But it was comfortable, this car. And it was fast.
“What did Erich say to you?” asked Lightner, with deliberate concealing evenness.
Lark wasn’t fooled by it. “Stood right in front of me, demanding to know where the specimens were. Rude. Downright aggressive and rude. I can’t figure it. Was he trying to intimidate me?”
“You didn’t tell him what he wanted to know,” said Lightner softly and conclusively and looked out the darkened glass. They were on the highway, turning onto the freeway, and this place looked a little like any place- squat suburban buildings with names blaring from them, empty space, uncut grass, motels.
“Well, no, of course not. I didn’t tell him anything,” said Lark. “I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. I told you Rowan Mayfair asked me to handle this confidentially. I’m here because of information you volunteered and because the family asked me to come. I’m not in a position really to turn over these specimens to anyone. In fact, I don’t think I could successfully retrieve them from the people who have them at this point. Rowan was specific. She wanted them tested in secret at a certain place.”
“The Keplinger Institute,” said Lightner gently and politely, as if reading this off a cue card on Lark’s forehead, his pale eyes calm. “Mitch Flanagan, the genetic genius, the man who worked with Rowan there before she decided not to stay in research.”
Lark didn’t say anything. The car floated soundlessly along the skyway. The buildings grew denser and the grass more unkempt.
“If you know, then why did this guy ask me?” Lark demanded. “Why did he stand in my path and try to force me to tell him all this? How did you find out, by the way? I’d like to know. Who are you? I would like to know that too.”
Lightner was looking away, weary, saddened.
“I told you there was a family emergency this morning, did I not?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to hear it. I didn’t mean to be insensitive on that account. I was mad about your friend.”
“I know,” said Lightner affably. “I understand. He should not have behaved that way. I’ll call the Motherhouse in London. I’ll try to find out why that happened. Or more truly, I’ll make certain that nothing like that ever happens again.” There was a little blaze of temper in the man’s eyes for an instant, and then something sour and fearful in his gaze. Very transitory. He smiled pleasantly. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Appreciate it,” said Lark. “How did you know about Mitch Flanagan and the Keplinger Institute?”
“You could call it a guess,” said Lightner. He was deeply disturbed by all this; that was plain even though his face was now a carefully painted picture of serenity, and his voice betrayed nothing but his tiredness, and a general low frame of mind.
“What is this emergency? What happened?”
“I don’t know all the details yet. Only that Pierce and Ryan Mayfair had to go to Destin, Florida, early this morning. They asked me to meet you. Seems something has happened to Ryan’s wife, Gifford. Again I’m not sure. I don’t know.”
“This Erich Stolov. You work with him?”
“Not directly. He was here two months ago. He’s a new generation of Talamasca. It’s the old story. I’ll find out why he behaved the way he did. The Motherhouse does not know the specimens are at the Keplinger Institute. If the younger members showed as much zeal at reading the files as they do for fieldwork, they could have figured it out.”
“What files, what do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. And never a particularly easy one to tell. I understand your reluctance to tell anyone about these specimens. I wouldn’t tell anyone else if I were you.”
“Is there any news on Rowan’s whereabouts?”
“Not a word. Except the old report’s been confirmed. That she and her companion were in Scotland, in Donnelaith.”
“What is all that about? Where is Donnelaith, Scotland? I’ve been all over the Highlands, hunting, fishing. I never heard of Donnelaith.”
“It’s a ruined village. At the moment it’s swarming with archaeologists. There is an inn there principally for tourists and people from universities. Rowan was seen there about four weeks ago.”
“Well, that’s old news. That’s no good. Nothing new is what I meant.”
“Nothing new.”
“This companion of hers, what did he look like?” Lark asked.
Lightner’s expression darkened slightly. Was this weariness or bitterness? Lark was baffled.
“Oh, you know more about him now than I do, don’t you?” asked Lightner. “Rowan sent you X-ray film, printouts of electroencephalograms, all of that sort of thing. Didn’t she send a picture?”
“No, she didn’t,” Lark said. “Who are you people, really?”
“You know, Dr. Larkin, I don’t honestly know the answer to that question. I suppose I never have. I’m just more frank with myself about it these days. Things happen. New Orleans works its spell on people. So do the Mayfairs. I was guessing on the tests; you might say I was trying to read your mind.”
Lark laughed. All this had been said so agreeably, and so philosophically. Lark sympathized with this man suddenly. In the dim light of the car, he also noticed things about him. That Lightner suffered from mild emphysema and that he had never smoked, and probably never been a drinker, and was fairly hale in a decade of programmed fragility-his eighties.
Lightner smiled, and looked out the window. The driver of the car was a mere dark shape behind the blackened glass.
Lark realized the car was loaded with all the standard amenities-the little television set, and the soft drinks tucked into ice in pockets on the middle doors.
What about coffee? When would they have coffee?
“There in the carafe,” said Lightner.
“Ah, you read my mind,” Lark said with a little laugh.
“It’s that time of morning, isn’t it?” said Lightner, and for the first time there was a little smile on his lips. He watched Lark open the carafe and discover the plastic cup in the side pocket. Lark poured the steaming coffee.
“You want some, Lightner?”
“No, thank you. Do you want to tell me what your friend Mitch Flanagan has found out?”
“Not particularly. I don’t want to tell anyone but Rowan. I called Ryan Mayfair for the money. That’s what Rowan instructed me to do. But she didn’t say anything about giving anybody the test results. She said she’d contact me when she could. And Ryan Mayfair says that Rowan may be hurt. Maybe even dead.”
“That’s true,” said Lightner. “It was good of you to come.”
“Hell, I’m worried about Rowan. I wasn’t too happy when Rowan left University. I wasn’t too happy that she up and got married. I wasn’t too happy that she left medicine. In fact, I was as astonished as if somebody had said, ‘The world ends today at three o’clock.’ I didn’t believe it all, until Rowan herself told me over and over.”
“I remember. She called you often last fall. She was very concerned about your disapproval.” It was said mildly like everything else. “She wanted your advice on the creation of Mayfair Medical. She was sure that when you realized she was serious about the center you would understand why she was no longer practicing, that there was a great deal involved.”
“Then you are a friend of hers, aren’t you? I mean not this Talamasca necessarily, but you.”
“I think I was her friend. I may have failed her. I don’t know. Maybe she failed me.” There was a hint of bitterness to it, maybe even anger. Then the man smiled pleasantly again.
“I have to confess something to you, Mr. Lightner,” said Lark, “I thought this Mayfair Medical was a pipe dream. Rowan caught me off guard. But I’ve since done a little investigating of my own. Obviously this family has the resources to create Mayfair Medical. I just didn’t know. I should have known, I suppose. Everybody was talking about it. Rowan is the smartest and best surgeon I ever trained.”
“I’m sure she is. Did she tell you anything about the specimens when she talked to you? You said she called from Geneva and that was February twelfth.”
“Again, I want to talk to Ryan, next of kin. Talk to the husband, see what is the right thing to do.”
“The specimens ought to have everyone at the Keplinger Institute quite astonished,” said Lightner. “I wish you would tell me the full extent of what Rowan sent. Let me explain my interest. Was Rowan herself in ill health when she spoke to you? Did she send any sort of medical material that pertained to her?”
