“I know you chose your field, Alex, because you feel this kind of research opens the way to a better world, with fewer illnesses for children especially. You genuinely believe that stem cells are one of the best hopes for the future. But you’ve come back from your conferences on occasions and confided that not everyone shares that view, and that certain political lobbies are noisy and unrelenting in their protests. We’ve talked about the way they accuse you and your peers of playing God and use aggressive, inflammatory language to shut you down. These people want to confine your research for all sorts of narrow-minded reasons—not all of them purely moral—and these hard-liners you’ve clashed with outside your conferences are very closely related to Simon’s zealots. If this material of your ancestor’s is bringing you to the notice of such people, Alex, please tread carefully. Your own outlook on life is exemplified by your choice of career, but it would be a mistake to ignore the warped passion of the kinds of fanatics Simon is speaking of. Theirs is such a narrow perspective—they see only their view and won’t even debate anyone else’s. They speak with bigotry, hatred—perhaps even fear. They can’t allow liberals, and scientists, to be right. It undermines everything they base their worldview on. The words of their Bible mean exactly what they choose, and they don’t appreciate anyone taking issue with them. Don’t underestimate their mania.”

Henry was a mild man, and such an impassioned plea from him worried his son. The warning hung in the air, and Alex registered his father’s tone. He would check on Max and Anna, who was due back by now, when they got back to the house—but play everything down so as not to alarm them. He and Lucy were surely in the front line, being, as they were, immediately involved in the legacy and discovery of the material.

Lucy had listened attentively without adding more than a comment; but she now suggested to Alex that, if Henry wasn’t averse, she would like to get into Will’s darkroom and process the current roll of film, to see if it might provide information about the object under the tile—or at least of Will’s movements in France before the ferry crossing.

Alex had no idea if this was a skill she had possessed for years: it would be easier to assume so. But he was worrying that it had been a rather long and stressful day. “It’s getting late, Lucy. Let me bring you down one afternoon this week and you could deal with them then.”

Lucy was mindful of Henry’s words, and didn’t want to delay. “I’d rather get on with it. Time is against us. In an hour I can knock out a contact sheet—if you’re happy for me to do it, Henry?”