Leon was just leaving his study when another of his phones rang and called him back to the desk. This one was much easier to find, and he caught it on its third ring. He picked up and was about to announce himself when an electronically shielded voice came over the line. Leon silently took in the words, but also listened for any trace of background noise, anything he could use to tell if the speaker was male, female, human, vampire, local, abroad, anything.<br/><br/>No juice.<br/><br/>When the voice hung up, Leon sat back in his chair and stared for a few moments at the handset, quietly contemplating. He knew in his gut who the caller had been referring to. Cruor Perussi.<br/><br/>But much of the call made little sense. If only one person knew of his existence each generation, and presumably that person aided Perussi in keeping himself hidden, then who was the caller? How did they know anything about him? And how was Haze connected? There must have been dozens of attempts at creating narcotics from vampire blood during the last forty years; why should this new product be so special, if indeed Kindred vitae was even an ingredient? And how did the caller know about Maximo's call? That was the most disturbing element of the whole encounter; it meant either that the Nosferatu, the greatest spies and information brokers on earth, were being watched, or...hell, Leon didn't know what else it could mean. But he knew damn well it wasn't good.<br/><br/>The rest of the caller's information jibed with what he had already gathered or inferred for himself. Several of the reports and histories conflicted, but one thing they all agreed on was Perussi's age, even if a consensus could never be reached on the exact number. The general picture indicated a being well over 1,500 years old, perhaps more. Not quite old enough to qualify as an Antediluvian, but certainly a power to be reckoned with. Obviously Perussi was uninvolved with Kindred politics; such a creature could never have escaped detection so long while maintaining more the most cursory level of involvement in Jyhad.<br/><br/>A being that old would indeed have to contend with a nearly inconceivable level of boredom; Leon had long ago anticipated Perussi as being a devourer of art and knowledge. No creature could live for so long without developing an intense desire to educate, and eventually express, itself. Watching museums and universities around the world was, of course, impossible, and there wasn't even a clear picture of what to look for, anyway. For a few months near the beginning of his search, Leon toyed with the notion that Perussi might well have even been any or several of history's moderately notable figures, chasing down autobiographies and public records of countless poets, composers, painters, civil and military leaders, advisers to kings and sultans and giants of industry that lived just outside the cusp of genuine notoriety. But he soon gave up that avenue of research; there were simply too many variables, and it was unlikely that such a being would risk discovery in so blatant a manner.<br/><br/>Still, nothing was perfect. Even millenia-old vampires were not immune to moments of stupidity, ignorance or plain rotten luck. Was that what the caller had meant by 'inconsistencies'? Leon tossed the handset back into the drawer and stood from his chair, shaking his head. If so, that was nothing he didn't already know. But again, there was simply too much information to sift through, too many paths of inquiry to run down. On his own, anyway. He grabbed another phone and left the study, cycling through the cell's short phone book for the number he needed as he locked the door behind him. He found it near the bottom and dialed, leaning against the door for a few moments as the other end picked up.<br/><br/>"Hey, Garth? It's Leon. How's the nights? The others good? Good. Listen, man, I'm calling in one of my markers, the one from the Miami job. Yeah, man. It's important. I need a favor..."