“Now, we must make haste and vacate this place,” Abelard finally said, after kindly leaving Felicity and Oliver the few minutes of silence needed to fully digest the story.
“When the police do finally show up,” Felicity suggested, “it might be best if there was someone here to show that we did not feel the need to slip away in the night. Oliver, since you have to in any event be home about now, why don’t you leave and take Abelard with you. It would be good that he was not questioned. My uncle keeps an apartment in Paris, which he almost never uses. I’ll join you as soon as I can, in a few days I expect. Then you can leave for New York at your leisure. It’d be best if you drove, he might not survive the shock of flying. How’s that?”
“What about these Society people?” Oliver asked. “They seem to be quite well informed about us and they might have an arrangement with the local gendarmes. I say this based on highly questionable authority; the film industry. But from what Abelard tells us, they seem to be a very successful criminal organization, and I’d be surprised if they didn’t have good sources. You’d better prepare a story about Abelard.”
“Your cousin; and he’s gone back to America with you,” Felicity answered, hesitantly.
“I could not have done better,” he said and then turned to Abelard, “eh cousin Abelard, what do you say?”
“Amateurs,” Abelard scoffed. From the counter he then picked up a heavy iron pot and hurled it through the closed window, letting in the frigid air. “Now we can go to the police and inquire as to the owners’ whereabouts because our kitchen window needs replacement.”
“Astounding,” Oliver said. “Skilled rider, warrior, assassin and brilliant tactician; we can only go downhill from here.”
*
The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 31
