The Lazarus Mysteries- Omnibus Collection

by Ken Fry

  “That is a good idea, Father Abbot. If he bites, we’ll be there.”

  “The problem now is, how do we keep away from him? If he can, he will take anyone of us, and then unless we are prepared to die, we will have to do what he asks.” Martha remembered the thug’s hand on her hair and shivered.

  Brodie saw, and it brought home the fact that his daughter barely escaped Shepard’s hired thugs. If George hadn’t been there...

  “I have a suggestion. You,” Brodie pointed at Bower, “and you, George, let’s go for a little ride. Don’t leave anything behind.”

  They knew what he meant.

  “Dad, you can’t do this!” Martha knew exactly what he was intending.

  “It’s the only way.” He put his arm around her. “I’ll be back. I promise you.”

  She didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Her mind was full of confusion and incomplete thoughts and vision. She clung to him like a python around its prey. “Dad, don’t go. I beg you.”

  “Something has to be done and we can’t sit here and let him play the tunes. You know that and so do I. Someone once said, ‘attack is the best form of defense.’ It’s now time to put that to the test.” He extracted himself from his daughter’s arms, gave the Abbot a hug, shook Garcia’s hand, and pulled Martha again in a tight embrace.

  “Deus Vult! Beauséant,” she whispered, choking back tears.

  “Deus Vult,” he responded.

  The three men strode from the room.

  CHAPTER 38

  They sat in silence as they drove in the convertible with the top down.

  Bower was aware of a new shift in his consciousness and attitude. Outside, the air felt soft, almost sweet, heightening his senses. The answer to his dilemma was already there for him, sitting there and fully developed in his head. As if lit by a lamp, he saw that it hadn’t been arbitrary. It had been done in a series of signs, and it was telling him that he would be unable to sever the connection with Martha, Brodie, and the Condesa ... even if he had wanted to. Their journey gave him time to consider this.

  Was karma, as he understood it, really the word he wanted to use to describe what’s happening? It was one of those imported words that had become fashionable to use and cool in some circles. The more he thought about it, it described precisely what he had been struggling to say ever since he had come across Shepard. The word came closer than any other he could think of. There was nothing he could do about it. He was about to enter into a conflict with some unpleasant characters. It was inevitable. Casinos were no longer important.

  He was being steered.

  Before they came here, at the back of his mind, he had already accepted the proposition. He was now powerless to undo that or change direction. The die was cast, and he had to go through with it. There were no two answers, whether he liked it or not. The words Deus Vult were imprinted in his mind.

  George broke his contemplation. “You okay there, boss? You looked kind of weird.”

  “I’m fine. How long, Brodie?”

  “Another ten minutes, I guess. Once we’ve seen the place, we’ll pull over and discuss.”

  It wasn’t long before the structure came into sight. It was one of those smart five-star hotels specifically built near the sea, with its own swimming pools and all modern conveniences. It was popular for weddings and conferences.

  “There it is, guys.” Brodie pointed ahead.

  “It’s not unlike a couple I own,” Bower said.

  “We need to get in there and find out where Shepard is. He’s not expecting us, and I want it kept that way. We don’t know who he has in there with him, and in his turf, he could be very dangerous. You two got your guns?”

  “We’re locked and loaded.”

  “C’mon, let’s do it.”

  The convertible crept forward and turned into the parking lot. Brodie killed the motor and for a minute, they sat in complete silence absorbing the situation. Brodie, as a signal, opened his door and the others followed suit. Within minutes, they had entered the hotel lobby and Brodie approached the desk.

  Bower’s recently discovered respect for Brodie solidified as he saw the natural manner in which he had taken charge of things. He was now feeling comfortable with him around and certain there would be few mistakes.

  The smart receptionist, wearing a blue lightweight two-piece suit, asked Brodie if she could help.

  “I’m Brother Baez from Spain and we’re friends of Reverend Silas Shepard, here for a visit. Can you tell us what room he’s in, please?”

  She glanced at the register. “Ah, there he is. Room 416. Would you like me to call him to tell him you’ve arrived?”

  “Goodness me, no. Thank you, but this is a surprise for him.” He flashed a dazzling smile. “Does he have our other friends with him?”

  “Not that I know of. You’re his first visitors today. Okay, then. Just take the lift to the fourth floor. Have a good time.”

  “I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

  They moved to the elevator. “Nicely done, Brother.” Bower was impressed.

  The doors of the elevator slid open and they boarded it in total silence. George pressed button four and they ascended with the slightest of whirring sounds. Once it decelerated and came to a stop, they stepped out with caution.

  “It looks like he’s alone,” Brodie whispered aloud, “but remember, he’s no pushover and a cornered snake can be most aggressive and dangerous. Shepard’s a low-bellied example. Let’s go.”

  They stood outside the door of room 416. “You two out of sight on each side of the door and when I go in, you follow at the ready. Okay?”

  “Affirmative,” Bower felt a stab of adrenaline rushing through him.

  §

  In his hotel room, Shepard approached the painting he had propped up against the wall. He was determined that somehow, he would elicit a response from it. But so far ... nothing. The only two people the painting had responded to was the high and mighty, snooty Condesa Maria and her subservient maid. They were out of reach at the moment ... but that could change. They were all here, it seemed. That girl at the bar was Martha. He wondered if the Condesa was with them too.

  He leaned back on the sun lounge, smiled with a certain ironic pleasure, poured a hefty Bourbon, and lit up a Lucky Strike. Bower was a man who didn’t fit in, but the precise nature of his imbalance aroused the sound of sad laughter. All that money and he still couldn’t hack it. He was a joke that stopped short of the punch line, a vague sort of mirth that had no object. He was tired of theorizing about it. He should have killed him when he had the chance, but he hadn’t taken it. Drawing hard on the cigarette, he then gulped another large mouthful of the golden liquid.

  The buzz of the doorbell made him jump.

  “Shit! Who can that be?” It could only be Bruno and Alexis or his two acolytes. Without checking the peephole, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  “Jesus!”

  One look at Brodie’s face and Shepard quickly turned to get his pistol. Both George and Bower rushed in with guns pointing and both in a Weaver stance.

  “Stop right there, Shepard!” Bower roared as George circled to the front of him with his gun pointing straight at Shepard’s head.

  Shepard froze and lifted his hands high as Brodie walked in with a broad smirk on his face. He saw Shepard’s gun and holster hanging off a chair and picked it up. He slung it across his shoulders after removing his jacket.

  “Wasn’t expecting that, were you, Reverend? We’ve come to collect what’s not yours. It reminds me of what I used to do a long time ago – liberating stolen works of art. It brings back old memories.” In a flash, he thought of Ulla.

  Scanning the room, Brodie spotted it sitting against the wall and resting on a broad mantelpiece. “You two, keep him covered. Don’t let him make a move. I told you he could be dangerous. Cornered snakes always are.”

  He approached The Raising of Lazarus and couldn’t deny the emotional surge that pulsated th
rough him. It was like meeting a long, lost dear one – like meeting Martha for the first time. Like speaking to Ulla after all those years. He hadn’t realised how deeply attached to it he had become. It was an outrage that it could be mauled and pawed at by the likes of this slimy, creepy Silas Shepard. A spark of anger ignited in him and he felt a strong compulsion to do harm to this man, who didn’t think twice about gunning down anybody, male or female.

  With great care, he retrieved the work and wrapped it in a sheet from an unused bed, before standing in front of Shepard. “It won’t work for a thieving, murdering bastard like you. You just don’t understand, do you? You are so thick you probably never will. I’ve given my life for this and I’m never going to simply sit down and let you play with it. Do you hear me? Never.” At that moment, everyone thought Brodie looked like a righteous and determined avenging angel. “I got what I came for, but these two gentlemen are less than happy with you ... and with good reason. So, with that in mind, I’m going to step outside and let them have an in-depth discussion with you.” He gave Shepard two taps on his cheeks and walked towards the door.

  The implications of Brodie’s words were easy to understand. The stench of fear oozed from Shepard, and he started to shake.

  “Don’t be too long, guys. I’ll wait for you in the lobby bar area.”

  As Brodie closed the door, he heard George say, “You killed my friend.”

  It was fifteen minutes before they came into the bar. They looked no different from when they went in, apart from the perspiration hanging around their foreheads.

  Brodie ordered three beers. “Did you have a good chat, guys?”

  “It wasn’t bad,” Bower said. “I think we were persuasive and he decided that he’ll stay indoors for a while. He’s got some serious issues to think about.”

  “What do we do now?” George asked in his mumbling fashion.

  “We go back to the hotel and make plans to defend ourselves. Be under no illusions, there will be attempts at reprisals. We may have to leave this place in a hurry. I guess right now, Shepard’s press conference and witnessing demonstrations are on hold.”

  Brodie didn’t know what to make of himself. Only a short while ago it seemed, he was in a cave in the desert, attempting to communicate with a God he was no longer certain he believed in. Now, here he was, participating in precarious activity and giving sanction to brutality.

  What the hell? The slime ball deserved it.

  The time to turn the other cheek had passed, and like Bower, Brodie’s brain, his intellect and emotions, were being torn in opposite directions. He and Bower had developed a new respect for each other. Martha had told him of Bower’s mental state and how she had detected tears in his eyes. He was a lost soul. Brodie could relate to that. Clearly there was more to the man than he had comprehended.

  Undoubtedly, there were similarities in their makeup. He wondered if Bower knew of his life history...

  §

  An hour later, they were back at the Achilleos City Hotel and in their rooms, with the painting safe and secure. Martha and the Abbot had greeted them, amazed that they had the painting and were unharmed.

  “What happened back there?” Martha demanded. “How did you get it? He couldn’t have given to you.”

  “He did. There was nothing he could do. He seemed to think Lazarus was going to perform on command and we all know that’s impossible. It makes up its own mind. We liberated it, as Ulla loved to say.”

  “Didn’t he try and stop you? Where were his men?”

  “He was alone. I also rescued this.” He took off his jacket to reveal the gun and holster.

  “Dad!”

  Brodie smiled. “Bower and George had a little chat with him while I made other arrangements in the bar.”

  Garcia had been furiously scribbling notes as they spoke. “He got roughed up then, did he?”

  George made a rare comment. “He bumped into a few cupboards, I think.”

  Abbot Louis raised his eyes skywards and made the sign of the cross ... but kept silent.

  “Now,” Brodie spoke with urgency, “the painting has to be protected at all costs. Only we know its true power. Those meat cleavers will be looking for us soon and I wouldn’t be surprised if they bring in more troops. Shepard is not going to let us get away with this. Not only will he want Lazarus, he will want revenge. The fate of his whole phoney church rests on this painting. Without it, he doesn’t amount to a can of beans. People are following him for this reason alone. Suggestions?”

  “I have to get back to the monastery, but I will do all that I can to assist you. Perhaps Lazarus should be returned to its hiding place?”

  Martha looked at Bower and he returned the stare. They both had identical thoughts and knew it. It’s not over yet. Not by a wide margin.

  Brodie shook his head. “There’s a lot more to come. The paint hasn’t dried yet, and I fear it never will. I sense it’s waiting for someone new. Don’t ask me how I know that, but I just do. ”

  His heart was full of dread that the mantle would fall on his beloved daughter. That would kill him ... and it would kill Ulla. Their lives would be finished.

  Brodie turned to the Abbot. “Father Abbot, I want to go home so much but this millstone still hangs around my neck. Until it drops away, I can’t leave. It’s impossible.”

  “Dad, why is it impossible?”

  “You don’t understand, Martha.” He looked around at them all. “None of you do, not even Maria although she has been closer to me than anybody else. It’s my burden and I know it will not let me go, yet. We can’t stay here, either. They will be looking for us and if they find us, it won’t be pleasant. We have to go back to Spain. John, what are you going to do?”

  “I need to talk to you privately. Can we do that? Now!” It wasn’t a request, but a demand. His former self surfaced once again, and Bower’s face looked grim, like a monk having a spiritual crisis.

  CHAPTER 39

  They stepped out to the balcony which was rife with the aroma of brilliantly coloured flowers; lavender and orange blossom. Brodie closed the sliding patio door behind him.

  “Well, what do you want to say?”

  “It’s difficult to know where to start.” Bower was beginning to relax.

  “Try the beginning.”

  “Okay, but I’m not sure that I’m going to make a lot of sense. You know what I am, and I expect you have a low opinion of me.”

  “Not so much. The situation has changed a lot and I have formed a different viewpoint of you since my original dislike. We are all capable of change and I have seen that in you.”

  “I’ve felt that about you too. This whole affair started with me wanting to steal the painting and get into another mega money-making situation with that asshole Shepard running things. We would both have huge amounts of money and power. Now, here I am on the other side trying to prevent that from happening. You see, Brodie, now don’t get me wrong here, your daughter changed all that. I sensed something very strange stir inside me as soon as she spoke to me and told you all that I wouldn’t harm her or any of you. I was shaken that she acted like she knew me more than I knew myself. I know you’ve had a tempestuous struggle with that damned painting. She told me all about your past and your visions, and about you and her mother Ulla.”

  Brodie began to speak. “Now, just…”

  “Shut up, will you?” Bower held up his hand and cut him short. “I haven’t finished.

  Brodie was taken aback. What’s got into him?

  “Nearly every day, I have been tempted to pick up the phone and book a seat to fly home, break the spell and forget about this mystical work of art and the legend that goes with it. Then I think of my Book of Miracles and the missing Lazarus plates, and it gets me thinking that I am connected to this whole affair. Ever since. The template was set for me when I brought that book, but how was I to know that? The days come and go, and I cannot remember a time in my life when I have been torn one way and then anoth
er. You see, Brodie, I’m changing, and I can’t stop it. Little by little, I’m no longer the same. When I stop and accept it, I feel reassured ... but when I fight it, I feel lost and incomplete. The whole thing is a paradox. The closer I draw to you all, the more deeply entangled I become, yet weirdly ... the freer I feel. Martha, in some ways, is my mentor. Just as the Condesa Maria was yours. A short while ago, in that room, I felt her thoughts in my head and I know she sensed mine also. That morning, when she had that experience at the tomb, I was in some way taken with her, and I was shocked, shaken, but felt wondrous all at the same time. I’m telling you all this for as much as I struggle, Brodie ... I know I won’t escape you.” He paused, stared down at the ground, then back at Brodie who was staring straight at him. “I guess that’s what I wanted to get off my chest.”

  “That’s remarkable,” Brodie spoke softly. “You are very honest and brave. I respect that. One word of advice ... hang on to that stroppy personality of yours. It’s unique and belongs to you and no one else. It will serve you in good stead later. Welcome to The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, John. Don’t fight it. It’s much easier when you don’t, believe me.”

  They shook hands.

  §

  He looked in the mirror and what he could barely see shocked him. He did not recognise himself. He looked as if he’d been hit by a tank.

  His face had been altered. Both eyes were virtually shut, with massive purple and black bruising, and trickles of blood ran from the closed up corners. Large bumps of varying hues were dotted across his head and blood-streaked, swollen cheekbones. A knot of pain akin to a cancerous diamond sat in the middle of his head. His ribs, stomach and innards felt as if they had been kicked and ripped apart with red-hot splintered glass.