Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

‘Seriously,’ Payne said, laughing. ‘Come on, you should know better than that. Rich people don’t walk anywhere. Especially not in a foot of snow.’

Jones glanced at the two female students, who

‘Son of a bitch,’ he mumbled to Payne. ‘I’m so cold I can’t feel my nuggets.’

‘Well, don’t look at me. I’m not going to feel them for you.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I should hope not,’ Payne teased. ‘Heck, you’d have to donate a hell of a lot of money for me to even consider something like that.’

‘Knock it off, Jon. I simply meant…’ He paused in mid-sentence, realizing there was no reason to explain himself. ‘Which way to the bar?’

Payne pointed to the right. ‘It’s over there.’

‘Thank God. Me and my boys need a drink. Wake me when your speech is over.’

Jonathon Payne was the CEO of Payne Industries, a multinational corporation founded by his grandfather, a self-made millionaire who had gone from mill worker to mill owner in less than thirty years. Payne had shunned the family business as a youngster — opting instead for a decorated career as a Special Forces officer — but returned home when his grandfather passed away and left him the controlling interest in the company.

In the past, he had used blades and guns to get the job done.

Now he used his quick wit and killer smile.

As host of the charity event, Payne took the stage in the centre of the Commons Room, a four-storey Gothic hall in the belly of the tallest academic building in the western hemisphere.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said as he adjusted the microphone to accommodate his height, ‘my name is Jonathon Payne. Thank you for braving the cold and coming out tonight.’

Dressed in tuxedos and formal gowns, his guests turned towards the podium where Payne waited to kick-off his fundraiser. At six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, he had the

‘I realize most of you are here for the free cocktails, so I promise I’ll be brief.’

Payne smiled as he gazed at the sea of faces in front of him. Normally the great hall was filled with Pitt students doing homework or studying for exams. However, since this was the last day of classes for the fall semester, Pitt’s chancellor Mark Nordenberg had given Payne permission to hold his event where it would have the most success — right across the hall from the Nationality Rooms, one of the main beneficiaries of that evening’s fundraiser.

‘We are standing in the Commons Room, which is a true example of Gothic architecture. The stone ceiling is fifty-two feet high and all the arches are self-supporting. How they built them without steel beams is beyond me.’ Payne paused and looked skyward. No matter how many times he had been inside the Cathedral, he always left impressed. ‘Amazingly, this entire room was a gift from one man, Pittsburgh native Andrew Mellon.’

Applause filled the room even though Mellon had died in 1937, the same year the Cathedral had

‘As you know, one of the best things about Pittsburgh is the ethnic diversity of our population. Thanks to the steel industry, immigrants from every corner of the world came to our city, looking for jobs. And if you’ve ever glanced at a local phone book, you know a lot of them stayed.’ The crowd laughed at the joke. ‘One of those immigrants was my great-grandfather, who came here from a small town in Poland and actually worked on this building. I never met the man, but according to my grandfather, he had a favourite expression. He used to say, “If America is the original melting pot, the blast furnaces of Pittsburgh provided the heat.”’

Once again, applause echoed throughout the great hall.

‘For those of you who are new to the Cathedral, we are currently surrounded by one of its unique features: the Nationality Rooms. Scattered throughout the first three floors are a collection of twenty-seven classrooms donated by many of the ethnic groups that helped to build our wonderful city. By simply walking down one

Payne stared into the crowd, making eye contact with as many people as possible.

‘One of our main goals tonight is to raise money for these rooms. Not only to aid the preservation of the current classrooms, but hopefully to build several more. This is our way of honouring the ethnic groups that helped shape our city and make it the special place it is today. With that in mind, we have representatives of more than forty countries here to answer your questions about the Nationality Rooms and to discuss our amazing plans for the future. Who knows? With a little help from you, that future might begin tonight.’

Amid loud applause, Payne glanced at the crowd one last time before he left the main stage. As he did his eyes focused on a solitary figure in the back of the Commons Room. She

Somehow he knew she didn’t belong.

3

By the time Payne made his way to the back of the room, she was no longer there. He glanced up and down the corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but a sea of people blocked his view.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jones asked as he approached from behind. He had spent too many years in the trenches with Payne not to recognize his moods. Even from afar.

They used to lead the MANIACs, an elite Special Forces unit comprised of the top soldiers from the Marines, Army, Navy, Intelligence, Air Force, and Coast Guard. Whether it was personnel recovery, unconventional warfare, or counter-guerrilla sabotage, the MANIACs are the best of the best. The boogeymen that no one talks about. The government’s secret weapon. And even though they had retired a few years before, the duo was still deadly.

‘Nothing,’ Payne assured him. ‘Just looking for someone.’

‘Does this someone have a name?’

‘Let me guess,’ Jones said. ‘The woman behind the pillar.’

‘You spotted her?’

‘Of course I spotted her. I had nothing better to do during your speech. Pretty boring stuff, if you ask me. I’ll be damned if I’m giving you a cent.’

‘Did you see what she looked like?’

Jones shrugged. ‘Couldn’t really tell. She stayed in the shadows the entire time, which is why I noticed her. For a minute there, I thought I might have to take her out.’

‘Please tell me you’re not armed.’

‘Of course I’m armed. I feel naked without my gun.’

Payne shook his head. ‘You brought your gun to a charity event?’

‘In my defence, you told me to wear a tux. You said nothing about being unarmed. Oh, and for the record, you also said nothing about valet parking. Or was that for white guests only?’

Payne laughed at the comment. For as long as they had known each other, race had never been an issue, which was why Jones felt comfortable teasing him. Both of them knew it was a joke.

‘Probably not,’ Jones admitted. ‘Once I thaw out, I’ll cheer up.’

‘You know, I actually thought you might enjoy yourself tonight. You’re always talking about history and foreign cultures. Yet here you are, bitching to me instead of mingling with the assembled experts. What’s wrong? Are you afraid they might be smarter than you?’

Jones rolled his eyes at the statement. ‘Come on, you know I’m the smartest person here. And to prove it, I’m going to pester your experts until they cry.’ He emphasized the word experts by making air quotes with his fingers. ‘Oh, yeah, one more thing: if any of your guests asks me where the African room is, I swear to God I’m gonna shoot ’em.’

Her initial goal had been to blend in with her surroundings. She had wanted to get a feel for the room before she finally made her move. But her plan wasn’t to be.