Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

For the past decade, the Archives had been run by his grandson Petr. Petr had befriended Payne and Jones a few years ago when they had sought his expertise during one of their missions. Since that time, their friendship had evolved into a mutually beneficial partnership.

After making their startling discovery in Greece, Payne and Jones realized an outside expert should be brought in to catalogue the massive treasure, someone they could trust to protect their personal interests. Thanks to his sterling reputation in the academic community, Ulster was approved by the Greek government. He had been handling their affairs ever since.

‘Petr,’ Payne asked, ‘do you have a moment to talk?’

‘If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put you on speakerphone with DJ.’

‘Yes, of course, put him on.’

Payne handed the phone to Jones, who pressed the appropriate button on the unit. As he did, Jones asked, ‘Can you hear me, Petr?’

‘Hello, David, what a pleasant surprise! It’s been far too long.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. How were things in Greece?’

‘Wonderful, just wonderful! I will be sending you another cheque in January. I know how you Americans are. Always deferring your money until next tax year. Isn’t that correct?’

‘You got that right,’ Jones said.

‘One of these days,’ Ulster suggested, ‘perhaps you’ll wise up and allow me to deposit your funds directly into a Swiss bank account. It can be our little secret.’

Payne smiled. ‘Millions of dollars is never a little secret. Especially on something this visible. If we don’t do everything by the book, Uncle Sam is gonna get pissed.’

Ulster chuckled. ‘Perhaps you’re right. However, if you change your mind, I have several

‘Great. We’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Speaking of discretion,’ Jones said, ‘there’s something that Jon and I would like to discuss with you, but only if you’re willing to keep it confidential.’

‘Colour me intrigued,’ Ulster whispered as he closed his office door. ‘What have you fellows stumbled onto now?’

Payne spoke next. ‘Just so you know, there have been two attempts on our lives during the last twenty-four hours. If you don’t want to be a part of this, we’ll completely understand.’

Ulster trembled slightly. ‘Now you’ve done it; I’ve got goose bumps!’

‘We’re serious, Petr.’

‘I am, too. You guys are so much fun!’

Payne grinned. He knew Ulster would react this way. ‘Consider yourself warned.’

‘Yes, yes, I’ve been warned. Now tell Uncle Petr all about it.’

Jones glanced at his computer screen and clicked the SEND button on his e-mail. He had been so confident that Ulster would be interested in the project he had already scanned in the document and typed his message. ‘I’m e-mailing you

‘How unfortunate! Did you get the bugger who did it?’

‘Kind of,’ Payne admitted. ‘He was hit by a bus while I was in pursuit.’

‘Did you say a bus ? That must have been messy.’

‘You have no idea.’

Ulster took another gulp of wine. ‘And attempt number two?’

‘It happened this morning. A gunman ap proached me from behind and asked for the letter. When I declined, he opened fire.’

‘Did a bus get him as well?’

‘No bus. Just me.’

Ulster cackled with delight. ‘You are such a brute. I love it!’

‘What’s the status of the e-mail?’ Jones asked.

‘It’s coming through now.’ Ulster stared at his screen as his computer downloaded the file. ‘While I’m waiting, please provide me with pertinent information.’

Jones answered. ‘It is written in a mixture of languages that I can’t translate. According to the woman, one of the languages was Middle French.’

‘If I may enquire, how old is this letter?’

‘Yet you believe this document — whatever it is — is important?’

Payne nodded. ‘The gunmen who attacked us seemed to think so.’

Ulster clicked on the e-mail and smiled at the image that filled his computer screen. ‘Interesting, very interesting. I see Latin, and Greek, and Middle French, too. Not to mention a few other dialects that are no longer spoken.’

‘Then you can help us?’ Jones wondered.

‘Of course I can help you. I love academic puzzles, and this one is a doozy. May I call you later with my results?’

‘Later is fine.’

‘Wonderful!’ Ulster said as he glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes past 6 p.m. in Switzerland. ‘I’ll tackle it before dinner, then get back in touch.’

21

The Pentagon

Arlington, Virginia

‘Research,’ he said as he answered his phone.

‘Is this Raskin?’ the voice growled on the other end of the line.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Where the hell is my data?’

‘Don’t mess with me, son! Not today!’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Raskin stuttered, as he frantically glanced through the files on his desk. ‘I don’t recognize your voice, sir. Who am I speaking with?’

‘Sandecker!’ the voice barked. ‘Admiral James Sandecker!’

Raskin gulped. He was familiar with the name but couldn’t quite place it. And in a building like the Pentagon — where admirals and generals wielded all the power — that was dangerous. He knew if he pissed off the wrong officer, his life would become a living hell. Frantically, he typed Sandecker’s name into one of his military search engines but came up empty.

‘Sir,’ he apologized, ‘I’m having trouble finding your files. If you tell me who called in your request, I can check his name as well.’

‘Gunn. Rudi Gunn. My second in command at NUMA.’

‘Rudi Gunn,’ Raskin repeated. That name sounded familiar, too, but once again, he got zero hits in his network search. Obviously there was something wrong with his system. ‘Sir, what type of research am I looking for? Perhaps I can—’

now , before it’s too late. Dirk Pitt is in serious trouble!’

‘Dirk Pitt?’ he mumbled into the phone. Suddenly, Raskin realized why all those names sounded familiar. They were fictional characters in the novels of Clive Cussler. ‘You asshole! Don’t ever do that to me again! I thought the entire Atlantic fleet was waiting on me.’

‘Asshole? Who are you calling an asshole?’

‘Both of you,’ Raskin blurted. Very few people had his direct line, and the only guys he knew who had the guts to mess with him were Payne and Jones. ‘Seriously, you idiots should hear my heartbeat right now. It sounds like a machine gun.’

Jones laughed, finally willing to speak in his normal voice. ‘How would you know what a machine gun sounds like? You never leave your desk.’

‘Dude, video games are very realistic nowadays. Especially on this setup. It’s practically the same thing as being a MANIAC. Except, you know, the whole asshole thing.’

‘Come on,’ Payne said into the speakerphone, ‘you have to admit it was funny. Besides, considering all the pranks you’ve pulled on us, you got off rather easy.’

‘So,’ Raskin said, ‘was there a reason you called, or can I hang up on you now?’

Jones answered. ‘No, there’s an actual reason. Someone tried to kill us last night.’

Raskin scoffed at the news. ‘Someone tries to kill you every week.’

‘Good point, but they tried again this morning.’

‘Fine,’ he yawned. ‘What do you need me to do?’

‘A couple of things,’ Payne said. ‘I got some prints from last night’s shooter, but IAFIS came up empty. We were hoping you could check some of your military databases.’

‘You think he was a soldier?’

‘Maybe.’