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Unformatted text preview: reeked of wealth. The Keplinger Institute reeked of wealth. It was reassuring that Mitch looked sloppy, incapable and even a little dirty-a mad scientist who made no concessions to corporate or scientific tyranny. He had not shaved in at least two days. "God, am I glad you finally got here," said Mitch. "I was about to go out of my mind. Two weeks ago you dump this on me, with no explanation except that Rowan Mayfair sent it to you . . . and that I have to find out everything that I can." "So did you?" asked Lark. He started to unbutton his raincoat, then thought better of it. He eased his briefcase to the floor. There was a tape recorder inside but he didn't want to use it. It would inhibit him and possibly scare Mitchell to death. "What do you expect in two weeks? It's going to take fifteen years to map the human genome, or haven't you heard?" "What can you tell me? This isn't an interview with the science editor of the New York Times. Give me a p...
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- Spring '10