other - brought the excitement back to him. How drowsy and wonderfully familiar it all seemed.
He had to get back outside, walk over to the First Street house again. But he was keenly aware of the Englishman watching him. And again, he could detect nothing but honesty in the man, and nothing but a sort of wholesome goodwill.
'OK, I'm curious,' he said turning around. 'And I'm grateful. But I don't like all this. I really don't. So out of curiosity and in gratitude, if you follow me, I'll give you twenty minutes to explain who you are, and why you are here, and what this is all about.' He sat down on the velvet couch opposite the man and the messy table. He switched off the lamp. 'Oh, and thanks for the beer. I really appreciate the beer.'
'There's more in the refrigerator in the kitchen behind me,' said the Englishman. Unflappably pleasant.
'Thoughtful,' said Michael. He felt comfortable in this room. He could not remember it really from childhood, but it was pleasant with its dark papered walls and soft upholstered pieces and low brass lamps.
The man seated himself at the table, facing Michael. And for the first time Michael noticed a small bottle of brandy and a glass. He saw that the man's suit coat was on the back of the other chair. A briefcase, the briefcase Michael had seen in the airport, was standing by the chair.
'You wouldn't care for a little cognac?' the man asked.
'No. Why do you have the suite just overhead? What's going on?'
'Mr Curry, I belong to an old organization,' said the man. 'It's called the Talamasca. Have you ever heard the name?'
Michael thought for a moment. 'No.'
'We go back to the eleventh century. More truly, we go back before that. But sometime during the eleventh century we took the name Talamasca, and from that time on we had a constitution, so to speak, and certain rules. What we are in modern parlance is a group of historians interested primarily in psychic research. Witchcraft, hauntings, vampires, people with remarkable psychic ability - all of these things interest us and we keep an immense archive of information regarding them.'
'You've been doing this since the eleventh century?'
'Yes, and before, as I said. We are in many respects a passive group of people; we do not like to interfere. As a matter of fact, let me show you our card and our motto.'
The Englishman drew the card out of his pocket, gave it to Michael, and returned to his chair.
Michael read the card:
THE TALAMASCA
We watch
And we are always here.
There were phone numbers given for Amsterdam, Rome, and London.
'You have headquarters in all those places?' Michael asked.
'Motherhouses, we call them,' said the Englishman. 'But to continue, we are largely passive, as I said. We collect data; we correlate, cross-reference, and preserve information. But we are very active in making our information available to those who might benefit from it. We heard about your experience through the London papers, and through a contact in San Francisco. We thought we might be able to... be of assistance to you.'
Michael took off his right glove, tugging slowly at each finger, and then laid the glove aside. He picked up the card again. Jarring flash of Lightner putting several such cards in his pocket in another hotel room. New York City. Smell of cigars. Noise of traffic. Flash of some woman somewhere, speaking to Lightner fast in a British accent...
'Why not ask it a specific question, Mr Curry?'
The words brought Michael out of it. 'All right,' he said. Is this man telling me the truth! The load continued, debilitating and discouraging, voices growing louder, more confused. Through the din, Michael heard Lightner speak to him again:
'Focus, Mr Curry, extract what you want to know. Are we good people or are we not?'
Michael nodded, repeating the question silently, then he couldn't take all this any longer. He set the card down on the table, careful not to brush the table itself with his fingertips. He was shaking slightly. He slipped his glove back on. His vision cleared.
'Now, what do you know?' asked Lightner.
'Something about the Knights Templar, you stole their money,' Michael said.
'What?' Lightner was flabbergasted.
'You stole their money. That's why you have all these Motherhouses all over kingdom come. You stole their money when the king of France arrested them. They gave it to you for safekeeping and you kept it. And you're rich. You're all filthy rich. And you're ashamed of what