mean? Where?”
Lark stopped before the door to the outer corridor. He placed his hand on the knob. “Rowan had some friends in an organization called the Talamasca. Historical research group. They too took samples at the site of the birth and the disappearance.”
“They did?”
“Yes. I don’t know what’s happened on that. I just know the organization is extremely interested in the history of the Mayfair family. They seem to feel they have a proprietary interest. They’ve been calling me night and day about this since I contacted the family. I’ll see one of them—Aaron Lightner—tomorrow morning in New Orleans. I’ll find out if they know anything else.”
Lark opened the door and walked towards the elevator, Mitch coming behind him hastily and awkwardly and then staring in his usual confused and unfocused way as Lark pressed the button and the elevator doors opened.
“Gotta go now, old boy,” said Lark. “You want to come with me?”
“Not on your life. I’m going right back into the lab. If you don’t call me tomorrow—”
“I’ll call you. In the meantime, this is all—”
“—totally under wraps. I mean totally. Is there something in the Keplinger Institute that isn’t under wraps? It’s a secret buried in a forest of secrets. Don’t worry about that part. No one has access to that computer in my office but me. No one could find the files if they did gain access. Don’t worry. This is regular for Keplinger. Someday I’ll tell you some of our stories…with names and dates changed of course.”
“Good man. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Lark took Mitch’s hand.
“Don’t leave me dangling, Lark. This thing could breed with Rowan! And if this thing did…”
“I’ll call you.”
Lark caught one last glimpse of Mitch, standing there, staring, before the elevator doors closed. He remembered Rowan’s words on the phone. “There’s one guy at the Keplinger Institute who can be trusted with this. You have to get him. Mitch Flanagan. Tell him I said this is worth his time.”
Rowan had been dead right on that one. Mitch was that man all right. Lark had no fears there.
But as he drove to the airport he had plenty of fears about Rowan. He’d thought she had gone insane when he first heard her voice long distance and her warnings that the call might abruptly be cut off.
The whole problem was, all this was very exciting to Lark. It had been from the start. Rowan’s phone call, the samples themselves, the subsequent series of discoveries, even this bizarre New Orleans family. Lark had never experienced anything like this in his life. He wished he could feel more worry and less exhilaration. He was off on an adventure, taking an open-ended holiday from his life at University Hospital, and he couldn’t wait to see these people in New Orleans—to see the house there that Rowan had inherited, and the man she hadmarried—the family for whom Rowan had given up her entire medical career.
It was raining harder by the time he reached the airport. But Lark for years had traveled in all kinds of weather and this meant nothing to him, any more than snow in Chicago, or monsoons in Japan.
He hurried to the First Class counter to pick up his ticket and was on his way to the gate within minutes, timing it just exactly right. The flight to New Orleans was boarding now.
Of course there was the whole problem of this creature itself, he realized. He had not begun to separate out that mystery from the mystery of Rowan and her family. And for the first time, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t sure he believed that this thing existed. He knew Rowan existed. But this offspring? Then he realized something else. Mitch Flanagan absolutely believed this being existed. And so did this Talamasca which kept calling him. And so did Rowan herself!
Of course this thing existed. There was as much proof of its existence as there is of bubonic plague.
Lark was the last one to reach the gate. Great timing,
Lark stopped before the door to the outer corridor. He placed his hand on the knob. “Rowan had some friends in an organization called the Talamasca. Historical research group. They too took samples at the site of the birth and the disappearance.”
“They did?”
“Yes. I don’t know what’s happened on that. I just know the organization is extremely interested in the history of the Mayfair family. They seem to feel they have a proprietary interest. They’ve been calling me night and day about this since I contacted the family. I’ll see one of them—Aaron Lightner—tomorrow morning in New Orleans. I’ll find out if they know anything else.”
Lark opened the door and walked towards the elevator, Mitch coming behind him hastily and awkwardly and then staring in his usual confused and unfocused way as Lark pressed the button and the elevator doors opened.
“Gotta go now, old boy,” said Lark. “You want to come with me?”
“Not on your life. I’m going right back into the lab. If you don’t call me tomorrow—”
“I’ll call you. In the meantime, this is all—”
“—totally under wraps. I mean totally. Is there something in the Keplinger Institute that isn’t under wraps? It’s a secret buried in a forest of secrets. Don’t worry about that part. No one has access to that computer in my office but me. No one could find the files if they did gain access. Don’t worry. This is regular for Keplinger. Someday I’ll tell you some of our stories…with names and dates changed of course.”
“Good man. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Lark took Mitch’s hand.
“Don’t leave me dangling, Lark. This thing could breed with Rowan! And if this thing did…”
“I’ll call you.”
Lark caught one last glimpse of Mitch, standing there, staring, before the elevator doors closed. He remembered Rowan’s words on the phone. “There’s one guy at the Keplinger Institute who can be trusted with this. You have to get him. Mitch Flanagan. Tell him I said this is worth his time.”
Rowan had been dead right on that one. Mitch was that man all right. Lark had no fears there.
But as he drove to the airport he had plenty of fears about Rowan. He’d thought she had gone insane when he first heard her voice long distance and her warnings that the call might abruptly be cut off.
The whole problem was, all this was very exciting to Lark. It had been from the start. Rowan’s phone call, the samples themselves, the subsequent series of discoveries, even this bizarre New Orleans family. Lark had never experienced anything like this in his life. He wished he could feel more worry and less exhilaration. He was off on an adventure, taking an open-ended holiday from his life at University Hospital, and he couldn’t wait to see these people in New Orleans—to see the house there that Rowan had inherited, and the man she hadmarried—the family for whom Rowan had given up her entire medical career.
It was raining harder by the time he reached the airport. But Lark for years had traveled in all kinds of weather and this meant nothing to him, any more than snow in Chicago, or monsoons in Japan.
He hurried to the First Class counter to pick up his ticket and was on his way to the gate within minutes, timing it just exactly right. The flight to New Orleans was boarding now.
Of course there was the whole problem of this creature itself, he realized. He had not begun to separate out that mystery from the mystery of Rowan and her family. And for the first time, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t sure he believed that this thing existed. He knew Rowan existed. But this offspring? Then he realized something else. Mitch Flanagan absolutely believed this being existed. And so did this Talamasca which kept calling him. And so did Rowan herself!
Of course this thing existed. There was as much proof of its existence as there is of bubonic plague.
Lark was the last one to reach the gate. Great timing,
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