“She’s being released from the hospital today and is anxious to get back to work. I’m arranging a briefing with the White House Offic e on Science and Technology once she has the chance to document and summarize her findings. That might take a few weeks, though. Lisa called me this morning a little upset—her lab assistant has apparently taken another position out of state, just quit on her without notice.”

“Bob Hamilton?”

“Yes, that’s his name. The one you don’t trust.”

“He’s supposed to talk to the FBI later this week. Something tells me he won’t be leaving for that new job anytime soon.”

“It started out as such a promising breakthrough, but it’s certainly turned into a mess. I saw a private report from the Department of Energy which forecasts a much bleaker environmental and economic impact from global warming than anybody else is letting on. The latest studies indicate the atmospheric greenhouse gases are growing at an alarming rate. Do you think a source of ruthenium can be found quickly enough to make the artificial-photosynthesis system a reality?”

“All we’ve got is a tenuous historical account of a long forgotten source. It might turn up empty, but the best we can do is track it down.”

Pitt turned down a quaint residential street lined with historic mansions that dated to the 1840s. He found a parking spot beneath a towering oak tree, and they made their way to a smaller residence constructed from the carriage house of an adjacent manor. Pitt rapped a heavy brass knocker, and the front door flew open a moment later, revealing a colossal man clad in a red satin smoking jacket.

“Dirk! Loren! There you are,” St. Julien Perlmutter boomed in a hearty voice. The bearded behemoth, who tipped the scales at nearly four hundred pounds, gave them each a spine-crushing hug as he welcomed them into his house.

“Julien, you are looking fit . Have you lost some weight?” Loren said, patting his ample belly.

“Heavens, no,” he roared. “The day I stop eating is the day I die. You, on the other hand, look more ravishing than ever.”

“You’d best keep that appetite of yours focused on food,” Pitt threatened with a grin.

Perlmutter leaned down to Loren’s ear. “If you ever get tired of living with this adventuresome old cuss, you just let me know,” he said, loud enough for Pitt to hear. Then rising like a bear, he pounded across the room.

“Come, to the dining room,” he beckoned.