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Unformatted text preview: one who sees the picture. No one will get into this building, this office, or these files." "Tomorrow, Mitch, I'll call you." Lark rang off. "Arrogant bas- tard," he whispered as he replaced the phone. And Lightner had been such a nice man. Very British, very Old World, very formal when they'd spoken on the phone. Who were these people, the Talamasca? And were they really friends of Rowan Mayfair as they claimed? Just didn't seem so. He sat back; he tried to think through his long conversation with Mitch, tried to relive his phone conversation with Rowan. Molecular evolution; DNA; cell membranes. All of it frightened and enthralled him. The stewardess put a fresh drink in his hand; nice double martini for which he had not even had to ask. He drank a good icy swallow. Then he remembered with a start that Mitch had told him he could produce a three-dimensional computer projection of what this creature looked like. Why the hell hadn't he taken a look, for god's sakes? Of course all he would have seen was some crazy neon drawing on the screen, an outline. What did Mitch know about the way t...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10