Lemuria

by Burt Clinchandhill

  “I’m not sure. It looks like a weekly menu order list: breakfast, lunch and dinner. There’s even a fruit list. You know? Like the ones in a hospital where you can choose your meals for the coming week.”

  “What about it?” Bishop walked to De Cremonese.

  “Look.” De Cremonese pointed to the letterhead. “It’s from the Logynous Eye Restaurant. And it dates back from six weeks or so up until this week.”

  “So?” Bishop said.

  “You see, there, outside”—De Cremonese pointed to the large black dot in the center of the circle—“That’s the Logynous Eye Restaurant. I read somewhere they serve the employees’ meals, snacks and smoothies. But the headquarters is not a campus. It has no people living here. So, who would be served dinner every day?”

  “I see where you’re going with this. But what about a local service for the neighborhood?”

  “You saw the neighborhood when we got here,” De Cremonese said. “There’s not a house in sight for over ten miles or so. That’s quite a distance for delivery every day, three times a day.”

  “Can I see that?”

  De Cremonese handed him the stack.

  Bishop sifted through the stack. “Why a list on paper? All the boxes are checked with a pencil. Here’s one with something written on it.”

  “What’s it say?” De Cremonese asked.

  “No onions next to the box checked for meatloaf.”

  “Not a great fan of onions in their meatloaf, I guess,” De Cremonese joked.

  “You order a lot of pizza at the Vatican?” Bishop asked, leafing through the stack all the way down to the last one.

  De Cremonese grinned. “I’m not often at the Vatican, so I couldn’t say, but you’ll be surprised how much pizza and other meals are ordered in at Castel Gandolfo, the pope’s summer residence where my office happens to be.”

  “I don’t know why, but somehow that seems reassuring,” Bishop said as he turned the final paper slightly and concentrated on the lower right corner. “What’s this?”

  “What is it?” De Cremonese asked.

  “Looks like another written text. Numbers. Nine-five-seven-four-six.”

  De Cremonese took out his phone, and on the search page, he punched in the numbers, “Nine-five-seven-four-six.”

  “Anything?”

  “Looks like a ZIP code. Here, let me open it in Maps.”

  On the screen, the area surrounding their current location appeared.

  “Can you zoom in and change to satellite image?” Bishop asked.

  De Cremonese pressed and swiped, and the image changed to that of a forest seen from the sky. “There’s nothing there,” he remarked.

  “And what’s that?” Bishop asked pointing to the screen. “May I?”

  “Sure.” De Cremonese handed him the phone. Bishop zoomed in and out a few times. “There, you see that?” He pointed to what looked like a brown dot in a green forest. “Could that be a roof?”

  “Sure, but it could also be an error in the image.”

  “Why have a ZIP code to nothing....?” Bishop asked.

  “You think that could be the place where Jennifer is?”

  “Or Amie. Or maybe both.”

  “How far is that from here?” De Cremonese gestured Bishop to give him the phone back. “It’s just a few miles out, deeper into the woods,” he answered his own question. “What do you think?”

  “I think we should go find out. I have a good feeling about this.” Bishop sounded enthusiastic.

  “All right.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  Both men quickly stacked the papers back as neatly as they could and moved out of the office.

  De Cremonese looked back at the screen hanging from the wall.

  “Never mind that,” Bishop said. “They will connect us to this anyhow. From here, we must try to stay one step ahead of them.”

  “Who’s them?” De Cremonese asked as they descended the stairwell.

  “That’s an excellent question,” Bishop answered.

  Within a minute, both men entered the central hallway, where Lea appeared again.

  “Ah, you are back,” she said. “I’m afraid I have no more news about the availability of Mr. Mulder.”

  “That’s okay, Lea. We’re out of time and need to go,” De Cremonese told her. “Can you please have our car brought around, so we can leave?”

  “No problem. I will have it brought around immediately. I hope you enjoyed your stay at the Logynous headquarters.”

  “We did, thank you,” Bishop said.

  “Yes, thank you. It was great.”

  “Please come again. You know how to find me.” The sliding glass doors behind them slid open.

  “Magnificent,” Bishop said as they walked out, spreading his arms at the splendor of the forest ahead.

  “It sure is,” De Cremonese confirmed.

  Chapter 27 – Properties

  Granite Bay, CA

  Bishop steered the Jeep across the snaking, narrow and bumpy forest road.

  “So, this is the road they drive every day with their meals?” De Cremonese asked.

  “Road? Where do you see a road?” Bishop asked.

  “You wanted to drive.” De Cremonese smiled, looking at the GPS screen on his phone while trying to keep it still. “It looks like we’re going the right way... I think.”

  “Did you see any milk on that menu list?” Bishop asked.

  “Why milk?”

  “Because by the time the delivery gets there, it’ll probably be butter,” Bishop joked.

  “That’ll be a real miracle,” De Cremonese replied. “Do you believe in miracles, Matthew?

  “I know there are things I can’t explain yet.”

  “Such as?” De Cremonese asked.

  “Um....” Bishop thought for a long moment. “The origin of Earth, for example.”

  “Nothing from personal experience?”

  “Well, one time when I was walking my dog in a park, an old man walked up to me and started a short conversation—something about life and death—I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, after a few minutes, I went one way, and he went to the other. After a few seconds, I turned around to look at him once more, and he was gone, nowhere to be seen. The path we were walking ended hundreds of feet in the distance. There were no exits or bushes next to it to hide in. It was the only unexplainable moment in my entire life.”

  “It’s a shame you can’t remember what it was the old man said.”

  “It sure is,” Bishop agreed. “Now and then I think about it, and it feels like he said something important. I’ve never been able to reproduce what he said. What’s that?” He suddenly slammed the brakes, stopping at the edge of a steep downhill track, leaving a large dust trail behind them.

  A few hundred feet downhill was a clearing with a large pond in the center. On the far side of the pond stood a big log cabin with a small pier next to it.

  “That’s a nice vacation spot.” De Cremonese peered past the lake.

  “It is. You see that?” He pointed to the lake. “On the pier.”

  “You’re right. There’s someone on the pier fishing.”

  “Damn. I think he is,” Bishop confirmed. “Oh, sorry, Father.”

  De Cremonese grinned. “What do you think? A guard, maybe?”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Bishop slowly set the Jeep in motion, and once over the edge, he let it roll down freely, until it reached the side of the pond. Both men got out and overlooked the water.

  “I don’t think that’s a guard.” De Cremonese pointed to the short, chubby man as he rose from his chair on the pier.

  “You might be right about that,” Bishop confirmed as the man took off his sunglasses and replaced them for a pair of round, nerdy-looking eyeglasses.

  Bishop shaped his hands like a megaphone and shouted, “Hello.”

  “Are you lost?” the man shouted back.

  “I don’t think so.” Bishop turned t
o De Cremonese. “What do we say?”

  “Um, good question. Tell him we’re looking for Eldin Mulder.”

  Bishop shook his head. “What?”

  “Why not?”

  “All right.” Bishop shaped his hands again. “We’re looking for Eldin Mulder.”

  For a long moment, the man on the other side of the lake stayed silent. “There’s no Mulder here,” he finally yelled back.

  “Do you mind if we come over to your side and talk to you for a moment?” Bishop hollered.

  “You’re on private property. I’d like you to leave now.” The man sat down again and calmly ignored the two intruders as he reeled in his fishing line.

  “What do we do now?” De Cremonese asked. “We can’t just barge in.” He paused for a moment. “Or can we?”

  “Maybe. But first, let’s try something else.” Bishop shaped his hands once more. “We know about Amie,” he shouted over the water.

  On the other side of the pond, the man casually laid down his rod and looked across the water for a long moment. Then he rose from his chair. “What do you know about Amie?”

  “Hook, line and sinker,” Bishop said quietly. Then, he shaped his hands around his mouth once again and shouted, “We’ll be right there.”

  “I don’t understand.” De Cremonese stroked his beard.

  “Neither do I,” Bishop answered. “But he knows something about something, so let’s see what that something is.”

  “True,” De Cremonese nodded.

  They got back into the car and drove around the pond. Bishop parked the Jeep next to the cabin on the empty driveway.

  “A lot of parking space and no car,” De Cremonese noticed.

  “You saw that too?”

  Pretending to be focused on his fishing rod, the man on the pier didn’t turn or rise from his chair when the two men neared him.

  “Hello,” Bishop said as they stopped behind him. “Anything worth catching?”

  “Who are you?” the man said, keeping his back turned to them.

  “I’m Matthew Bishop, professor at Yale University, and this is my friend and colleague, Lamberto De Cremonese.”

  “Some bass and an occasional pike. What do you know about Amie?” the man asked.

  “Um,” Bishop stammered.

  “You said you knew about Amie? What did you mean?”

  “To be honest,” Bishop continued, “we’re looking for Eldin Mulder, and we got your address through his office.”

  “True,” De Cremonese added.

  “I find it hard to believe that someone at Eldin Mulder’s office would give you my address.”

  “Do you know Amie Coleman is missing?” De Cremonese asked.

  The man shifted to the edge of his seat. “What do you mean, missing?” he asked after a moment of silence.

  “She disappeared more than a week ago, and an organization called the Young Earth Movement claimed her abduction. They demanded Eldin Mulder’s retreat from all his activities in the fields of artificial intelligence and gene-based therapies. They even stated a deadline that expired several days ago.”

  “He finally did it,” the man mumbled.

  “What did you say?” Bishop asked.

  “Nothing,” the man replied as he stared into the tree line on the other side of the pond. Then he rose from his chair, and the pale man turned. “I think we better talk inside,” he said, pointing to the cabin.

  The inside of the cabin was dark, the only light filtering in through the two tiny windows onto the dark brown woodwork.

  “Tea?” the man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The man disappeared through a door in the back of the room.

  “Wow.” De Cremonese examined the walls that, from top to bottom, were filled with books. As he ran his fingers along the rows, he noticed all the classics by Shakespeare, Melville, Bunyan, Swift, Shelley, Dickens, Twain and many more. He also saw books by famed writers in his favorite genre, such as Le Guin, Asimov, Heinlein, Clark, and Dick. “That’s quite a collection,” he told Bishop.

  “I think there are many libraries that would be jealous of it,” Bishop confirmed.

  “Looks like a lot of first editions too,” De Cremonese noticed.

  “I only started reading and collecting when I moved here a little over ten years ago,” the man said as he came back into the room. “I was never much of a reader before that. I guess I never had the time or, rather, gave it the time. Please sit down.” He pointed to two chairs in front of a large fireplace. “Oliver Lancaster,” he said as he sat down opposite them.

  De Cremonese frowned.

  “That’s my name.”

  “Oh, sorry,” De Cremonese replied. “I figured as much, but I was wondering where I came across that name recently.”

  “I couldn’t say,” the man responded.

  “But you know Amie Coleman?” De Cremonese asked.

  Lancaster nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Does the name Jennifer Porter ring a bell?” Bishop asked.

  Lancaster thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t say it does. But tell me, how did you find me here?”

  De Cremonese smiled. “That’s a bit of a long story, but it ended with a menu list from the Logynous Eye restaurant that had your ZIP code on it.”

  “The damn paper trail,” Lancaster replied.

  “Excuse me?” De Cremonese asked.

  “Here I am, ten years in hiding from any form of publicity or public awareness, by rejecting all electronic devices. No phones, computers, or email, and yet, here you are, based on an address on a piece of paper. You know I choose paper over email in order not to be traced?”

  “Who are you?” Bishop asked.

  “First things first,” Lancaster answered, pointing a finger in the air. “What is your interest in Amie Coleman, and what do you know about her disappearance?”

  “All we know about her disappearance is what we saw on TV and read in the newspapers,” De Cremonese answered.

  “I don’t have a TV, no radio, no cable, no Internet and I don’t get any newspapers,” Lancaster replied.

  Bishop looked around the room. Indeed, there wasn’t any sign of modern communication devices, electricity or heating, for that matter. Oil lamps hung on the walls, and the woodstove looked extensively used.

  “Mulder came to me for advice on introducing some new business,” De Cremonese stated. “After that, Amie contacted me to say that she was worried about him and that she wanted to talk to me. We scheduled a meeting, but she never showed. That’s all we know.”

  “And Jennifer is a colleague of mine who has also disappeared, and we’re not sure how, but her disappearance is somehow connected to Mulder and the work he did or does with isolated tribes around the world. Somehow, that work relates to human evolution.”

  Lancaster shook his head slowly and sighed. “Figures,” he mumbled. “All right, let me explain. Almost twenty years ago, Eldin Mulder and I started our first small business called Techbro’s. The two of us worked from our garage and created software for online payment systems. As our software became popular, we sold it for a huge profit. Mulder wanted to start a new company specializing in AI systems and practical applications. I agreed, on one condition. I was to be the man in the back. I didn’t want anything to do with publicity, press or being a public figure of any other kind. Now, that seemed like a match made in heaven at the time because Eldin seemed to thrive on all of that. Anyway, with our capital, we founded a new company called Logynous. I was co-owner and lead developer and stayed out of the limelight. Up until ten years ago, that is. Eldin and I disagreed as to where the company was heading. He became obsessed with things like space travel and improving humanity on a genetic level. All things I didn’t want anything to do with.” Lancaster fell silent for a long moment.

  “So, you left the company,” Bishop said, breaking the silence.

  “I did. But I also didn’t want to go back to what m
any would call a normal life. At that time, I was heavily overworked and fed up with everything that was going on in the world, so I had this cabin built and moved out here. Without any distractions, I started fishing, began collecting books, and started reading. Everything without the so-called aid of electronic devices.”

  De Cremonese cocked his head. “Now I know where I came across the name Lancaster. Your name was on the theater in the Logynous headquarters, The Lancaster Theater. He named that theater after you.”

  Lancaster smiled. “I never saw it in real life but heard of it and saw pictures.”

  “And Amie?” Bishop asked.

  “Well, Amie had been with us from the start of Techbro’s. She was our neighbor’s daughter, and ran errands for us. We always stayed close. Ever since I moved here, she’d been my liaison to the outside world, and she visited me at least once a week.”

  “And these last few weeks?” Bishop asked.

  Lancaster took a deep breath. “For the past few weeks, Eldin took over Amie’s visits. He claimed she’d gone to visit her mother, who was apparently very ill. I believed him, though I did wonder why she never mentioned her sick mother to me.”

  “He didn’t tell you about her kidnapping?” De Cremonese asked.

  “No, he didn’t. But that could have been only to protect me.”

  “Has he always been that protective of you?” Bishop asked.

  Lancaster grinned. “Eldin isn’t a real warm-hearted soul, though I’d find it hard to believe he would intentionally hurt someone.”

  “Was that what you meant when earlier on you said, ‘he did it’?”

  “No. I meant to say was that he finally did it—piss off the wrong people. You know that is quite a habit of his, pissing off the wrong people. And now it has come back to haunt him. So, what about your friend? How is she involved?”

  “Jennifer,” Bishop replied. “She’s a linguistic anthropologist whom Mulder asked to assist him. We don’t know with what exactly, but she hasn’t been heard from since she started working with him. We found some clues that she was in Asia and South America, probably with Mulder, but any attempt to get in contact with her has failed.”

  “What do you know about rockets, spacecraft?” De Cremonese sipped his tea.