Park Place
2660 Peachtree Road
Atlanta, Georgia
6:27 p.m.
The Same Day
Knowing the temptations fast cars held for young men, Lang avoided the valet and parked his own Porsche in its assigned space and took the elevator to the twenty- fourth floor. His mind was still on what he had heard at Georgia Tech.
Yadish and Lewis had apparently achieved, or were about to achieve, what had fascinated man for centuries: alchemy, the transformation of base elements into gold. But what the hell did that have to do with finding a substitute for fossil fuels? The white powder and gold must have been by-products. Without the notes of their experiments, it would be difficult if not impossible to re-create the method by which they had produced the powder.
Another mystery: If someone wanted the gold-making process, why kill for it rather than steal it? Lang's original premise-that the two scientists had been murdered to conceal something or stop whatever they had been doing-was still the most likely motive. That was also consistent with the attempt on his own life in Belgium.
But conceal or stop what?
Something connected to those unknowable experiments.
Then there were the Hebrew documents he had copied. Yadish had thought them important enough to hide. Could they be related to the motive of his killer? One way to find out: Get them translated. There was a professor of Hebrew history at Emory, one he had consulted before…
No, he decided, best not to involve anyone nearby. Whoever had murdered the two scientists knew Lang was in Atlanta, and his consulting a local might be noted. Far better to use someone less easily ascertainable who understood Hebrew, both modern and ancient, and who was well equipped to take care of himself.
The door pinged open and Lang stepped onto the plush carpet of the foyer. Stopping to check the telltales he had left on his doorknob, he grunted his approval that they were still there. He clicked the key in the lock and swung the door open.
Grumps interrupted his twenty-three-and-a-half-hour- a-day nap to regard his master with one brown eye. His tail beat a slow rhythm on the floor.
"What a joy to come home to such enthusiasm," Lang said, reaching for the leash beside the door. "If you think you can spare the time
…"
Outside Lang made two decisions: First, the chances for anonymity were better if he left the Gulfstream for a commercial flight, even if that meant leaving his weapon behind. Second, he would see if Alicia was willing to make last-minute plans for tonight.
He frowned as he and Grumps headed back for the high-rise condo. The woman was popping up in his mind with increasing frequency. It wasn't the deep love that had grown between him and Dawn, his wife; nor was it the lust at first sight Gurt had inspired. His feelings for Alicia were… well, different, if undefined.
Quit introspecting and start dialing, he told himself, or the woman will already have made dinner arrangements.