Dead Nolte (26 page)

“You don’t need to bring anything.”

“There’s over a million dollars in there, Superman, look
around you, this is a fucking war zone. I’m not leaving it.”

The Angel brushed his hand lightly over the lid of the
trunk. “Your money is safer here.”

Charlie popped the trunk and nothing happened. He stuck the
key in the lock and a jolt of cold electricity shot through his body, knocking
him to the ground. Jeremiel offered to help him to his feet. “Your money is
safe here. You can ride with us.”

Charlie grabbed his hand and pulled himself to his feet. A
swirling tingle raced through Charlie’s palm.” I put something in your hand.
Touch the little man with this hand when you get in the car.”

“What little man?” Charlie walked to the rear of the limo and
peered in the open door. The midget with taser fingers and Nolte sat side by
side on the seat behind the driver. The midget wore no expression, but Nolte
glared at him with red hatred.

Charlie leaned in and touched the midget on the shoulder. A
crack of blue electricity sent the little guy shooting across the car like a
bullet, knocking Nolte to the floorboard.

Jeremiel winked at Michael.

“What the fuck are you guys?” Charlie asked, looking at the
palm of his hand in amazement.

“We stand before the throne of God. We’re Messengers.”

***

“H
ere,
the shower is in there, sweetie.” Azazel handed Ron a suit and shirt on
polished walnut hangers and waved him off toward the other room. “I hope you
like Armani; it was all I could find in this dreadful neighborhood. Wear the
red tie.”

Ron looked puzzled. “Where are we having lunch?” He watched
the woman walk the length of the room; he had never seen a woman who moved with
such poise and grace. Every motion and gesture was refined and perfect. He
couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with her. It wasn’t that he was selling
himself short, it was just painfully obvious how far out of his league she was.

She turned to face him, scurrying him along toward the
bathroom, by waving dangling hands. “Make your shower quick, I have something
important to discuss with you.”

Ron wasted no time in the shower. He had considered rubbing
one out, in order to make himself last longer when it came time to get nasty, but
decided it best to keep himself intact. Though he wanted this woman badly, he
knew nothing about her, for all he knew, she could have a dick and the shower
fantasy he’d thought about using, would be a hard memory to repress, if, in
fact, she was sporting a tuck-under.

He walked into the dressing area wrapped in a towel. There
were a few new items on the table, that weren’t there when he’d hung the suit
on the valet, a Grand Seiko watch, and a wallet, a belt, and pair of shoes,
socks, and garters. The watch was something he’d had on his wish list since
he’d seen it in a magazine add. It was beautiful and cost almost as much as his
car. The wallet contained one thousand in cash and an American Express
Centurion Card, with his name on it. Saudi princes carried these cards, how in
the hell did his name get on one? The credit card had to be a fake, but the
cash looked real enough.

He dressed quickly and fell instantly in love with the feel
of the suit and shoes. Maybe his ship had come in. Maybe this woman needed a
boy toy. Fat fucking chance, he thought, this was some kind of a scam. He would
play along, for as long as it stayed fun, then boogie-shoe when shit got real.

Azazel was having a glass of wine on the couch when he
strolled into the room. He thought the word ‘walking’ didn’t do the shoes
justice, strolling seemed more appropriate. Clothes do make the man. He felt
like a million bucks as he 'James Bonded' his cufflinks. Azazel nodded her head
and smiled her approval.

“You clean up very well. I have an eye for these things. We
can cut that mop on your head, should you decide to conduct further business
with me.” She said in a noncommittal tone. “Pour yourself a glass of wine and
join me.”

As he turned to the bar, his phone buzzed in his breast
pocket. It was Charlie. “I apologize.” Ron turned the alert off; there was no
way, he was going to let the asshole fuck up his shot at a woman like this.

“I think I’ll have some scotch.” A bottle of fifty-year-old
Chivas Regal had caught his eye. This woman had amazing taste in everything.

“There is a lot to be said for small indulgences, is there
not?” she said as if she’d read his mind. “That scotch is a special edition,
bottled to celebrate Queen Elizabeth’s fiftieth year on the throne. There are
only two hundred and fifty-five bottles in the world, at last count.” It even
sounded expensive as it splashed into his glass. This was going to be a great
day and he was going to milk it, for all it was worth.

He could almost feel himself being evaluated, as he made his
way to the couch. Azazel’s intense scrutiny, suddenly made him feel like he was
walking with a stick up his ass. Soon she would realize, her sophistication
experiment had failed and she would call security to have him escorted from the
building, he was sure of it. It may be impossible to polish a turd, but as Ron
caught his reflection in the mirror that was hung over the couch, he realized
Azazel was very adept at disguising one.

The moment he sat down, Azazel placed her hand on his knee,
her touch was electrifying. Avoiding the urge to toss it back, Ron sipped at
the scotch, he felt unworthy to have something so wonderful in his mouth. He
imagined only gods, would be allowed such an experience.

Azazel recognized his expression. “There are many things in
this world that offer similar pleasure and all are within your grasp if you
find my proposal agreeable.” She took a sip of wine and looked into his eyes.
“Ron, I can make you a very rich man.”

Here it comes, he thought, the buildup part of the scam. She
wasn’t wasting any time. He must have stooge stamped across his forehead for
her to act so quickly.

“There is a service that I require of you and should you
elect to provide it, you will find your heart’s desire at your fingertips.” She
rolled the wine in her glass thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’re aware of your
dearly departed father’s condition, as of late. The poor dear had not
anticipated all the variables surrounding his circumstance, as I’m sure you
have gathered by now, but more to the point, are you familiar with the
significance of the coin I purchased from you?”

“I have no idea what the significance is, but the witch told
me, she shaved off a part of Nolte’s soul and attached it to the soul of Judas
inside the coin. Crazy talk. Nolte and the old lady say it can be used to make
him live forever.” Although the words sounded ridiculous leaving his mouth, he
felt reassured to find Azazel nodding in agreement.

“There are many things this coin may be used for, now that
your father has linked it to the dark dimension and the dimension of time, the
least of which is extending his pathetic existence.” He could feel his knee
becoming warmer, beneath her hand. “What I want to use it for is a very
important part of a much larger picture. The world we live in is filled with
chaos and corruption. Mankind has been conditioned to keep itself eternally at
war, or on the brink of war, without a second thought of the horror it entails.
The most volatile of these conflicts are over religious differences. The
absurdity is that the three main corrupters all have the same god, only varying
versions of dogma and doctrine. Murder and mayhem, in the name of a god that is
content to watch idly, as abhorrent atrocities unfold, never lifting a finger
to stop it. The vanity of such a god sickens me.”

“Me too.” The way her neck fell into her cleavage was a
symmetrical wonder of nature. “Shit happens, always has, but how is that going
to make me a very rich man?” He knew he had misspoken because she withdrew her
hand from his knee.

“I’m sure you have heard of DNA, and how the likelihood of
someone else having the same genetic markers is very slim.” She waited for
Ron’s acknowledgment. He nodded; he didn’t want to screw his chances with more
words. “Well the likelihood is not just slim, it is nonexistent. DNA also ties
into the soul and as with the more, well-known aspects of genetics, certain
characteristics of the soul are also passed along.

Science hasn’t realized this conclusion yet, and will
probably never find how it is encoded into the soul. It seems man has
disregarded the idea of the supernatural, in order to take more and more credit
for his own existence and will eventually discard the notion of a soul
entirely.” Once again Azazel placed her hand on Ron’s knee. “In short, I need you
because of your DNA. Sins of the father is a more accurate term.”

“Actually, I was planning on giving you a DNA sample later
on,” Ron smiled. “You can stop dancing, and tell me what you want. I’m about a
hundred and ten percent positive, we can make a trade.” Azazel uncrossed and
re-crossed her legs; Ron immediately wondered if this woman was shaved, he
couldn’t imagine her allowing herself to be dirtied by unsightly body
hair...well, maybe a neatly trimmed heart-shaped patch. He smiled at the
thought.

“Your father’s genetic imprint is on his soul, within the
Shekel of Tyre and I need someone who shares his DNA to firmly, more
permanently link the dimensions. I had planned on using your father to complete
this task, but as you can imagine, he has his own agenda and does not seem to
play well with others.

I’ve watched him over the past two decades and realized he
was incompatible with my mission and no amount of money would convince him to
share my interests. That is when I turned my attention toward you.” She picked
up her purse and removed a small leather book. She handed it to Ron. “Open it.”

The book was soft and worn, inside there were two credit
cards and a Maestro card from Credit Suisse, embossed with Ron’s name. “So
you’ve been stalking me for some time, huh.”

“I prefer Credit Suisse to UBS. Of course, it looks much
better to use the Centurion in certain circles and for larger transactions. I
find Centurion transfers much more expedient, yet, there is still some
discretion available through Swiss banking.

There is a passbook in there also. Right now, my name is on
the account, along with yours, but we can stop in Zurich, where you can
personally secure it in your name only, should you agree to participate in my
endeavor.”

A Swiss bank account was never even imagined by Ron, yet,
here was one with his name on it. The last and only activity on the account was
four months earlier, a deposit in the amount of twenty-five million. Ron looked
at Azazel from the corner of his eye. “What’s the deal lady? I’m half asshole
and part retard, there’s no royal blood anywhere in me, no Nobel Prize winners
hanging from the branches in my family tree. Why in the fuck, would you pay
this much for my DNA?”

“It’s not just for your DNA; you are going to help me bring
a long awaited peace to this world. Your DNA just allows it to take place. I
need a direct genetic tie to the coin. Your brother is another option, but I
feel, with a little refinement, you are much more suitable for the position.”

“What’s the position?”

“King. I'm going to make you a king. Not just any king. I’m
going to place you in charge of the world.”

Ron grinned. “I can’t even get a fucking home loan and
you’re going to make me King of the World. This woman was rubbin’ shit in her
hair crazy, he thought. “I know all this shit can be forged. What do you really
want from me?”

“The first thing we will work on is your use of profanity.”
She handed him the hotel phone. “Call your regular bank and tell them you would
like to transfer five hundred thousand dollars from your Credit Suisse account,
using the passwords and account number in your passbook. Have them check the
availability of the
funds.
As soon as you agree to my
terms, we will go there from here and I will sign the papers. You can transfer
all of it if you like, but remember; soon, you will be implementing a new tax
code at the world level, banks will fail and governments will crumble, you
don’t want your new found wealth to disappear in the near future in a floundering
financial institution.

Call American Express and Credit Suisse and validate the
cards.” Azazel poured herself another glass of wine. “Shall I refresh your
scotch?”

“What are the terms that I have to agree to?”

“I want you to look like a king. I want you to act like a
king. I want you to be a king.”

“What are all the other kings going to do? Are they just
going to lay their crowns at my feet and hand me the keys to their castles?”

“Within a week, most of them will be dead. There are big
changes coming, the world is going to fall apart and you, with a little help,
are going to pick up the pieces and put it back together.”

Ron set the hotel phone down and took his cell out of his
jacket.

“Do you need some privacy?”

“Nope, I’m locating a dealership; I’m going to buy a
Ferrari.” He was going to call the crazy lady’s bluff.

“Here.” She produced a business card from her purse. “They
sold me my Bentley, but they sell Ferraris. That card was given to me as a
service reminder, but I believe the sales department is located on there
somewhere. I don’t need it; I become bored with my cars long before they
require servicing.”

“How are all the kings going to die?”

“Ultimately, for some, it will be their greed which brings
about their demise, but failure to adapt to social and political change will
doom the others.”

“Let’s say I accept your offer, will that have a negative
effect on any relationship, concerning my greed and my demise?”

“There will be a much larger sum in that account before we
are finished. Let’s hurry, after you buy your car, we have wars to start and
the day is wasting.”