The Lazarus Mysteries- Omnibus Collection

by Ken Fry

  Brodie wanted to see the sarcophagus where Lazarus was entombed and in particular the inscription:

  “Lazarus, four days dead and friend of Christ.”

  If there was to be any visions or messages, then surely there could be no better place than this.

  They agreed that the interior was breathtakingly beautiful. Brodie and the Abbott genuflected, both making the sign of the cross. Bower looked awkward and Martha was disinterested. Her focus was still out of this world. Her horse was traversing her through time and space – existing, yet at another level, didn’t exist at all.

  She sat in front of the venerated tomb with its inscription, aware of a flurry of wings and the ethereal brush of eternity around her. It’s presence or non-presence was inexplicable, unknowable, and part of humanity in every way. People could see it, if only they would look.

  Brodie noticed her condition and held the others back. He didn’t have to ask. How many times over those past years had he had to endure similar states? He recognised what was happening. Has she been chosen? Oh, my sweet Jesus, not her. I beg you ... no! Spare her. Take me again, if you must, but release her. I beseech you. She has done nothing wrong and deserves to have a life.

  Abbot Louis, Garcia and Bower looked concerned. Bower himself experienced sensations akin to electric shocks. Deus Vult! Beauséant! Those words flooded his mind and body. He stood still and accepted it, not knowing what was happening, apart from the fact that Martha looked as if she had been taken over in some mysterious manner.

  They formed a semi-circle around her facing the sarcophagus, which had assumed a soft glow that rose to an intensity, before diminishing by degrees. To anybody watching, it would look like a Mad Hatter’s revivalist meeting.

  The strain on Martha’s features began to lessen and she gradually returned to the present world. Her lids opened, revealing eyes that were possessed of a certainty, shining brighter than the stars. “Where have I been? Why are you all around me?”

  “What did you see?” Brodie asked.

  For a moment, she kept quiet, as if trying to piece together her journey. Her reply, at first hesitant, changed to a gush. “It was … I don’t know how to express it. I don’t know where I was taken. I was sitting on him.”

  “Siting on who?”

  “It wasn’t a person. It was The White Horse. Our very own white horse.”

  Brodie listened to his daughter with a gripping despair. It saddled him and rode off with his profound convictions that there was mercy and love in this world.

  “Dad, don’t look like that. I saw infinite love and beauty. I heard your plea, and know that somehow, we shall understand all this and triumph. Don’t be afraid for me. I’m happy. No ill will come of this. I know it.”

  Brodie recalled the Condesa’s remark. Leave her. She is going beyond us. He understood now how true that was.

  “Let’s get out of here before something else hits us,” he said before gathering them all and pushing them towards the exit.

  Garcia looked intrigued and had taken several shots with his Lumix camera. “What was that all about? That tomb thing was glowing, did you see it? Was it some sort of lighting system?”

  Brodie found himself grinning. “Let’s get coffee and we’ll talk about it. C’mon, everybody out of here.”

  On the way to the square, Garcia, forever the journalist, brought a copy of the Cyprus Mail.

  §

  Martha’s colour had returned and she was looking more like her normal self. Something had occurred back at the tomb, but she couldn’t name it yet. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. She needed time to digest and reflect on what it might be.

  They ordered coffee, except for Garcia who ordered an ice-cold beer. Nobody seemed to know what to say.

  “Where do we go from here?” the Abbot finally asked what most of them was thinking.

  “Well, we’ve been here barely five minutes and that happened. Isn’t that enough for one day?” Bower was becoming more vocal. “Sorry, guys, I’m not sitting around here too long. Once this coffee is finished, I’m going to inspect my investments a bit further down this road, unless you have a better idea.” He found it difficult to admit that whilst Martha was out of it, so had he ... but to a lesser extent. He had partially glimpsed what she had seen, but he was still stubbornly entrenched in denial although he allowed himself to experience it. His ‘old’ life still clung to his mind, deeply etched like murder on the guilty protesting their innocence.

  “Good God!” Garcia suddenly exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers.

  They all stopped and looked at him.

  “Look at this!” He had opened his newspaper to page three. “Bloody hell!” He stabbed at the page with his index finger as he read more of it. “This is all too much to believe, I tell you.” He turned the paper around, so they could all see it.

  Embedded centrally and dominating the page was a photograph of Brodie’s work of art, The Raising of Lazarus. The strap line ran:

  LARNACA:

  MYSTERY PAINTING OF SAINT LAZARUS REVEALED

  Beneath the photograph ran a smaller line.

  MIRACULOUS CURES CLAIMED BY FINDER

  The anonymous discoverer of a painting of Lazarus (above) has claimed that it is capable of causing miraculous recoveries from all health and physical conditions. Among those cured is an ageing Spanish lady of noble birth, who fully recovered from terminal cancer.

  The man who discovered it claims that Christ had visited him in a vision and was told to form a new church based on Christ’s miracle in Bethany. Followers would be amongst those saved at the Second Coming, he claimed. He said that he was compelled to bring it to Cyprus since it was the resting place of the man Lazarus – a friend of Jesus and the first Bishop of the Island.

  The formation of the Holy Church of Lazarus is now well underway in the USA, Europe and other parts of the world. The location of the painting is a closely guarded secret as there are rumours of a group of people attempting to steal it. When these dangers have passed, the painting will be displayed for all to see.

  Editorial Comment: If true, then this painting would be a sensation. A religious icon that would draw a bigger following then either Lourdes or the Shroud of Turin. If located on the Island, it would bring enormous economic benefits for everybody.

  Everyone was shocked into silence.

  “So, the douchebag is here after all.” Bower thumped his fat fist hard on the table.

  “That’s why we’ve been brought here, I guess.” Brodie looked thoughtful.

  “He could be anywhere, but the report came from here. That would suggest he’s around here somewhere and could even be watching us right now.” Garcia pointed out.

  “Let’s not forget he’s more than capable of murder. He must be dealt with extreme caution.” Brodie struggled to be the voice of calm and reason.

  “I’ll twist his fucking head off!” Bower had reverted back to his original self. “We need to arm ourselves. If he spots us, I’ve no doubt he will dispose of us like old, used, snot tissues.”

  “We’ve nothing to bargain with either.” Martha reminded them.

  “Look,” Brodie interrupted the conversation, “an announcement like that is deliberate. It’s a net to catch fish and get the money rolling in. You can bet that in a day or two, we will see some more announcement around here. He’s recruiting, and he will do this around the globe as he builds his church. Ned, you signed up for one of his courses. What gives?”

  “They’re weekend events designed to get you to join and begin to scale the pyramid structure – which gets more difficult and expensive the further up you go. The indoctrination and training will have all sorts of tests and psychological profiling. I don’t think he has a headquarters as yet, but with the pace this is going ... it won’t be long. He could set up major bases in most countries of Europe to start, and that includes this place which is a perfect place for the scam.”

  Bower pushed his chair away and stood up
. “I’ll see you guys later at the hotel. I’ve some work to sort out.”

  §

  Bower looked around him with care. After what they’d learned, walking around could be dangerous. He had to leave them to it as the indecisiveness of it all made his head spin. It was a good time to pay a surprise visit to the site, which was about half a mile away. No doubt, they were rushing about trying to look busy since they knew he was in town. As he got closer, he could see the site and the cranes and lorries bustling about. Coming towards him were a couple of boys wearing delivery bags full of promotional leaflets they were handing out to passersby.

  “Hello, Mister,” one of them said as he thrust an A5 leaflet in the direction of Bower’s hand, that with a mind of its own, reached out to take it. He didn’t look at it but folded it up and placed it in his pocket.

  Ten minutes later, he strode into the construction office. The site supervisor was there with his feet up on the desk and a beer in his hand. His ID tag named him as Yannis Magalos.

  He looked up at Bower and bellowed, “Who the hell are you? How’d you get in here?”

  For his answer, Bower sideswiped the beer from his hand and sent it crashing to the floor. “Well,” he roared, “Κύριος Yannis Magalos, I’m John D. Bower, the man funding this project. My investment doesn’t include you lounging around in here and getting pissed at my expense. Get out and don’t come back!” He kicked the chair from underneath Magalos, sending the man crashing to the floor. “Do you hear me?”

  The man got up with fear written all over him.

  Bower, without understanding why, came to a sudden halt. Why am I behaving like this? It’s outrageous.

  Magalos, visibly askance, made his way to exit.

  “Stop right there.” Bower held up his hand. “Sit back down and get on with your work. Next time, don’t drink while you’re on the site. Understood? Now, before you get to it, I’ve some questions to ask you.”

  Magalos, his hands still shaking, did as he was asked. Bower fired several questions at him about supplies, costs, and timelines. The man answered every question quickly and efficiently and was obviously well in control of the site, overall. He knew his stuff.

  “Well done,” Bower said, patting him on the shoulder. Before he exited the confounded man’s office, he turned. “My apologies.”

  Magalos gave a bewildered smile and nodded his head.

  CHAPTER 35

  Shepard had rented a small set of offices that gave him a clear view of the church and the central square. It was equipped with what every modern office would require. His two acolytes, Alphonse and Jeremiah were busy constructing websites and exploiting social media. So far, they had produced sets of promotional brochures and were in the throes of attempting to arrange a press conference. Leaflet distribution was underway across the island. The news worldwide continued to be encouraging, with fresh members daily and applications to enroll in the American programme and introductory courses. Shepard had mimicked the way Scientology was first introduced to the masses.

  It was working. The news of the miraculous religious icon was spreading like wildfire.

  His biggest concern was Bower. But his new heavies, Alexis and Bruno, were on hand to deal with him and any other troublemakers. They had also promised to supply him with a new Smith & Wesson, and other weaponry, if needed.

  To date, The Raising of Lazarus hadn’t performed any cures or healings. He only had the testimonies of the God Squad or Holy Bogies as he described the Condesa and her pals. A testimony plus a demonstration from Brodie or the Condesa would be invaluable. The only way that could be achieved would be by force and fear. He planned to capture anyone of them and pressure the others into giving a live testimony. After that, they would simply vanish from the face of the earth, very quietly, and go to the heaven they were always banging on about. God be praised!

  He had a nagging conviction that what he wanted would happen on the island soon. Without a doubt, Bower would appear, especially with his casino under construction.

  The painting was unwrapped and standing on the shelf of his personal office. I don’t like it. How that produces miracles is hard to believe. The more he looked at it, the more he felt like it glowered at him. He turned away from it as it gave him a feeling of unease. He turned his attention to the street just below him.

  The sun was at its zenith and the siesta lunch break had descended amongst the locals. The only people walking about were tourists. It was then amongst the small numbers crossing the street, one caused him to do a double take.

  He spoke out loud. “Why ... look who God brought in.” There was no mistaking the stocky man with the ambling walk making his way close to the office.

  Shepard rushed out of the office and shouted, “Bruno and Alexis, follow me quick.”

  He sprinted down the small flight of stairs and out onto the street. The two men were close behind.

  “What’s the problem, Silas?”

  “He’s here and he’s just upfront. We have to follow him to see where he’s going. Quick, let’s get moving. I don’t want to lose him.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Bower. That’s him in the white slacks and floral shirt. If he’s here, it’s a good bet the others are.”

  “Shall we deal with him now or later?”

  “Later. But make your way in front of him and get a good look at him for future reference. I want to know where he’s staying. Once you’ve eyeballed him, get back behind him and go where he goes. At all costs, he mustn’t see me. Go!”

  Both men picked up the pace and strode close to Bower before overtaking him as casually as they could, making certain they got a good look. They stopped to look in a shop window to let him pass again.

  He ambled past them and once sufficiently in front, they continued following him. Shepard remained further back.

  Bower came to an unexpected halt to look into shops selling souvenirs. He paused for a few minutes, looking at various items, before moving on and turning off into a bar. He sat down at a cool table and ordered a cold beer.

  §

  I’m being followed. Bower’s antenna had been on full alert ever since he left the site. He was an old hand at all the tricks and manoeuvres that accompanied criminality. The two meatballs who walked past him thought he hadn’t noticed them. Stopping to look in a window gave the game away. It was too amateur. Two can play at that game. When he had suddenly stopped, he saw them pause, surprised and unsure of what to do next. A sure giveaway.

  Bower drank his beer and waited. After only a few minutes, just as he suspected, they came into the bar and sat casually a reasonable distance away from him.

  Who are they? They look Eastern European and not too friendly. He watched them through the bar’s wall mirror. Why would they be tracking me? He smiled to himself. It was either a rival casino operator who wanted a slice of the pie or it was the slime ball, Shepard. Either one was possible, but nobody knew he was in town. In that case, it could only be Shepard. My name is blasted all around the construction site and he must have seen it. He’s expecting me and must have seen me, which means ... Shepard is in the vicinity.

  They need to know where I’m staying, was his first thought. There was no way he was going to lead them back to the Achilleos City Hotel. They’re in for a long afternoon.

  He ordered another beer, telling himself he may as well make the exercise as enjoyable as possible. At some point, he would to have to give them the slip.

  As he passed the time, his thoughts went back to his experience at the bridge. That had started him on this strange journey. The White Horse, the blood and noise, and meeting Martha. He felt that they knew each other, not in this life, but some other.

  She’s a young girl but epitomizes every mystery I have ever read of. It’s her that keeps me here. Nothing romantic, nothing sexual, but just ... just … I don’t know what to call it. Am I willing to accept this change that is being thrown at me? I could end up like Brodie for pity’s sak
e and look at the state he’s been in.

  He noticed the thugs now sitting closer to him, like a pair of hyenas waiting for the right moment to pounce.

  He looked at his watch and his two beers had taken two hours. That was a record. Time to play the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

  After paying the bill, Bower headed for the door and was not surprised when the two heavies did likewise. He failed to see an agitated-looking Shepard sitting in a bar across the road. Using the hotel as a central point, he began to traverse a half-mile radius, walking around to form a circle filled in with an X configuration … a tactic he’d learnt from old military manuals to confuse the enemy. It meant passing by the same spot several times, which creates confusion, and then at a certain point, vanish.

  He set off.

  Several times, he stopped to examine something, and he knew they must be getting frustrated. If they were professionals, they would know by now that he was on to them. He walked from north to south and saw another hotel on the way. Bower calmly stepped inside it. Sure enough, he saw them stop outside and write down the name of the hotel and then head back to wherever they came from. He never saw them meet up with a hot and perspiring Shepard.

  Time for another cool beer. All that walking got him thirsty. He sat at the hotel’s bar with a smirk on his face, put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out the folded leaflet. He’d forgotten about it. Bower read it slowly and gave a long slow whistle. “Holy Shit!”

  It was an announcement of a presentation of the Most Wondrous and Sacred Painting of the Blessed Saint Lazarus which had cured many illnesses, giving new life to the sick and dying around the world. The date will be announced soon.

  It showed a picture of Brodie’s painting, and alongside it, a thumbnail shot of Shepard in a pious pose, eyes uplifted to heaven. The caption described him as the Chief Minister, The Most Reverend Silas Shepard of the Holy Church of Lazarus.