not be confined to five or six branches of the family. It may be confined to five or six per cent of the population.’
Nigel nodded. ‘That’s where you come in. Is it possible from the test you’ve devised to discover when this ancestor was shared?’
Westerberg shook his head. ‘No.’
Damn, Nigel thought. I’ve wasted my time.
‘Unless.’
‘Unless what?’
Westerberg sat back. ‘Do you have any details about the type extracted from the strand of hair?’
Nigel had. After employing all his powers of persuasion, Heather had agreed to ask Foster whether Nigel could have details of the type of mtDNA extracted from the hair strand. The DCI had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and an hour later an e-mail containing an impenetrable sequence of numbers had arrived in Nigel’s in-box:
16111 16290 16319 16362
Second hypervariable segment 64 146 153
He produced the printout from his jacket pocket and handed it to Westerberg. The scientist stared at it for several seconds. Put it down and stroked his beard.
‘You might be in luck,’ he said.
‘Might I?’
‘The group this sample belongs to is a relatively rare one. Which means you won’t have vast amounts of people sharing it.’
‘How many?’
‘I can’t answer that. But that’s not the only reason you’re lucky. Let me check something out.’ He tilted the screen of his computer to face him and tapped in a few details.
Studied the screen carefully and then punched in some more data. He started to nod. ‘The person to whom this belonged had a maternal ancestor that was Native American.’
‘You
can tell that from the piece of paper?’
‘It gives the mtDNA haplotype, which means I can assign it to a haplogroup, which means I can work out its biogeographic ancestry.’ Westerberg paused, taking a slurp of lukewarm coffee. Nigel noticed the mug. It had a crude drawing of a banana. Written inside were the words ‘I share half my DNA with a banana’. He wondered if it was true, making a mental note to check it on the Internet when he got home. ‘By examining a person’s mtDNA and the mutations it carries, we can follow their ancestor’s footprint and their lineage. The ancestor of whoever owned this DNA left a print in North America and it’s one we know is shared by other people with Native American ancestry. Give me a day or two to check a few databases and I might even be able to tell you the tribe to which the maternal ancestor may have belonged.’
Nigel was amazed. ‘You can tell me whether the victim’s ancestor was a Cherokee or a Sioux or an Apache?’
Westerberg smiled. ‘Not that specific. Most haplotypes are shared across tribes or are maybe restricted to a related group of tribes, but we could certainly narrow it down.’
He could see Nigel was still impressed. ‘I told you genetic genealogy was the future.’
While he found this revelation thrilling, Nigel knew the Native American population was not renowned for keeping records. There was no way he could use this information. Unless …
There was little evidence of any Native American blood in Katie Drake’s features. The most obvious explanation was that this mysterious woman entered the Drake lineage hundreds of years ago on some great migratory route.
However, another explanation occurred to him.
‘Is there any chance of discovering a date or an approximate time when a Native American woman entered the bloodline?’
Westerberg ran his hand through his hair so that it stuck up as if caught by static. ‘How would that help?’ the Irishman asked, furrowing his brow.
‘I’m not sure it would. The fact is, I’ve been trying to trace the maternal line of the victim as part of the investigation and the paper trail appears to end ‘
‘I knew it!’ Westerberg slapped his hand down hard on the desk. ‘I knew it! You need me. You’ve hit a wall and you need a hand to get over it. Hang on, what was it you said in the bar at that ball-aching convention?’ He
Nigel nodded. ‘That’s where you come in. Is it possible from the test you’ve devised to discover when this ancestor was shared?’
Westerberg shook his head. ‘No.’
Damn, Nigel thought. I’ve wasted my time.
‘Unless.’
‘Unless what?’
Westerberg sat back. ‘Do you have any details about the type extracted from the strand of hair?’
Nigel had. After employing all his powers of persuasion, Heather had agreed to ask Foster whether Nigel could have details of the type of mtDNA extracted from the hair strand. The DCI had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and an hour later an e-mail containing an impenetrable sequence of numbers had arrived in Nigel’s in-box:
16111 16290 16319 16362
Second hypervariable segment 64 146 153
He produced the printout from his jacket pocket and handed it to Westerberg. The scientist stared at it for several seconds. Put it down and stroked his beard.
‘You might be in luck,’ he said.
‘Might I?’
‘The group this sample belongs to is a relatively rare one. Which means you won’t have vast amounts of people sharing it.’
‘How many?’
‘I can’t answer that. But that’s not the only reason you’re lucky. Let me check something out.’ He tilted the screen of his computer to face him and tapped in a few details.
Studied the screen carefully and then punched in some more data. He started to nod. ‘The person to whom this belonged had a maternal ancestor that was Native American.’
‘You
can tell that from the piece of paper?’
‘It gives the mtDNA haplotype, which means I can assign it to a haplogroup, which means I can work out its biogeographic ancestry.’ Westerberg paused, taking a slurp of lukewarm coffee. Nigel noticed the mug. It had a crude drawing of a banana. Written inside were the words ‘I share half my DNA with a banana’. He wondered if it was true, making a mental note to check it on the Internet when he got home. ‘By examining a person’s mtDNA and the mutations it carries, we can follow their ancestor’s footprint and their lineage. The ancestor of whoever owned this DNA left a print in North America and it’s one we know is shared by other people with Native American ancestry. Give me a day or two to check a few databases and I might even be able to tell you the tribe to which the maternal ancestor may have belonged.’
Nigel was amazed. ‘You can tell me whether the victim’s ancestor was a Cherokee or a Sioux or an Apache?’
Westerberg smiled. ‘Not that specific. Most haplotypes are shared across tribes or are maybe restricted to a related group of tribes, but we could certainly narrow it down.’
He could see Nigel was still impressed. ‘I told you genetic genealogy was the future.’
While he found this revelation thrilling, Nigel knew the Native American population was not renowned for keeping records. There was no way he could use this information. Unless …
There was little evidence of any Native American blood in Katie Drake’s features. The most obvious explanation was that this mysterious woman entered the Drake lineage hundreds of years ago on some great migratory route.
However, another explanation occurred to him.
‘Is there any chance of discovering a date or an approximate time when a Native American woman entered the bloodline?’
Westerberg ran his hand through his hair so that it stuck up as if caught by static. ‘How would that help?’ the Irishman asked, furrowing his brow.
‘I’m not sure it would. The fact is, I’ve been trying to trace the maternal line of the victim as part of the investigation and the paper trail appears to end ‘
‘I knew it!’ Westerberg slapped his hand down hard on the desk. ‘I knew it! You need me. You’ve hit a wall and you need a hand to get over it. Hang on, what was it you said in the bar at that ball-aching convention?’ He
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