The Lazarus Mysteries- Omnibus Collection

by Ken Fry

  The use of the word ‘Pastor’ caused him to wince. He would have to change that to ‘Your Reverence.’

  “I’m at the Grecian Park Hotel outside of Larnaca.” As an afterthought, he added, “How’s the recruitment drive going?”

  “It’s going well.” Alphonse sounded enthusiastic. “We’ve been signing up over a hundred applicants each day, and there’s no sign of it stopping – and from all around the world.”

  “Brilliant. I knew it was a good idea! I’ll catch you guys later. Keep in touch.”

  A mood of euphoria rippled through him, but what he saw next caused it to vanish like writing in the sand.

  It was a huge placard erected across a vast construction site.

  CONSTRUCTION SITE IN PROGRESS FOR RODEO, LARNACA’S FIRST CASINO.

  ENJOY! WIN THOUSANDS AND MAYBE MILLIONS!

  Courtesy of Las Vegas Inc. and sponsored by John D. Bower Enterprises Inc.

  Shepard felt the colour drain from his face. Holy Shit! This is not happening!

  He read and reread it, but the sign did not change.

  John D. Bower? My God! He’s everywhere!

  It was true, and there were workmen swarming in and out of the scaffolding, large trucks, vast piles of steel and bricks everywhere. The construction was in full swing.

  Shepard went back to his hotel to give his plans more thought. With a Bower casino so close, it could be very dangerous.

  CHAPTER 31

  Maria – Condesa, and blessed person – awoke from a deep dream of peace and tranquillity. In part of the dream, she saw the shimmering sea. Quietness enveloped her. Then, she was standing in the cool depths of an ancient Byzantine church with a tall tower. She had no idea where she was, but she strived, with her intuition, to pinpoint her location. Around her were gold plated iconostasis and various objects of veneration. In deepest prayer, she could make out a woman, and without seeing her face, she knew it was Luciana.

  No matter how she tried, she could not identify the location. She wondered why she was being shown this church. But she was certain that it was a significant clue.

  It was time to talk to Brodie and Martha.

  §

  Garcia was experiencing a mental and emotional crisis, crashing around him akin to the walls of Jericho tumbling down. He’d been witness to a host of strange phenomena in his time, but what was happening around him beat all and sundry into a frothy mess. The thought hadn’t escaped him that if he wrote of these events, his colleagues would think he’d lost the plot. He would be a laughing stock and could stand to lose his job.

  He recalled Oscar Wilde’s quote: “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

  With that in his mind, he knew he would not tell a lie and he could only tell it as it was. That was what he was good at, the truth, in all its guises.

  At that moment, the Condesa Maria walked into the room and went straight to him.

  “Ned.” She gave him a rare smile. “I’ve had an obscure dream about a church. You’ve travelled extensively, and I was hoping that if I described what I saw, you might recognise it.”

  “I don’t think that’s likely, Condesa. I’ve always avoided them like the plague.”

  “Then you have surely missed something, Ned. That’s a shame.”

  “After what I’ve seen of late, however, that’s a situation that could change.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  She found Brodie and Martha standing next to each other with puzzled expressions and looking at the paintings they had done. They were so absorbed they did not even greet her.

  “Have you two been working together?”

  “No,” Martha replied, “but we managed to paint the same thing! It looks like a cave of some sort.”

  “This gets stranger. Do either of you know what it is?”

  “Not a clue,” Brodie said, shaking his head.

  “I’ve been there. I know what it is.”

  “What? It’s lost on us.”

  “It’s the entrance to the Tomb of Lazarus, in Bethany, where he was raised from the dead. It’s unmistakable and unlike anything I have ever seen.”

  “Oh God!” Brodie groaned. “Not again!” His head tilted back, and he raised him arms in supplication. “Come back, The White Horse of Uffington. All is forgiven!” He rolled his eyes as he brought his arms down.

  “What is it trying to tell us?” Martha whispered, placing her hands around her cheeks in confusion.

  Garcia moved between them and began taking photographs on his mobile. “You sure you two haven’t been practicing this on the quiet?”

  “Nice try, Ned, but not at all. Lazarus haunts me constantly. He never leaves me alone,” Brodie replied.

  “Well, that’s the first thing they’ll ask me if I print this. You can put money on that.”

  “Well,” Maria said, “I’m now getting the impression that my dream is linked to all this – an ancient church with an unknown location, and now father and daughter, without knowing what the other is painting, both paint the entrance to the Tomb of Lazarus.”

  “Can I add something to this?”

  The soft American accent of John D. Bower surprised them. In their puzzlement, he had been forgotten about. He had entered the room unnoticed and heard what they were saying.

  There was an immediate silence and Brodie, instinctively, stepped between him and the others, ready to protect them from him, if necessary.

  “Relax.” Bower sounded like a man about to drop off the edge of a precarious cliff. “I mean no harm.”

  “Leave him, Dad. I keep telling you ... he won’t harm us. He’s part of this whether we like it or not.”

  Brodie was taken aback by the sharpness of her reply. My God, what sort of a daughter have I got?

  “You have something to show us haven’t you, John?” Martha’s use of his Christian name added to the surreal atmosphere that had descended on them all.

  Bower gave a self-conscious smile. “Thank you … Martha. Will you follow me? It’s too large to carry in.”

  They moved behind him and went into the other room. His easel was positioned away from them.

  His voice faltered. “Before I show you, and as you already know, this is not the first time that I seem to have been taken over by a force I can’t control. I never planned to paint what I’m about to show you.” He rubbed his face roughly, as if that would clear the confusion that threatened to engulf him. “You’ve all had similar events in your lives, and I’ve had two in quick succession. I will need your help with this and you may need mine in due course. All my life, I’ve lived a double role; heavy multi-billionaire casino owner yet living with a deep sense of dissatisfaction – hence my passion for art and unsolved mysteries in the world. What I’ve seen happening here is off the scale, and why I have been dragged into it, God only knows. But I promise you all, I will not harm you. I couldn’t.” He turned to a grim-looking Brodie. “I apologise for everything. Your daughter, Martha, when she first saw me, knew me at once ... and I have to confess that deep inside, I knew her. She rode a white horse to reach me. It took her away from all that was safe in her life to bring her here, and you have all ridden on that beast in your time. I know that. I saw that too. Now ... look at this.”

  With care, he turned the painting around to face them all.

  §

  Larnaca, Cyprus

  Grecian Park Hotel

  I should have wasted him when I had the chance. He’s bound to visit at some point in the future and any hint of my presence will have him pouncing like a vulture. Larnaca has to be the main place of focus – especially The Church of Saint Lazarus. What can I do?

  Alphonse and Jeremiah were due soon. He would be needing a new weapon since he had to dispose of his Smith & Wesson before he boarded the plane. Make that a cache of weapons. He had to eliminate the threat of Bower.

  His next problem was where to display the painting. It was unlikely that the current priest of the church would believe him if he to
ld him the truth about the painting’s provenance. Nothing short of a practical demonstration would achieve that.

  He stretched out in his lounger, poured a healthy measure of Bourbon and stared out across the blueness of the Mediterranean. It wasn’t time to get nervous. There was too much at stake and he didn’t doubt that blood would spill somewhere along the way. He had no intention of it being his, and yes, he would have to employ some extra muscle.

  CHAPTER 32

  No one quite knew what they were looking at.

  Bower moved to one side to let the light from the window fall on the painting. He looked somewhat apologetic.

  “Before you ask,” he said, “I don’t know.”

  They were confronted with a blueness, a parade of what looked like palm trees, each surrounded by bluebells. The entire area was dominated by a tall, brownish-yellow tower structure, encompassed by what looked like a tripartite sanctuary. In the corner, painted in red, were the Latin words, DEUS VULT – meaning ‘God Wills It.’

  Garcia began taking shots of it. “It looks like a church.”

  “It’s got to be the Med,” Maria offered.

  “It’s a big place.”

  Martha and Brodie said nothing, but both were staring hard at the work.

  Bluebells, yet again.

  It was as if they were attempting to place themselves in the location.

  Martha shut her eyes. “There’s a link between what we painted and what John has produced. We are being told something and we have to find out what it is.”

  "We, it seems, painted the Tomb of Lazarus. There has to be a connection,” Brodie said to Bower.

  “The Mediterranean Basin is a vast area and stretches to the Middle East. That picture could be one of many locations. It’s typical of many churches in the region.” Garcia said as he went around the easel, taking shots from different angles.

  “We have to find one that is connected in some way to Lazarus.”

  Suddenly, Maria’s face grew animated. “There’s only one I know of. I wrote about it years ago, but I can’t remember what it looks like. Can someone Google Lazarus and what happened to him after he fled Judea?”

  There was a slight pause as they searched Google for the answer.

  “What does it say?” Maria asked.

  Garcia connected first. “It says he fled to Cyprus and lived there for thirty years or so and was made a Bishop. A unique achievement of having been buried twice. His bones were buried there and a church was erected on top of his tomb. Look, here’s a picture of it.” He held up the screen. “Behold, The Greek Orthodox Church of Saint Lazarus.”

  There was a communal gasp. Bower’s painting looked identical in shape and structure.

  He went pale.

  “This is all getting stranger by the minute. Where in Cyprus is this church?”

  “It’s in Larnaca, near the port,” Garcia replied.

  Bower gave a sharp intake of breath, as if his heart was struck by a lightning bolt. To him, that’s how it felt. He stretched out a hand for support.

  Martha reached out and held him. “John, what’s wrong?”

  He couldn’t utter a word. Disbelief was written all over his face.

  “Tell us, please.” Martha tilted his chin so she can look into his eyes.

  Bower composed himself and stood straighter. Martha seemed to have a positive effect on him. After a few deep breaths, he looked at Martha.

  “You know,” he spoke softly, a bemused look on his face, “I have a vast collection of religious artefacts at home, and I know quite a lot about unexplained religious events, but this ... this has surpassed my imagination. I never would have conceived of this event happening. To me...”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He said nothing.

  “Tell us, John. We have to know.”

  “I have recently invested heavily in a casino currently being built in Larnaca. Would you believe? It’s the first in the Greek south. I am floored. It’s one piece of synchronicity too many. Fate or God ... has really brought me here. Deus Vult! I know that now.” Bower was surprised to feel relief after he said that, although his purpose was not yet clear.

  “For your sake, Bower,” Brodie couldn’t bring himself to use his first name, “I hope it’s not what I suspect it means. I’ve had that on my back for seventeen years, or more ... who can say?” He locked eyes with Maria, but she only shrugged her shoulders. “Now that we know what the message is,” he continued, “we must consider a visit to Larnaca. It’s telling us to go there.”

  “I agree, but first,” said Maria, “we must get back to Guadamur, Abbot Louis and Luciana must be contacted and told of what we intend to do.”

  Brodie had a welter of emotions he kept to himself. Coupled with that, he had reservations about Maria and Martha embarking on what could be a perilous mission.

  An hour later, they were on the road and starting their long journey back to Maria’s home.

  §

  Guadamur

  Abbot Louis had received their phone call and was deeply relieved to hear everyone was safe and would be returning soon. He had been of the sound opinion that no work of art was worth dying for. Maria had explained that they would tell him more on their return.

  Luciana, for her part, had become increasingly devout and he wasn’t surprised at that. It seemed perfectly natural and who wouldn’t react in that way after what she had experienced? For himself, any lingering doubts he had about his faith and the road he had trod, evaporated. He now regarded the legend of the painting not as a legend to slaughter for, but a truth he would die for if he had to. That was how much what he had witnessed had impacted his life.

  Stepping outside, he checked his watch. It would be several hours before they arrived, and Luciana had decided she would prepare them a meal to celebrate their safe return.

  Outside, a blasting summer heat stifled everything alive or dead like a leaden mantle.

  The previous evening, he had several troubling dreams, which left him wondering where he fitted in in the recent events. He had witnessed violence, a miraculous cure, and had been privy to information that even the Vatican had no knowledge of. Whatever, he would attempt to keep it that way. He knew that no matter how small his role was in this affair, he was meant to be here.

  He heard a small cough behind him. It was Luciana, and in her slender hands was a jug and glass with ice-cold fruit juice.

  “Father Abbot, it is too hot here. Get in the shade, sit down. This will cool you.”

  “You’re very kind, Luciana, thank you but I will stay here. I need to think.”

  She turned and left, and he sat down and stared at the vista as Brodie and the Condesa had done all those years back. He implanted a prayer into his mind and closed his eyes. Sweet Jesus, you know the secrets of my heart. I know so little but need to understand more. I am unworthy, but will you not show me?

  He repeated his request three times.

  Before he finished, there came the sound of peaceful chanting all around him. He recognised parts of it from The Way of the Cross.

  Pange, lingua, gloria

  proelium certaminis

  et super crucis trophaco…

  Overriding this was a voice. “Your part in this is small, but you preserved the secret well and this you will do until it is time for change…”

  The Abbot held his breath in a welter of incredulity. He heard a flapping noise, and in his mind, he saw a black pattée embossed on a white flag. Deus Vult!

  The spell broke and he fell to his knees. He was now certain of his role.

  §

  Brodie swung the vehicle into the parking area of Maria’s home. Before they could get out, both Abbot Louis and Luciana rushed out to welcome them with drinks and food. Their greeting faltered when they saw who was with them. John D. Bower!

  Brodie was quick to see their startled apprehension. “Father Abbot, Luciana, don’t be concerned. I think this man is in the grip of what we all are. Something
seems to have changed him, and I don’t think it would take you too long to guess what it is.”

  They relaxed a bit, but Luciana still looked as nervous as a rabbit confronting a gun barrel.

  “C’mon, you converts, let’s eat and drink and discuss our plans.” Brodie assumed control.

  Everyone followed, although Bower appeared uncharacteristically subdued. He looked like a prisoner being led to a punishment cell.

  While he was forthcoming, the Abbot appeared as if he was on another planet, with an odd glow in his eyes. He gave the impression that he barely heard the discussions on Cyprus and Larnaca. Martha looked at him closely and she deduced that he had an experience of some sort. She refrained from asking. If she had noticed, it was certain the others had also observed his far away manner.

  Brodie was adamant that he wanted both women to remain in Guadamur whilst he and Bower were gone. After much argument – that it would be too much for her, and at her age, potentially dangerous – Maria relented and agreed to remain with Luciana.

  That left Martha and the Abbot.

  She was adamant. “I’m coming, whether you agree or not, Dad, even if I have to get a flight on my own. I will be there alongside you and there’s no changing my mind.”

  He slapped at his head. “Sweet Jesus, you are as annoying. More so than your mother Ulla! Okay, you are coming with us. But I’m in charge, not you. Understood?”

  “Understood.” She gave him an innocent smile.

  “That leaves just you, Father Abbot. What’s it to be?”

  A silence ensued like a monastery in prayer.

  “Deus Vult, Brother Baez! Deus Vult, Broderick Ladro! I am with you. I swore an oath seventeen years ago to protect The Raising of Lazarus and I thank God I’m still beholden to that promise.”

  They embraced.

  Maria wiped tears from her eyes.

  Bower spent the rest of the evening contacting his various business interests in Vegas, and informing them that he was off to Cyprus to check on how his casino project was doing. It was partly true.