“Whoa, sounds kind of familiar—like Payne’s story.”
“Sure does. We tracked down his bank account. All his deposits were from an offshore account in Cancun. The man was well paid—every month a deposit of fifty thousand dollars was made.”
“That’s some serious money for a driver slash bodyguard.”
“Sure is. Just two days ago, our investigators found out he was in Paris in November.”
“So he took the pictures of me?”
“More than likely, Pard.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I have a close friend within the Soviet government that I can trust, we met with him four days ago. Yesterday he briefed us on his findings.”
“With all that’s going on, can you trust him?”
“Yes. Paolo, I trust him with my life.”
“That sounds kinda strange, Rami. And what about you, Bill, you trust this Russian as well?”
“Sure do, Pard.”
“Sorry, guys, for being skeptical, it seems a little strange.”
“We understand. Trust us on this one, Paolo.”
Silence. Paolo closed his eyes. As he slipped into the darkness of his consciousness, peace fell over him.
“Pard, are you there?
“Yep, just had to think for a minute.”
“Shit, you’re doing that hocus-pocus crap again.”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“You and Rami are right. Sergei can be trusted.”
“How the hell…”
“Rami, don’t question him, he knows. He just knows.”
“Shit, that’s amazing. Anyway, the report was given to us with the direct knowledge of the premier and certain members of the politburo.”
“Really? Why?”
“Very simple. In a nutshell, missing nuclear arms and the Russian mob.”
“Do they know about Payne?”
“No.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Our inside guy found out that Payne has been using his resources to track Russia’s lost nuclear weapons, without our president’s knowledge. So when Bill and I met with Sergei, we told him that we’ve found someone in our government who was using an outside network to track their missing bombs. Needless to say, some eyebrows were raised.”
“I see, so the Russian government is concerned that Payne, even though they don’t know it’s him, will try to sell the arsenal to a terrorist group. And no matter how the ideologies of our countries disagree, they don’t want a nuclear detonation, especially with one of their weapons.”
“Exactly, Pard.”
“How many bombs are missing?”
“The Russian government suspects ten. Their concern, of course, is that the Russian mob will get hold of them and sell them to the highest bidder.”
“Makes sense. How did our president take it?”
“How do you…”
“Rami, how many times do I have to tell you? He just knows.”
“Bill and I met with him before we left for Europe. We didn’t mention Payne. We told him that since we are tied to the Secret Service, our findings couldn’t be discussed with anyone because of a possible threat to his life.”
“How did he take that? And will he keep quiet?”
“To answer the first part, he wasn’t happy. He wants answers, and he wants them yesterday. Will he keep quiet? Let’s hope so.”
“Alright, what do you guys want me to do?”
“Keep on doing what you’re doing. Continue to remote view him and see what you can find.”
“Okay, will do.”
The phone conversation lasted forty-five minutes. Paolo placed the secure phone in his drawer. The sun was cresting over Long Island Sound. A commuter aircraft appeared in the sky on its way to Tweed New Haven airport. What am I doing? The anger I feel isn’t right. I’m at peace, though, so I know it’s the correct thing to do. But why? My life feels empty, my children are doing their own thing, and I’m alone. Where is the love in my life? A tear trickled down Paolo’s face as he gazed out his window. He wanted to go home and go to bed but even that he couldn’t do, for he had no house that he could call his own.
Paolo walked out his office. It was still early. He decided to get some more coffee. As he passed Rebecca’s desk, his private fax machine rang. He waited for the transmission to end. The fax, from Sergio, was a request from the Italian government. Paolo shook his head. When is this guy going to get email? He read the message.
“Paolo, the government here is asking our help in developing a monetary relief plan. Their concern is a catastrophic volcanic eruption on the island of Sicily. Specifically, how to acquire United States funds for rebuilding in and around Mount Etna. Call me so we can discuss. Ciao, Sergio.”
Paolo didn’t find it an unusual request. The Italians had employed Paolo on several occasions. The government hedged its bets on a man who disseminated, and cut through the bullshit. Paolo knew better; this wasn’t a coincidence, time was running short.
The vision of two nights ago disturbed him. He opened his journal and reread his description of what he had seen. I am alone, and I see the Earth, its blue waters, the land masses. I see the planet collapse, then expand, sprouting volcanoes across the lands. The volcanoes disappear, and then I see the eyes of hurricanes in the oceans. Land disappears into the depths of the sea. Then the earth shakes violently, and the lands become divided. I awoke in a cold sweat. A feeling of peace settled in my bones and I fell back asleep.
Paolo had seen a series of unprecedented natural events that could only be described as biblical in nature. In his vision, within ten years, the world would experience seven significant earthquakes. Each quake would exceed 7.5 on the Richter scale. The relentless fury of Mother Nature would also slam the earth with four tsunamis and three Category 5 hurricanes. In total, close to three million people would die and seven million would lose their homes. Relief efforts would be stretched to the maximum and the financial burdens of recovery would be placed on the governments of the world. Earth would experience constant spasms, as if it had irritable bowel syndrome—a planet trying to get rid of the waste that humankind had thrown upon it.
Paolo left work early and had dinner with Rio. That night he slept restlessly. He dreamed once again of the cataclysmic times to come.
CHAPTER 31
PAOLO ARRIVED AT his Office at his usual time—six o’clock the following morning. He tried to forget about the dreams and the conversation with Bill and Rami. He immediately went to work on the Italian request. He made a quick phone call to Sergio to discuss the particulars. He wrote a detailed letter to the State Department. A copy was sent to the Italian prime minister.
He sat back in his chair. The time was nine o’clock. I need a cappuccino before I speak.
Paolo walked out of his office and stood by Rebecca’s desk. She looked at him with a smile.
“Off to your lecture?”
“Yep, but first I’m going to get a cappuccino and review my notes. It’s a beautiful spring day, Rebecca, and I have to take advantage while I can.”
“While I can?” she asked quizzically.
“You never know, Rebecca, you never know.” As he left the office, he straightened his navy blue blazer and said, “What a beautiful day.”
Paolo exited the elevator into the burgundy-and-gray-marbled reception area. The attendant opened the door for him. “Excellent article in Time magazine, Mr. DeLaurentis.”
“Why, thank you, Matt. Have we had any more visitors?”
“No sir, all quiet here.”
“Excellent. It’s a beautiful day today, Matt. I hope you get off early.”
“Me, too. Have an excellent day, Mr. DeLaurentis.”
“You as well, Matt.”
Outside in the fresh air, Paolo looked up at the blue sky, took a deep breath, and said, “What a beautiful day.”
He walked down Church Street toward the center of New Haven. The downtown district bust
led with traffic. He took a right on Elm and a left on Temple. The New Haven Green was to his left and the Yale dormitories were to his right. University students sprawled out on the grass enjoying the fine April day. The bright sky was dotted with geese flying home after the long winter.
Paolo was scheduled to speak to the undergraduates who were majoring in ethics, politics, and economics, a Bachelor of Arts program offered by Yale University… As he walked, he absorbed all the smells of spring. Freshness was in the air. The trees had started to bud. The sun warmed the day after the crisp chill of the morning. In the distance, Paolo heard the faint sound of an ambulance siren as it rushed to the University hospital. The sounds of conversations filled the air. “Yes, a beautiful day,” he said to himself.
The Café Espresso was located on the corner of Chapel and York, surrounded by the gothic architecture of Yale University. The coffee shop was a gathering place for students and professors. Paolo held open the door for several Yalies. They walked by, discussing the events of the year and their upcoming graduation. Their ideology and innocence would be rudely shattered in the years to come. Some would lose their lives to terrorists, in a war that would last twenty years, destroy cities, and devastate hundreds of thousands of American lives. Yes, it was a time to live, a time to die, and a time to love.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” the smiling counter girl asked.
“I’ll have a large cappuccino with three sugars, please.” How many times have I walked in here and still you don’t know how I like my cappuccino? Paolo paid his $5.00 with tip. He maneuvered between the outdoor tables while patrons read their daily newspapers, choosing a seat close to the street corner underneath a green light post. A loving couple bit by cupid held hands and stared at one another. He overheard someone say, “Hey, isn’t that the guy who was on the cover of Time?”
“I don’t know.”
“The man who gave away all his money?”
“Yes, I think it is.”
“What a fool,” someone at the table retorted.
“The world needs more people like him.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
The media found out that Paolo had donated his fortune away. In short order, they came knocking on his door. At first Paolo shied away from the publicity, but he had several contacts on the editorial staff at Time. Approached by the senior editor, Paolo agreed to the interview. The title of the article was: “Sometimes You Just Have to Do What Is Right.”
Paolo sat on a black wrought-iron chair. As he read his notes, his left hand twirled his wavy brown hair above his forehead. He wondered if anything he was about to say would touch the hearts of those students listening. His cell phone rang to the tune of “Für Elise.”
“Hello.”
“Hi! What are you doing?” It was Sydney’s morning call to him.
Paolo’s relationship with Sydney Hill had continued to grow. Sydney’s life had changed, now she was divorced and her children were older. Andrew was in college and Lisa was a senior in high school. The family had adapted to a new life without their father, who had left the state. Sydney’s psyche was damaged, and her belief and trust in men had dwindled to nonexistent. To her, Paolo’s friendship was safe, for Paolo wasn’t like any other man.
Paolo continued to write about Sydney and held on to the memories of when they worked together. Paolo lived in a life of dreams and words. How he loved it when she called him.
“I’m sitting here drinking my cappuccino. I have to speak at Yale today. What are you doing?”
“I just dropped Lisa off at school. I’m on my way to my office. I was wondering if you could meet me today?”
“Sure, everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, I just need to talk with you.”
“Okay, no problem—how about 1:00?”
“That would be good, I appreciate it,” she said.
“I will see you then.” Yes, what a beautiful day.
“Good morning,” Paolo said as he stood at the lectern before the Yale students. “As I walked here today from my office, I couldn’t help but notice the unhurriedness of this spectacular spring day. It brought back many memories of when I was a student at Yale.
“What struck me was that in just six months, the bright autumn colors of fall will begin to fade away. Gray squirrels will scamper among the fallen leaves, hoarding their acorns for the winter cold. My analogy of the seasons represents the seasons of our lives and our world. What season are we in? Have we—the inhabitants of this world—entered into our final season, the season of winter? Will we be able to awaken in the spring, to a new birth? Or will the cold and darkness of our society keep us in the dregs of winter?
“Are we, as one of the leading societies of the world, entering an era of winter cold? Is our society fading away? Are we preparing ourselves for the repeat of history, a prelude to a disintegrating society concerned with self? Are we ready for the trials and tribulations or will we be surprised, as were our ancestors? I propose these questions to you in the hope your minds will be open to the possibilities and the simplicity of life.
“Human mores are crumbling. Our souls are disintegrating into blackness because of our disregard for one another. Does our world’s population mimic the ancient Roman and Greek cultures? Have the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah been brought back to life? Have they?” Paolo paused.
“Greed for the almighty dollar is feeding this presumed global economy. Right-wing prognosticators will not be disappointed in the future, as their prediction of an economic collapse will occur. A cloud of darkness shadows the human race—darkness defined as selfishness and pride.
“America, as well as many European nations, has placed individual selfishness first. I have come to realize that life is not about money, personal possessions, or being number one. No, life is about giving back, it is about family, love, and God. In our society today, family is almost nonexistent, and God…well, where is God, many ask. Faith and belief are stretched to the limits of human boundaries. Priorities are skewed, simplicity and innocence gone.” Paolo paused, as the students started to move uncomfortably in their seats, the sign that what he said had hit a nerve.
“A world culture has evolved that prides itself on individual accomplishment, success, and choice—a culture that appears to have total disregard for the poor, total disregard for the old, and total disregard for the destitute. A two-class society is emerging.
“The Islamic nations blame the United States for the moral degradation of human society, and truth be told, they are not too far off. Islam fights for God to destroy the infidels of the world, the non-believers. The Koran will fuel sociopaths who use Islamic culture to feed their hate against modernity. We’ve already experienced Islamic terrorism and soon—frightfully soon—terrorism will take its toll on the nations of the world and our country will not be exempt. The bewitching midnight hour has arrived.” Some of the students leaned forward, some began to whisper.
“Should history repeat itself, this is what we can expect: natural disasters, economic collapse, and wars. The Christian right will say the wrath of God has arrived. The truth? It was humanity’s decision to leave the simple life. The question of ‘Why would God allow natural disasters, illness, and death to take place?’ shadows the choice of man. We will come to realize that God allows these things because we as a people chose them.
“Life is becoming a menu of choices, with total disregard for the truth. The truth today is man’s rationalization of perceived fact. The world walks in a state of fog on a precipice, humanity’s vision obscured. There is no longer right and wrong, our societies continue to walk a path of degradation until the time comes when we get slapped in the face and the truth becomes known.
“The governments of the world have become unglued. World leaders are presenting their own agendas of what is true, what is wrong. The irony is that our titular leaders—the dictators of the world—say the nations are at peace. The reality is that a turbulent time for
all humankind lies ahead. The consequence of man’s decisions will come to a sad ending, with peace and harmony thrown out the window, cascading to a cataclysmic thud. Time will continue to move forward, and history will continue to be made. What will history say about us as a people?
“Today I have proposed hard questions with extremely difficult answers, and I know they have made some of you uncomfortable, but I am not here to blow smoke up your asses. I am here to make you think, to think about our country, our world, and most of all, our co-inhabitants of this planet. Life will become difficult if we stand still and do nothing. My generation has stood still. We have allowed our greed and selfishness to destroy the basic principles of life. Will you, the next generation, be the ones that will make our world right? Will you choose a world of peace and harmony? Will you put selfishness and greed out to pasture? The point is, you can make a difference in our ever-changing world with a simple decision—to help one another. For I fear the angels in the vestibule of heaven are waiting for God to give the last eulogy for the human race. Thank you.”
There was a long silence. Paolo turned away from the podium. A student in the back of the lecture hall stood and began to clap, then another stood, then another, until finally the entire assembly gave a standing ovation. The clapping continued even after Paolo had exited the room.
As Paolo walked back to his office, he basked in the late morning sunlight. The lecture left behind, his thoughts moved to Sydney. He hadn’t seen her in almost five months. Paolo loved every minute he spent with her, it didn’t matter where or with whom. Paolo loved her company. He loved to look at her, talk with her, see her move, watch her smile, and yes…gaze into those beautiful green eyes. When he was with her, an incredible joy overcame him, joy he could never explain other than to say it was a gift from heaven.
The two friends chatted almost daily—to his satisfaction, sometimes more than once a day. Paolo missed her. Sydney had her life with her children, and she wasn’t ready for another relationship. Paolo’s picture on the cover of Time only made matters worse. Sydney shied away from any type of publicity and limelight. She never wanted that type of intrusion in her life. Sydney valued her privacy.
Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1) Page 14
