Rowan asked: "Will you stay until I get there?"
"We're creatures of the dark, my beloved," I said. "As mortals are wont to say: Make it snappy. "
It was two a. m. when the jet landed. It barely made it on the long runway.
By that time, Mona and I-leaving Oberon and Lorkyn in the custody of Quinn-had spent two hours getting rid of every corpse on the island. To the devouring sea we fed the remains even to the grisly remnants of the charred and smoking copter-a grim task, save for the placid overpowering waves of the Caribbean, so quickly forgiving every unclean offering.
Just before the plane landed, Mona and I had also discovered Lorkyn's digs-quite gorgeous, with a
computer that was indeed hooked up to the outside world, and loaded with information about the Drug Merchants, and bank accounts in a dozen places at least.
But what had astonished both of us was the medical information of all kinds-countless articles downloaded from seemingly respectable sources on every aspect of health care, from studies of diet to neurosurgery and the intricacies of heart bypass operations and the removal of tumors of the brain.
In fact, there was far more medical information than we could conceivably examine.
Then we hit the material on Mayfair Medical.
And it was there, in that strange place, in moments sandwiched between violence and mystery, that I realized how immense the Mayfair Medical project was, how multifaceted and daring and full of promise. I saw the layout of the hospital and laboratories. I saw lists of doctors, lists of units and programs and research teams.
In addition, Lorkyn had downloaded dozens of articles about the Center which had appeared in medical journals.
And finally we came upon an immense amount of material on Rowan herself-her career, her achievements in research, her personal plans for the Center, her pet projects, her attitudes, her goals.
We couldn't possibly cover it all.
We decided we had to take the microprocessor with us. No choice really. Had to take Oberon's as well. No traces of the tragedy would be left for strangers.
Rowan and Stirling were first off the plane, Rowan in jeans and plain white shirt and Stirling in a tweed suit. Immediately they reacted to the spectacle of the three Taltos, in fact, Rowan appeared to go into a silent shock.
I presented Rowan with the microprocessors from the two computers, which she entrusted to an assistant who put them safely on the plane. Lorkyn watched all this with eyes as unreadable as Rowan's, though they looked much softer, perhaps part of a very sweet mask. She had been absolutely silent all during the wait and she showed no change now.
Miravelle was weeping. Oberon, having relieved himself of the bandanna and brushed his hair, looked beyond handsome, and deigned to give Rowan a slight nod of his head.
Then Rowan said to Mona:
"Where are the bodies?"
Out of the plane as if on cue came a crew of men in white scrubs, on down the metal stair carrying what looked like a giant sleeping bag. They had other equipment I couldn't decipher or describe.
We went back to the freezer.
All this time Lorkyn made no protest, though Quinn held her tightly, but she kept her large exquisite eyes on Rowan, except for occasional glances at Oberon who never stopped staring at her with a look of pure venom.
Rowan stepped cautiously inside the freezer as I'd done before. She examined the bodies minutely. She touched the stains of frozen fluid on the floor. She studied patches of discoloration on their skin. Her hands returned to their heads. Then finally she withdrew and let the team do its work of taking the bodies to the plane.
She looked at Mona:
"They're dead," she said. "They died a long time ago. Most likely right after they first lay down together here. "
"Perhaps not!" said Mona desperately. "Maybe they can survive temperatures that we can't. " She looked frail and worn in her black feathered dress, her mouth shuddering.
"They're gone," Rowan said. Her voice was not cruel. It was solemn. She was fighting her own tears and I knew it.
Miravelle began to cry again. "Oh Mother, oh Father. . . . "
"There's evidence of widespread decay," Rowan said. "The temperature was not consistently maintained. They didn't suffocate. They fell asleep as people do in the snow. They were probably warm at the end, and they died peacefully. "
"Oh, that is so lovely," said Miravelle with the purest sincerity. "Don't you think, Mona? It's so very pretty. Lorkyn, darling, don't you think it is very sweet?"