The Prophecy paj-5

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Simple. Now he has all the time in the world to go after the treasure himself.’

  Louis Keller never even heard them coming. One moment he was sleeping peacefully in his bedroom, the next his hands and feet were being tied to his bed frame. He tried to scream, but their gag prevented it. He tried to see, but their flashlight blinded him.

  He was completely at their mercy.

  A few minutes earlier, he had been dreaming about the profits he would make from the sale of the items. He felt the money was rightfully his –

  Then again, suffering was a matter of perception. For all he knew, the next few minutes might be far worse than the last three decades combined.

  The mere thought of it made him wet his bed.

  Although he couldn’t see them, Keller knew they were hovering nearby. There were at least two people, maybe more. They moved round the room with unbelievable agility. Like ghosts. Keller closed his eyes, trying to block the potential horrors out of his mind, but that didn’t last for long. One of them tapped Keller on the bridge of his nose with the flashlight. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to get his attention.

  ‘Listen to me,’ a deep voice growled. ‘I’m about to remove your gag. If you scream, you’ll regret it. Understand?’

  Keller nodded enthusiastically. As soon as the gag had been removed, he sucked in a gulp of air, praying it wasn’t the last breath he would ever take.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ he said meekly.

  not be hurt.’

  ‘Anything! I’ll tell you anything! Just don’t hurt me!’

  ‘Where’s the box?’ the voice growled.

  ‘I gave it away! I gave the box away!’

  ‘To whom?’

  ‘I don’t know their names, but there were four of them! Three men and a woman. I swear, I don’t know their names! They showed up this afternoon!’

  ‘Describe them.’

  ‘Two Americans. One was big, and one was black.’

  ‘And the other man?’

  ‘He was fat.’

  ‘And the woman?’

  ‘She was young. And thin. She had brown hair.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ the voice demanded.

  Keller paused, trying to remember. ‘London! They were flying to London!’

  ‘And they have the box?’

  ‘Yes! I gave them the box.’

  ‘Shit!’ the man cursed. ‘What about the other items? Did you give them everything?’

  ‘No! I still have them!’

  ‘Behind you! In a plastic case on the shelf!’

  ‘Check it out.’ Footsteps moved across the room in the darkness. Suddenly, a second flashlight was turned on. The beam bounced from shelf to shelf in the interior of the closet until it settled on the top shelf. A moment later, the light clicked off. ‘Well?’

  ‘Got it,’ the second intruder replied. ‘One item.’

  ‘I told you,’ Keller blurted. ‘See, I was telling you the truth!’

  ‘Keep it up, and you’ll be fine,’ the voice whispered.

  ‘I will! I promise! Ask me anything!’

  ‘Does the box have multiple combinations?’

  ‘Yes! It has two!’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘They’re dates! One is December the first. The other is the day he died!’

  ‘The day who died?’

  ‘Nostradamus!’

  The voice paused. ‘Where are the other items?’

  ‘There were only two! And you have one!’

  ‘What’s the other item?’

  ‘A letter of instructions! It was written to me!’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Your flight? Are you meeting the Americans?’

  ‘No! I told you, I don’t know them!’

  ‘Then where are you taking it?’ the voice snarled.

  ‘I’m taking it to Bruges!’

  ‘What’s in Bruges?’

  ‘A buyer! I found a buyer in Bruges! He’s a Nostradamus freak! Totally obsessed!’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘François! His name is François!’

  ‘What’s his last name?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Keller whimpered. ‘I swear I don’t know.’

  ‘Bullshit! How can you meet him if you don’t know his name?’

  ‘He sent me a phone! He said he’d call with directions once I landed!’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Behind you on the shelf!’

  ‘Take a look,’ the voice ordered.

  Five seconds later, his partner responded. ‘Got it.’

  ‘See!’ Keller said. ‘I’m not lying. I swear I’m not.’

  ‘What time are you expected?’

  ‘Seven. He’ll call tonight at seven.’

  ‘He’ll call! He’ll definitely call! He wants the item badly!’

  The voice paused. ‘What aren’t you telling us?’

  ‘What?’ Keller asked, confused.

  ‘You’re hiding something from us. What is it?’

  Keller shook his head furiously. ‘Nothing! I swear on my life!’

  ‘That’s exactly what you’re doing!’

  His eyes widened. ‘I swear, there’s nothing else. You know everything!’

  ‘If you’re lying, you’ll see us again real soon. Do you understand?’

  Keller nodded, terrified of that possibility.

  ‘Time to go,’ his partner whispered. ‘The camera’s in place.’

  ‘Good,’ the voice said. ‘Cut him free so we can leave.’

  ‘Camera?’ Keller asked. ‘What camera?’

  The voice explained the device as his partner worked on Keller’s hands. ‘We’ve placed a wireless camera in your room. It is very small but very powerful. It works in darkness and in light. Our associate will be monitoring the feed from nearby. Until midnight tonight, you are to remain in this room at all times. If

  ‘I understand, but…’

  ‘But what?’ the voice growled.

  ‘What if I have to use the bathroom?’

  ‘You already pissed the bed. One more time won’t hurt it.’

  Payne and Jones crept through the woods near Keller’s house. They had managed to get him to talk without roughing him up or threatening specific acts of violence. They might have insinuated it, but the threats had not been defined. Instead, they had threatened ‘to return’ or ‘pay him a visit’, instead of saying they were going to kill him. Early on, they even promised he wouldn’t be hurt if he told the truth, yet they never said they would hurt him if he had lied.

  It was a fine line, but they had done their best not to cross it.

  In reality, even if they had roughed him up a little bit, it would have been understandable. Criminals were trying to kill them, and Keller had stolen an item from them that might help solve their problems. Of course, they wouldn’t fully

  As they slipped through the night, Payne cleared his throat. Disguising his voice for so long had made it sore. ‘Do you think he believed the stuff about the camera?’

  Jones laughed. ‘Definitely! I bet he’s shitting his bed right now. I’ll be shocked if he calls the cops or tries to warn anyone. You bought us all the time we need.’

  ‘Did you like my questions about the Americans?’

  ‘Those were sweet! There’s no way he’ll ever suspect it was us.’

  64

  Wednesday, 16 December

  Geneva, Switzerland

  As the morning sun climbed above the Alps, Payne and Jones decided a quick trip to Geneva made a lot more sense than a long drive to Zürich. Not only were they familiar with the airport, but Ulster had multiple connections there that would come in handy. With a few phone calls, they were given access to the same hangar as the day before. Ulster also arranged a mid-morning charter flight to Ostend-Bruges International Airport.

  One of the security guards at the hangar unlocked a small office. It resembled the one
Payne and Jones had used at NASJRB Willow Grove. It was a windowless room with cinderblock walls that hadn’t been painted in years. As far as they were concerned, it was perfect because it gave them a chance to examine their recent acquisition in private.

  To protect the document, Ulster waited to

  Keller had stored the document in a plastic case roughly the same size as a laptop computer. The case had been sealed in several layers of bubble wrap. Thankfully, Ulster was willing to open it with a knife since the parchment was safely ensconced in hard plastic. Once he had sliced through the wrapping, he placed the case on the desk and opened it like a book. A single sheet of parchment had been sealed inside a clear plastic sleeve. Although the sleeve was designed to hold an oversized photograph, it was large enough to house the document.

  ‘What’s it say?’ Megan asked as she peeked over Ulster’s shoulder.

  From his seat at the desk, he glanced back at her. ‘Patience, my dear. Give me a chance to read it first.’

  She blushed slightly. ‘Sorry.’

  Payne and Jones smiled from the other side of

  ‘Good news,’ Ulster said as he scanned the four lines of text which had been written in the centre of the page. ‘This quatrain is in Middle French, not a series of ancient languages. Give me a moment or two, and I should be able to translate it.’

  ‘Is it the same handwriting as before?’ Jones asked.

  ‘To my naked eye, it appears so. Of course, we won’t find out for sure until I take it back to the Archives and put it through its paces. But give me a moment, and I shall know more.’

  While they waited for the translation, Megan played with the puzzle box, testing the combination Keller had revealed to Payne and Jones. She entered seven, two, fifteen, sixty-six — the date of Nostradamus’s death — and a secret panel opened inside the centre compartment.

  Megan smiled. ‘It would have been even cooler if the parchment was still inside, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. Thanks to you guys, we have it in our possession.’

  ‘Speaking of the parchment, how’s it coming?’ Jones asked.

  Ulster didn’t even hear the question. He was too focused on the document itself. Every once in a while he grunted with surprise, but at no point during the process did he actually say a word. After that, neither did anyone else. The last thing they wanted to do was ruin his concentration.

  Nearly five minutes passed before he translated the final word.

  ‘Goodness,’ Ulster muttered as he read the verse to himself.

  ‘What is it?’ Megan demanded. She moved to the front of the desk so she could stand next to Payne. ‘Does it mention me?’

  Ulster nodded, still not ready to speak.

  She grabbed Payne’s arm. ‘Oh, God. Is it bad?’

  ‘Honestly, I’m not certain… But it is surprising.’

  Payne stared at him, trying to figure out why someone who rarely shut up was suddenly at a loss for words. Whatever it was, it had to be monumental. ‘What’s surprising?’

  The comment intrigued Payne. ‘What do you mean? Who else is mentioned?’

  Ulster looked him in the eye. ‘You.’

  Payne blinked a few times. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You and David. Both of you are mentioned.’

  ‘It mentions our names?’

  ‘No, but I’m fairly sure he’s describing you.’

  ‘Read it,’ Jones ordered, suddenly excited.

  Payne nodded in agreement. ‘Read it.’

  Ulster glanced at the verse and read it aloud. Although the quatrain had been written in Middle French, the English translation followed the same rhyming scheme as Megan’s letter.

  The fortune belongs to my heir,

  Who will be chased ’til out of breath.

  Hidden in ink inside his lair,

  Where black and white shall conquer Death.

  As soon as Ulster was done, he handed the paper to Payne so he could examine the translation in closer detail. Megan and Jones leaned in next to him and read it at the same time.

  Several seconds later, Jones made the first that is some freaky shit. I’m talking Merlin the Magician, Wicked Witch of the West kind of—’

  ‘Enough,’ Payne said, cutting him off. ‘We get your point.’

  ‘Good! Because that shit is freaky.’

  Megan smiled at Payne. ‘You have to admit, this verse is rather specific. You guys are black and white, and you’re flying to Bruges to find Frankie Death.’

  ‘And apparently we’re going to kill the bastard,’ Jones added.

  ‘Sure,’ Payne said, ‘that’s one interpretation. But there’s another.’

  Jones snatched the paper from Payne’s grasp. ‘If we’re going to die, I don’t want to know. I want it to be a secret. Like a gift from Santa.’

  ‘Actually,’ Payne said, ‘the other interpretation has nothing to do with us. It has to do with a book.’

  Ulster stared at him. ‘A book?’

  Payne grabbed the paper and handed it back to Ulster. ‘Read line three.’

  He did as he was told. ‘Hidden in ink inside his lair.’

  ‘Didn’t you tell us that Nostradamus might have been working on a book of prophecies

  Ulster nodded. ‘I read several rumours about it. Nothing certain, but a lot of speculation.’

  ‘And if he wrote it in ink, wouldn’t it be in “black and white”?’

  ‘I guess it would, but—’

  Payne continued. ‘And if someone finds it and reads his words after all this time, wouldn’t his journal be beating death? After all, Nostradamus has been dead for several centuries.’

  Ulster groaned. ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘What about the first two lines? Are they about me?’ Megan wondered.

  Payne shrugged. ‘Maybe. Of course, we still don’t have any proof that you’re related to Nostradamus. Despite the letter you received, we don’t have verification that he’s actually talking about you. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. But as I’ve said all along, that’s the beauty of Nostradamus. Everything is ambiguous.’

  ‘I have to admit, I’m kind of relieved. When I read that “out of breath” part, I thought it meant I was going to die.’

  Jones grinned. ‘I thought you were a goner for sure.’

  Payne shook his head. ‘Even if she is the heir, it might simply mean that people will always be

  ‘Which brings us to the fortune,’ Jones said.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It’s been mentioned more than once.’

  ‘True,’ Payne said, ‘but something dawned on me while reading this poem. What if the fortune isn’t monetary? After all, Petr told us that Nostradamus wasn’t a wealthy man. So maybe he’s not talking about money. Maybe he’s talking about the type of fortune that he was known for. Maybe he’s leaving his heir information about the future.’

  ‘Oh,’ Megan muttered, disappointed. ‘Maybe he’s right.’

  ‘Or maybe I’m wrong,’ Payne admitted. ‘For all I know, Nostradamus might have been talking about a giant treasure in your future, and he might have been talking about DJ and I killing Frankie Death. Or maybe we’re just seeing things in his words that aren’t really there. The truth is we don’t know what’s going to happen — who’s going to live and who’s going to die. For that reason alone, I need to approach this thing like any other mission.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  He stared at Megan. ‘I’m sending you and Petr to the Archives.’

  ‘I don’t care what you say or how loud you scream,’ he said in a calm tone. ‘You are not coming with us to Belgium.’

  ‘But this is my fight, too!’

  He shook his head, resolute. ‘You didn’t start this fight, and you’re not going to finish it. Right now the only thing I care about is your survival. Hell, I don’t care if you never talk to me again. I just want you to live long enough to make that decision when all of this is done.’

  She glanced at Ulster, looking for supp
ort. ‘And you’re okay with this?’

  Ulster nodded. ‘More than okay. In fact, I fully support it. Trust me, my dear, the Archives are a tad more comfortable than that vault at Sotheby’s. Remember how dreadful that was? Although I admire your spunk, I think it’s time for us to step aside. While the boys are in Bruges, we can make a large contribution in Küsendorf.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Research, my dear, research! We need to authenticate your letter, and the puzzle box must be examined in much greater detail. Of course, there’s also the matter of your family tree. I have some wonderful new software that will aid our

  65

  Ostend, Belgium

  (16 miles west of Bruges)

  Located near the Belgian coast in the Flemish province of West Flanders, the Ostend-Bruges International Airport is a small facility that mostly handles charter and cargo flights. Because of a scarcity of passengers, the terminal’s security was typically a rubber-stamp procedure. Customs officials checked passports and cargo manifests, but if everything appeared to be in order, people and crates were cleared without much hassle.

  Payne and Jones weren’t worried about their identification. They had fake passports with fake names made by the Pentagon. However, they were concerned with the cargo they were bringing into the country. Before Ulster’s security staff picked up Megan and Ulster and took them to the Archives, they filled a wooden crate with guns and supplies and loaded it onto the plane. The guards covered the crate in stickers that said:

  Custom officers were afraid of breaking a priceless relic.

  A cargo van and additional supplies, arranged by Ulster, were waiting for Payne and Jones when they arrived. They loaded the crate into the back, then pulled through the main gate of the terminal. It was early afternoon, and Bruges was less than thirty minutes away.

  They had plenty of time to prepare for their mission.

  Belgian days are quite short in mid-December. The sun doesn’t rise until after 8.30 a.m., and it sets well before 5 p.m. That gave Payne and Jones more than two hours of darkness to play with. Two hours to survey Château Dubois and search for guards before Keller would be called at 7 p.m. After that, they would use the element of surprise to gain the upper hand.