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The investigation of the Mayfair Witches is now in the hands of Erich Stolov and Clement Norgan, as well as several other men who have worked with these two in other parts of the world. They will proceed to make contact with the family--without your assistance and with full disclosure that you are no longer connected with us and that they are not connected with you.
We are asking you only this: do not interfere with what must be done. We release you from all obligation. But you must not become an obstacle to what we have to do.
It is a great and pressing concern to us that the being called Lasher be found. Our members have their orders. Please understand that henceforth you will not be given any special consideration by them.
At some point in the future, we invite you both to return to the Motherhouse, to discuss with us in detail (through written communication) your defection and the possibility of your rededication and renewal of your vows.
At this time, we must say farewell on behalf of your brothers and sisters in the Talamasca, on behalf of Anton Marcus, the new Superior General, on behalf of all of us who love you and value you and are saddened that you are no longer in the fold.
Please take note at the appropriate time and through the appropriate channels that ample funds have been deposited in your accounts to cover severance expenses. This is the last material support you will receive from...
The Talamasca
Yuri folded the slick pages, and slipped his copy into his jacket pocket right alongside of the gun.
He looked up at Aaron, who seemed calm, unconcerned, deep in thought.
"Is this my fault?" asked Yuri. "That you are excommunicated so quickly? Should I not have come?"
"No, don't let the word chill your heart. I was excommunicated because I refused to leave here. I was excommunicated because I would not stop sending queries to Amsterdam as to what was actually going on. I was excommunicated because I ceased to 'watch and be always here.' I'm glad you're here, because now I feel anxiety for all my fellow members. I don't know how to tell them. But you, you who were the dearest to me, besides David, you are here and you know what I know."
"How do you mean that you are frightened for the other members?"
"I am not an Elder," said Aaron. "I am seventy-nine years old but I am not an Elder." He looked at Yuri.
Of course this simple admission was a flagrant violation of the rules.
Aaron went on: "David Talbot was never an Elder. He told me so before he...left the Order. He told me that he had never spoken with anyone who was an Elder, indeed, he had obtained many a surreptitious and frequent denial from the older ones--they weren't Elders. They didn't know who the Elders were."
Yuri didn't answer. All his life, since the age of twelve, he had lived with the idea that the Elders were his brethren, a jury, so to speak, of his peers.
"Precisely," said Aaron. "And now I don't know who they are or what their motives are. I think they killed a doctor in San Francisco. I believe they killed Dr. Samuel Larkin. I believe that they have used people like me all our lives--to gather information for some occult purpose that was never understood or appreciated by those of my generation. That is the only thing I can believe."
Yuri again didn't reply. But this was a full and eloquent expression of his own suspicions--the deep sinister feelings which had come over him not long after his return to the Motherhouse from Donnelaith.
"If I try now to access the main files, I'll be denied," he said, sort of thinking aloud.
"Possibly," said Aaron. "Not everyone in the Order knows computers as you know them, Yuri. If you know the access code of any other member."
"I know several," he said. "I should go at once to some place where I can make the calls. I should find out anything else that is there--cross-referenced in any conceivable way. It will take me two days or more to do this. I can go into the Latin which has been scanned and collated. I can use search words. There is much perhaps I could find out."
"They might have thought of all that. They must have. But it's worth a try. My mind is too old for it, and so are my fingers. But there is a computer modem with a phone in the house on Amelia Street. It belongs to Mona Mayfair. She's given permission for you to use it. She says you'll figure it out. It's DOS. You understand this? DOS?"
Yuri laughed softly. "You make it sound like a Druidic god. It means the operating system of the computer, that it is IBM-compatible. Yes."
"She said she left some instructions for you on the contents of the hard drive but you could boot a directory and see it all for yourself. She said her own files are locked."
"I know of Mona and her computer," said Yuri softly. "I would not go into her files."
"It was her meaning that you could access anything else."
"I see."
"There are dozens of computer modem systems at Mayfair and Mayfair. I believe Mona's is the best, however--the state of the art."
Yuri nodded. "I'm going to do that immediately." He drank another stiff cup of the smooth rich coffee. He remembered Mona with uncommon warmth. "And then we can talk."
"Yes, talk."
But what would they say? They were too crestfallen to say much of anything. In fact, a terrible gloom hovered near Yuri ready to descend in full force, rather like the gloom when the gypsies had taken him from his dead mother. Strangers. A world full of strangers. Except for Aaron, and these kindly people, this Mona whom he liked already very much.
At Amelia Street, Yuri had met Mona today, sometime around noon. He'd been eating American dry cereal with milk at the breakfast table. She had talked to him nonstop, questioning him, chatting with him, all to one purpose or another as she gnawed on an apple till there was perhaps one seed left.
The entire family was electric with the news that she would be the next designee of the legacy. They had come up to her continuously, paying court to her, doing everything but asking to kiss her ring. But then she did not have a ring.
Finally Mona had said, "How can we carry on this way when Rowan is still alive?"
And Randall, the huge, soft old man with the many chins, had said: "Darling, that's got nothing to do with it. Whether she lives or dies, Rowan is now incapable of ever bearing another child."
Mona had looked stunned, then only nodded, and whispered, "Of course."
"Don't you want the legacy?" asked Yuri under his breath, because she sat there so silent, and so close to him, looking into his eyes.
She laughed and laughed. Nothing mean and ugly in it. It was light and pretty.
"Ryan will explain it all, Mona," one of the young men had said. Was it Gerald? "But you can hit those legal documents yourself any time you want."
A dreadful dark look had come over Mona's face. "What was that saying?" she had asked. "St. Francis said it? Oncle Julien used to say it. Ancient Evelyn told me. Mom said it. 'Be careful what you wish for...your wish might come true.' "
"Sounds like Oncle Julien, Ancient Evelyn and St. Francis," said Gerald.
Then Mona had departed with the swift and amazing American drawl of: "I gotta hit the computer. Out of my way." The computer.
When Yuri had gone to get his valise, he had heard the keys clicking. Front room. He had not dared to walk down the hall and meddle in the open door.
"I like Mona Mayfair," he said now to Aaron. "That is a clever one. I like them all."
He felt a sudden unwelcome flush in his cheeks. He did more than like her. Hmm. But she was too young. Wasn't she too young?
He stood to go. Such a lovely house. He was aware, perhaps for the first time, of the fragrances coming from the kitchen.
"Not so quickly," said Aaron.
"Aaron, they will lock everything!"
Beatrice had just come in. She held a tweed jacket over her arm, one of Aaron's, worn and loved. And the raincoat for Yuri.
"We want you to stay for supper," said Beatrice. "It will be ready in half an hour. It's a very special supper to us. Aaron will be brokenhearted if you go away. I will be bro
kenhearted if you go away. Here, put this on."
