“What the hell does that mean?” demanded Randall. “How do you verify nonsense like-?”
“All the historical facts,” said Lauren, “which have been mentioned in the narrative have been checked. The painting by Rembrandt of Deborah has been authenticated. Records regarding the Dutchman Petyr van Abel, still extant in Amsterdam, have been copied for our private family files. But I will not get drawn off into a long defense of the documents or of the Talamasca. Suffice it to say they have been helpful to us throughout the time of Rowan’s disappearance. They are the ones who investigated the visit of Rowan and Lasher to Donnelaith. They are the ones who have placed in our hands the most detailed physical descriptions of this person, which our detectives have only confirmed. It is very doubtful any other agency of any kind, secular, religious or legal, would have given us this kind of assistance. But…Aaron has asked us to break off formal contact with the Talamasca, and with reason, and that we will do.”
“You can’t sweep it all under the table,” said Fielding. “What about that Dr. Larkin?”
“No one knows what has happened to Dr. Larkin,” said Ryan. “That we all have to accept. But Lauren is correct. We have no material evidence of any wrongdoing on the part of the Talamasca. However, our contact has been exclusively through Aaron. Aaron is our friend. Aaron is now a member of the family through his marriage to Beatrice…”
“Yes, very convenient,” said Randall.
“You’re a fool,” said Beatrice before she could stop herself.
“Amen to that,” said Mona.
To which Ryan immediately said, “Pipe down.”
He seemed to realize it was more than a little inappropriate, or at least Mona did everything in her power to freeze him into humiliation with her brilliant green eyes slitted like those of a basilisk. But he only patted the back of her hand by way of apology and went on.
“Aaron has advised us…as our friend, and as our kinsman, to have nothing further to do with the Talamasca. And we shall do as he asks.”
Once again, several of them began to speak at the same time. Lily wanted to know more about why Aaron had turned on the Order. Cecilia wanted to remind everyone that there was a man from the Talamasca asking questions around the neighborhood, the neighbors had told her, and Anne Marie wanted “just a little more clarification on a point or two.”
Lauren brought them all to silence. “The Talamasca has confiscated medical information. It has refused to share its present knowledge of this case with us. It has cut itself off, as Aaron would explain to you if we gave him the opportunity! But you will not. We are moving forward. It’s that simple. Report any mention of the Order to the office; answer no questions; continue to preserve all security measures.” She leant forward, lowering her voice for emphasis: “Maintain closed ranks!”
There was an uneasy silence.
“Michael, what do you have to say?” asked Lauren.
The question surprised him. He had been watching it all in a detached way as if it were baseball or football, or even chess. He had been drifting in and out of memories of Julien, Julien’s words. Now he had to conceal his thoughts. To speak them frankly and openly, that wouldn’t help anybody. Yet somehow the words came quietly out of his mouth.
“I will put an end to this man, whenever and wherever he’s found. No one will keep him safe from me.”
Randall began to speak. So did Fielding. But Michael put up his hand.
“I want to go back upstairs and be with my wife. I want my wife to recover. I want to be with her now.”
“Other business quickly and finally,” said Ryan. He opened his large leather folder and removed several sheets of paper covered with typewritten words. “Ah, no blood or tissue of any sort was found in St. Martinville in the area where Rowan’s unconscious body was discovered. If she did suffer a miscarriage there as the doctors believe, the evidence is long gone.
“The area is public. And there had been at least two rainstorms during the day, while Rowan lay there, and another after she was found. We have sent two skilled detectives back to the site. But as of now, we have no clues from there as to what really happened to Rowan. We are combing the surrounding area thoroughly for anyone who might have seen Rowan, or heard or seen anything that can be of help.”
There were a few resigned nods.
“Now, Michael, we are prepared to take the rest of this meeting downtown. It concerns the legacy, it concerns Mona. We’ll leave you here now, with Aaron, and we’ll be back later this evening, if you will allow.”
“Yes, of course,” said Michael. “We’re fine here. We have settled into a routine. Hamilton is upstairs with the nurses. Things are going as smoothly as one could expect.”
“Michael,” said Lauren. “I know this is a difficult question. But I must ask it. Do you know the whereabouts of the Mayfair emerald?”
“Oh, for god’s sakes!” said Bea, “that cursed thing.”
“It’s a legal matter,” said Lauren frostily. “Legal. We must seek the emerald and place it around the neck of the designee.”
“Well, if it was up to me,” said Fielding, “I’d go get a piece of green glass at Woolworth’s. But I’m too old to go downtown.”
“Wasn’t there a fake made of that thing by Stella?” asked Randall coldly, “so she could fling it from a Mardi Gras float?”
“If there was,” said Lauren, “she threw it from the float.”
“I don’t know where it is,” said Michael. “I think you asked me that when I was still sick, when I was in the hospital. I haven’t seen it. I think you searched this house.”
“Yes, we did,” said Ryan. “We thought perhaps we had overlooked something.”
“He probably has it,” said Mona softly. No one responded.
“That could be,” said Michael. He gave a little smile. “He probably has it. Probably considered it his very own. But you never know…” He tried not to look like a lunatic, but it was suddenly very funny to him. The emerald! Did Lasher have it in his pocket? Would he try to sell it? That would be a hoot.
The meeting had clearly come to an end. Bea would go up to Amelia Street. The others would go downtown.
Mona threw her arms around Michael and kissed him and then ducked out as if she didn’t want to see his anxious or reproving look. He was a bit stunned; it was like all her sweetness was clinging to him, and then there was this emptiness where she had just been.
Beatrice gave Michael an urgent kiss, then took leave of her new husband, swearing to collect him later for supper and to make Michael eat something as well.
“So many people are trying to make me eat something,” Michael murmured at the sheer wonder of it. “Ever since Rowan left. Eat, Michael, eat.”
Within moments, they were gone. The big door had shut for the final time. There had been that faint vibration throughout the house that always sounded damaging, Michael thought, but probably wasn’t.
Aaron remained at the far end of the table, across from Michael, leaning on his elbows, his back to the windows.
“I’m happy for you and Bea,” Michael said. “You get the poem I sent to you with Yuri? The note?”
“Yes, he gave it to me. You must tell me about Julien. Tell me what happened, not as some snoop from across the Atlantic, but as your friend, please.”
Michael smiled. “I want to tell you. I want to relive every second of it. I’ve been sort of jotting it down up there, you know, so I won’t forget. But the truth is, Julien had one purpose. It was to tell me to kill this thing, to stop it. That I was the one who was counted upon for that.”