Messenger From God (The Last Eulogy Series Book 1)

by Anthony DiVerniero

  Paolo walked through the black wrought-iron gates of Brewster Park. Multi-colored autumn leaves dotted the park. The warm October sun enhanced the bright fall day. Paolo saw Tony and Steve. “Gentlemen! And I use the term loosely.”

  “Paolo,” Tony yelled out.

  The three childhood friends embraced, patting each other on the back.

  “Glad you guys could meet me here.”

  “Hey, happy birthday,” Tony said.

  “Yeah, happy birthday, Paolo.”

  “Thanks, guys. Forty-four and I still look like I’m twenty-five.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Tony laughed.

  Steve looked around the property. “It’s been a long time since I was here.”

  “It’s been a while. I used to bring Anthony and Dominique here when they were younger,” Tony said.

  Steve took a final drag on his cigarette, and then threw the butt on the ground. “So what’s up?” Steve was always direct, to the point, and in a rush. A restaurateur, he found life extremely busy. Tony, laid back, was a popular author who enjoyed life, food, and airplanes.

  “So what’s going on? I have a deadline, I have to get back to work.”

  “Work? You call that work? You should have a restaurant—that’s work.”

  “Really funny, Steve. Every time I go there, you’re gone.”

  Paolo looked at his two childhood friends and shook his head. “You two are like husband and wife.” The three men laughed.

  Tony placed his hands in his denim jeans. “Rumor has it you’re buying Brewster Park?”

  “Yep, somewhat. Let’s take a walk.”

  Steve tapped on the bottom of the pack of Marlboros, took out a cigarette, and reached inside his pants pocket for his orange Bic lighter. He lit the cancer stick. “What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?”

  The men walked side by side as they entered the park. The only person missing was Bill. United by the tragic incident of fifth grade, the men enjoyed their companionship. Paolo could be himself. The two friends pulled no punches, especially Steve. They treated Paolo as if he were just a regular guy, not a member of the wealthy elite whose ass should be kissed every time he walked through a door. Paolo trusted the two men; he could be honest and not be concerned with betrayal. Both men were aware that Paolo had an uncanny sense of knowing things before they happened. Rumors had circulated about Paolo since he was a child. Though never able to confirm their suspicions, the two men valued Paolo’s insight and advice. He was never wrong.

  They walked along the black-tarred pathway toward the mansion. As they sat on a park bench, Tony asked, “Paolo, how are you doing? We’ve been concerned—you don’t seem yourself. We hardly hear from you.”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been busy at the office.” He paused, “Making some life changes, so a lot of my time is tied up. That is one of the reasons I asked you to meet me today. I need your help.”

  “You need our help? Yeah, and I need a hole in my head.”

  “Steve, give the guy a break, he needs us, though I don’t know why with all the money he’s got.”

  “Sorry, Paolo.” Steve lit another cigarette.

  “No offense taken, and when are you going to stop smoking that shit?”

  “When I die.”

  “If you keep on smoking like a chimney, it’s going to be very soon.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you sound like my wife.” Steve stood up. “So, Mr. DeLaurentis-who-can’t-do-anything-wrong-except-for-love, what can we do for you?”

  “Sounds like a song,” Tony said.

  “How would you like to own Brewster Park?”

  The two men looked at Paolo.

  Tony stood. “Paolo, we might have money, but we don’t have that kind of change.”

  Steve threw his cigarette into the fountain. “Why us? You can easily purchase it.”

  “You’re correct. I can.”

  Tony looked at his longtime friend. “You want to stay under the radar.”

  Paolo nodded. “Guys, listen, I know you’re not stupid. We’ve been friends for a long time. You’ve never asked me for anything, and you’ve accepted me as I am.” Paolo paused and stood, the three men in a circle. “The truth is, I need a place to live. If I’m the purchaser, it only brings me into the limelight, and I don’t want that type of recognition. I need someplace where I can be a chameleon.”

  Steve said, “But everyone knows you’re buying the property. It was plastered all over the news.”

  “After today, I’ll back out of the deal and you two will, so to speak, fill my shoes. So, are you on board?”

  They both nodded. Paolo reached in his pocket and pulled out a bank check for twenty million dollars made out to both men. “Now you can buy Brewster Park.”

  Paolo outlined the deal. The two friends would purchase Brewster Park for eight million, and use the remaining funds to subdivide the property into twenty-one lots consisting of individual townhouses, with an exclusive condominium complex situated in the northeastern part of the park. The complex would house fifty-two private residences. A contractor under Paolo’s supervision would build Paolo’s townhouse. Paolo would pay for all security enhancements as well as the personnel necessary to protect the complex.

  “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this awhile,” Tony said.

  “Sure have. Now for the best part—for helping me out, each of you will receive ten percent on the sale of the residences, which should net you guys approximately two million each.”

  Steve lit another cigarette. “Paolo, this is very generous, but what’s really going on here? You need us like you need a hole in the head.”

  “You’re right…as I said, I don’t need you financially. But I do need to stay under the radar.” Paolo’s gaze caught Steve’s. “I need to stay under the radar. I need autonomy and privacy.”

  “Why? Are you in some type of trouble?”

  “No, Tony. For whatever reason, I just know I have to do this. Besides, this place is beautiful.”

  The two friends looked at each other and kept their thoughts to themselves. “I understand,” Steve said.

  “No problem on my part, either. Forgive me for being an ass.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I would’ve asked the same if I were in your shoes. Thanks, guys, I knew I could trust you.”

  The three men walked back toward the wrought-iron gates. They stood outside the park and shook hands.

  Tony said, “Have you heard from Bill?”

  “No, not yet. Like you guys, he always calls on my birthday. So I’ll probably talk to him tonight.”

  “Make sure you tell him I said hi.”

  “Yeah, tell him hi from me, too.” Steve lit up another cigarette. “What? It’s only my second one.”

  Tony and Paolo laughed. “The second one, my ass,” Tony said.

  Tony walked up to Paolo and gave him a hug. “Have a happy birthday, Paolo.”

  Steve did the same.

  Paolo walked back to his car. He looked at his cell phone. Shit, a missed call from Sydney. Paolo dialed his voice mail.

  “Paolo, I’m sorry I forgot to wish you a happy birthday. I hope you have a great day.”

  Paolo drove back to his office with a smile on his face.

  For the next twelve months, Paolo lived in a world of contemplation and writing. Inexplicably, he began to witness visions of future events. He detailed them in his journal.

  CHAPTER 25

  VICTORIA AGREED THAT PAOLO could live in the au pair apartment and use the study until his house was built. Paolo sat and looked at the aerial photos of the Brewster Estate. The doorbell chimed, and a few moments later the study door opened. Paolo smiled. There stood his childhood friend, Bill Conti, in faded blue jeans and a blue blazer. The imposing six-foot-tall man of muscle said, “Pard, how the hell are you?”

  Paolo rose from his desk. “Pard, come on in.”

  The two embraced and patted one another on the back.

  “How have you been, Bill? God, wh
en was the last time we saw each other?”

  “Rio’s birthday, seven years ago.”

  “Shit, that’s too long. At least we talk on the phone.”

  “Yeah, thank God for cell phones. Happy birthday, by the way. Forty-five. Shit, man, you’re getting old. How was the party last week?”

  “It was nice, nothing special.”

  Bill pointed to the photographs. “Is that the property?”

  “Sure is. Should be completed in another six to nine months, I’m hoping by the end of June.”

  “I still can’t believe you got the city to sell you the property.”

  “Money helps, my friend.” The two walked over to the two couches and sat across from each other.

  “Victoria looks terrific…she was pleasant when she answered the door.”

  “Once we decided to get divorced, the pressure was lifted off her shoulders, and to be honest, off mine as well. We actually get along better now. The divorce will be final next Wednesday.”

  “That’s good. Still living in the maid’s quarters?”

  “Yep.”

  “How are Tony and Steve doing with the Brewster project?”

  “Great, they’ll have all the units sold by next year at this time.” Paolo paused, his head bowed. “I know we don’t like to revisit the past. Specifically, the sand pits. As I told you a couple of weeks ago, that experience has bound the four of us. I should’ve been there. At times, I feel guilty that I wasn’t.”

  “Pard, you’re talking like an ass. Thank God you weren’t, none of us would be here today.”

  “Yeah, but..”

  “Yeah, but nothing. Stop it.”

  “Alright. Anyway, I know they wouldn’t take any money from me, so I thought I’d give them a business opportunity.”

  “Sounds great. How long before your house is built?”

  “It’s almost done.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty fast.”

  “Money can move mountains, my friend.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let me show you what they’ve done.” Paolo reached over and pulled the blueprints from his desk to the coffee table. “My townhouse is here,” Paolo pointed to the northwest corner. “For security reasons, I’ll have a separate-access driveway by the guard house for my personal use. Anyone who comes to visit me will use the common road.”

  “Security? Why do you need security?”

  “I don’t know. I just know.”

  “Okay, so you’ll live here until the house is built?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be doing some traveling, so it won’t be too bad. I’m hoping to be in by May. The security system was put in last week. Pard, I can now monitor all the activity around my house from my computer.” Paolo’s voice filled with excitement. “All the intruder detection systems and facial recognition software will be up and running by next week. The Brewster Estate will be the best-protected community in the country. I have a three-acre secured perimeter around my house. It’s amazing.”

  “But why?”

  “You know why, Bill.” Paolo changed the subject, “Well, it looks like retirement is doing you well?” Paolo chuckled.

  “Retirement my ass, I’m a liaison to a clandestine unit of the government.”

  “Really?”

  “In fact, I work with an old friend of ours.”

  “Who?”

  “Rami.”

  “Rami, long time since I spoke with him. How is he?”

  “Doing great. He says hi.”

  “I have to give him a call. It’s been a long time, we’ve lost touch over the years. He’s a general now, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” Bill paused. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you ever talk with Dr. Payne?”

  “That’s a strange question to ask.”

  “Well, do you?”

  “No! The last time I spoke with him was when he threatened to disclose my gift.” Paolo gazed at his old friend.

  “Shit, Paolo, stop looking at me like that. I hate when you do that. Just like when we were kids, trying to do that hocus-pocus shit on me.”

  “Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m doing it. You need my help. What’s going on with the Russian?”

  “Shit man, you really freak me out when you do that. How do you know?”

  “I knew it when I first saw him when I was a kid. Mom slapped me in the back of the head for being rude to him.”

  “That’s pretty funny.”

  “I didn’t think so at the time.” Paolo chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head.

  “You know that clandestine unit that I just told you about?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, Rami is the commander of the unit. We worked together when I was with naval intelligence. After I retired, he asked me to sign on with him to head his intelligence group.”

  “Is that good for you?”

  “Yeah, I enjoy it, I’m out of harm’s way, and Rami and I get along very well.”

  “Does the unit have a name?”

  “Sure does. BOET. For you laymen, Black Operations Elite Team.”

  “Ooh, I’m impressed.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Thanks. So, what do you need from me?”

  “As you already know, Payne is a Russian.” Bill reached inside his blazer, pulled out a two-page document, and gave it to Paolo. Paolo unfolded the paper and read the words “Classified Top Secret.”

  “Can I read this?”

  “Yes, Rami cleared you.”

  Dr. Colin Payne: neurologist, paranormal expert, and now member of the National Security Council, Director of Intelligence. Real name: Anton Polzin. Born 1938, in Philadelphia. Son of Leonid and Alina Polzin.

  “I told you he was a Russian.”

  “Read on.”

  Father, a professor at the University of Moscow, taught English. He and his wife immigrated to the United States in the late ‘20s. In 1948, the family moved to New York City. The father, with the help of the Russian government, was hired by the United Nations as a translator.

  In 1954, the body of Leonid Polzin was found floating in the East River, his neck sliced to the vertebrae. The FBI believed Polzin was a Russian spy assassinated by his Russian handler, Boris Kavlov. The Bureau interrogated Alina for three days while they kept Anton in a boys home, secluded from the population. Alina died of a heart attack while in FBI custody.

  “Wow, this is sad, I feel sorry for Payne now.”

  “Don’t. Finish reading the freaking report. I don’t have all day.” Bill laughed and stood. “The bathroom in the same place?”

  “Yep.” Paolo continued to read.

  Anton lived in a boys’ home for two months. A wealthy family with ties to the government offered to adopt him. His name was legally changed to Colin Payne. The adoptive parents provided his education, and helped him advance to a place of prominence.

  The adoptive parents died in a tragic plane accident while Payne was in medical school. During the autopsy, matching dental records revealed that the father was Boris Kavlov.

  “Holy shit, the Russian spy?”

  Bill walked back into the study. “I see you’ve finished.”

  “Damn, Bill, wasn’t it Kavlov who killed his father?” He folded the paper and handed it back to Bill.

  “That’s what the FBI report says. The truth? It was the CIA.”

  “The tragic plane accident…also CIA?”

  “No, that was real.”

  Paolo sat back on the couch and put his hands behind the nape of his neck. “So, you want me to cozy up to Payne?”

  “Yeah, sort of. We need you to do that hocus-pocus stuff to see what you can find out. We believe he’s an agent for Russia and is passing secrets.”

  “Does the president know?”

  “Not yet. We have to get the proof, and what we have now is circumstantial.”

  Paolo leaned forward. The men’s eyes were locked on one another. “Pard, I have no proble
m in helping you and Rami. But like I’ve told you before, sometimes I don’t have control of the gift.”

  “I understand. Whatever you can do, I’m sure it will help us. The best part, we won’t ask any questions.”

  “No questions?”

  “No questions. Believe me, Paolo, I don’t want to know and neither does Rami.”

  “Okay. So, tell me about BOET.”

  “BOET is autonomous, and is under the direction of the president and the president only communicates with Rami. All the names of the members of BOET are classified.”

  “What is Payne’s involvement?”

  “None, he is trying to convince the president that the unit should be under his control.”

  “And the president?”

  “The president is against it. Currently we are under the Secret Service budget. The unit’s primary focus is to stop any aggressive behavior against the United States by any and all means necessary.”

  “Whoa, that’s a strong statement. How does Congress feel about the group?”

  “One senator told it to me this way: The fundamentalists on both sides of the aisle would say the organization was illegal. Those behind closed doors on Capitol Hill and the American people and the millions of lives saved would say otherwise. We operate within the laws of our country for our country.”

  “Ooh, should I break out the American flag?”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “Listen, you sold me. I’ll help as long as I can quit anytime I want.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  “I’ll call Payne on Monday and tell him I’ve had a change of heart and would like to help our country. I’ll put additional security safeguards at Brewster, as well. I’ve got a feeling things are going to get dicey.”

  “Aw shit, just what I want to hear.”

  “I take it I’ll communicate with you or Rami?”

  “Yes. Only Rami and myself. And since you and I are childhood friends and Rami was your roommate, no alarms should be raised in the Payne camp. I have a secure satellite phone for you in the car. Always use that phone when we talk.”

  “Excellent, I’d love to help. It will give me something to do.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I haven’t told you. I’ve decided to liquidate the majority of my assets. Right after I finish working with Sergio.”