This last part didn’t ring true to me. I didn’t believe Bathmore was going to talk to Wolhardt. He had probably planned on breaking in again. I nodded and let it go. “Expensive flying back and forth between London and LA though.”
“One of the reasons I’m broke. Fucking Molly. It was a big waste of money in the end.”
“And you headed back to London immediately after you searched my place because you thought I might come here, find you gone, and steal Wolhardt’s notes back?”
“Yes.”
“Well Nigel,” I said, standing. “It all adds up but not in a way that benefits you I’m afraid. I’m sorry about your troubles. Let me be clear about something. I’m no longer interested in you. Wolhardt’s real solution is well protected. You will not be able to steal it. So, my advice is give up on this and find another way to get out of debt. Leave burglary to the professionals. You’ll end up in jail if you keep this up. How would your aunt feel about that?”
I left him sitting there on his couch, a crumpled human. I felt bad. I had been there before, in his shoes, feeling how he felt, but I couldn’t do anything for him. I had a job to finish and I needed to turn my attention to Jutting. Time was running out. If I didn’t catch a break soon it would be all over.
****
Late that evening I was sitting up, unable to sleep. I had sent the photo of the van to Ashna and was waiting to hear back from her. I was waiting to hear back from Ortoli too. I didn’t know what my next step would be. I needed confirmation that it was Jutting’s people who had mugged Bathmore and I needed Ortoli’s help to put my plan into action. I was reading Cellini while the cat twitched in its sleep next to me on the couch. The book had begun to bore me. Cellini seemed to get into the same kinds of conflicts again and again, always because of his own stubbornness and ego. I was scanning quickly, flipping forward, when the word necromancy caught my attention and I read with renewed attention.
“It happened through a variety of singular accidents that I became intimate with a Sicilian priest, who was a man of very elevated genius and well instructed in both Latin and Greek letters. In the course of conversation one day we were led to talk about the art of necromancy; apropos of which I said: “Throughout my whole life I have had the most intense desire to see or learn something of this art.” Thereto the priest replied: “A stout soul and a steadfast must the man have who sets himself to such an enterprise.” I answered that of strength and steadfastness of soul I should have enough and to spare, provided I found the opportunity. Then the priest said: “If you have the heart to dare it, I will amply satisfy your curiosity.” Accordingly we agreed upon attempting the adventure.
The priest one evening made his preparations, and bade me find a comrade, or not more than two. I invited Vincenzio Romoli, a very dear friend of mine, and the priest took with him a native of Pistoja, who also cultivated the black art. We went together to the Coliseum; and there the priest, having arrayed himself in necromancer’s robes, began to describe circles on the earth with the finest ceremonies that can be imagined. I must say that he had made us bring precious perfumes and fire, and also drugs of fetid odour. When the preliminaries were completed, he made the entrance into the circle; and taking us by the hand, introduced us one by one inside it. Then he assigned our several functions; to the necromancer, his comrade, he gave the pentacle to hold; the other two of us had to look after the fire and the perfumes; and then he began his incantations. This lasted more than an hour and a half; when several legions appeared, and the Coliseum was all full of devils. I was occupied with the precious perfumes, and when the priest perceived in what numbers they were present, he turned to me and said: “Benvenuto, ask them something.” I called on them to reunite me with my Sicilian Angelica. That night we obtained no answer; but I enjoyed the greatest satisfaction of my curiosity in such matters. The necromancer said that we should have to go a second time, and that I should obtain the full accomplishment of my request; but he wished me to bring with me a little boy of pure virginity.”
I read on, captivated. Cellini related how he had chosen one of his young shop assistants and met the priest again. Once again he performed the ritual, summoning “the most dangerous of all the denizens of hell” and once again Cellini demanded to be reunited with Angelica. The demons assured him he would be with her within a month. The host of demons summoned by the necromancer was so great they all feared for their lives. Cellini’s description of the scene was chilling:
The sorcerer turned to me and said: “Hear you what they have replied; that in the space of one month you will be where she is?” Then once more he prayed me to stand firm by him, because the legions were a thousandfold more than he had summoned, and were the most dangerous of all the denizens of hell; and now that they had settled what I asked, it behooved us to be civil to them and dismiss them gently. On the other side, the boy, who was beneath the pentacle,
