‘Your majesties, royal highnesses, ladies and gentlemen,’ she began, ‘you will not be surprised to hear that I have tried to prepare myself for weeks for this day. I have agonised over every word I would say, and have carefully chosen what I would talk about, and why. Yet, as I stand here before you everything has changed, because I realise that you cannot prepare for something as momentous as this in advance. So, I have decided to tear up my mental notes and start again.

  ‘Progress in science is a collegiate matter and breakthroughs do not happen in isolation. More often than not, we stand on the shoulders of others to connect with that spark of inspiration, or take that idea a step further, or in a different direction. This is certainly true in my case. I wouldn’t be standing here tonight if it hadn’t been for the groundbreaking work of my mentor and friend, the late Professor Kozakievicz, affectionately known as Professor K because no-one could pronounce his name.

  ‘As scientists, we often stare into the darkness, in awe of nature and its baffling complexity. However, Professor K believed we must not be seduced by its beauty, nor cowed by its terror, but must always be on the lookout for inspired ideas to improve the journey of man.

  ‘As we stare into the darkness, something extraordinary is now happening. A shaft of light is slowly banishing the darkness and lifting the curtain of ignorance. What is that light? I firmly believe it is the dawn of a new era in medicine as we explore a treasure-trove of evolution hidden in our genes. The secrets are all there.’ Alexandra paused, her thoughts racing back to Professor K’s letter that had explained it all.

  ‘Professor K taught me that inspired ideas and true genius are immortal,’ she continued, ‘and the only reason I can glimpse that shaft of light is because I am standing on his shoulders; humbled, yet full of confidence for the future.’ Alexandra paused again, raised her hands, and pointed to the spellbound audience in front of her in a gesture of embrace. ‘Our future,’ she added quietly. ‘Thank you.’

  For a moment there was stunned silence, then the room erupted in enthusiastic applause, honouring an outstanding young woman and her remarkable mentor.

  Almost blinded by the cameras, Alexandra smiled at the king as she walked slowly back to her table and sat down. ‘That was quite something,’ said Jack as soon as the applause ebbed away. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Drained.’

  ‘That will pass, but the memory will linger. This is your moment.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack.’

  ‘I have something for you.’

  ‘Oh? What?’

  ‘The answer to a puzzle. Look under your serviette.’

  Alexandra took a sip of champagne, lifted her serviette and looked at the handwritten note in front of her. It only contained one word. ‘Al-Qanun?’ she said. ‘Ibn Sina’s famous medical text? What’s all this about?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘Remember the other painting we found hidden in Empress Marie-Louise’s sarcophagus?’

  ‘In the Imperial Crypt in Vienna, under the Monet?’ replied Alexandra.

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You showed it to me; it was badly damaged.’

  ‘It was. And you were intrigued by it, and frustrated because we couldn’t read the writing on the book—’ said Jack.

  ‘Held up by the man standing next to the patient’s bed,’ Alexandra interrupted, becoming animated.

  ‘You were sure it had to be a medical text because the man looked like a physician.’

  ‘Yes, because of his clothing and because he was pointing to the book in his hand with what looked like some kind of scalpel, or surgical instrument.’

  ‘At least now we know all about the book: it’s al-Qanun,’ said Jack, ‘the same book Professor K mentions in his papers.’

  ‘What! Are you sure?’

  ‘No doubt about it. The restoration has revealed the writing: al-Qanun.’

  ‘The book Professor K’s father had been searching for during the war; amazing!’

  ‘And so did the notorious Dr Steinberger in Auschwitz – remember?’ said Jack.

  ‘You are right; he did. So, what’s the connection? How does all this fit together? Any ideas?’

  Jack nodded, smiling.

  ‘Come on Jack; tell me!’

  ‘There was quite a bit of sleuthing involved here before I realised what the connection was. We knew the painting had to be important, but we had no idea why, and Brother Francis’s diary was very vague about it all.’

  ‘Are you trying to kill me with suspense,’ said Alexandra, ‘or are you going to tell me?’

  ‘The answer is Brother Francis himself.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Who he really was, before he left Germany after the war and became Brother Francis.’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well?

  ‘He was SS Sturmbannfuehrer Franz Berghofer. And do you know who one of his close collaborators was during the war?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Dr Erwin Steinberger.’

  ‘The Auschwitz doctor. Those dreadful medical experiments. How extraordinary! So, that’s the connection.’

  ‘Yes, and don’t forget, Professor K’s father was there too,’ said Jack.

  ‘But what does it all mean?’ Alexandra looked at Isis sitting opposite, nodding. ‘You knew about this?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, we worked on it together,’ replied Isis. ‘I have lots of contacts in the art world. Good restorers are difficult to find. But it was Jack who pieced it all together. He’s the master detective.’

  ‘You two make quite a team, I can see,’ said Alexandra, beginning to relax. She picked up the piece of paper and looked at Jack. ‘Do you know if the book still exists; and if so, where it may be?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘I’m working on it, but there’s a lot more,’ said Jack. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

  ‘I too have something for you, Alexandra,’ said Isis, changing the subject.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The Time Machine Foundation has decided to sponsor a chair for you at the Gordon Institute for five years to support your research. It’s all arranged.’

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Jack. ‘Congratulations!’

  ‘Has CRISPR inspired you?’ asked Alexandra, referring to a recent groundbreaking discovery which makes it possible to edit the human genome.

  ‘It’s much more than that. You and Professor K saved my life,’ said Isis, lowering her voice. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Alexandra quietly, her eyes misting over.

  ‘Say nothing,’ said Jack, ‘and enjoy the moment. You deserve it.’

  Reykjavik: 11 December 2015

  It was twenty-below zero and snowing, and the trip to Stockholm Arlanda airport had taken longer than usual in the early morning darkness.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Jack, helping Alexandra out of the taxi, the cheek-numbing cold hitting her like an arctic blast. ‘We must hurry!’

  ‘When are you going to tell me where we are going?’ asked Alexandra, unable to hide her anxiety. She had barely slept a wink since last night’s celebration banquet, and was still on a high.

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘Why not now?’

  ‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’

  ‘But we are at the airport.’

  ‘I’ll give you a clue: It’s on your bucket list,’ said Jack, enjoying himself.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘What we are about to do.’

  ‘You do know I have to catch a flight back to Sydney in two days?’

  ‘Of course; trust me.’

  Unpredictable, disarmingly charming, but always a little reckless, thought Alexandra, shaking her head. But she had to admit that this was precisely what made being with Jack so exciting and so much fun.

  With the Christmas holiday season approaching, Stockholm airport was exceptionally busy and the departure lounge was already packed with eager tourists.

  ‘Gate two,’ said Jack. ‘Here we are.’ He reached into his pocket, and handed Alexandra a ticket. ‘You’ll need this,’ he added, grinning.

  ‘Reykjavik? We are going to Iceland? You can’t be serious!’

  ‘You wanted to get away from the limelight and “chill out”, right?’

  ‘I said that?’

  ‘You did; right after the banquet.’

  ‘But I didn’t mean literally ...’

  ‘Don’t worry. After all the glitz and glamour, this will do you good.’

  ‘Chill out in Iceland?’

  ‘Can you think of a better place?’ said Jack, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

  ‘Seriously, Jack, why Iceland?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  ‘Aurora Borealis – the Northern Lights?’ asked Alexandra hopefully.

  ‘You can always trust a Nobel laureate to get it right. Row three; lead the way.’

  Alexandra realised her life had changed, but she was determined not to allow her new celebrity status to become a distraction and dominate her life. She knew that medical research was her destiny and she owed it to Professor K to pursue his legacy. She had made a promise. Her mother had returned to Paris with Countess Kuragin and the other guests after the award ceremony, and Isis had flown back to London with Lola, leaving her and Jack in Stockholm to have some quiet time together before her long flight back to Sydney – alone – because Jack was once again spending Christmas at the Kuragin Chateau.

  Due to her heavy workload at the Gordon Institute, Alexandra had only managed to get away for one week to attend the award ceremony, give her mandatory Nobel lecture and receive the prize. Australia and the Gordon were waiting to welcome the Nobel Prize winner, with several television appearances already scheduled for the day after her arrival, followed by a dinner with the prime minister in her honour in Canberra on Saturday night. The two days with Jack were therefore particularly precious.

  ‘This reminds me of our flight to Sydney,’ said Alexandra, leaning back in her comfortable seat as the aircraft taxied along the runway, ready for take-off, ‘just after we met.’

  ‘When I asked you to become my flatmate,’ said Jack, ‘and you called me a dangerous man?’

  ‘Very good. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘What, I’m still a dangerous man?’

  ‘No, in fact you are an incorrigible rascal, but I didn’t know that at the time, did I?’

  ‘That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?’

  ‘And unpredictable, and a little reckless at times. Like right now, for example,’ added Alexandra.

  ‘Come on ...’

  ‘Well, getting woken in the middle of the night to be told to quickly get dressed – without any warning, mind you – and pack some overnight stuff because we are going away … somewhere. What would you call that, eh?’

  ‘I don’t remember any objections.’

  ‘No. I was too tired.’

  ‘Nonsense! You are the one who moved in with a dangerous bloke you had just met and became his flatmate, just like that – remember?’

  ‘True, but I didn’t know he was an incorrigible rascal at the time, did I?’ countered Alexandra.

  ‘But now you know.’

  ‘I sure do.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘You fancy incorrigible rascals; admit it.’

  Alexandra leaned over to Jack and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Spot-on; thanks, Jack,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t mind the trip then?’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world!’

  ‘Women!’ mumbled Jack, shaking his head.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘We should drink to that,’ replied Jack, deftly sidestepping.

  ‘I like your style. Champagne at seven in the morning. You can always count on—’

  ‘What?’ interrupted Jack, laughing.

  ‘Incorrigible rascals.’

  ‘I give up!’

  ‘That lecture of yours about exceptional responders the other day had the scientists spellbound,’ said Jack. ‘I watched them. It was one of the highlights of Nobel Week. The whole of Stockholm was talking about it and the media loved it.’

  ‘If you say so. I was very nervous.’

  ‘Could have fooled me. What exactly are exceptional responders, and why are they so important?’

  Feeling relaxed after two glasses of champagne, Alexandra turned towards Jack and reached for his hand. ‘Let me give you an example. Let’s assume for the moment that you are an Olympic athlete; a gold medallist say, in cross-country skiing and, as it turns out, so is your younger brother, and your father was one too. Well, we would say that’s just too much of a coincidence; there has to be more to this. Something biological, something in the genes that the family members have in common and gives them the edge. Perhaps something about oxygen retention in the blood, something like that. Definitely worth investigating from a scientific point of view, because that makes them exceptional responders and we would love to know what it is that makes them what they are. And the good news is, we can now do just that.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By sequencing their genome and then interrogating the results to find out what they have in common that may be making the difference.’

  ‘And this would be helpful?’

  ‘Absolutely. But it doesn’t stop there, and it’s certainly not just about supreme athletes. Take that holy man in India who feels no pain, for example; why? Or that small group of Eskimos in a remote village who all lived to a hundred? Or that man in Chicago who smoked all his life, drank a bottle of whisky a day and is now in his nineties without having had one day of ill health. Or that little boy who responded to a certain drug in a most unexpected way, which completely cured his illness that had been considered fatal. Do you get my drift?’’

  ‘So, Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray who never grew old would fit into this?’

  ‘Not quite. We are talking about nature here, not the paranormal,’ said Alexandra, laughing.

  ‘Just kidding. You are searching for those hidden genes, right?’

  ‘Exactly. It’s the next step. Professor K was a visionary; he knew this. His papers make this very clear. He was looking at exceptional responders long before others thought about it. Of course at that time, we didn’t have the capacity to sequence the genome, which is the key to all this. But now we have. With the Illumina X-Ten at Gordon, right next to my lab,’ Alexandra added, becoming quite excited. ‘It’s the dawn of a new era. Exciting times.’

  ‘As we stare into the darkness, something extraordinary is now happening.’ teased Jack, lowering his voice.

  ‘Stop it!’ Alexandra punched Jack in the ribs. ‘But it’s true. Exceptional responders could turn out to be that shaft of light that is slowly banishing the darkness and lifting the curtain of ignorance. I had that in mind when I said that yesterday at the dinner. Professor K certainly believed that. This idea of investigating exceptional responders from around the world has unbelievable potential, and I intend to use my new chair Isis has so generously donated, for precisely such a project.’

  ‘And your new status as a Nobel laureate should give it some additional gravitas?’ interjected Jack.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘You should be able to involve some of the top scientists in the project. Everyone loves to rub shoulders with a Nobel Prize winner.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Perhaps you could call it The Hidden Genes of Professor K?’ ventured Jack, a little mischief glistening in his eyes.

  Alexandra nodded. ‘Not such a bad idea, actually.’

  ‘Let’s drink to that.’

  ‘Why not? Thanks to you, I’m already a little tipsy. One more won’t hurt.’

  ‘You are not an exceptional responder then – in the alcohol resistance department, I mean,’ said Jack.

  ‘I’m not, but you could be.’

  Jack had arranged a private tour to take them from their hotel in Reykjavik to the best viewing area for the Northern Lights. Their tour guide, a young meteorologist, was confident. Apparently, the conditions were perfect and the viewing had been excellent for a number of days now, and he expected it to be the same that evening.

  They didn’t have to go far before the heavens lit up, presenting one of the most awe-inspiring spectacles on the planet. The guide stopped the car on a ledge above a rugged valley. As they got out of the car, they stepped into a magical world of enchantment and wonder, like something out of a winter fairytale.

  ‘Wow!’ Look at that,’ said Alexandra, overcome by the ethereal beauty of the moment. She had seen documentaries about Aurora Borealis before, but the real thing was infinitely more spectacular than she could have imagined.

  Alexandra reached for Jack’s hand and for a while they stood in silence, watching the pale, yellow-green light dance across the clear night sky, like some extraterrestrial light show entertaining the gods.

  ‘In awe of nature, but not seduced by its beauty, nor cowed by its terror,’ whispered Jack.

  ‘You remembered?’ said Alexandra.

  ‘How could I forget? Your speech was inspirational.’

  ‘It’s difficult not to be seduced by this beauty, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘Do you know what causes this?’

  ‘A collision between electrically charged particles escaping from the sun and swept through space as solar wind, and gaseous particles in the earth’s atmosphere.’

  ‘Very good, and the colours?’

  ‘This pale, yellowish-green is produced by oxygen molecules. On rare occasions you can see an all red aurora caused by oxygen much higher up in the atmosphere. You can also have a blue or purplish-red aurora created by nitrogen.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I wrote some articles about it as a young freelance journo a long time ago. I saw the Northern Lights for the first time in Finland. Never forgotten it.’

  ‘You are full of surprises, Jack Rogan.’

  Then, the spectacular shapes of the celestial light show changed again and created what looked like a stairway to heaven. Deeply moved, Alexandra remembered Professor K’s last words: ‘At least it hasn’t been in vain ...’

 

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