The Resurrection Pact (Winston Casey Chronicles Book 1)

by Jay Smith

  "Are you in a place of privacy to receive a confidential message?"

  Security cameras and a nosey concierge aside, I answered, "Yes."

  "Then I have another message consisting of four numbers. Please record it now as I am only authorized to provide it once. It is not to be shared with anyone."

  "Why?"

  "Ready?"

  "Hold on…"

  She didn't. "It is 8-9-7-2. Repeating: 8-9-7-2."

  I managed to get all the numbers on the second read.

  "What’s this for?"

  "I do not have that information, sir."

  "Where do I get that information?"

  "I do not have that information, sir."

  "Is there anything you can tell me about this place in Ebetha, what Parker’s plans are, why all the cloak and dagger, what the heck is going on?"

  "I'm sorry, sir. The Service maintains a portfolio of information and resources that may only be provided as the client deems appropriate. We may contact you at various points in your journey with additional information as time or situations permit."

  "But I can call you, right? Phone a friend? Call in an air strike? Designated driver?"

  "No. The nature of these communications is considered confidential and may relate to proprietary or classified information covered by a non-disclosure agreement between the issuer and the recipient. The Service is not responsible for any further distribution – intentional or unintentional – of this information. Can I be of any assistance to you at this time, Mr. Casey?"

  "You can be illuminating and somewhat helpful."

  "Good day, Mr. Casey."

  Despite hearing the call ended remotely, I hit the END button and set the phone down.

  I spent the next minute or so blinking the sparks out of my eyes and clenching my stomach to kill the butterflies.

  "What the actual living fuck are you up to, Parker?"

  That time I expected an answer but only heard Nadeim reply from the bedroom door.

  "Your breakfast, Mr. Casey. Would you care to join me in the sitting room? I've drawn the curtains and the view is magnificent."

  ~

  Nadeim had breakfast waiting for me in the sitting room. The transoms over the bay window were open, filling the room with the smell of the ocean and sweet surrounding flora. While breakfast lacked in actual meat and eggs her presentation of fruit, toast, and coffee on china excused it. She found my cell phone, too, and put it next to my coffee mug which happened to display the crossed pistols of Parker's military police unit on the side.

  We sat together in the great room, Nadeim on a wicker chair opposite me with a cup of tea, leg crossed over in a very relaxed but dignified pose. She wore her hair back and traded the bikini for a modest red and white floral sun dress.

  After the pleasantries and gratitude, I sat back and looked at Nadeim in the foreground of an amazing, cloudless sky framed by palms. So many questions and Nadeim knew I was working them out in my head. She was patient.

  "How did you know Park?"

  "Mr. Parker? Oh, I served him for about four years. He was a good man. I enjoyed working for him. He spoke of you quite often, actually. Fondly."

  "You were his valet for four years? Wow."

  "I was his assistant in America for some of that time."

  Funny he never mentioned you, I thought. Or this tropical escape. I wondered further if Lucy and Blake knew about it. How was it a humble US Army recruiter could afford either a personal assistant or a luxury cabana in Ebetha?

  Nadeim brightened, eager to change the subject. "I understand you work for the American government?"

  She made it sound sexy. "Technically, yes. I write speeches for the Pennsylvania Secretary of the Commonwealth Farmer's Commission." That earned a blank stare. "He's a man who travels around Pennsylvania telling farmers how amazing they are. And tells non-farmers to respect farmers. It's an exciting job."

  "Yes! You work for a man who makes people feel good about what they do and inspires people to be more knowledgeable about the profession."

  "You are being sincere when you say that," I said, astonished. "I never thought of it that way."

  "Doing good provides a roof over your head and food on your table, so it is a very good thing. You should be proud. Your wife – Claire, is it?"

  "How do you know that?"

  "Mr. Parker spoke of her as well."

  "She wasn't invited. She and Park had a bit of a falling out last year. I'm not even sure why but they were never close anyway." I thought of more things to say like that I believed she enjoyed shoveling guilt on me for going alone more than she would enjoy being here and that she'd be complaining about perfect things not being perfect enough. But I held my tongue because I didn't want to think of her and feel that coating of slime ooze over my mellow.

  "Well, since you are here – what can I do to make this a memorable trip? We have so many events and amenities here…"

  I sipped my coffee and shook my head as she rattled off a bunch of things that required being social or putting up with rich assholes. I expected Nadeim to be reciting the list from a pad or Blackberry, but it was just part of a casual conversation.

  "I've asked that all calls to the resort switchboard come through me for the duration of your stay If you like you can forward all your cell calls to me as well."

  I laughed. "My wife might not appreciate the practicality of that. Thanks, though."

  "I understand. I can arrange a tour of the island, even a meeting with the President if you like. He's a very down-to-Earth fellow and I'm sure you both would enjoy the experience."

  "Did Parker leave any notes or instructions for me?"

  "Not for you. He gave me a general list of your likes and dislikes and advised me that you would be a bit overwhelmed by this experience. Is there some way I can help with that?"

  Parker's office held my interest. I considered asking Nadeim about it, then skipped ahead to the big issue.

  "He wants me to go to Vegas."

  "Yes. I spoke of it on his last visit."

  "What's that all about?"

  "Las Vegas? I don't know much. He planned something of a game or a hunt of some kind for you both. In Aeternus."

  "Aeternus? Is that like a resort?"

  She replied in a guarded, cautious way. "Aeternus is… it's a game. It is also a society. Its headquarters is in Las Vegas. Mr. Parker worked for them over the past five years. You can learn all about it in Mr. Parker's effects. He wanted you to see it when the two of you met here."

  "This was all a big surprise that he never got to spring on me, huh?"

  "That's correct. I'm very sorry. I know you were close for a very long time."

  "Apparently not so close if I missed all this. The dude was an Army Recruiter and ran an M.P. unit in Iraq as far as I know."

  Nadeim nodded. "Yes. But he was more than that, as you'll see. Perhaps I should give you time to look through his things. I can't really tell you more as it…" she looked at me for a moment. "I don't want to spoil his surprises. He spent a long time on this and his wishes were for you to embark on the adventure with or without him."

  Those words struck me hard. "Did you know about my phone call?"

  If she did, it didn't show. "What phone call, sir?"

  "The one I just got on the chirping cell phone Parker wrapped up and sent me."

  "Nothing you said is familiar to me." Nadeim put her tea cup onto the saucer on the table between us. "If it has to do with his arrangements, I know nothing about them."

  I thought back to what Murray confided about Parker's time. "I hear Park threw some wild parties. Is this the village he bought out for them?"

  Nadeim seemed a little more uncomfortable answering this one. "Mr. Parker would plan some elaborate Welcome Home celebrations, yes. Aeternus would sponsor the events and pay for dozens of American service persons here, once a group of disabled veterans and even a group of at-risk students from the states."

  How the fuck
did I not know this about him? I wanted to ask. Instead I nodded and offered a lame "I see."

  She stood up and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Is there anything I can do for you now? I should prepare the pantry for the weekend."

  Before leaving, Nadeim showed me some of the nicer amenities of the bungalow, including the climate control, media and communications interface Parker used to communicate with his "organization".

  "The media and temperature settings are universal, but the communication functions are password-locked beyond contacting the resort staff."

  "Who else would I contact?"

  Nadeim seemed surprised. "The Organization – Aeternus."

  "I see."

  She knew nothing else about it except to say he watched Parker use it upon arrival on his last few visits. The interface looked like a standard home security terminal with a five-inch touch screen. At rest, the display read "IDLE MODE" with the date and local time underneath.

  Did she really know? Probably, but I had no reason to question her. I was getting to old for games, for secrets, for putting up with all this bullshit.

  Nadeim fetched her daytime clutch from her chambers and I watched her leave. The big talking feminist from the night before watched shamelessly as she walked down the hill among the other cabanas until the swing of her ass was too far away to appreciate.

  I had to get a look at what Parker kept in his office and I didn't think having Nadeim around for that would help, especially while playing Sergeant Schultz about Parker's plan for me. I wasn't even sure if I could go. Claire would be furious with me. Work would likely give me shit about it. And for what? A bachelor's scavenger hunt in and around the Devil's blistering asshole?

  If I hadn't already jerked off in the shower, it would have been the next order of business. Instead: The office.

  ~

  I checked out a bookshelf that held many of Parker’s old text books. He never sold any back to the school. Six years of criminal justice, history, literature, and science in bindings fat enough to weigh down a hipplodonkus rose from floor to ceiling, topped by his favorite fantasy stories. Tolkien. Martin. Card. At the end of the top shelf he kept six worn paperback copies of novels by Alan Horus labeled "The Realm Aeternus series" right next to the hardcover versions of the same books, plus one called "The Realm Victorious".

  Half of Parker's life was new to me. I accepted without pause the idea that his military career was going to be a series of war stories and acceptance speeches but this life of – what was it? – Aeternus? That was new. And it stung a little because it seemed like exactly the kind of thing we could have been doing together.

  Okay, I didn't have the money or the time to keep up with what seemed to be an impressive lifestyle but that, too, was a shock. I realized that I might have been good friends with the idea of Grant Parker while the real man left my friendship a long time ago.

  The office desk offered some clues as to what Parker did for Aeternus. Of course, being in security for the military made him the perfect facilities and personal security specialist. The paperwork on his desk outlined contracts and agendas focusing on "transport surveillance" and "asset protection and crisis management." None of these appeared to be classified or even proprietary materials, but generic reports he drafted as a consultant to Aeternus International.

  This was Parker's personal life and not, I decided, part of the adventure he booked us on. There was nothing other than the weird interface on the wall to explain the four-digit PIN Beatrice gave me and no welcome document. Eventually, I decided that Parker didn't finish his grand plan before he was killed.

  It was a shame but at least I had a weekend in paradise to kill. I made a mental note to ask Nadeim what was to happen to Park's effects now that he was gone. I couldn't imagine his girlfriend back home wanting any of this. I wondered if she knew about this place. There wasn't any sign that he shared space with anyone.

  One file cabinet contained school yearbooks. I resisted the urge to reminisce about mullets and acid washed jeans on people I hated being with anyway. Park's yearbooks were likely filled with so much ink you couldn't read the names or see the pictures anyway. He was everywhere in school and everyone loved the guy. The Ferris Bueller of our time. I know I signed his book every year and took pride in reminding him that I made sure not to appear in any of them. Not even for a school photo.

  If he had a safe, it was well hidden. There was nothing behind the wall hangings but dust and a pissed off, gangly spider who hustled down behind the headboard of my bed to haunt my nightmares later.

  Turning my attention back to the security touch pad, I pressed the button marked ACCESS and was prompted for a passcode. The most logical option was the four-digit code given to me by The Service. The screen displayed a touch keypad to enter the passcode. I entered the first two numbers and stopped.

  Why would Parker send me a separate, low-tech cell phone and have someone read me a code when he had this state-of-the-art communications network installed especially in his suite?

  Parker’s voice echoed through the rooms. "Maybe I knew you needed the access code?"

  "Easier ways to get it to me. Like email."

  "True. Don’t you think you might be a little paranoid?"

  "If I knew who was looking in on me and understood what was happening, I wouldn’t be. Caution isn’t the same thing as paranoia, Park."

  I touched CANCEL on the pad, returning it to IDLE MODE.

  A knock on the door startled me. It didn’t intend to. It was one of those nine-raps in the higher range; not-threatening but purposeful. The sound carried through the bungalow off the hard walls from the front door so it sounded like it came from everywhere at once.

  ~

  "Mr. Gautreaux," I greeted the tiny old man who seemed honored to see me again.

  He stepped inside. "How are you liking your accommodations?"

  "Great. What’s with the cameras?"

  Jean-Paul immediately looked at the camera in the sitting room and then back to me. There was no attempt to deny it. Jean-Paul looked a little embarrassed, but more irritated. "Lieutenant Parker had them installed for security. They are only activated when you summon the valet or report an emergency."

  "Or if I need tacos at three in the morning."

  "If you prefer, sir."

  "Who else stays here?"

  "Only Nadeim. Lieutenant Parker has a list of personal guests and members of his organization."

  "What organization?"

  He looked puzzled. "I assumed you were a part of it. Is Nadeim performing satisfactorily?"

  He said it like he was asking about a riding mower I bought from him last summer.

  "Oh, she's wonderful."

  "She was hand-picked by Lt. Parker to serve the guests of his residence."

  "Who else uses this place that’s friends with Parker?"

  "I cannot say. The village maintains high standards of privacy."

  "I see."

  My phone rang on the coffee table.

  "Excuse me, Jean-Paul."

  ~

  A text from Lucy, no doubt sleepless and cranky and in desperate need to control someone OTHER than her mutinous fiancée, confirmed that the wedding had been postponed. Lucy called me three times before four in the morning and sent me five more texts, the fourth warning me that she was worried enough to send a text to Claire and the fifth telling me she had.

  Eight texts from Claire followed between seven and nine.

  Funny that Nadeim didn't mention any of this, though I could just as easily have said it was none of her business.

  A voice mail from Claire demanded I check in even though she said "some ass called Gout Row said you were out seeing the sights."

  It was time to check in.

  Fortunately, despite her concern, my call went right to voice-mail and I pictured her bitching to her friends about how inconsiderate I was to worry her so. I told her I was fine, having a wonderful time and wished she were here. Two
truths out of three in one voicemail was about average for our relationship.

  As I used my "everything is awesome" voice I watched people emerge from their bungalows and cabanas. There were a few young, hard-bodied couples heading for the beach but the general population of The Village was older, puffy white men with tanned, toned younger women. The clock read nearly ten so I had to assume something was going on down at the beach to gather them together. This is the life my wife wanted for herself. Not for US, mind you. If I were her valet in my own little dorm room waiting on her every need, Claire would be totally fine with it. Alas my civil servant's salary was a source of constant disappointment to her and her parents – all of whom expected me to be either a popular professor of Literature by now or the most successful junior sales manager at daddy's Ford dealership alongside ole Blake the Peaked-Too-Soon football hero from high school.

  I left the phone call with a film over me like I walked through a garbage dump in the middle of August. I wanted another shower to feel fresh and relaxed again – like last night, like with Nadeim.

  Pushing my little middle aged crush back into my pathetic married guy spank bank I tried to focus on the weird shit Parker set up for me, if there really was still a quest, and why.

  ~

  "Looking for anything in particular, Jean-Paul?"

  The hotel concierge was looking through the rooms toward the back of the cabana.

  Jean-Paul turned and smiled. As far as he cared, this was his household to maintain. "Just making sure the staff is doing its job, Mr. Casey. Now, is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable? A ride to the market? There is a waterfall on the southern part of the island that I highly recommend. Nadeim can drive you there over lunch and when the sun it high, the mists seem to come alive."

  "Jean-Paul, you said the cameras are from Parker’s organization and they only record when I call the service, right?"

  "That is what I said, sir."

  "Then why is the camera in the living room on?"

  I pointed to the camera in the corner with a tiny red light shining from inside. Jean-Paul shook his head. I waved at the camera and shrugged my shoulders, palms up to indicate "What’s going on?"

  The light went out.