The Jar of Nephren-Ka

Coventry

New Orleans, Louisiana: 9:47 AM, Tuesday, June 12th, 1984

On the way to New Orleans, I stopped in the breakdown lane on the twin-span bridge. It was just past rush hour, so traffic was steady, with cars rocking the cruiser as they flew by.

I emptied my revolver of cartridges, then stuck it in my jacket. I got out of the car, limped around the front, and leaned on the bridge railing like I was being sick. As I did so, I reached in my jacket, removed the pistol, and dropped it over the side.

Back in the cruiser, I rolled down the passenger side window and merged back into traffic. As I drove, I looked for an opportunity where there were no cars close behind me.

When the opportunity arrived, I eased the car back into the breakdown lane and slowed down. When I was near the edge, I chucked the bag holding my fatigues out the passenger window as hard as I could. It sailed over the railing and out into lake Pontchartrain.

***

I arrived a little after ten and pulled into my usual spot. Coventry's Rolls was still illegally parked out front. I fussed with my knee, then stuck the Jar in my briefcase and went inside. I made a beeline for the second floor.

Sherelle was at her desk. She smiled at me as I reached the landing.

"Lord Coventry is in his office," she said. "Please go on back."

I held up my briefcase. "Need to use your copier," I said.

Sherelle nodded in the direction of the Xerox, and I went over. A few minutes later, with copies of the report and the bill in my briefcase, I headed down the hall.

Coventry's office door was open, and he sat alone inside, hunched over a small stack of paperwork. Barnes was nowhere to be found. He looked up as I came trudging down the hall, and made a waving motion with his hand, gesturing for me to continue. He then returned his attention to his documents.

As I sat down, Coventry glanced up at me, then went right back to his paperwork. Without looking up, he said, "So what is this urgent news? Did you find Kinsey?"

I sat the briefcase on the desk and snapped it open. Reaching inside, I pulled out the jar and sat it on Coventry's desk.

Coventry casually glanced up, then froze. He reached out and touched the Jar, and a feverish intensity leapt into his eyes. He took in a big breath, then released the jar and turned to me. His eyes looked normal once again, and I found myself wondering if I had simply imagined that deranged look in his eyes a few moments ago.

"My goodness," he said, "This is indeed a surprise." A broad grin spread across his face. "Well done, Mr. Parata."

I waved away the praise.

"Did you find Kinsey as well?" he asked.

"No," I said, "Kinsey can't be found because he doesn't exist."

Coventry blanched. "What in the world do you mean? I met the man myself. He is genuine enough."

"The man you met's real name is John Calhoun," I said as I laid the copy of Calhoun's birth certificate on the desk.

Coventry lifted the paper and examined it, one eyebrow arched. "How did you find this information out?"

"It's a long story, but it's all in the report," I said, as I slid said report across the desk. "The summary is I ran a record search on Kinsey, and found out he was a ghost. So I dug through all the information he had given both you guys and the employment agency, and found some anomalies. I ran them down, and found a guy by the name of John Calhoun from Tucker, Georgia." I paused, then added, "On top of all that, it's all confessed in his diary."

Coventry leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "How in the world did Kinsey, er, Calhoun, I mean... how did he manage to pass the background checks with a fake ID?"

"Your organization relies on the employment agency to verify his credentials."

Coventry's face darkened. "Do you mean to tell me the agency has been lax in their responsibilities?" he asked, with more than a little fire in his voice.

"No, they probably do a good job, normally. But a man named Cornelius Randolph made a large investment in Searchlight last year. He gained enough pull to get his daughter hired and assigned to your account."

Coventry's eyes widened as I continued. I made a mental note to always speak of Randolph in the present tense.

"I thought his daughter was just incompetent, but as I dug deeper, things got sketchier. Randolph is some kind of spiritualist and probably a hell of a con artist. He wanted the Jar, and he brainwashed and trained Calhoun to get it. He used his daughter to get Calhoun hired here. Right after Calhoun was hired, Randolph's daughter quit."

Coventry looked flabbergasted. "This is diabolical!" he exclaimed.

"I'll admit, it's pretty clever. But con artists are usually clever."

"How did you recover it?" Coventry asked.

I held his gaze calmly. "I got it back. That's what matters, right?"

Coventry held my gaze for a few beats, then a smile split his face. "Certainly, certainly."

I slid the bill across the desk. "Here's the bill for the search," I said.

Coventry blocked my attempt to give him the bill. "Nonsense," he said. "You have returned the Jar, and are entitled to the full five thousand. Consider the remainder a bonus."

I nodded and returned the bill to the briefcase. He had just given me a nearly two thousand dollar bonus, and I was in no position to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"What happens now?" I asked.

Coventry arched a brow again. "Now, Mr. Parata, we will secure the artifact and continue with our research. Once it is completed, we will exhibit the Jar at our Manhattan gallery."

"When is the date with the X-ray do-dad?" I asked.

Coventry grinned slightly. "Friday, and I was very concerned I was going to have to reschedule it. But you have thankfully saved me from that fate."

I nodded. "When is the exhibition?" I asked.

Coventry cocked his head and slightly narrowed his eyes. "It begins on the ninth of July. If you are interested in attending, I am sure I can arrange a ticket for you."

I waved the offer away. "That's nice of you, but I doubt I can make it to Manhattan for the unveiling."

Coventry nodded once, then stood, unconsciously buttoning his third jacket button as he did so. He extended a hand.

"Mr. Parata, it has been a pleasure working with you. I could not be more satisfied with the outcome of the case."

I rose and accepted the handshake, then closed my briefcase and headed for the door. At the threshold, I stopped and looked back.

"Coventry?" I asked.

"Yes, Mr. Parata?"

"Randolph and Calhoun thought the Jar was magic."

Coventry snorted. "Well, there's no accounting for the minds of some..."

I interrupted him with an icy stare. He stared back, fear and... something else, deep in his eyes.

"Is it?" I asked, still pinning him in place with my eyes.

He stared back for a long moment. Then he slapped the table and guffawed.

"Mr. Parata, you have perhaps chosen the wrong career. You are a very amusing man."

I let a grin form on my lips, then walked out without another word.