The Lazarus Trap
Praise for
The Lazarus Trap
and Davis Bunn's other novels
“Davis is a writer of immense quality. His latest novel,
The Lazarus
Trap
, is a masterpiece. It will keep you on the edge of your seat from page one right through to when you reluctantly finish.”
âEddie Bell, former Chairman and CEO, HarperCollins UK
“
The Lazarus Trap
grabbed me on page one and propelled me right through to the very last words. It is an adventure in reading of unpar-alled intrigue, passion and suspense, one that rivals either Ludlum or Grisham. What a thrill to read this excellent author as he spins a tale of betrayal and redemption. An absolutely exhilarating story!! This is a heart-pumping novel that excites and engages the reader.
The Lazarus Trap
will appeal to everyone who enjoys a good mystery, and is surely to be a major hit in both the CBA and the ABA.”
âGlenn McGinnis, former Chairman,
Christian Booksellers' Association
“Once again, Davis Bunn has defied expectations. A compelling and interesting readâthe conflict is excellently portrayed and developed.
The Lazarus Trap
is easily in competition for his best book yet.”
“This is the first book by Davis Bunn that I have read, but I can say certainly that after what I read here it will not be the last.
The
Lazarus Trap
is full of excitement, intrigue and mystery. It kept me guessing from the first page up through the climax of the story, and it did so with flair.”
âCindy Burlingame,
www.epinions.com
“[In
Elixir
] Bunn crafts a competent suspense novel with faith themes that should appeal to both inspirational and general market audiences.”
â
Publishers Weekly
“Bunn has comfortably made the transition from evangelical to mainstream readers, and his popularity shows no sign of abating.”
âJohn Mort,
Booklist
“Complex characters, exotic locations, and dry humor only add to the pull of this thrilling novel. If you start this book without setting aside time to finish it, prepare to lose some serious sleep.”
âKatie Hart,
ChristianBookPreviews.com
“[
Elixir's
] ending holds some surprising-and sweet-results.”
âBethanne Kelly Patrick,
www.faithfulreader.com
   THE
LAZARUS
      TRAP
OTHER BOOKS BY DAVIS BUNN
Elixir
The Great Divide
Winner Take All
Drummer in the Dark
The Book of Hours
  THE
LAZARUS
    TRAP
DAVIS BUNN
Copyright © 2005 by Davis Bunn
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by WestBow Press, a division of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
WestBow Press books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bunn, T. Davis, 1952â
      The Lazarus trap / Davis Bunn.
        p. cm.
ISBN 0-8499-4485-6 (trade pbk.)
      1. Attempted murderâFiction. 2. EmbezzlementâFiction.
    3. AmnesiaâFiction. I. Title.
      PS3552.U4718L39 2005
      813'.54âdc22
2004021238
Printed in the United States of America
05 06 07 08 09 RRD 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
For Isabella
With all my love
“A wife of noble character,
who can find?”
Table of Content
HE DID NOT KNOW WHERE HE WAS, ONLY THAT HE WAS RETURNING from a far, dark place. The smell was the only thing he was sure of. He used it like a rope, pulling himself hand over mental hand back from the pit. There was a sharp familiarity to the smell. He knew he had been in a place before that had worn this appalling odor like a badge. In this addled moment, that knowledge was all he had.
He arrived back to a point where he could open his eyes.
He lay on a concrete floor under a cold fluorescent sun. Pain attacked with the return of sight. His head thundered. Every inch of his body cried out. His mouth felt gummed shut.
A bellowing thirst drove him to move. Testing each motion before committing, he managed to roll over. Next to him sprawled a snoring mountain of beard and leather and stink. He crawled around the other man and searched for water.
“Well, lookee here. The dead is commencing to rise.”
The words were meaningless. But he knew the tone. It fitted into the blank puzzle of his brain. It connected to the smell. He spotted a sink in the corner. He used a bench that was bolted to the floor to push himself to his feet. Only when he started shuffling across the yawning distance did he realize he had no shoes.
Bending over the sink almost dislodged his skull. The faucet creaked open. He stuffed his mouth under the flow and groaned as he drank. He doused his head, then used his one remaining jacket sleeve to dry his face. The other sleeve appeared to have been torn off. Colored threads dangled over his shirt like military braid. If only he could remember the battle!
He blinked through the sheen of moisture. Two sides of the chamber were the same grey-painted concrete as the floor. The other two were floor-to-ceiling metal bars. He shared the lockup with perhaps a dozen other men. More than half were still sleeping. Two youths in shiny athletic gear argued in words that he could not piece together. Only one man, perhaps the largest in the cage, met his eye. His weather-beaten features and flat, dark gaze had once probably sparked with intelligence, but now were merely aware.
The stranger waved him over. “You come on over here and sit yourself down.”
He hesitated.
“You heard me. Get yourself on over here.”
He shuffled over. The stranger waited until he was seated, then turned to the youths and said, “Give the man back his shoes.”
One youth responded with a curse.
“You want to get on the wrong side of me? That really what you want?”
“What are you, his mama?”
The other youth said, “No, man, it's just fresh meat. The dude's looking after his own self. Wants to get the meat all close and cozy. Ain't that right, meat?”
The man said, “I'm not asking you again.”
The youth took off the soft black loafers and threw them. Hard. “Wait till your honey drifts off, meat. I'll be watching.”
“Don't you listen to him. Put your shoes on.”
“I'll be watching,” the youth repeated. “Got me a blade with your name on it.”
The man eased forward a trifle. The youth was suddenly blocked from view. “The difference between y'all and me is, I know what I'm in for. I made a mistake. Again.” The giant spoke with a steady monotone. As if he'd been over this terrain a billion times. “I fell. Again.”
“Like I care.”
“When I fall, these days what I do is I drink. After that, I got a problem with my anger management. So you two best hush up while you still can. Otherwise I'll have to spend time on my knees for smashing you like a couple of shiny bugs.”
The mountain let the silence hold a moment before turning around. “Do you know your head is bleeding?”
He reached up and touched the spot that thundered the loudest. His fingers came back red. But when he spoke, it was about what worried him the most. “I don't know who I am.”
“Me, I go by Reuben.” Nothing seemed to surprise this man. “I heard the cops talking about you. You were at a bar they had under surveillance. The bartender and his ladies, they had a scam going. They was slipping something in the johns' drinks and rolling them. What you want to be going in a place like that for?”
“I don't remember a thing.”
“They brought you in on account of you duking it out with one of their own. Sounds like you might need some of that same anger management yourself.”
“I hit a cop?”
“You tried. That's what counts. Looks like they're the ones that connected. Turn around and let me have a look at your head.”
When he did not move fast enough, the man swiveled him easy as a doll. Fingers probed the wound. “They gave you a couple of good licks, that's for sure.” Reuben held up fingers. “How many you see?”
“Three.”
“Follow my hand. No, don't move your head. Just your eyes.” The fingers went back and forth, then up and down. “I used to be an ER nurse. Which is where I got hooked the first time. That place is full of the most awesome drugs. Okay, cross your legs.”
Reuben poked beneath the kneecap, making his leg bounce. Then Reuben gripped his chin and the base of his neck and swiveled the skull, still probing. “You getting dizzy?”
“No. But everything hurts.”
“It ought to, after what you put your body through.” Reuben dropped his hands. “Probably shoulda had a couple of stitches. But you don't seem concussed.”
“But I can't remember.”
“Weren't you listening? You got drugged, you took a couple of hits with the stick. You're gonna need a while to wake up.”
A steel door clapped open as a guard stepped from the bulletproof viewing station across the hall. “Adams!”
“That you?”
“I told you, I don't knowâ”
The cop pointed straight at him. “Jeffrey Adams! Front and center!”
The black man helped him rise to his feet. “Ain't everybody gets called back from the pit, man. Question is, what are you gonna do when you find out who you are?”