Shadowfires. By: Dean R. Koontz

impatiens blazing with thousands of bright blossomscoral, red, pink,

purple-and vanished under the branches of jacarandas and eucalyptus.

“Gentlemen, we are among the most fortunate people on earth, to be here,

in this beautiful land, under these temperate skies, in a nation of

plenty and tolerance.”

He stepped to the window and opened his stubby arms, as if to embrace

all of southern California. “And the trees, especially the trees.

There are some wonderful specimens on this campus. I love trees, I

really do.

That’s my hobby, trees, the study of trees, the cultivation of unusual

specimens. It makes for a welcome change from human biology and

genetics. Trees are so majestic, so noble. Trees give and give to

us-fruit, nuts, beauty, shade, lumber, oxygen-and take nothing in

return. If I believed in reincarnation, I’d pray to return as a tree.

He glanced at Julio and Reese. “What about you? Don’t you think it’d

be grand to come back as a tree, living the long majestic life of an oak

or giant spruce, giving of yourself the way orange and apple trees give,

growing great strong limbs in which children could climb?” He blinked,

surprised by his own monologue. “But of course you’re not here to talk

about trees and reincarnation, are you? You’ll have to forgive me…

but, well, that view, don’t you know? Just captured me for a moment.”

In spite of his unfortunate porcine face, disheveled appearance,

apparent disorganization, and evident tendency to be late, Dr. Easton

Solberg had at least three things to recommend him, keen intelligence,

enthusiasm for life, and optimism. In a world of doomsayers, where half

the intelligentsia waited almost wistfully for Armageddon, Julio found

Solberg refreshing. He liked the professor almost at once.

As Solberg went behind his desk, sat in a large leather chair, and half

disappeared from view beyond his paperwork, Julio said, “On the phone

you said there was a dark side to Eric Leben Jhat you could discuss only

in person-” “And in strictest confidence,” Solberg said. “The

information, if pertinent to your case, must go in a file somewhere, 2f

course, but if it’s not pertinent, I expect discretion.

“I assure you of that,” Julio said. “But as I told you earlier, this is

an extremely important investigation involving at least two murders and

the possible leak of top-secret defense documents.

“Do you mean Eric’s death might not have been accidental?”

“No,” Julio said. That was definitely an accident. But there are other

deaths . . . the details of which I’m not at liberty to discuss.

And more people may die before this case is closed. So Detective

Hagerstrom and I hope you’ll give us full and immediate cooperation.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Easton Solberg said, waving one pudgy hand

to dismiss the very idea that he might be uncooperative. “And although

I don’t know for a certainty that Eric’s emotional problems are related

to your case, I expect-and fear-that they may be. As I said. . . he

had a dark side.”

However, before Solberg got around to telling them of Leben’s dark side,

he spent a quarter of an hour praising the dead geneticist, apparently

unable to speak ill of the man until he had first spoken highly of him.

Eric was a genius. Eric was a hard worker. Eric was generous in

support of colleagues. Eric had a fine sense of humor, an appreciation

for art, good taste in most things, and he liked dogs.

Julio was beginning to think they ought to form a committee and solicit

contributions to build a statue of Leben for display under a fittingly

imposing rotunda in a major public building. He glanced at Reese and

saw his partner was plainly amused by the bubbly Solberg.

Finally the professor said, “But he was a troubled man, I’m sorry to

say. Deeply, deeply troubled. He had been my student for a while,

though I quickly realized the student was going to outdistance the

teacher. When we were no longer student-teacher but colleagues, we

remained friendly. We weren’t friends, just friendly, because Eric did

not allow any relationship to become close enough to qualify as

friendship. So, close as we were professionally, it was years before I

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