“The crazy part is that they can’t be bogus statistics,” Wendy said. “If they were making them up, they certainly wouldn’t have had the per-cycle success rate go down. They wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Marissa said. She handed the graphs back to Wendy, who folded them and put them in her purse.

“Let’s sleep on it,” Wendy suggested.

“Maybe we should go back to FCA and ask Mr. Lester,” Marissa said. “But first let’s check to see if our Tristan Williams has been writing any more papers.”

After returning all the FCA journal articles to their proper shelves, Marissa and Wendy returned to the computer terminals that Mrs. Pierce had pointed out to them. Wendy sat down while Marissa leaned over her shoulder. Without much difficulty, Wendy set the computer to run a search for all articles written by Tristan Williams. After she pushed the Execute button, it took the computer only a few seconds to flash the result. Tristan Williams had written only one published article, and that was the one they already had.

“Not what I’d call a prolific bloke,” Wendy said.

“That’s an understatement,” Marissa said. “I’m starting to get a bit discouraged. You have any suggestions now?”

“Sure do,” Wendy said. “Let’s have lunch.”

After inquiring at the circulation desk, Marissa and Wendy walked over to a cafeteria-style lunchroom and bought sandwiches. Taking them outside, they sat on a bench beneath a beautiful flowering tree of a species neither one recognized.

“Do you think it’s really worth the effort to try to find this Williams character?” Wendy asked between bites. “After all, he might not even appreciate our seeking him out. Sounds like this episode with his one and only paper was his undoing.”

“I suppose my interest is mere curiosity at this point,” Marissa admitted. “Maybe we should try one more thing. Let’s try calling the Royal College of Pathology and ask them about him. If they don’t know anything or if they tell us he’s in some distant place like Perth, we’ll give up. This already is beginning to feel like a wild-goose chase.”

“And then we’ll let ourselves have some fun!” Wendy said.

“Right,” Marissa said.

Once they finished eating, they returned to the library and consulted the Royal College of Pathology’s publication for the society’s address and phone number. Using a public phone in the library, Marissa made her call. The phone was answered by a cheerful operator who connected Marissa to an administrator named Shirley McGovern once Marissa told her why she was calling.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Mrs. McGovern said after Marissa repeated her question. “It is the College’s rule not to give out information on its members.”

“I understand,” Marissa said. “But perhaps you can tell me if he is a member of your organization.”

There was a pause on the line.