Vodka and Poultry and PI in the Sky by KT Tyler - HTML preview

VIII.  The End

Richard had tried in vain to persuade Harvey that they were moving way to fast, that this was the wrong way to handle it, but Harvey would have none of it. It had to be now, and it had to be Lowenstein. He just couldn’t wait to see the old bastard crumble. He contracted a security firm to drive them to the city and, with only three days remaining, arranged to store the scroll in a massive underground vault only two city blocks from the Hilton. The cost for use of the vault, considered one of the most secure locations in the country, was outrageous, but Harvey wasn’t taking any chances. With their prize tucked safely away, Harv and Rich return to the hotel and sleep for two days straight.

On the morning of the biggest day of his life, Harvey jumps out of bed and, flying high on adrenalin, showers, dresses for the occasion and wakes Richard from a very deep and very troubled sleep.

“Rise and shine, buddy, and I do mean shine. Today, Richard, my best and dearest friend, you will shine as bright as any star in the heavens.”

“Harv,”, mumbles Rich, “I don’t feel well at all.”

“Nonsense, my boy, nonsense. No backing out now. Up and at ‘em! I’m treating us both to a luxurious breakfast before our moment in the sun.”

Richard pulls himself together, takes a quick shower and dons the only suit he owns while Harvey practices his speech; a speech he is certain will be repeated again and again in classrooms around the world. Richard tries once again to convince Harvey to wait, to give this more time, but his protests are useless. Harvey drags him to the door, through the lobby and down the street and, after checking that his treasure is perfectly safe, leads him to the elevator.

“I’ve got just what you need.”, says Harvey, putting his arm around Richard, “It’s time for our first taste of the high life.”

On the long ride up, Harvey is beside himself with joy, while Richard is finding it difficult to breathe. At long last they reach the restaurant and, seeing that his friend is truly looking unwell, Harvey helps him to a table near the window. A waiter appears immediately with a chilled bottle of Cristal, pops the cork and pours two glasses. Harvey is on top of the world.

“Just what the doctor ordered!”, he exclaims.

Certain that at any moment he will jump right out of skin, Harvey Kessler stands and, his hand shaking with excitement, raises his glass.

“To the Scroll of Yahweh, our ticket to Paradise!”

Richard Blake, pale as a ghost, raises an empty hand and, in that eternal instant before the unimaginable, points north over Harvey’s shoulder.

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I am with Her now. As my eardrums burst and the fluid protecting my corneas boils away, She looks deeply into my eyes. I am still there, but only barely and only for a moment. I want to ask Her so many things; what happened, where is my friend, why is there no air in my lungs? But the questions simply dissolve away. The surprise at how wrong I had been about Everything lingers briefly as I fall into Her. But there are no surprises here, no questions, no here. There is only Everything