NUMA Files [4] White Death by Cussler Clive; Kemprecos Paul

Author:Cussler, Clive; Kemprecos, Paul [Cussler, Clive; Kemprecos, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780425195451
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

21

The world-famous marine historian and gourmand, St. Julien Perlmutter, was in an agony of ecstasy. He sat outside a three-hundred-year-old Tuscan villa whose shaded terrace had a breathtaking view of rolling vineyards. Visible in the distance, dominating the Renaissance city of Florence, was the Duomo. The wide oak table before him groaned with Italian cuisine, from pungent sausage made locally, to a thick, rare beefsteak Florentine. There was so much wonderful food, and so many wonderful colors and fragrances, in fact, that he was having a hard time trying to decide where to start.

"Get a grip on yourself, old man," he muttered, stroking his gray beard as he stared at the spread. "Wouldn't do to starve to death amid all this plenty."

At four hundred pounds, Perlmutter was in little danger of wasting away. Since arriving in Italy ten days before, he had eaten his way up the Italian boot on a promotional tour for an Italian-American food magazine. He had trudged through wineries, trattorias and smokehouses, posed for photo opportunities in refrigerator rooms full of hanging prosciutto, and delivered lectures on the history of food going back to the Etruscans. He had dined on sumptuous feasts everywhere he stopped. The sensory overload had brought him to his present impasse.

The cell phone in his suit pocket trilled. Grateful for the distraction from his quandary, he flipped the phone open. "State your business in a concise and businesslike manner."

"You're a hard man to find, St. Julien."

The sky-blue eyes in the ruddy face danced with pleasure at the sound of the familiar voice of Kurt Austin.

"To the contrary, Kurt m'lad. I'm like Hansel and Gretel. Follow the food crumbs, and you'll find me nibbling at the gingerbread house."

"It was easier to follow the suggestion of your housekeeper. She told me you were in Italy. How's the tour going?"

Perlmutter patted his substantial stomach. "It's very fulfilling, to say the least. All goes well in the District of Columbia, I trust?"

"As far as I know. I just flew back from Copenhagen last night."

"Ah, the city of Hans Christian Andersen and the Little Mermaid. I remember when I was there some years ago, there was this restaurant I dined at—"

Austin cut Perlmutter off before he launched into a course-by-course account of his meal. "I'd love to hear about it. But right now, I need your historical expertise."

"Always willing to talk about food or history. Fire away." Perlmutter was often asked to lend his expertise to NUMA queries.

"Have you ever come across a Basque mariner by the name of Diego Aguirrez? Fifteenth or sixteenth century."

Perlmutter dug into his encyclopedic mind. "Ah yes, something to do with the Song of Roland, the epic French poem."

"Chanson de Roland? I struggled through that as part of a high school French course."

"Then you know the legend. Roland was the nephew of the emperor Charlemagne. He held off the Saracens at Roncesvalles with the help of his magic sword, Durendal. As he was dying, Roland beat his sword against a rock to keep it out of the hands of his enemies, but it wouldn't break.

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