Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

Then, and only then, could he sleep in peace.

Wearing a dark suit and overcoat, Keller entered the bank as soon as it opened on the first morning of December. He nodded to the elderly guard who had unlocked the door, removed his fedora in the warmth of the foyer, then climbed the stairs to the main lobby.

Although he had visited this building on many occasions, he was always reassured by its architecture. In his opinion, every bank should be built this way: marble floors, stone pillars, and vaulted ceilings. Everything about the place felt solid, as a proper bank should. Like a medieval fortress or a modern museum. Over the years he had spent some time in the United States and was amazed at the inferiority of its banks. Oftentimes they were wedged into local shopping malls or grocery stores, nothing more than plastic countertops and fake wood panelling squeezed into cheap retail space. Nothing about them seemed safe or secure, which probably explained why the wealthiest Americans deposited their fortunes in Swiss banks.

Keller smiled at the thought as he strode past the bank tellers, all of whom were locked behind sturdy iron bars, and made his way towards the safe-deposit vault. It was downstairs, nestled underneath the lobby floor. To gain access to the facility, customers were required to pass through security. Ten years earlier, everything had been done with picture IDs and signature cards. Now the system was high tech, like something out of a Hollywood movie.

As he approached the first checkpoint, Keller removed his leather gloves and tucked them into the pockets of his overcoat. Still stiff from the morning cold, he cracked his knuckles then typed his ten-digit, alphanumeric code into the computer keyboard. The hard drive whirred for several seconds before his password was accepted and additional instructions filled the screen.

Knowing the procedure by heart, Keller ignored the monitor and placed his hand on the scanner, making sure his fingers were positioned in the proper slots. Instantly, a beam of green light, which resembled the lamp inside a photocopier, moved under the surface of his hand. Starting at the tips of his fingers, it slowly made

A split-second later, the electronic lock buzzed in front of him.

Keller opened the door, glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind him, then walked inside and pulled the door shut. After double-checking the lock, he turned and faced the marble staircase that led to the vault below. A uniformed guard waited for his arrival.

‘ Bonjour, monsieur .’

‘ Bonjour ,’ Keller said as he pulled out his passport.

The guard inspected the document, compared the name and photo to the information on his computer monitor, then asked Keller to sign the electronic tablet on the security desk. Once his signature was verified, he was finally granted access to the floor.

‘ Merci .’

Keller nodded politely, tucked his passport into his jacket pocket, and headed towards the massive vault. Made with steel-reinforced concrete, its walls were three feet thick and virtually

Since the bank had just opened, Keller was the first visitor of the morning. A citrus scent lingered in the air, as if the floor had been waxed the night before. Hundreds of brass locks lined the left-and right-hand walls. Several of the boxes were only as wide as a brick; others were much larger. The biggest boxes filled the far wall. A few of them were so massive they looked like they could hold caskets. Keller had always wondered what treasures were hidden within: gold, jewels, stacks of foreign currency. Whatever it was, he knew it had to be valuable because a box of that size cost thousands of dollars to rent.

By comparison, his box was a bargain. It measured two feet by two feet and never cost him a cent since it was financed by the mysterious

Keller stared at the box wistfully, reflecting on his visits over the years. Then, with a lump in his throat, he entered his combination using the brass dial for the final time.

7… 2… 15.

As the tumblers fell into place, he pulled his safe-deposit key from his pocket and shoved it into the lock. Twisting the key to the right, the metal door popped open with a click .

Keller smiled at the sound; a mixture of joy and relief filled his face.

The big moment was finally here.

After three decades of waiting, thirty-plus years of stress and anxiety and sleepless nights, he was about to fulfil the promise that he had made to his dying father.

After all that time, Keller could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

But not until he followed the instructions within.

2

Saturday, 12 December

University of Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Dressed in black, the shadowy figure trudged through the blizzard on the nearly deserted campus. Six inches of snow had already fallen, and three more were expected by midnight, thanks to a storm that blanketed the region. Although the evening’s temperature was in the upper-twenties, it felt much colder due to the harsh winds that whipped down the empty streets, pelting everything with ice.

Lowering his head, he continued onward, unwilling to stop despite the tiny crystals that had formed on his hair and clothes. He had lived in the city for several years, so he knew Forbes Avenue was up ahead, and beyond it, his final destination.

Dedicated in 1937, the Cathedral of Learning towers above the University of Pittsburgh (Pitt)

Simply put, it is one of the most breathtaking buildings in the world.

On most nights, the golden lights on top of the Cathedral can be seen for miles, but because of the snow, he could barely see the building from across Bigelow Boulevard.

Five minutes later, he tramped up the stone stairs behind the panther-head fountain, then stomped his feet outside the main entrance of the Cathedral, trying to clean his dress shoes the best he could. After brushing the ice from his clothes and hair, he straightened his bow tie and pushed his way through the giant revolving door. A surge of warm air greeted him inside the building, as did two female students who were manning the registration table.

‘Good evening, sir,’ said the blonde. ‘May I take your coat?’

The black man nodded as he took off his overcoat, revealing a tuxedo underneath. He wasn’t used to fancy clothes. In fact, the last time

The redhead looked at the guest list. ‘And you are?’

A voice from the side answered for him. ‘That’s the infamous David Jones.’

Jones turned and snarled at Jonathon Payne. Not only was Payne his best friend, he was the only reason that Jones was there. ‘Don’t start with me, Jon. I’m not in the mood.’

Also dressed in a tux, Payne put his massive hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘What’s wrong, princess? Still pissed about the game?’

‘Of course I’m pissed. We’re playing Duke .’

Payne shrugged. He wasn’t happy about it,

‘But it’s your event,’ Jones complained. ‘You should’ve cancelled it.’

Payne laughed at the thought. Five hundred of the area’s wealthiest people were gathered inside for a black-tie gala. The goal was to raise money for local charities and the continued renovation of the Cathedral of Learning. ‘This isn’t the type of event that you can cancel.’

‘Well, the least you could’ve done is asked for better weather. I froze my ass off outside.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I’m telling you, I had to walk a mile from my parking spot.’

‘Why in the world did you do that?’

‘Because the street outside was blocked off.’

‘Yeah, blocked off for valet parking.’

‘Seriously?’ Jones demanded.