The Reincarnationist Papers

by Eric Maikranz

  I finished the meal and placed my napkin on the plate.

  "Desert?"

  "Later tonight, perhaps after I go out. But I want to change clothes first and let this meal settle."

  "As you wish sir," he said, getting up to open the doors.

  The suit was ridiculous, I had dressed up to eat alone. I closed the door to my room, took one of Poppy's pain killers and laid down to rest. I drifted in and out of a light slumber unable to keep my eyes closed because of the boisterous noises coming from the dining room down the hall. Putting on a dress shirt and jeans, I grabbed the cane and walked into the lobby. Diltz stood in front of the dining room doors like a sentry. The shouting, laughing and clanging of china behind him was distracting.

  "Ah, Herr Michaels. I prepared the map you requested," he said, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his shirt pocket. "It shows several points of interest in the area including a tavern or two. Would you like a car?"

  "No, I'm going to walk tonight," I said, taking the map from him. The sounds of laughter and conversation became much louder as one of the doors slid open behind him. I caught a glimpse of two women and one man laughing on the far side of the platter strewn table when Poppy came through the door.

  "Did you send for the driver as I requested?" Poppy asked Mr. Diltz in an impatient voice.

  "Yes Madame. Your driver should be here momentarily," he said reaching behind her to slide the door closed.

  "Let me know the minute he arrives." She turned to me. "How are you? I'm sorry I have to leave you tonight but it's very important that I see someone. Maybe we can get together later tonight."

  "I'd like that," I said smiling.

  "I'll see you later then," she said, slipping back into the dining room between the sliding doors.

  "Thanks for the map," I said to Diltz. "I'll be back in a while."

  "I'll see you out sir."

  I heard both locks latch closed as I walked down the driveway. The rain had stopped and the night air smelled fresh and new. A small sliver of moon hung low over the dark outline of the nearby rooftops. I realized as I wandered aimlessly through those ancient streets that I was walking toward the future. But try as I might to look forward, part of my mind still echoed back to Henry's warning. Bad medicine he said. He was right about that. I knew that was where she was off to. But right as he was about that, he was wrong about the rest. He didn't know, he could never know. As much as I cared for him, he could never know about the mental strain of carrying around the hopes, disappointments, loves and consciences of souls who should have been long dead. Their voices creeping into your thoughts like a virus. He could never know the disappointment when you realize you've been lied to on the grandest scale and he could never know the hopelessness you feel when it starts to come together and you begin to see that there is no reward for being good and no punishment for being bad, when you see that there is only the loneliness of being. He could never know, but she knew. And in time I would know, whether I liked it or not. He was right about her indulgences, and they bothered me, but try as I might I could not bring myself to begrudge her responses to the same hazards I could see on my own horizon.

  I pulled out the map, found my bearings and walked the four blocks to one of the taverns Mr. Diltz had marked.

  The Fraumunster Inn[19] was exactly what I had expected to find. It sat on the corner of two narrow streets. Accordion music echoed down the cramped canyons of the neighborhood like a Siren's song, beckoning all within earshot. I sat at the short wooden bar and drank alone with my thoughts.

  The walk back to the Hotel Saint Germain took an hour. My thoughts returned to the task at hand when the white two story building came into view. I was less than a block away when the familiar grey stretch Mercedes sped past me and turned into the driveway. I picked up my pace so that I would arrive at the front door the same time as the passenger.

  The driver got out and opened the back door just as I walked up. He stepped out into the light and looked right at me. He was slightly taller than me when he straightened up and wore a pull over tunic like the Moslems of Istanbul wore. It made his barrel chest and stomach look larger than they probably were. His brown curly hair was thinning on top and ran down the sides of his head, meeting in a sparse beard that barely covered his full jaws and chin. His pale brown eyes stayed locked with mine as he stretched.

  "Hello there," he bellowed in a voice that made him sound like Santa Claus. I stood dumbfounded, unable to speak. The tattoo showed prominently when he lowered his hands to his sides. "Are you sure you're in the right place young man?"

  I nodded quickly.

  "I see." His baritone voice carried out into the anonymous night. He walked over and rang the bell. "Did you arrive today?"

  "Yes," I said in a state of silent panic.

  "Is this your first time here?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, it's a slow town all in all but it serves our needs nicely. Ahh, here we go," he said hearing the locks slide free.

  "You made it." Mr Diltz said to him. "How nice to see you sir. I was beginning to worry."

  "I had a bit of trouble in Tangiers but I made it, and look at what I found," he said, pointing to me.

  "Yes," said Diltz. "That would be Herr Michaels."

  "Ahh, Nice to meet you," the stranger said shaking my clammy hand. I nodded. "Here, let's go in." He motioned for me to enter first.

  "Everything is prepared in your suite sir." Diltz said to him.

  "Good. What time are we eating tomorrow morning?"

  "10 o'clock."

  "I'll see you then," he said, turning up the stairs that lead to the second floor. Diltz continued down the hall to my room.

  I watched until he had climbed out of sight. "Is Poppy back yet?" I asked the caretaker.

  "No sir."

  "Did she call?"

  "No sir."

  My spirit sank slightly. "Would you leave a message for her when she gets back?"

  "Yes of course. What would you like me to relay to her?"

  "Tell her to wake me when she gets in. I would like to see her."

  "Very good sir. Your breakfast will be ready at nine o'clock. Is that satisfactory?"

  I nodded, went inside and picked up a book on the nightstand as I lay down. The fictional words were little solace for the genuine pangs I was feeling. Love is an indifferent affectation. It knows no right or wrong, and doesn't care if you like it or not when it comes. If you feel it, you feel it. And I felt it there alone on that bed in this strange new world. I read the same paragraph three or four times unable to focus and control my own thoughts. I owed everything to her: my foot, my not being in jail, this trip, this family, even this new life itself. I closed my eyes and set the book aside.

  Sharp knocking woke me out of a dead sleep. Sunshine highlighted half the bed. The knocking began again as I walked over to the door.

  "Your breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes sir," Diltz said standing in the open doorway.

  "What time is it?" I asked half asleep.

  "A eight thirty sir, in the a.m."

  "I told you to have Poppy wake me up."

  "Yes sir you did. Unfortunately I was unable to deliver your message as she has not yet returned."

  I scratched my head. "She isn't back yet?" I asked concerned.

  "No, but not to worry sir. It's not unusual. Come down to the dining room when you're ready," he said and walked away.

  I hopped to the bathroom and started at the stitches with a pair of small scissors and tweezers. The wound remained closed and itched less with the stitches out. I wrapped it tightly before making my way down to the dining room.

  I ate alone, reading that day's London edition of the 'New York Times' that Diltz had left for me. He came in as I finished.

  "What time will it start tonight?" I asked.

  "It will begin after dinner tonight. We'll be dining at 8:30 sharp."

  I nodded. I knew there was no way I could just sit there all day and wait
for her to return. "I thought I'd step out for a while. It looks nice outside."

  "Sounds like a wonderful idea sir."

  "Would you tell Poppy to meet me here before supper tonight."

  "Of course sir. I'll see you out."

  The sun warmed my bones as I tested my foot. I ambled around most of the afternoon taking in several of the points Diltz had marked on the map; three museums, two churches, and an old battlement, anything to occupy time and take my mind off of her and what awaited me tonight.

  I was walking down a cafe-lined boulevard next to the river when I saw it. It hadn't occurred to me that they would be here now in large numbers and I was taken by surprise when I spotted a female hand with the now familiar embe tattoo on it. I noticed it twenty-five feet away. The skin color was too light to be Poppy. She sat in the courtyard of the Cafe Grossmunster reading a newspaper. I went in the front door, paid for a cup of coffee and stepped out into the courtyard bordering the sidewalk. She sat alone. The newspaper obscured her face. Luckily there were no vacant tables when I came out and I limped over to her's.

  "Do you mind if I join you?"

  "No, not at all," she said in Slavic accent that sounded a little like Bulgarian. She didn't lower the German language newspaper.

  Hanging my cane on the edge of the table, I took a seat. I sipped my coffee and watched the river traffic as I thought about what to say. "Your accent, is it Bulgarian?"

  She ruffled the paper slightly and shifted in her seat. "I am from Poland."

  "Interesting," I said.

  "What is interesting? Being from Poland? Not very," she said sardonically behind her white paper.

  "No, I find the accent interesting," I said defensively. "I'm usually very accurate about them and I wouldn't have thought Polish."

  She turned a page and continued reading. "Do you speak Bulgarian?" she asked in a mocking tone in Bulgarian.

  I almost choked on my coffee when I heard it. "Yes I speak Bulgarian. My name is Evan," I responded in my old native tongue.

  She folded the paper neatly and placed it on the table. "Now that is interesting. My name is Nadya," she said, offering her hand across the table. She was thin and her tattooed hand felt bony in mine. She had very typical Slavic features; a large narrow straight nose, cold grey, steely eyes, a wide sloping forehead and a strong jaw. She looked to be in her thirties but I couldn't help wondering how old she really was.

  "Nice to meet you Nadya. I hope you don't mind me interrupting you."

  "I do not mind. Your Bulgarian is excellent. I thought the only Americans that could speak Bulgarian would be with the CIA. But you do not look the part at all. Where did you learn it?"

  "I lived in Bulgaria a long time ago," I said smiling at her.

  She gave me a curious look as though she were trying to figure it out. She reached for her coffee at the edge of the table then stopped. "Hello there, I remember this," she said picking up the cane. She turned it from side to side inspecting it like an old friend you barely recognize. "Evan? Not Evan Michaels?" she asked.

  "The very same. I hope it's not inappropriate to be so forward, but I saw that you have the same tattoo as Poppy and I just thought..."

  "No. Welcome. Don't give it another thought. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you," she said taking my hand again. "I did not think I would meet you until tonight."

  "Will you be there tonight?" I asked, sipping my coffee.

  "I will. I am sitting on the panel."

  "You're one of the five that will have the final say about me?" I asked, trying to mask my concern.

  "I will cast one of the five votes, yes. But it will be only one of five. I'm very much looking forward to hearing about you."

  "I'm very anxious to get started. Is it against the rules for me to meet with you before this begins?"

  "No it is not against the 'rules'. It is okay now, but we must not speak or be in contact after the Ascension has begun, not until a decision has been reached anyway. So you may be at ease.

  "So you were a Bulgar," she said smiling.

  "Yes, the first time."

  "What did you do in that life?"

  "I was a farmer, until the land was nationalized by the Communists."

  "1946," she said astonished. "Is this only your second trip?"

  "No, third."

  "Lucky you. I can hardly wait to hear about it."

  "Speaking of hearing about me, I was wondering if there are any tips you could give me that could help us make this easier."

  "No. I am sure you can understand why I cannot. Poppy is to be your advocate is she not?"

  "Yes she is, if she ever shows up."

  Nadya laughed. "Well she does have a habit of doing that. But do not worry," she said, dismissing my anxiety. "She will be here, and she will be able to help you with your 'tips', as you put it."

  I nodded solemnly, realizing how efficiently I had been put back in my place. "I have another question for you. What happens to a neophyte if he fails to win a majority vote in the affirmative?"

  She shook her head. "Do not take a negative approach. I have every confidence that Poppy would not have brought you here and summoned all of us had she not believed you to be what you claim. If you are indeed one of us, we will find out. We are very thorough and we always find the truth. So relax, be at ease."

  "Thank you. I will. I feel better already," I said even though I didn't. My stomach was in knots. The strong coffee wasn't helping.

  "How did you and Poppy meet?"

  "I was shot behind her church," I said raising my foot. "She found me and stitched the wound."

  She chuckled and shook her head. "Normal people would say it is funny how a chance encounter like that can change your life. But I've been around long enough to know that nothing happens by accident."

  I nodded and sipped my coffee, fascinated by her.

  "As much as I would like to stay here and speak with you, it will have to wait until later. I must go," she said getting up. "If you will excuse me." She left in a confident walk, not looking back.

  I finished my coffee and walked a meandering route back to the St. Germain so that I arrived shortly before 8:30.

  "Has Poppy come back?" I asked Mr. Diltz as soon as we were both inside.

  "No, but she did call and she is on her way back."

  "Back, from where?"

  "Luzern. She said she would be back in time to eat, speaking of which, I thought I would dine with you tonight if you haven't any objections."

  "No, I would like that," I said automatically, my thoughts preoccupied with her.

  "Good," he said smiling slightly. "I'll send for you when it's ready.

  Poppy was still nowhere to be found when I met Diltz in front of the dining room doors.

  "The arrangement is a bit different this evening," Diltz began. "We are going to dine in a side room the same time as the others dine in here so that everything can begin immediately afterward. But we will need to fill our plates here first," he said, sliding the double doors open to expose a colorful cornucopia of steaming platters covering the long table. "Be sure to take enough now," he said handing me a large plate. "They won't leave much after they get started in here."

  I loaded my plate and followed him down the hall into the side room. A normal-sized wooden table sat in the middle of the plain white walled room. Wine glasses, salads and refined place settings sat waiting for us. Mr. Diltz had just poured the wine when the bell rang. I watched from the side doorway as he unlocked and opened the door.

  Poppy came through along with a short, young, Spanish looking man. She saw me and walked toward me with her arms outstretched. "I'm sorry. Diltz here said you were worried about me."

  "Worried about you? Don't flatter yourself. I'm worried about me. This thing is starting in a little over an hour. And I have no idea what in the hell I'm supposed to do," I said forcefully.

  "There's no need to get upset about it."

  "Upset?" I said shaking my head. "Upset was las
t night, maybe even this morning. I'm beyond upset now." The calm cool tone I used had little effect on her. "Where were you anyway?"

  Her face brightened. "I ran into Jea--" she checked her speech. "A friend." She pointed back over her shoulder at the dark-haired handsome man talking with Diltz near the door. He kept his hands in the pockets of his sportcoat. "We ran into each other last night and started talking. Before we knew what happened, we were in Luzern."

  "You know that is just fucking great," I said starting to lose my temper again. "I'm hours away from the most important undertaking in my life, in my lives," I corrected, "and you're off partying and chumming it up with your 'friend', "I said bitterly.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa, take a second and relax. You're carrying on like you're going to face the Spanish Inquisition. I've been talking about your situation a bit with 'my friend' and I've decided that it's best that you enter this process with a minimum of preparation, so that all your responses will be automatic and sincere."

  I could barely control the anger welling up inside me. I knew her story was bullshit. She hadn't thought of me or any preparations concerning me until she walked through that front door. I knew she was lying, a good liar can always tell, but what could I do? There was no way I could rebuke her. I was at her mercy and she knew it. I forced the bitter resentment back down into my stomach. "Maybe you're right," I conceded falsely.

  "Are you excited?" she asked smiling.

  "I'm nervous. Mr. Diltz and I were just sitting down to eat. Why don't you join us?"

  "Oh I can't. I'm going to catch a quick bite with the others then I have to make some necessary preparations. I'll come and get you when everything is ready.

  "We're not late are we?" she asked Diltz.

  "No, your timing is perfect Madame. It's inside waiting for you."

  "Great. I'll see you in a bit," she said, kissing me on the cheek.

  I didn't notice Mr. Diltz walk up behind me as I watched Poppy and her friend enter the dining room. "Are you ready?"