The Prophecy paj-5

by Chris Kuzneski

Jones feigned anger. ‘I can’t believe you! I spent the last minute telling you about a major firefight with eleven casualties, yet you never

  ‘Fine. Are you guys all right?’

  ‘Actually, Jon got a small cut on his cheek. It might require a bandage. Oh, and his phone got soaked. It might not make it.’

  Dial smiled. ‘And Petr?’

  ‘I think he’s fine. I’m not sure, though. Jon got pissed and locked him in a safe.’

  ‘Did you say safe?’

  Jones grunted. ‘Damn, I hope there’s air in that thing. If not, we might need—’

  ‘DJ,’ he said, cutting him off. ‘Why are you calling?’

  ‘Why? Because we got the name of the asshole who keeps trying to kill us.’

  Dial picked up a pen. ‘Great! Who is it?’

  ‘Some dude in Bruges named François Dubois.’

  ‘You’re shitting me!’

  Jones noticed his excitement. ‘I take it you know the guy.’

  Dial nodded. ‘Know him? We’ve been after him for years. Murder, weapons, drugs, you name it. Don’t let his fancy French name fool you. That guy is bad news. His nickname on the street is Frankie Death.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Dial said as he closed his office door. He didn’t want anyone in his office to hear what he was about to say. ‘You don’t want me to do that.’

  Jones smiled. ‘Relax, I was kidding about the hooker. I can get my own hooker.’

  ‘Knock it off! I’m not talking about a hooker. I’m talking about Dubois. Trust me, you don’t want me to arrest him. That’s the wrong move.’

  ‘How so?’

  Dial explained. ‘Do you know how he got the name Frankie Death? Every time he was arrested — and it happened a lot when he was younger — everyone involved with the case ended up dead. I’m talking witnesses, cops, their families, everyone. He even took out a few reporters who had covered his story. After a while, people stopped messing with him.’

  Jones shook his head in disgust. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re scared of the guy. Too scared to arrest his ass.’

  Dial was offended by the insinuation. ‘Fuck

  ‘Then what are you saying?’

  Dial lowered his voice. ‘Do I have to spell it out for you?’

  ‘I guess so, because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’

  Dial growled in frustration, not wanting to say anything illegal. ‘Arresting him won’t save your ass. In fact, it’ll do the opposite. If you think he’s coming after you now, you just wait. He’ll put a bounty on your head so large every thug in Europe will fly to Pittsburgh to take you out. And if you’re not there when they arrive, they’ll burn down your building for bonus points before they slaughter everyone you know. And I mean everyone. Frankie Death even kills pets.’

  Jones grunted in understanding.

  Once they were done in Switzerland, they’d be forced to visit Bruges.

  Payne talked to the first officers on the scene. He explained who he was and whom he was with. As soon as he mentioned Petr Ulster, the Swiss police treated Payne like he was one of their own. In Switzerland, few surnames were held in higher

  ‘Where is Monsieur Ulster?’ asked the ranking officer.

  ‘I secured him in the vault at Sotheby’s.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ he said and he grabbed Payne’s arm and pulled him towards the section of the hotel where the vault was located. ‘He is a treasure to my country.’

  A few minutes later, the door to the massive vault swung open, and several people came streaming out. One of the first was Megan, who ran over to Payne and gave him a big hug.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she demanded. ‘We heard the explosion and assumed the worst.’

  ‘We’re fine. Both of us are fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ she said as she pulled out a tissue from her pocket. Then, ever so carefully, she dabbed the cut on his cheek. ‘What happened here?’

  He shrugged, not really sure. ‘Bullet, shrapnel, who knows? It doesn’t hurt.’

  She lowered her voice. ‘Then why are you sweating like a pig?’

  Ulster trudged forward like a schoolboy heading to the principal’s office. ‘Jonathon, I am so sorry for disobeying your instructions. If you had been hurt or killed, I don’t know what—’

  ‘Relax. I’m fine, and I’m no longer mad at you. In fact, your mistake turned out to be a blessing. We got the name of the guy who’s been coming after us.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Ulster said, breathing a sigh of relief. Then, as if he was afraid the whole room was filled with spies, he crept closer to Payne and Megan. ‘Guess what?’

  Payne studied the cryptic look on his face. ‘What?’

  Ulster leaned in and whispered. ‘You aren’t the only one who got a name. Capital Savings was very cooperative.’

  59

  It took a few hours to work through the political mess at the Beau-Rivage. Payne and Jones had entered Switzerland illegally and had just gunned down eleven people, but they had saved many more with their heroism — including Petr Ulster, a personal friend of Geneva’s mayor.

  A phone call from Nick Dial helped strengthen their case. He explained that Payne and Jones had been attacked in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, and the only reason they had entered Switzerland was to work out who was trying to kill them. He assured the police that Payne and Jones had worked closely with his office in the past, and Interpol would soon be involved in the investigation due to the international nature of the shootings. In addition, he also told the Geneva police they should announce the death of twelve criminals, not eleven, in order to protect a valuable snitch in a very important case.

  Once the duo was finally allowed to leave the scene, Jones retrieved their SUV near the

  During the next forty minutes, Jones used every driving tactic he could think of to ensure they weren’t being followed. He crossed several lanes of traffic to leave the highway at the last possible second. He ran red lights and made illegal U-turns. He even drove down a one-way street in the wrong direction. The entire time Payne was focused on their surroundings, memorizing cars and faces, even searching the skies for aerial pursuit. At one point, they pulled into a parking garage where they searched the SUV for listening devices and tracking beacons.

  In the end, they were confident they were clean.

  ‘According to Capital Savings,’ Ulster explained, ‘box number 1566 was closed on December the first by a man named Louis Keller. That was the main reason they were willing to give me his

  Jones read between the lines. ‘What was the other reason they helped?’

  Ulster grinned. ‘I threatened to pull my family fortune from their bank.’

  ‘Well played!’ Megan said, laughing.

  ‘What do we know about Keller?’ Payne wondered.

  ‘He is fifty-two, never married, and lives in Lausanne. It is a French-speaking city on the shores of Lake Geneva, roughly thirty miles north-east.’

  Jones frowned. ‘I’ve heard of Lausanne, but I’m not sure why. Does it have anything to do with Nostradamus?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Ulster admitted. ‘Lausanne is in the Swiss wine region. We refer to it as Capitale Olympique because the International Olympic Committee is located there.’

  ‘That’s why I’ve heard of it. Every time an Olympic athlete gets busted or a new host city gets announced, the IOC issues a statement from Lausanne.’

  Payne barely heard Jones’s comment because he was focused on something far more important. ‘How far did you say it was from Geneva?’

  ‘How big is Lausanne? A hundred thousand people?’

  ‘Larger than that. I’d say, closer to three. Why do you ask?’

  Payne ignored the question. ‘In other words, it has dozens of banks.’

  Jones glanced at him. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘Why would a man from Lausanne have a safe-deposit box in Geneva?’

  ‘He wouldn’t,’ Jones joke
d. ‘That’s why he closed it on the first.’

  ‘I’m serious.’ Payne turned in his seat and spoke to Ulster. ‘When you were at Capital Savings, did you read Keller’s file? Or did they just write down his contact info?’

  ‘Neither. They pulled up his account and printed everything on the screen.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘Of course, you can. But it won’t do you much good.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Ulster unfolded the paper and showed it to him. ‘It’s written in French.’

  Ulster glanced at the document, looking for the requested information. As soon as he spotted the answer towards the bottom of the sheet, his eyes widened. ‘I can’t believe I missed this.’

  ‘Missed what?’

  ‘I was so excited about getting his name and address I didn’t even bother to read the paper they gave me.’

  ‘Missed what?’ Payne repeated.

  Ulster looked at him. ‘Louis Keller didn’t rent the box. A man named Maurice Keller did.’

  ‘Maurice Keller? Is it a relative of his?’ Megan asked.

  ‘I would bet on it, but…’ Ulster hesitated, trying to figure out the significance of what he had discovered. ‘But a relative who Louis had never met.’

  Confusion filled Payne’s face. ‘They never met? Why do you say that?’

  Ulster tapped on the paper for emphasis. ‘Because Maurice Keller rented the box on December the first — exactly one century before Louis closed it.’

  Megan gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

  Payne was quite familiar with family trusts since one had been established in his name — although he hadn’t known anything about it until his parents had died. A week after their funeral, his grandfather had sat him down and explained the basics to him so he wouldn’t be worried about his future. He had been told his inheritance was being held for him at a major bank until he was old enough to handle ‘the financial responsibility’.

  In order to encourage his growth as a person, his parents had placed several incentive clauses in the document. They included high school and college graduation, mandatory charity work, and a number of other things Payne would have done anyway. Surprisingly, he never rebelled or complained about his obligations. Deep down inside, he knew his parents had been looking out for his long-term interests. They had tried to do everything they could to ensure he didn’t turn into one of those trust-fund celebrities who were always getting drunk or arrested. To proud people like

  Eventually, Payne and his grandfather even joked about the clauses.

  They called it ‘parenting from beyond the grave’.

  ‘Hey Petr,’ Payne said, ‘does that document say anything else about the trust fund? Who started it? How much it was worth? Anything like that?’

  Ulster shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I was wondering if it might be the fortune mentioned in the text message. I figure if Nostradamus is behind all of this, there’s always a chance his life savings have multiplied over the years. After four centuries of prophetic investments, there could be a lot of money socked away.’

  Ulster shrugged. ‘We’ll find out soon enough. We’ll be in Lausanne shortly.’

  60

  Lausanne, Switzerland

  (38 miles north-east of Geneva)

  Louis Keller lived in a nice chalet near the University of Lausanne where he had taught business and economics for the past decade. With its steeply sloped roof and its overhanging eaves, his timber house looked like many others in the quiet neighbourhood. Of course, looks could be deceiving, which was why Payne and Jones studied the nearby streets before they were willing to park their SUV near Keller’s home.

  Snowflakes filled the air as the four of them walked up the stone steps of his front porch. Payne led the way, followed by Megan, Ulster, and Jones, who lingered several strides behind with a pistol in his hand. Payne was armed as well, but kept his weapon concealed as he approached the house. Since they still weren’t sure how Keller fitted into all of this, the last thing Payne wanted to do was spook the guy and

  A half second before Payne could knock on the door, he heard the lock being opened from the inside and the security chain being jostled. Unsure who it might be, Payne raised his closed fist in the air, the military signal to halt. Everyone behind him stopped as if a cold wind had blown in from the nearby mountains and turned them into ice. For the next few seconds, the tension continued to build until the door finally swung open.

  A middle-aged man wearing a sweater, slacks, and slippers stood in the doorway. He neither smiled nor frowned, his face a blank mask, his eyes devoid of emotion. He stared at the foursome in front of him, not the least bit surprised they were there. Strangely, his gaze sought them out, one after another, as if he was trying to match their faces to names he had known for years. A moment later, his comment seemed to confirm that.

  ‘I was told you were coming,’ Keller said in English.

  ‘By whom?’ Payne wondered.

  ‘Nostradamus.’

  One by one, they entered the house without saying a word. Payne roamed the ground floor searching for anything that troubled him, but his gut told him they weren’t in danger. In fact, for the first time for several days, he felt their path was free of obstacles. Like their quest had finally come to an end. Like they were meant to be there.

  In an unpredictable world, it was a feeling Payne wasn’t used to.

  Keller waited for him to join his friends before he spoke again. When he did, there were no introductions or small talk. He launched into an explanation, starting with some background information about himself.

  Keller walked across the room and sat in a worn leather chair that looked older than he was. Brushing the hair away from his eyes, he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, as if he could finally relax now that his guests knew he wasn’t fanciful or the least bit crazy. Seemingly, that was important to him. He needed everyone to know he was a rational man with rational thoughts, not some random loon who searched for Bigfoot in his spare time.

  ‘Thirty-two years ago, my father drove me to Geneva under false pretences. He told me we were going to the city to celebrate my twentieth birthday. Instead, he took me to the bank and added my name to his safe-deposit box. At least I thought it was his box. Later in the day, he told me that wasn’t the case. It was our family box and would be until December of this year.’

  He glanced around the room, making eye contact with everyone.

  Keller stood again and began to pace about the room. ‘At first, I was annoyed by it all. My father had the only key, and said he would keep it until it was supposed to be mine. I had no idea what he meant by that and even resented him for it. Why had he wasted half my birthday to drag me to some bank in Geneva? None of it made any sense. I just thought it was a stupid game, a silly bonding moment between father and son.’ He paused for an instant, gathering his thoughts. ‘A few months later when I was off at school, my father passed away from pancreatic cancer.’ His voice cracked slightly. ‘I never even knew he was sick.’

  Nothing was said for the next minute or two. No one knew what to say, including Keller, who walked back across the hardwood floor and

  Eventually, it was Megan who got things started again.

  ‘What happened then?’ she asked.

  ‘Then I waited,’ Keller said bitterly. ‘For thirty-two years, I waited. And do you know why I waited? Because that’s what I was told to do. My father didn’t even have the decency to tell me he was dying, but he made damn sure he wrote a letter explaining what was expected of me. He left me a key and a letter, yet he never even said goodbye. How pathetic is that? Do you know how many times I wanted to destroy that box just to spite him? If it had been kept in Lausanne instead of Geneva, I probably would have done it. I would have gone to the bank in a fit of anger and smashed it with a hammer.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘In the end, I always talked myself out of it because of the money. The yearly
stipend always came in handy during the holidays.’

  Payne had several questions about the trust fund. How much was Keller paid? Who handled the payments? How did the keepers of the fund know he had followed his instructions? But in the end, he realized there were more important issues to focus on, starting with the obvious.

  Keller smiled at the question. Relief filled his face. He was thrilled to be finished talking about his father and eager to discuss the contents of the mysterious box.

  61

  Keller sat forward in his chair. As he did, everyone leaned closer. They realized he was about to share a secret that had been guarded for more than 400 years, a secret penned by Nostradamus himself. None of them wanted to miss a word.

  ‘I was the first customer in the bank that day,’ Keller explained. ‘I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I drove to Geneva quite early and sat in my car until Capital Savings opened. Frankly, I’ve been anxious for several months now — but not for the reasons you might expect. I felt very little excitement about the contents of the box. How could it possibly live up to three decades of expectations? In truth, I simply wanted it out of my life. However, I was afraid I was going to open it and there would be a letter telling me to pass its contents onto my children. Obviously, that would have been a major problem since I don’t have any.’ Keller smirked at his own comment. ‘Despite my need for closure, I didn’t feel comfortable opening it in a viewing room at the bank. I thought my

  ‘You opened it here?’ Ulster asked.

  Keller nodded. ‘Two weeks ago today.’

  ‘Do you still have it? I would love to see it.’

  ‘In a moment,’ he assured them, ‘but not until I’ve fulfilled my obligation. Not until I tell you everything you’re supposed to be told.’

  Megan stared at him. ‘Why us?’

  ‘Because you were the ones who showed up,’ he answered cryptically. ‘The four of you were chosen for a reason beyond my understanding, by a man who died long ago. I am not a prophet, nor a medium of any kind. I am simply a proxy. I’ve been given a job, which I intend to do to the best of my ability. But after today, I will be done with this nonsense for ever.’