Flicking the switch that opened the front door, Morgan spun his chair around and smiled at Samantha. While he looked spotless as always in a suit and tie, Samantha was wearing a white tennis outfit. A racquet was held in one hand and it rested over her shoulder. “Have a good game?” he asked.
“Those hens never actually play, you know that. All they want to do is gossip. If it wasn’t for Lazarus wanting me to stay on top of such things, I wouldn’t give them the time of day!”
Morgan grinned. All members of the team were assigned various areas of the city that they were to scour for information. Morgan had to keep his old criminal ties in order, for instance. Samantha was forced to spend time with the daughters of her family’s socialite friends.
Morgan thought he got the best of that particular exchange. “So,” he said, rising from his chair. “Do you know these guys?”
“I know the Major,” she said, stepping out with him. “He asked me out once.”
Morgan snapped his fingers. “Ah! Was he the one who took you to the girlie club?”
“No. That was Roger Kinser. I never went out with Tom. That’s Major Davis,” she added.
Morgan walked up to an intercom circuit located in the hall and pressed the button. “Lazarus? We’ve got a customer — couple of military types, one of them’s named Tom Davis. I’m going to put them in Room C and start interviewing the two of them. If you want to join us, feel free.”
Samantha put a hand on her hip and shook her head, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Morgan.
“What?” he asked.
“You! Making it sound like you had the first clue as to who he was.”
Morgan grinned. “When I type up the report, I’ll give you full credit for identifying him.”
Samantha rolled her eyes playfully. “Sure, you will. I’m going to go change. Enjoy your interview, playboy.”
After taking a moment to enjoy the swinging of Samantha’s hips as she walked away, Morgan began whistling and set off to find their guests.
Lazarus opened his eyes as Morgan’s voice filled the room. He was sitting in a lotus position on the floor, a bowl of burning incense resting before him. Ever since the uncharacteristic depression that had settled upon him last Christmas, he had picked up the art of meditation. It soothed the occasional anxiety he felt over his fractured memories and kept him on an even keel.
He glanced over at Abigail Cross, who was his frequent companion during these sessions. The lovely brunette wore a long skirt and a low-cut blouse, which would have captured the attention of almost any red-blooded male. But Lazarus, though not immune to her charms, had the presence of mind to keep his gaze on her eyes. “We can finish this later,” he said, rising from the floor and offering Abby a hand.
The Southern Belle accepted the help graciously. “I don’t see why you bother with this, Lazarus. You’re the calmest man I’ve ever come across.”
“I’m a cauldron of emotion, actually. I just keep it bottled up inside.”
Abby started to laugh but stopped abruptly, seeing the fire in his eyes. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“I know I have the reputation for being rather robotic but I’m as human as anyone else. The truth is, losing my memories the way that I did… it’s left me feeling like an outsider to my own existence. I’m too calculating as a result — even when powerful things occur to me, I’m detached, viewing them through a lens. That clinical nature makes it hard for me to maintain interpersonal relationships.”
“You do just fine with all of us,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but here, I can let my guard down.”
Abby reached out and took his hand. “If you ever get lonely, Lazarus… I don’t mind being there.”
Lazarus studied her for a moment, wondering if she were merely offering friendship or something more. “I appreciate that, Abby.” He pulled away from her, heading to the door.
He held it open for her and she passed close by, allowing her hips to brush against his leg.
Taking a deep breath, Lazarus followed after her.
When Lazarus and Abby entered the room, they found that Morgan was tapping a pencil on the top of the briefing room table, a look of annoyance on his face. The two military men were facing him with looks of stern refusal. Lazarus immediately sensed what had occurred: the men had pushed aside Morgan’s attempts to question them, preferring to wait until Lazarus himself had arrived.
“Gentlemen,” he said, giving a nod of his head.
Williams stood up and offered a hand, while Davis merely smiled coolly. “Mr. Gray,” Williams said, after everyone had taken their seats. “I’ve heard a lot about you back in Washington. Expert on the occult, master of several fighting disciplines and righter-of-wrongs.”
“I try to help where I can,” Lazarus said simply.
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Davis said gruffly.
“What can I do for you?”
“You’re familiar with a man named Walther Lunt, I believe?”
Morgan shifted in his seat, casting a glance at his employer.
“I am. He died not long ago.”
“Our sources say that he’s died more than once.”
“That’s true. He’s a member of a shadowy organization that’s known by many names. As such, he has access to mystical forces that have allowed him to cheat death before. Are you suggesting that he’s done so again?”
Both Morgan and Abby sensed the tension that manifested in Lazarus’ clipped manner of speaking. Neither of them knew much about what kind of man he had been before his death and rebirth but since his life as Lazarus Gray had begun, he was generally a tightly controlled figure, never showing much in the way of emotion. But those who knew him best could recognize his discomfort.
Williams shook his head. “As far as we know, he’s in whatever grave you threw him in. But yesterday one of our agents intercepted a message sent from Peru to Berlin.”
Davis interrupted, leaning forward to emphasize his words. “Mr. Gray, I’m sure you’re well aware that the Germans pose a threat to the entire free world. We’re watching them very closely.”
“As well you should.”
Williams cleared his throat. “The Nazis are absolutely obsessed with the occult. It starts with Hitler and trickles down from there. They’re eager to find anything that has even the hint of mysticism about it. And our sources say that they’re currently excavating a temple in the Peruvian jungles.”
Lazarus felt a strange tickle in the back of his brain. His memories were uncertain things but he had more control over them now than he once did. He remembered The Temple of Pain and wondered what had become of The Devil’s Heart.
Williams reached into a pocket and withdrew a small piece of paper. He handed it over to Lazarus. “This communiqué contains clues to what the Germans are doing but none of it makes much sense to us. We’re hoping you can help explain it.”
The paper contained only three lines of text:
TEMPLE OF PAIN HAS COLLAPSED.
EXCAVATION ONGOING, BODY MUST BE FOUND.
REQUIRE W. LUNT’S PRIVATE PAPERS.
Lazarus read the lines three times before looking up, his expression grim. He looked over at Abby and said, “Go summon everyone else. Wait with them in the large briefing room. Now!”