Page 85 - Brokenclaw - John Gardner
P. 85

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               was the right weight and he slipped it into his briefcase before getting to the

               first empty phone booth and dialling the number Franks and Orr had given him.
                  The distant end answered with a curt, ‘Yes?’
                  ‘I was given this number to call about some books.’ It was exactly what they
               had told him to say.
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                  ‘What kind of books?’
                  ‘Historical.’
                  ‘Ah, they told you wrong. You want a New York number, a 212 area code,
               okay? You got a pencil?’

                  ‘No, but I have a good memory.’
                  The curt voice rattled off a number, asked him to repeat it and hung up.
                  When  Bond  dialled  the  212  number,  a  woman  answered  with  a  negative,
               ‘Hello?’
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                  ‘I’m sorry to call so late, but I understand you have some books for sale on
               Peter Abelard.’
                  ‘Yes. My father had an extensive collection, and I have hand-bound editions
               of  Etienne  Gilson’s  work  in  translation,  Luscombe’s  The  School  of  Peter

               Abelard, The Letters of Abelard and Héloise, of course, in the 1925 edition,
               and most of the other well-known works.’
                  ‘And they’re all in mint condition?’
                  ‘Immaculate.’

                  ‘I’m very interested. Would it be too late for me to come over to see them
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               tonight?’
                  ‘Your name is . . . ?’
                  ‘Peter, Peter Piper.’

                  ‘Come as quickly as you can, Peter.’ She gave an address on West 56th. ‘It’s
               just past the Parker Meridien,’ she said. ‘I look forward to seeing you. You are
               coming alone, are you?’
                  ‘No, I’ll have Héloise with me.’

                  The woman at the other end chuckled and closed the line.
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                  ‘I want you to wait a good fifteen minutes and then take a cab out,’ Bond told
               Chi-Chi, after giving her the address. ‘It sounds okay, and she does seem to be
               expecting you. Ed’ll be watching my back, so if there’s any surveillance on the

               place, he’ll stop it and hold you off.’
                  She nodded and Bond gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek, picking up his
               case and the briefcase and heading towards the taxi rank. On the way he got





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