Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1)

by Anthony DiVerniero

  “Sounds great, Major.”

  The father, son, and daughter drove to Nataz’s, a local restaurant that had no defined menu. The three were shown to their table and visited promptly by a waitress who spewed out a menu of delectables that left their mouths watering with delight. Paolo and Rio ordered zuppe de pesce while Giacomo ordered a double veal chop with a wine reduction sauce topped with a variety of mushrooms. Rio provided the laughter and the talk. Paolo sat in amusement and awe as he listened to his grown children. There was no mention or discussion about what Paolo had told them. After dinner, Rio got into her car and drove back to her mother’s house. Giacomo and Paolo went to the estate.

  CHAPTER 43

  GIACOMO SAT NEXT to Paolo in the quietness of the study, waiting for the first word to be spoken. There was a silent, telepathic connection between father and son, but still the words had to be said. The subject had to be broached.

  “What is it, Giacomo?” Paolo stood and walked to his desk.

  “How strong are your ties with our government?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  The soldier looked around. Never short on words, he said. “Did you use your influence to help me?” His eyes diverted to the floor.

  “Look at me.” Giacomo’s eyes focused on Paolo’s. “Whatever you have accomplished and will accomplish in the future is all you. I’ve had no part in your career, other than supporting you one hundred percent.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, son, really. You don’t need me. You have set your path, your course. Your life’s journey is yours, not mine. It’s hard enough for me to live my life, let alone yours.”

  The soldier smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “So, my son, tell me…what’s going on in the Army world?”

  “Nothing much. I’ve been interviewed for a special operations unit.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to it. I can’t really talk about it, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure do.”

  “I ran into Rami the other day.”

  “You did?”

  “He said to say hi.”

  Shit, he’s applying to BOET? “What is General Ramirez up to?” Of course, Paolo knew, he’d spoken to him earlier in the day.

  “He’s the commander of the unit I hope to transfer to.”

  “Do you want me to give him a call?”

  “No. Like you said, Dad, it’s my journey.”

  “Alright then. See that cable over there? Can you bring it to your old man?”

  “Sure. Isn’t there a football game on tonight?”

  “Yep, the New York Giants and the Dallas Cowboys, should be a good game. New York will win, thirty-one to twenty-eight in overtime.”

  “Sure, Dad,” the major’s voice was skeptical.

  The two watched the game. Paolo fell asleep in the third quarter, only to be awakened by the screams of his son.

  “Shit, Dad! How the hell did you know? New York just kicked a forty-yard field goal to win the game.”

  Paolo, groggy, stood looking at his son. “I just know.” He patted his son on the back. “I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.”

  “See you in the morning, Dad.”

  Paolo turned. His son shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”

  “I won’t. Goodnight, Dad.”

  “Goodnight, son.”

  The following morning after Giacomo left the house, Paolo called Rami.

  “Hello.”

  “Rami, how the hell are you?”

  “You know how I am. We talked yesterday. How’s the new house?”

  “Great. Thanks for sending the electronics. Everything has been installed.”

  “No problem. And the security of the compound?”

  “I hate it when you use that word ‘compound’.”

  “Paolo, the surveillance and the security system you have beats anything the government has, including the president.”

  “I hope your line is secure.”

  “You know damn well it is, or we wouldn’t be talking like this.”

  “General, you take things too seriously.”

  The two men laughed. “Giacomo told me he saw you.”

  “That’s why you’re calling me?”

  “Yep.”

  “I was gonna tell you, in fact, today he was accepted into the program.”

  “Not because of me?”

  “No, the committee. I’ll leave it up to you to tell your son about your involvement with BOET. Paolo, Giacomo scored the highest of any applicant ever to apply to the unit. One day he’ll be my replacement—not because of you, because of who he is.”

  “Thanks, Rami. Listen, you’re his commanding officer. If it’s operationally necessary for him to know about me, I trust you to tell him. He’ll understand.”

  “Okay. How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, I guess. I feel paranoid with Payne watching me and knowing my every move.”

  “I understand. Hang in there, we almost have him. He’ll eventually slip up—his greed for power and revenge will get the best of him.”

  “Revenge?”

  “Yeah…we believe he has a vendetta against the United States, the Russian government, and you.”

  “I still can’t figure it out, Rami. Why me?”

  “Personally, I think he knew we were investigating him. And he feels you betrayed him.”

  “I guess that kinda makes sense…We have another problem, my remote-viewing capabilities have diminished.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Really simple, my ability to focus is disappearing. And the bigger problem is Payne won’t believe me if I tell him.”

  “Hopefully we’ll conclude this Payne business soon. Then you can go and live happily ever after with Sydney.”

  Paolo was silent. “Sydney ended our relationship.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know why?”

  “Yep. My secrets.”

  “You’re a good man, Paolo, it will all work out. I’ll let you know if anything crops up.”

  “I’m sure you will. Goodbye, Rami.”

  “Goodbye, Paolo.”

  That night, Paolo sat in his new library. Oak French doors opened to the dark blue-carpeted sanctuary adorned with built-in bookcases on three walls. The fourth wall contained a picture window that overlooked a rolling hill, a lake at its base. In the background, the Bose sound system played a CD by a Italian singer, Andrea Bocelli. The Italian lyrics punctuated the warmth and serenity of Paolo’s inner sanctum. He took a small piece of paper with his written thoughts and placed it in his top desk drawer, where it joined other small pieces of paper and a journal.

  Daydreaming about Sydney, Paolo took pen in hand and wrote:

  My life is to be with you

  I can see the glimpse of our life together

  The memories of you and me in my mind

  I just don’t know the amount of time

  For us

  A nagging sense within me

  My time is short, will we grow old together?

  Will we be one?

  I picture us asleep holding one another

  Waking in the morning to kiss your cheek

  To tell you I love you

  The warmth of your body next to mine

  Then I am gone

  With just the memory of you and me

  CHAPTER 44

  Sorrow sweeps my heart

  Another time maybe

  In heaven maybe we shall meet

  Life continues without you

  Another day goes by

  A night swallowed up by the dawning of the sun

  PAOLO WAS IMMERSED in his own misery of not seeing Sydney. Three months had passed, time he spent revisiting memories of her. What did I do wrong? Paolo was baffled. I guess I’ll never know. I miss my friend.

  “Rebecca, I won’t be in the office today.”

  “Okay, Pao
lo. Anything I can do for you?”

  “Nope.” He showed no signs of emotion. His statements were direct and to the point. The mornings were the toughest. He took long walks on the Brewster Estate. By noon, the reveries stopped. In the afternoons, he studied Spanish. By the middle of the second month, he had learned enough that he could understand and have an intelligible conversation.

  Paolo closed his eyes. His mind took him to a hotel room. He saw Gustavo, Raul, and Carlos around a table near a king-size bed. The television was on, showing a movie Paolo didn’t recognize.

  “Raul, when will we get the explosive?” Carlos said.

  “Within one week of the money being transferred. We will stay in Canada until then.”

  “How long will we be here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And what about the bomb for Russia?”

  “Our Chechnyan counterparts are handling Russia.”

  Gustavo lit a cigarette. Inhaling, he blew smoke rings while Carlos and Raul continued their talk. “Is the plan still for us…”

  Paolo’s eyes opened at the sound of someone banging on his door.

  “Rio, what are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Dad. Can I come in?”

  Paolo’s mind was still in a flutter over the remote-viewing session. “Oh my God, of course.”

  Rio was dressed in blue jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. She sported a summer tan, her dark brown hair tied in a ponytail. The father and daughter walked to the kitchen.

  “Can I get you some lemonade?”

  “Sure, Dad. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. The break-up with Sydney put me into a tailspin, but I’m okay now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Paolo noticed the concern in her eyes. He walked over to her and gave her a hug. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” He kissed her forehead. “Sit down, tell me what’s going on in your life?”

  The two talked for a while. Sydney was never mentioned.

  “Dad, are you going to the pig roast?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Are you bringing your new friend?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Paolo closed his eyes. “Eric.”

  “Shit, Dad, I’m not even going to ask how you know. Yes, I might.”

  “Good. I would like to meet him.”

  Rio picked up the glasses from the table and placed them in the sink. “Dad?”

  “Yes, principessa?”

  “If you need to talk, you can call me. If you want.”

  Paolo rose from the table and embraced his daughter. A tear trickled down his chin. “Thanks, Rio.”

  After Rio left, he placed the glasses in the dishwasher and walked to his study. He called Rami on the secure line and described what he’d seen and heard, particularly about a second bomb.

  “Okay, let’s keep this between us and see what develops. I’ll call Sergei.”

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “We have to, Paolo, we’ve got no choice.”

  “I guess you’re right. Okay, talk later.”

  “Bye.”

  During the last week of August, Paolo was haunted continuously by the vision of blackened steel girders. He was unable to shake the vision from his mind. He remote viewed the Cubans but gleaned no new information. The vision would not go away.

  Paolo continued to write about his love for Sydney, his written words helping to ease his grief. Each word he wrote removed a thorn from his heart.

  Paolo sat at his kitchen table, reading the front page of the New Haven Register. “Hurricane Erin Creeps Up the East Coast.” He sipped his black coffee. The phone rang.

  “Hello, Warren.”

  “Paolo, how the hell are you?”

  “I’m fine. It’s great to hear your voice. How are Alicia, Dalton, and Bailey?”

  “They’re great, and your kids?”

  “Everyone is fine. Pig roast next week?”

  “Sure is, are you coming?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great, I hope we don’t get hit with Erin.”

  “We won’t,” Paolo said.

  “Your words to God’s ears. I’ll see you then.”

  “Sure will.”

  Paolo sat back, a smile on his face. Warren was an old friend he’d met through Tony and Steve while in college.

  Hurricane Erin churned up the east coast. The storm—Mother Nature’s way of pummeling the earth—would cause havoc from the Carolinas to southern New Jersey before moving out to sea. She slammed into the Carolinas with the ferocity of a nuclear explosion. The Category 3 storm with winds of 150 mph had tentacles that reached Connecticut with strong winds two days prior to the Labor Day weekend pig roast.

  The day was coming to an end and the pig roast went off without a hitch. Paolo and his friends sat around a blazing bonfire and discussed the day’s events.

  “Paolo?” Warren said, “I have to admit you were right about the hurricane. There was no damage here at all. Let me ask you a question, do you speak directly to God? Erin should have hit us big time.”

  Wayne chimed in, “We can all talk to God.”

  “Here we go again.” Warren threw an empty plastic cup at his brother. Everyone laughed.

  “I just knew.” Not wanting to get into a philosophical conversation, Paolo said, “Listen, guys, I should get going. I need to take a shower, and get some rest. I’m getting too old for this.”

  “You’ll be here next year,” Alicia said. Warren’s attractive, curvaceous wife stood, as did all the rest. One by one, Paolo said his goodbyes with hugs and kisses. He told each one, “I love you.” As he walked away, Steve and Tony walked with him.

  “Hey, guys, what’s up? Steve, the sausage and peppers were outstanding. What a great time.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Steve lit up another Marlboro.

  Tony said, “Go ahead, tell him.”

  “Paolo, we sold all the units.”

  “I know, congratulations.”

  “The problem is, we made a lot of money.”

  “That’s a problem? You guys deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Paolo, but we can’t keep it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s fifteen million dollars and we don’t need that much money.”

  Steve took a last draw on the cigarette, throwing it to the ground. “Yeah, Paolo, way too much.”

  Tony reached in his pocket, pulled out a check for ten million dollars, and gave it to Paolo. “We know, Paolo, this has to do with the day we were at the sandpits. Bill told us the story. We will always be friends, and we’ll always be bound by that day. You don’t have to feel guilty anymore. It was a long time ago and look, we’re fine. Except for Steve’s constant smoking.”

  The three laughed.

  “Well, my friends, I appreciate the offer and the kind words, but I can’t take it back. I’ll tell you what you can do. Give some of the money to Warren and Wayne, so they can buy the farm and the field from their family so this tradition of love will never end, and the pig roast will continue free of charge. The rest donate to charity.”

  The two men took back the check. “That’s a great idea.”

  “Hey, Paolo, who’s the woman standing by your car?” Tony asked.

  Paolo turned around. “Damn, Sydney is here.”

  “Who’s Sydney?”

  “The love of my life, Tony, the love of my life. I’ll see you guys later.”

  Steve and Tony went back to the pit. Paolo walked along the field to his car. Sydney waited under the streetlight. With a broad smile on his face and an ache in his heart, Paolo approached the Jaguar.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice tentative.

  “I hope you don’t mind me standing next to your car?”

  “Not at all. How are you?”

  “I’m not too good.” Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back the tears.

  “I always thought you were pretty good,” he said, trying to be humorous. In his m
ind, she was the best lover he had ever had.

  “Stop joking, I’m being serious.”

  “Okay, I’ll be serious. What’s the problem?”

  “You’re going to make me suffer through this, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he smiled mischievously.

  “When I was in your hotel room in LA, I read the note from Rami.” She began to cry. Her green eyes melted his heart.

  Shit. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” He took her in his arms. “Don’t cry.”

  “I know, I thought it was one of your poems. I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  “I’ll always forgive you. I know you don’t like secrets, and I couldn’t tell you.”

  “But Paolo, someone is following you and…”

  Paolo stopped her. “It’s almost over. Soon I won’t be working with Rami. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but there is nothing for you to worry about. Everything will be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. Everything will be fine.” I hope. “I’ll be honest, Syd, you really broke my heart.” He told her what had transpired over the last ten weeks—how he would write about her and how miserable he was without her in his life. Sydney asked to see the little white pieces of paper. They arrived at the townhouse together.

  “I have to take a shower; my writings are in the top drawer of my desk in the library.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Hesitantly, he said, “No, there are no crumpled pieces of paper.”

  “Not funny.”

  Paolo watched as she opened the drawer of his desk. Inside were at least one hundred, if not more, pieces of folded white paper. She chose one.

  As I sit here looking at the rain

  The color of your eyes comes shining forth

  touching my soul with memories of you

  The sun is not shining this day

  The dreariness creeps in like the coldness of this day

  Then the memories of you sidetrack my mind

  And the sun shines again within me

  Time passes slowly

  The loneliness of the day

  Surrounds me

  Will the sun ever shine again?

  Highlights of hope sparkle through

  when I hear your voice