Fallen Masters Page 13

  When they got into their car, Tyler saw that the only people remaining were Welch, the funeral director, and the two men who would be closing the grave. They were standing off to one side, where they had remained discreetly out of the way of the mourners.

  No, they weren’t the only ones remaining. Back in the shadowed corner of the canopy, he saw one more person. Rae Loona. She nodded at him, and he nodded back.

  Seeing Rae there, that awful moment came back to him. He replayed Karen’s death scene in his mind. And as he looked at the two open graves, one adult and one child, a pattern began to develop in his mind.

  Tyler had first met Karen on February 23. That was 2/23. Karen’s death was called at 2:23 A.M.

  As he looked down at Karen’s casket, there was a plaque that read BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, AND DAUGHTER.

  There was also a small number plate on the casket, and the number was 223.

  He thought of that for a moment, considering the coincidence; then he looked back at Rae. “You’re still here,” he said.

  “I thought you might need some company,” she replied.

  “Thank you for staying.” He walked away from the grave, and seeing him leave, the funeral personnel started toward the grave to take down the canopy and take up the chairs and green carpet.

  “What are you going to do now?” Rae asked, hugging him.

  “Nothing. Go home, I guess.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch,” Rae said. “Do you want to go have lunch?”

  “I’m not really hungry. What time is it, anyway?”

  Rae looked at her watch. “Two twenty-three,” she said.

  “What?”

  Rae realized then that that was the exact time that Karen’s death had been called, so when she repeated the time, she said the words quietly, almost reverently. “Two twenty-three,” she said.

  Tyler nodded. “Thanks for the invite,” he said. “But I think I’ll just go home and crash. I need some time alone.”

  “I understand,” Rae said. She hugged him again. “Mikey, when you go before the hospital board this week, just know that whatever happens, I will always be your friend, and that you are the best doctor I’ve ever known.”

  * * *

  He really was, she realized, a friend. He made her think. He made her appreciate what she had and what love meant. Almost as much as her devotion to John Travolta …

  When she had lost her own son and husband, she had found comfort in Travolta’s films, classics such as Grease and Saturday Night Fever, which she watched over and over again, literally dozens of times each. She also loved laughing at Look Who’s Talking and was amazed at Phenomenon and Michael. Her Johnny moved her and motivated her as few people—real or on film—ever did. She had liked him a lot before he lost his son, but now she felt a kindred connection—and great admiration—as a parent who had lost a child as well.

  * * *

  Tyler had almost forgotten his summons before the hospital board. He knew that it was not going to turn out well.

  “Thanks again,” he said.

  When he walked back to his car, he happened to notice the license plate number of the hearse across the drive. It was 223.

  When Tyler got home, he just crashed on the couch. He rolled over and saw a tote bag on the side of the couch with a classic Winnie-the-Pooh logo on it. In it, wrapped in blue tissue paper, was a card from Karen and Jeremy. It read, Dear Daddy, thanks for being the best husband and Dad in the world.

  Tyler felt each syllable like a kick in the stomach. It was as if someone had reached in and grabbed his heart and was squeezing it. He howled in pain, a primal pain of loss beyond measure. When he pulled himself together and grabbed a glance of his appearance he looked haggard and pale. He had not only skipped lunch, he hadn’t eaten in a couple of days, and still didn’t feel like eating.

  Reaching into the Winnie-the-Pooh bag, he found a self-published advance copy of Karen’s book that was titled:

  223 Blue Butterflies Say I Love You

  by Karen Ann Michaels

  Emotionally depleted, his scientific mind and internal coincidence meters reeling, Tyler was now officially freaked out.

  CHAPTER

  32

  Vatican City, New Year’s Day

  The Te Deum was sung as thanks for the year just ended. Genaro I stepped out onto the loggia from the Apostolic Palace and looked at the tens of thousands of people gathered in Saint Peter’s Square. Just before the pope delivered his message, he bowed his head.

  “Not my words, but yours, O Lord.”

  Looking back up, he began to speak to the crowd.

  “We give thanks for God’s grace and love. At this, the beginning of the New Year, we pray for God’s mercy, that He guide us through the precarious times we face.

  “In the coming days, we will face perils such as those never before faced by mankind. These difficult times will require solidarity among all God’s children, of all races and nationalities, and of all who recognize His dominion over us, in whatever religion they have chosen to reach Him.

  “The Earth is at a tipping point. In the last century, men and women have turned their back on the Church, they have embraced the secular over the spiritual, and they have fallen short of God’s goodness and glory.

  “Because of that, Satan has chosen this time, and the generations now present on this planet, to push out God and establish his kingdom on Earth. We will be besieged by a dark cloud, a cloud of evil. This evil cloud will incorporate all the authority of Satan, plus the combined power of all the evil that has ever resided in the soul of man, from the beginning of time until the iniquity that inhabits the souls of those living today. Each of us will be faced with a choice—to give in to this temptation of the easy path and journey toward the negative and the ways of chaos and destruction, or to choose to fight for all that is good and pure in the cosmos.

  “We must unite in this struggle as never before—every man, woman, and child—link the righteousness of our souls with the goodness of all those who have gone before us, and who now, even though they dwell in Heaven, will join with us in the holy fight of good against evil.

  “Each of us must ask ourselves not what we can get from God, but—am I open to receiving God’s love?

  “What may I do to help bring peace to this world? What good acts may I take today, as one soul, one of God’s children among many—in my own home to bring the light of goodness, in our neighborhoods, and our nations on Earth? How can we act out of love today?

  “The gift to us is free will and free choice. Along with that gift comes the responsibility to avoid evil, to make the right choices each day.

  “And now, as we leave behind the days and hours of the year just passed, we give thanks to God for His just and merciful judgment and elevate our thanks to Him and His love for us.”

  Dallas, New Year’s Day

  Ten thousand people had come to the Preston Forrest Baptist Church for this special New Year’s Day service. The Reverend Glen Dale Damron was in the pastor’s study talking with his two assistant pastors, the youth minister, and the senior of his deacons.

  “I’ve received a message from God,” Damron said. “And I am going to share that message with our people today. I tell you this so that when I start my sermon, you don’t all look at me like I’m crazy.”

  The clergymen in the study looked at one another in confusion. It was left to the Reverend E. D. Owen, the more senior assistant pastor, to ask the question. “Brother Glen Dale, what is the message?” he asked.

  “I’d rather not say here,” Damron said. “I intend to speak the words from the pulpit, exactly as God gives me those words to speak. But I will say, this will be different from any sermon I have ever given, or for that matter, any sermon you have ever heard.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do it,” said Jim Penny, president of the Board of Deacons.

  “Why would you say such a thing, Brother Jim?” Owen asked.

  “When you say this
is going to be different from anything we have ever heard, it makes me nervous. There are already those who call us Bible-thumpers, fundamentalists, and religious kooks.”

  “Are you ashamed to be regarded a Bible-thumper, Jim?” one of the other assistant pastors asked.

  “No I am not, brother, and you know it,” Penny replied. “It’s just I don’t think we should depart from the message of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

  “Brother Jim, if you don’t want to hear this sermon, then you are free to leave the auditorium,” the Reverend Glen Dale Damron said. “But I do wish you would stay, because in this fight that God is asking us to undertake, it will require the soul of every righteous person. And I consider you to be not only a friend and an asset to this church, but also a righteous person.”

  “And this—this message you will be delivering today—you say it came from God?”

  “It will come from God,” Damron said. “The message I received was to step up to the podium and begin to preach. God will give me the words to say.”

  “Whew,” Pastor Owen said. “I’ll give you this, Glen Dale, you certainly have a lot more courage than I have. You are going to be speaking to ten thousand people in the auditorium, and as many as a million through our television ministry, and you have no idea what you are going to say.”

  “I have no idea at all,” Damron said. “Could I ask you all to join me in prayer now?”

  The five men stood in a circle with their heads bowed.

  “Heavenly Father, I ask you to bless these, your servants, as we set out to do Your work today,” Damron said.

  “And, Heavenly Father, give Brother Damron tongue to speak Your words,” Owen added. “In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.”

  * * *

  As Damron took his position, the congregation was singing:

  What a fellowship, what a joy divine,

  Leaning on the everlasting arms;

  What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,

  Leaning on the everlasting arms.

  When the song ended, Damron stepped up to the podium, gripped both sides, and bowed his head.

  “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength, and our Redeemer.”

  Damron looked out over the congregation, the largest Baptist church in Dallas, and one of the largest Baptist churches in America. He saw the eager faces looking up at him, and the three cameras that would be sending his message out through the Christ Alive Network, by satellite all over America and around the world.

  Dear God, he thought. Bring forth the words.

  “We give thanks for God’s Grace and love. At this, the beginning of the New Year, we pray for God’s mercy, that He guide us through the precarious times we face.

  “In the coming days, we will face perils such as those never before faced by mankind. These difficult times will require solidarity among all God’s children, of all races and nationalities, and of all who recognize His dominion over us, in whatever religion they have chosen to reach Him.

  “The earth is at a tipping point. In the last century, men and women have turned their back on the Church, they have embraced the secular over the spiritual, and they have fallen short of God’s goodness and glory.

  “Because of that, Satan has chosen this time, and the generations now present on this planet, to push out God and establish his kingdom on earth. We will be besieged by a dark cloud, a cloud of evil.

  “This evil cloud will incorporate all the authority of Satan, plus the combined power of all the evil that has ever resided in the soul of man, from the beginning of time, until that iniquity which inhabits the souls of those living today. Each of us will be faced with a choice—to give in to this temptation of the easy path and journey toward the negative and the ways of chaos and destruction, or to choose to fight for all that is good and pure in the cosmos.

  “We must unite as never before; every man, woman, and child, link the righteousness of our souls with the goodness of all those who have gone before us, and who now, even though they dwell in Heaven, will join with us in the holy fight of good against evil.…

  “Each of us must ask ourselves, not what we can get from God, but—am I open to receiving God’s love?

  “What may I do to help bring peace to this world? What good acts may I take today, as one soul, one of God’s children among many—in my own home to bring the light of goodness, in our neighborhoods, and our nations on Earth? How can we act out of love today?

  “The gift to us is free will and free choice. Along with that gift comes the responsibility to avoid evil, to make the right choices each day.

  “And now, as we leave days and hours of the year just passed, we give thanks to God for His just and merciful judgment and elevate our thanks to Him and His love for us.”

  Edison, Maryland

  Jack Fender took doughnuts to the office that morning. He had worked at the real estate office as an agent for nearly ten years. Not the most successful agent, however. In fact, the sales manager, Joanie Sampson, was thinking of firing him if he didn’t close on a sale before the end of the quarter. He had become a drag on the budget, the low producer for the past sixteen months straight—and on and off for the two years prior to that.

  “That’s so sweet of you!” the receptionist exclaimed when Jack walked in at nine thirty. She immediately got up from her desk to follow him into the lunchroom, where he placed the box of treats on the counter by the coffeemaker. The little room was filled with the aroma of freshly baked doughnuts and freshly brewed coffee.

  Each of them took a doughnut and a cup of coffee back to the reception desk. He sat and chatted with her for a while.

  “Gotta get a sale, you know,” Jack said, his mouth flecked with sugar, then took a sip of his coffee. He put the coffee cup down on the desk and reached into his jacket pocket.

  The two commiserated about the weather. It had been rainy the past few days. Today looked better: sunshine in the forecast. He asked whether Joanie was in yet.

  “Yes, she was in when I got here,” the receptionist said. “She’s such a go-getter. Always first in and last out in the evening.” She was smiling when Jack pulled out an automatic pistol and shot her in the chest. As she lay bleeding on the floor, he shot her in the head, execution style.

  Then he walked down the narrow corridor past his own small office where he had spent less and less time since the new year. He walked into Joanie Sampson’s office without knocking.

  “What—?” the sales manager blurted, but her words were cut short as Jack shot her twice. She slumped over, instantly dead, as he turned and left. There was no one else in the company at work yet. The other agents were out meeting with clients or hadn’t yet started their day.

  Jack got into his car, a five-year-old SUV, and drove home. It took about six minutes. His wife was in the kitchen. Their two youngsters, Jacob and Brittany, were at school, in second and fourth grade, respectively, just a few blocks way.

  * * *

  “Honey, is that you?” Jill Fender called out. She closed the dishwasher and turned it on, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel and sighed. She wondered what he was doing home at this hour. He needed to be out there selling homes and finding new clients. They were underwater with their mortgage and two months behind in payments—so it could be disastrous to fall behind another month. He needed a paycheck. They needed a paycheck.

  Jill walked out of the kitchen, down the hallway toward the front door. Yes, he was home, all right. He stood just inside the door.

  Jack and Jill Fender. Ever since they first started dating in high school, they had been subjected to the inevitable jokes: “Jack and Jill went up the hill.…” They had enjoyed it for a long time, through the early years of their marriage and even beyond the time their two kids were born. Then—it seemed like overnight—he had stopped laughing about those “Jack and Jill” jokes. He had stopped laughing about anything.

  “What’s up?”
she asked as she approached. She saw him standing there, his arms at his side. Then she noticed the gun in his hand. “What the heck is that, Jack?”

  “I’ve gotta close a sale. Sell a house, you know.”

  “I know, honey. You’re fine. Do you need something?” She was thinking that he had left some paperwork in his study downstairs in the basement. But the gun … why was he holding a gun? Her thoughts were incoherent, scattered.

  “No,” he said. He held up the pistol and shot his wife twice. Then he went outside, closing the front door behind him. He sat in the front seat of the car, on the passenger side, as if waiting for someone to drive him somewhere.

  I’ve done what you wanted me to do. Now can you let me sell a house?

  No one answered his unspoken question. Half an hour later the police found him there in his vehicle, shot dead by his own hand. There was no note left behind.

  CHAPTER

  33

  New York City

  “From New York, a bold fusion of entertainment, edification, and enlightenment for all America, it’s the Dave Hampton Show. And now, here’s Dave!”

  The off-camera voice was loud and enthusiastic, reminding some of the courtside announcer introducing players at a basketball game.

  When the camera moved to a closer two shot on the set, it found Dave sitting in one chair and his guest in another. It continued on in until it had a one shot of Dave.

  He held up his hand, palm out. “To various and sundry out there, I bring greetings,” he said.

  The studio audience applauded.

  “My guest today is Dr. Craig Walcott. Dr. Walcott is an astrophysicist with NASA and a Senior Fellow from Yale University. Dr. Walcott, I want to thank you for coming on my show today.”

  “It is good of you to give me this opportunity,” Dr. Walcott responded. If central casting had been asked to supply a geek for a show, they could have done no better than Walcott. He was short, thin, nearly bald, and wore dark horn-rim glasses. All that was missing was a pocket protector for his pen.