“Who’s your friend,” Felicity asked, in breathless anticipation, as she surprised Abelard in the bathroom garbing a life-sized, inflatable male doll? It was very early in the morning; dawn had barely broken.
“You’ll be driving him into town presently, if you don’t mind,” he answered, not for a moment distracted from his task.
“Will you be making an announcement as to how I have cast you aside for this handsome, unassuming airbag,” she sighed, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as though worries about their relationship had vanished? Humour, however, did not seem to be on Abelard’s agenda that morning.
“He is about my size and it will seem as though you are driving me when I will in fact be hidden from view in the back seat,” he said to a now more alert Felicity.
“You’re obviously keeping something from me and I want to know right now what I am not supposed to be afraid of,” an appropriately more serious bent to her tone.
“Felicity, we will soon be leaving to retrieve a fabulous treasure and I would not like anyone to follow us.”
“Are we being followed,” she asked, alertness having morphed into alarm?
“I have not actually seen anyone do so but that does not mean it isn’t happening,” he half-lied. He had noticed, at the neighbouring property, during his morning runs, over the past few days, more activity than he thought natural. Martin had assured him that the owners were away. Felicity was not happy with this lame response. Abelard was not one to imagine danger where there was none. But she also knew there would be no more forthcoming from him and she could do nothing about it except follow him in his enterprise, whatever that might be.
“And where will I be driving my new boyfriend,” she asked with stoic resignation?
“You will drive to the centre of town and stop at the pastry shop, the one that sits beside an alleyway. I have yesterday, when I went to purchase our friend here, ordered a large cake. When you open the back door to put it in, I will slip out. I have rented a car which I will pick up and drive to the small road at the back of Martin’s property where I will wait for you, Oliver and Elizabetta to make your way through the woods.” That this was not the first time Felicity had witnessed Abelard’s near neurotic attention to detail when planning an operation did nothing to help her suppress the mild astonishment which crept into her voice.
“Will we be away overnight? Will we need bags,” she asked, now a little angry at Abelard’s elaborate evasive strategy that he refused to admit had anything to do with the reality that they were being followed. Although she hadn’t actually seen anyone watching them, she refused to believe Abelard’s detailed planning was but mere precaution. To no avail, she was helpless before his unbreakable silence.
“No,” was all he said before suddenly rising, taking the fully dressed doll under his arm and stepping briskly from the room, expecting to be followed.
*
The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 73