Passenger to Frankfurt - Agatha Christie [84]
‘Permanently benevolent? You’re sure that’s the right word? Benevolence?’
‘Yes, because that’s why he nicknamed it Benvo.’
‘But what did his colleagues think, I wonder, about his backing out?’
‘I don’t think he had many who knew. Lisa what’s-her-name, the Austrian girl; she’d worked on it with him. And there was one young man called Leadenthal or some name like that, but he died of tuberculosis. And he rather spoke as though the other people who worked with him were merely assistants who didn’t know exactly what he was doing or trying for. I see what you’re getting at,’ said Matilda suddenly. ‘I don’t think he ever told anybody, really. I mean, I think he destroyed his formulas or notes or whatever they were and gave up the whole idea. And then he had his stroke and got ill, and now, poor dear, he can’t speak very well. He’s paralysed one side. He can hear fairly well. He listens to music. That’s his whole life now.’
‘His life’s work’s ended, you think?’
‘He doesn’t even see friends. I think it’s painful to him to see them. He always makes some excuse.’
‘But he’s alive,’ said Admiral Blunt. ‘He’s alive still. Got his address?’
‘It’s in my address book somewhere. He’s still in the same place. North Scotland somewhere. But–oh, do understand–he was such a wonderful man once. He isn’t now. He’s just almost dead. For all intents and purposes.’
‘There’s always hope,’ said Admiral Blunt. ‘And belief,’ he added. ‘Faith.’
‘And benevolence, I suppose,’ said Lady Matilda.
Chapter 21
Project Benvo
Professor John Gottlieb sat in his chair looking very steadfastly at the handsome young woman sitting opposite him. He scratched his ear with a rather monkey-like gesture which was characteristic of him. He looked rather like a monkey anyway. A prognathous jaw, a high mathematical head which make a slight contrast in terms, and a small wizened frame.
‘It’s not every day,’ said Professor Gottlieb, ‘that a young lady brings me a letter from the President of the United States. However,’ he said cheerfully, ‘Presidents don’t always know exactly what they’re doing. What’s this all about? I gather you’re vouched for on the highest authority.’
‘I’ve come to ask you what you know or what you can tell me about something called Project Benvo.’
‘Are you really Countess Renata Zerkowski?’
‘Technically, possibly, I am. I’m more often known as Mary Ann.’
‘Yes, that’s what they wrote me under separate cover. And you want to know about Project Benvo. Well, there was such a thing. Now it’s dead and buried and the man who thought of it also, I expect.’
‘You mean Professor Shoreham.’
‘That’s right. Robert Shoreham. One of the greatest geniuses of our age. Einstein, Niels Bohr and some others. But Robert Shoreham didn’t last as long as he should. A great loss to science–what is it Shakespeare says of Lady Macbeth: “She should have died hereafter.”’
‘He’s not dead,’ said Mary Ann.
‘Oh. Sure of that? Nothing’s been heard of him for a long time.’
‘He’s an invalid. He lives in the north of Scotland. He is paralysed, can’t speak very well, can’t walk very well. He sits most of the time listening to music.’
‘Yes, I can imagine that. Well, I’m glad about that. If he can do that he won’t be too unhappy. Otherwise it’s a pretty fair hell for a brilliant man who isn’t brilliant any more. Who’s, as it were, dead in an invalid chair.’
‘There was such a thing as Project Benvo?’
‘Yes, he was very keen about it.’
‘He talked to you about it?’
‘He talked to some of us about it in the