Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

“This is a rite of passage, a test of loyalty. You’d be surprised by the reactions. Some break down and say, yes, yes, forgive me, father, I have impure thoughts about Journeyman Allegra or Journeyman Bill, or yes, I quote ‘borrowed’ one of the AU’s phones to call my wife because she was having a baby.

“And some people have admitted they’d contacted other organizations to give them details on the Process. Or journalists who snuck in to write exposés.”

Shaw wondered what their fates were. He didn’t ask.

He pulled out his friend Carter Skye to help. “I wouldn’t do anything to screw up the Process. After my session with Journeyman Samuel and your Second Discourse? Never. That was amazing.”

Shaw had almost said, “Gorgeous,” but decided it might be taken for mockery.

“Oh, it is, isn’t it? Did you really like it? I’m so thrilled. I knew from the beginning that you were special. I have a good eye for people. I can size people up like nobody else. It’s a skill I was born with.”

Raging narcissist...

He opened the door and asked Steve to join them. Eli shared a look with his gofer and then turned to Shaw. He said solemnly, “It’s my pleasure to raise you to the rank of Apprentice.” He nodded to Steve, who withdrew a necklace at the end of which was a red infinity sign amulet. Eli lifted Shaw’s blue one off his neck and replaced it with the new one.

Eli said, “I like to reward good behavior.”

As true cults do, he recalled.

A system of rewards and punishments...

“I think you deserve a trip to the Study Room.”

Shaw immediately saw it as an opportunity to do some espionage work.

Eli walked closer to Shaw. “You have a choice. Anja, or me.”

Shaw returned his gaze. “Anja.”

“Ah. Of course.” There was no disappointment in the man’s face. He had plenty of other Companions for his own diversions.

“Steve, take him there.”

“Yes, Master Eli.”

Steve gestured toward the door. “Apprentice Carter.”

Shaw turned to follow. Eli stepped closer, laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Enjoy your studies.”

The opportunity for surveillance, however, didn’t materialize.

Shaw had hoped that Steve would escort him to the front door of the residence and tell him something like: up the stairs, second door on the left. Which would have given him time to prowl. But, no, the underling apparently had orders to not let Companions go unattended here.

As he was led through the halls, Shaw noted that the place was opulent, the walls hung with fine paintings, sculpture sat on the tables, the furniture was chrome and ebony and rosewood and supple leather. Nothing Egyptian about the décor here; it had a ritzy, over-the-top, Miami Beach feel. David Ellis had been, after all, a Florida businessman.

Shaw saw no guards or CCTV cameras. This would be good for future incursions. But nor did he see any obvious offices or record storage rooms.

Steve directed him to an unmarked door on the second floor and knocked.

“Come in.” A woman’s voice.

The Study Room was a love nest dominated by a huge circular bed that could hold four or five souls. It was a chamber that kept true to the Egyptian theme, hangings, murals, ankhs, bas-reliefs of Osiris or some other gods; Shaw didn’t know the pantheon of the ancient kingdom. Pungent incense burned.

Love nest...

Osiris was, after all, the god of fertility, as well as the underground.

Steve then turned and sat on a bench in the hallway. He began flipping through a notebook that seemed to contain most of Master Eli’s life.

A prize Shaw would love to get his hands on.

Walking inside, Shaw closed the door behind him. Wearing a silk robe — purple, of course — Anja nodded from where she sat on the bed.

He gave the shoulder salute. Anja smiled and did not respond but rose and walked to a cabinet. “Do you want a drink?”

“Drink?”

“There’re no rules in the Study Room.”

“I’m good.”

“You don’t mind?” she asked, lifting a penciled eyebrow.

“Go right ahead.”

Anja made a cocktail. Vodka was involved, it seemed, fruit juice. She hurried with the concoction and didn’t bother with ice.

There was a couch, facing the bed, and Shaw sat on it.

“Your name?” he asked. “Russian?”

She seemed surprised that he’d asked about her. The protocols for the “reward” of the Study Room were probably pretty well established and didn’t involve much conversation. “Yes. It means ‘grace.’ She looked at his amulet. “An Apprentice already? My. After two days.” A soft laugh. “Are you ready for the storm?”

He frowned.

“It takes some people a week or more. You’ll get some scowls.”

“I’ve been scowled at before.”

“You’re different.”

“Am I? I don’t know enough about everyone here to figure out what’s normal, what isn’t.”

She sipped. “I’m sure you’ve got your problems. But you’re not needy. Everyone else here is; that’s why they come.” Now, a deeper sip. “What’re we celebrating?”

“He wants me to be a Select.”

“Ah, that makes sense. His own private crew. The monks, the Knights of the Round Table. He doesn’t even talk about them to me... Well, one more thing he doesn’t talk to me about.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Ten years.”

“You met on, what? Some kind of spiritual thing?”

A pause. “We met in a different life.”

Did she mean the 1800s or five years ago at a stockbroker convention in Fort Lauderdale? This wasn’t what she was here for. Anja didn’t want to be interviewed about herself and Eli. She didn’t like being offered as a prize in a Cracker Jack box. However, Shaw’s impression was that she preferred sex to the questions.

She rose and clicked a light off and when she sat once more, the top of her robe fell open slightly.

“You’ve gone through the Process?” he asked, glancing at the purple amulet.

“Of course.”

“So you can see past lives?”

A hesitation.

“I’ve done the work.”

“Why the lotuses?” Shaw asked, looking around the room at several potted plants. He believed he could smell sweat and perfume, in addition to the sandalwood. This was the conquest bed, the one in which Victoria had nearly been a victim.

“It’s the symbol of immortality.”

Anja lifted a black brush and stroked her hair. He recalled her doing this earlier, as she stood in the gazebo.

She said, “I was pretty when I was younger. I was a model and a hostess at some posh clubs. That’s the world where I met... Master Eli.”

Had the man’s real name, David, been about to trip into the scented atmosphere around them?

“You’re pretty now.” This was true. “You two married?”

“There was a ritual. Maybe it’s not official, technically. But I like to think it is. I kind of wanted the white dress thing. I still have my mother’s.”

“Maybe in the Tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

He couldn’t tell if she believed Eli’s Process. Maybe she did. You could convince yourself of almost anything if you wanted to. He himself believed that his brother, Russell, would emerge and they would resume their relationship from years ago.

Which, curiously, Samuel had predicted earlier that evening.

Sometimes the protector protects best by leaving those who’re in his care...

She drained her drink, set the glass on a table and tugged her robe open further. Then lay back on the bed. Her body language signaled: the sooner started, the sooner finished.

Shaw noted an infinity tattoo on the upper arch of her left breast.