Read The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 81
“Mr. del Verme, please,” Abelard asked.
“Which one,” inquired the pleasant male voice at the other end?
“Cassius.”
“Whom shall I say is calling?”
“Abelard Bush.”
“One moment, please, Mr. Bush.”
“I’m very sorry but Mr. del Verme is in an all day meeting can he call you tomorrow?”
Abelard, not unexpectedly, did have a backup plan in the highly likely event that Cassius was only being facetious when he had asked him to call when in Siena. “Can you please give him the following message: Aut inveniam viam aut faciam.” Silence. No response. “Did you get that,” Abelard thought to ask?”
“Yes Mr. Bush, I got that and I will be able to repeat it if that is what you are about to ask. Will there be anything else.”
“Yes, you might want to give him the number where I can be reached.”
“Yes, Mr. Bush, I can see it right here on my screen. Thank you and good day,” the recently pleasant brightly coloured voice had taken on a distinctly unpleasant hue.
Abelard was sitting outside at a café just meters from Splendid’s, the cool morning limpid air mostly tamed by the hot sun. The resemblance he had seen at his artefact auction in Cassius del Verme to a very famous fourteenth century condottiere in Italy, Jacopo del Verme, leader of the Splendid company was uncanny. How they chose the names for their troops – the White Company, the Splendid Company, the Red Company – sometimes baffled him, but an import-export outfit called Splendid, operated by a del Verme was much too much of a coincidence to let by. Del Verme had been one of the best for arranging clean, discreet, untraceable assassinations. In fact, his contract business for private murder became so successful he hardly ever engaged in full scale warfare. Abelard recalls once hiring him to do away with an Italian nobleman who reneged on a contract. It was important at the time to let people know that a condottiere was not to be trifled with.
The waiter had just brought him his steaming cappuccino, not five minutes since he left his cryptic message for Cassius, when his cell jingled for attention. “Bush,” he growled.
“Do you know what that means, Aut inveniam viam aut faciam,” Cassius asked?
“I shall either find a way or make one, Jacopo’s moto,” Abelard answered as though such conversations were his daily fare.
“How do you know so much about our family history?”
“I have an intimate knowledge of everything Abelard de Buch ever did and thought. That includes everyone with whom he ever had any contact. Since he had done business with Jacopo, your ancestor, whom you very closely resemble, by the way, I also know everything he knew about him.”
“How do you know I resemble Jacopo, and I can assure you that I do, since there are no portraits of him outside of our own collection, at least of which I am aware?”
“Abelard de Buch was a very visual man with some noteworthy artistic talents and he left a great many sketches behind,” Abelard lied as best he could. It was thin gruel and Cassius’ silence told him he had not succeeded very well.
“What can I do for you Mr. Bush,” del Verme finally asked, some detectable suspicion edging his words?
“I would need the services of the Splendid Company.”
“Where are you now?”
“Right here in Siena.”
“If you would come to our offices, I would be very glad to run through the services our Import-Export company offers.”
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” he said and rang off. He thought it best not to be there in the two it would have taken him.