Neither Number Seven nor the parents will be within a hundred miles of the court. We’ll just focus on whether this was an accident.’
‘What are our chances?’ said Parn.
‘Well,’ said Rennard, ‘it’s interesting. There have been quite a few civil cases for negligence. Crowded workbenches in the clinic and so on. But the prosecution will claim this was deliberate. That’s a first.’
Parn said, ‘Could I just explain the scientific benefits that—’
‘No,’ said Rennard. ‘Forgive me. I need to explain a little. The prosecution will need to show that someone in your clinic knowingly made a substitution. If you tell me that was the case, then we can’t plead not guilty. Not if you tell me that you did it. However good the intentions. But if you tell me you don’t know how the mistake happened, then that’s a different matter.’
‘What I’m trying to say is—’
‘Stop,’ said Rennard. ‘Excuse me, but I’m going to make a rather odd request, Mr Parn. Which is that from now on you don’t tell me anything. Anything at all. I think that’s the best way. Your organisation is known to have had an interest in hybrids. Your own PR person – a Ms Sheila Rahm – admitted that you recreated individuals from the genomes of two extinct species, a type of wolf and a mammoth, I believe. That’s one thing. But what the prosecution needs to prove in your case is that one of the accused or someone acting on their behalf knowingly made a donor substitution with a human embryo. I ask you, Mr Parn, how on earth are they going to prove that?’
When the case opened in Court Number One at the Old Bailey, Talissa was watching on a link from her apartment in New York.
To her, the court looked like an old church, with its arches and high wooden panelling. The oak benches for the lawyers and the press were ranged like pews. She was fairly sure that above the central seat of judgement – one of five leather-padded thrones on the dais – she could see a hanging crucifix. Beneath the cross sat the lone trial judge: ‘The Right Honourable Lady Justice Rampersad, aka Dame Iris Rampersad’ read a caption as wide as Talissa’s screen. The judge herself took up little room: a slender individual with an unsmiling eye.
In front of her was a bank of screens at which she glanced through the bottom of her reading glasses. Occasionally, she prodded at them with a forefinger. There were other screens of varying sizes in the court, but there were also documents in boxes being wheeled down the gaps between the pews. Some of the files formed low battlements along the tables, behind which lawyers bobbed up and down. Others craned forward to whisper into the ears of those who sat in front. To Talissa far away, they seemed like soloists in an orchestra that Dame Iris was conducting. She was disappointed that none of them wore wigs.
For the prosecution, a tall, gaunt man leant forward to address the judge. ‘Alexander Mayne, KC’ read the caption. ‘My Lady,’ he said, ‘I intend to show that the defendants’ behaviour met all three definitions of fraud under the Fraud Act 2006. There was fraud by false representation. Fraud by failure to disclose. And fraud by abuse of position.’
‘Thank you, Mr Mayne,’ said the judge. ‘You will be aware of substantial amendments to the act in 2034.’
‘Indeed, My Lady. I intend to rely on them.’
The camera showed Parn, Wood and Redding, all in suits and ties. Parn was whispering in Wood’s ear while Redding stared straight ahead.
‘My Lady, the defendants have exercised their right to silence,’ a burly lawyer was now saying. ‘Thomas Rennard, KC’ read the caption. ‘It has further been agreed between both sides that in the interests of their privacy and well-being, no member of the family involved, nor the surrogate mother, will appear.’
Lady Justice Rampersad nodded and raised a permissive hand.
Witnesses were called. Catrina Olsen took the stand in a trouser suit with her hair scraped back, wearing thick-rimmed glasses. Talissa smiled.
‘Could you summarise for us your opinion of the defendant Lukas Parn?’ said Mayne.
Catrina thought for a minute. ‘I would say he is a very brilliant man and that he has many admirable qualities. But he is someone who believes his great wealth puts him above normal considerations.’
‘What sort of considerations?’
‘Moral. Legal. Behavioural.’
‘I see. And what of Dr Wood?’
‘My Lady, I object,’ said Rennard, rising awkwardly to his feet. ‘This is mere gossip.’
‘I think that in view of the defendants’ refusal to testify,’ said Mayne, ‘the jury is entitled to have a sense of what they are missing. I would further submit that Dr Olsen is an expert witness and thus allowed to offer an opinion.’
Dame Iris leant forward. ‘The court is not much moved by old-fashioned ideas of admissibility,’ she said. ‘We prefer weight. I am going to allow the evidence in, though in due course I shall give the jury an appropriate direction.’
‘Thank you, My Lady,’ said Mayne. ‘Dr Wood?’
‘A superb scientist,’ said Catrina. ‘But also vain. He left mainstream research for a very highly paid job and has always wanted to re-establish his academic credentials.’
‘And Professor Redding?’
‘A straight arrow,’ said Catrina. ‘Good at his job. But not a very strong character.’
Talissa went to the kitchen to make some tea and when she returned found Thomas Rennard in full flow.
‘So you were unaware that the embryo you put back was not genetically that of the actual parents?’
‘That’s right,’ said Catrina. ‘Everything was normal.’
‘Did you at any time see anyone making a swap or interfering in any way with the process?’
‘No.’
‘Thank you, Dr Olsen. Your view of the characters of the defendants was most colourful, but, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this case will turn not on character sketches but on evidence. Or the lack of it.’
The next witness was Ayesha Cross, who recalled Malik Wood personally bringing in a sperm sample from one of the eight fathers.
‘And you remember this,’ said Alexander Mayne, ‘because it was unusual?’
‘Yes, the director of the clinic wouldn’t normally do that.’
But under cross-examination from Rennard, Ayesha Cross admitted that she didn’t know which of the eight babies in the test had resulted from this sample and that she had not seen Malik Wood interfere with anything. Pressed, she also agreed that Wood occasionally acted ‘playfully’ in order to ‘keep up morale’.
The following day, the prosecution called an expert witness, Professor Selma Sanderson, the head of an Edinburgh fertility clinic. Questioned by Mayne, she said she thought it was inconceivable that such a mix-up could have happened by mistake.
‘And yet,’ said Rennard, when his turn came, ‘you concede that mistakes regularly happen in such clinics and that the sperm samples would have been indistinguishable to the naked eye? We know that other organisations run by Mr Parn had an interest in palaeoanthropology and that it has for a long time been possible to create such a substance from a reconstructed Neanderthal genome. I put it to you that an administrative oversight – a muddle, in other words – is a far more credible explanation of what happened.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Please look at this.’
A photograph dated 2029 came up on a display screen facing the jury. It showed large chiller tanks labelled ‘Embryos’ and ‘Sperm’ on the floor of an untidy room. The remains of a sandwich lunch were visible on a desk behind them.
‘How many samples are in each tank?’ said Rennard.
‘Thousands,’ said Professor Sanderson.
‘And this picture was taken in the Parn Institute’s clinic in London?’
‘I believe so. That’s the secretary’s office. It became quite well known in our little world. I think they were having building works done at the time. Finishing the storeroom. It was all very tidy after that, I believe. The samples were professionally looked after.’
‘No further questions.’
The following day, Ayesha Cross was recalled. ‘Ms Cross,’ said Thomas Rennard, ‘you have testified that Dr Wood personally brought into the lab one of the sperm samples in this trial and that this was unusual.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What was your relationship with Dr Wood?’
‘It was good.’
‘Come, come, Ms Cross. It was more than that. You were lovers, were you not?’
‘Briefly,’ said Ayesha Cross, after a pause.
‘And Dr Wood ended your liaison.’
‘It was an unwise relationship. It was … unprofessional.’
‘I would like the court to look at display B, please.’
On the screen was a reproduction of a message sent to the Galatia news desk from a generic end point. It said, ‘WRT your investigation of White Van Man suggest you look at Parn–NHS partnership London 2030 onwards. Subject Number Seven.’
‘Before you answer my next question, Ms Cross,’ said Rennard, ‘I would like you to know that we have done extensive research on the origin of this message and are prepared to call expert witnesses. I would further remind you that you are under oath.’
‘I understand.’
‘Did you send that message?’
Ayesha Cross looked down. ‘Yes. I sent it.’
‘No further questions.’
The trial lasted three days, some of which Talissa missed by being at work. The next time she was able to watch live, Alexander Mayne was on his feet.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ he said, ‘my learned friend makes a great deal of the absence of material evidence. What does he expect? A surveillance camera in the sperm donation room? I think not. Phone records, as we have conclusively demonstrated, show increased traffic between the three defendants in the days before the procedure. Can we give you chapter and verse of what they said? Of course not. We don’t tap phones. This is not East Berlin a hundred years ago. My learned friend calls the evidence “circumstantial at best”, but in the absence of confession or eyewitnesses, circumstantial evidence is sufficient in English law.’
Thomas Rennard in turn stressed the failure of the prosecution to suggest an adequate motive. ‘Pecuniary gain? I think not. The institute has invested greatly with no financial return and has shared its data free of cost with the National Health Service. Some sort of power trip or God complex? Even Dr Olsen, who was sharply critical of her former superiors, stopped short of suggesting that. Professional renown? Career advancement? No learned paper has yet been published, though my clients remain sanguine on that front – and determined to share the fruits of their labours.
‘My learned friend relies on the testimony of Ms Ayesha Cross, who says she remembers Dr Wood himself bringing in a sample to the lab. The same Ms Cross was Dr Wood’s jilted lover and on her own admission betrayed the trust of her employers to the press. I suggest to you that her testimony is worthless.’
The judge began her summing-up for the jury. ‘You are not to read anything into the defendants’ refusal to testify,’ she said. ‘That is their right.’
To Talissa it seemed obvious from a quick look at the jury that they might well take a different view about the silent three. A part of Talissa wanted the Parn people to be brought low. She had no doubt that they had deliberately switched the sample. On the other hand, if the whole thing could be passed off as a bizarre mistake it might make Seth less of a phenomenon to be stared at or pursued.
When the jury returned the next day, Talissa found herself excited to hear the words familiar from courtroom dramas.
‘And how do you find the defendant Mr Lukas Parn?’
‘Guilty, My Lady.’
The camera stayed on the face of the forewoman of the jury, even as the public gallery vented its surprise.
‘How do you find the defendant Dr Malik Wood?’
‘Guilty, My Lady.’
The camera moved for an instant to Alexander Mayne, KC, straight-faced, resisting congratulation from the bench behind.
‘How do you find the defendant Professor Delmore Redding?’
‘Guilty.’
Before the sentences were passed, the lawyers were allowed to plead. Buoyed by his success, Alexander Mayne moved up a rhetorical gear, though he had little of substance to add.
Thomas Rennard stood up to make his plea in mitigation. ‘My Lady, the life of the young man who is at the centre of this trial has not been easy. Or rather, it was an ordinary life until public scrutiny brought that to an end. I feel sure my learned friend would join me in wishing him privacy and peace of mind in the future.
‘The data collected by the Parn Institute has been of very substantial scientific value. It has moreover been recorded in an exemplary way, we have heard, with none of those involved knowing which of the children involved was a hybrid. It is not so much on the nature of our cousins Homo sapiens neanderthalensis that the life of this young man has shed light as on the nature of ourselves, Homo sapiens. We have seen that our senses are limited and that other humans had different and in some ways superior ways of gathering information about the world. We have seen how our outstanding mental and cultural achievements have come at a cost. That, to quote an academic comment on the case, “The connections that enabled Beethoven are unstable. But they are closely related to the neural circuitry of delusion, a mental condition which so far as we know is specific to us modern humans – unique, indeed, not just in the genus Homo, but in the primate family and for all we know the entire animal kingdom.” No other creature has such an unstable relationship with reality.’
Bringing his focus onto the circumstances of the case, he stressed the anonymity, the lack of any ad hominem motive, the fact that ‘the left hand did not know what the right hand was doing’ and that the defendants were motivated at all times by a desire to improve the lot of humanity.
Rennard coughed and looked at his notes. ‘My Lady, there have been many human species over the years. At one time there may have been as many as a dozen. We are the last one left alive. It is as if the turkey were held to be the epitome of all birds, the chihuahua the final expression of the canine. Our way of being human, My Lady, is a very odd one. By studying our cousins and former breeding companions, we understand more about our strangeness and more about the things that afflict us. And we may hope that our descendants, while honouring the achievements of our past, may be able to curb the lust for violence and find a way to cure the illnesses that appear to be their fated corollary.
‘The triumph of our kind lay at first in our fecundity. From a handful out of Africa to the billions of us now across the world. Our minds are focused on our own existence minute by minute. With other humans, this was not so. They may even have thought of themselves first and foremost as “he” or “she”, not “I”. Or in fact none of these at all. The chances of natural selection and cross-breeding brought us where we are today. A world in which other humans bred with our efficiency and left a greater genetic legacy would have been different. Still human, but in a different way. Perhaps no Venice or Einstein. But other cities, other minds as great, perhaps less startling but more peaceful, more sustainable and more in tune with our fellow creatures. The Sapiens consciousness, we have heard, may eventually be selected against by evolution. It is inessential. We have heard it called a spandrel and a “logo”. It is an opportunist, a hitch-hiker, like so much of our genome. It may one day die out, leaving the world with a better kind of human being.
‘We stand at the moment like men shining a torch into a darkened room. The beam of light is thin. It may be that we will never understand how we came to be what we are. That the evidence is just too old, too degraded or too hard to find. It may be that the shutters can never be torn down to admit the full light of day. But thin beams of light are all we have. And they are won at a tremendous cost of time and intellect and money and dedication on the part of scientists. I put it to you that the Parn Institute has done more than most to help us – if not to provide the cures and answers, at least to frame the questions. I further put it to you that the sentences in this case should reflect that unprecedented contribution.’