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Authors: Kane X Faucher
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Red Lion book. He gave me a conspiratorial wink before gently tugging me in the direction of the library.
4
The Hidden Smirk
A s it turned out, the Dionysus book was the easier of the two books put in my charge to procure, and I was beginning to warm to my apprenticeship to Angelo… despite my earlier sewn-up judgements of his person. He was indeed a wealth of tricks, tips, and resources - a kind of veteran pirate or a shadowy prelate. Our next stop was Essen, Germany. Once my first procurement was confirmed via Angelo, Castellemare wired me the agreed-upon funds to finance my trip. Meanwhile, Angelo was already comparing return flight details and hotel prices.
“Angelo,” I asked as he was thumbing his PDA, “why did I have to posture as a scholar from SUNY when the text was on a ‘to be shelved’ pile?”
“A precaution and a practice. You can’t take too many chances - circumstance already plays fast and loose with life as it is. Besides, this is part of your tutelage. You’re in a probationary period. Reacquisition is a high stakes game, and failure is never an option.”
I would not be the only one to find the cliché unbearable, or the association between books and Hollywood high-action drama amusing.
Just then, Castellemare had sent an email to Angelo.
“Huh. Looks like the boss has a side job for us. Some banking magnate’s house. A Hemingway novel dated 2018. Luckily, it’s only an hour’s drive away, but I suggest we do this right now.”
“But it’s daylight! Someone will certainly see us.”
“Oh, would you prefer to dress up as burglars and take bullets from the veck’s antique Luger as he protects himself from a perceived home invasion in his bedroom slippers and nightcap? We’ll go over in broad daylight as electricians – that way I can carry the necessary lock picking tools in an inconspicuous toolbox of electrician’s gear.”
“But where will we procure any of these things on such short notice?”
Angelo merely shot me an amused grin and indicated his PDA, his communication key to anything.
In less than an hour, we had our uniforms and the right tools. We arrived at the house, a Patrician style home of wealthy proportions. There were scattered bookshelves on all floors.
“In many ways,” Angelo mused aloud, “This is like a game of Whack-a-Mole: the books pop up, and we have to hammer them back in before unauthorized eyes see them. Anyhow, we’re going to have to work really fast; the house is probably rigged with a silent alarm. Why can’t these damn books appear more often in slums where the only thing on their shelves is Reader’s Digest and Auto Racer magazines? So I am going to count on your ability to scan spines fast, and I mean with maximum celerity and an eagle’s eye for details. All those years of scouring used bookstores for underpriced gems is really going to pay off here. You work downstairs, and I’ll check the upstairs. We split the house evenly so that we aren’t doubling and overlapping our labour.”
Angelo was much faster than I was, and the honour of finding the AWOL text went to him. The job was fairly easy and went off with no incident. The book was in Angelo’s search domain, and he plucked it within fifteen minutes of poring over about 2500 books. It was nested between two bloated books of German history in gothic script, sandwiched there like a svelte whisper between two baritone blasts. We had made good time on the side job and hastened to complete our real reason for being here. Within six hours, we would be on a plane back. Again, the honours of doing all the legwork and reacquiring went to Angelo. I felt somewhat pedestrian.
Angelo continued to regard me with mistrust, and I could tell by the patient and penetrating way he would look at me, as if at any moment I was about to spring a deceit and betray him. Although we had eased into an amicable working partnership, there was a lingering hostility or
4
The Hidden Smirk
A s it turned out, the Dionysus book was the easier of the two books put in my charge to procure, and I was beginning to warm to my apprenticeship to Angelo… despite my earlier sewn-up judgements of his person. He was indeed a wealth of tricks, tips, and resources - a kind of veteran pirate or a shadowy prelate. Our next stop was Essen, Germany. Once my first procurement was confirmed via Angelo, Castellemare wired me the agreed-upon funds to finance my trip. Meanwhile, Angelo was already comparing return flight details and hotel prices.
“Angelo,” I asked as he was thumbing his PDA, “why did I have to posture as a scholar from SUNY when the text was on a ‘to be shelved’ pile?”
“A precaution and a practice. You can’t take too many chances - circumstance already plays fast and loose with life as it is. Besides, this is part of your tutelage. You’re in a probationary period. Reacquisition is a high stakes game, and failure is never an option.”
I would not be the only one to find the cliché unbearable, or the association between books and Hollywood high-action drama amusing.
Just then, Castellemare had sent an email to Angelo.
“Huh. Looks like the boss has a side job for us. Some banking magnate’s house. A Hemingway novel dated 2018. Luckily, it’s only an hour’s drive away, but I suggest we do this right now.”
“But it’s daylight! Someone will certainly see us.”
“Oh, would you prefer to dress up as burglars and take bullets from the veck’s antique Luger as he protects himself from a perceived home invasion in his bedroom slippers and nightcap? We’ll go over in broad daylight as electricians – that way I can carry the necessary lock picking tools in an inconspicuous toolbox of electrician’s gear.”
“But where will we procure any of these things on such short notice?”
Angelo merely shot me an amused grin and indicated his PDA, his communication key to anything.
In less than an hour, we had our uniforms and the right tools. We arrived at the house, a Patrician style home of wealthy proportions. There were scattered bookshelves on all floors.
“In many ways,” Angelo mused aloud, “This is like a game of Whack-a-Mole: the books pop up, and we have to hammer them back in before unauthorized eyes see them. Anyhow, we’re going to have to work really fast; the house is probably rigged with a silent alarm. Why can’t these damn books appear more often in slums where the only thing on their shelves is Reader’s Digest and Auto Racer magazines? So I am going to count on your ability to scan spines fast, and I mean with maximum celerity and an eagle’s eye for details. All those years of scouring used bookstores for underpriced gems is really going to pay off here. You work downstairs, and I’ll check the upstairs. We split the house evenly so that we aren’t doubling and overlapping our labour.”
Angelo was much faster than I was, and the honour of finding the AWOL text went to him. The job was fairly easy and went off with no incident. The book was in Angelo’s search domain, and he plucked it within fifteen minutes of poring over about 2500 books. It was nested between two bloated books of German history in gothic script, sandwiched there like a svelte whisper between two baritone blasts. We had made good time on the side job and hastened to complete our real reason for being here. Within six hours, we would be on a plane back. Again, the honours of doing all the legwork and reacquiring went to Angelo. I felt somewhat pedestrian.
Angelo continued to regard me with mistrust, and I could tell by the patient and penetrating way he would look at me, as if at any moment I was about to spring a deceit and betray him. Although we had eased into an amicable working partnership, there was a lingering hostility or