Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

Nick Dial rolled over in his bed in Lyon, France, and stared at the clock on his dresser. He was a

Payne’s eyes widened at the unexpected use of profanity. He moved the phone from his lips and whispered to Jones. ‘Oh, shit. He’s pissed.’

‘Hang up!’ Jones urged. ‘I’m not gonna hang up. I’m not in middle school.’

Dial shouted into his phone. ‘Who the hell is this?’

Payne took a deep breath and answered. ‘Hey, Nick, it’s Jonathon Payne. Sorry to call you so late, but something important came up.’

There were very few people in the world that Dial truly respected, but Payne and Jones were at the top of the list. The trio had met several years ago at Stars and Stripes, a pub in London that catered to Americans who worked overseas. Payne and Jones were in the MANIACs at the time, and Dial was rising through the ranks of Interpol. The three of them hit it off, and they had kept in touch ever since — occasionally bumping into each other in the strangest places. Once

After years of fieldwork, solving some of Interpol’s most important cases, Dial had been selected to run the newly formed homicide division at Interpol. Since it was the largest international crime-fighting organization in the world, he dealt with death all over the globe. His job was to coordinate the flow of information between police departments any time a murder investigation crossed national borders. All told he was in charge of 186 member countries, filled with billions of people and hundreds of languages.

Dial sat up in his bed, groggy. ‘How important are we talking?’

‘Pretty important, Nick. Someone tried to kill us.’

‘Give me five minutes, and I’ll call you back on a secure line.’

One of the biggest misconceptions about Interpol was their role in stopping crime. They seldom sent agents to investigate a case. Instead, they used local offices called National Central Bureaus in the member countries. The NCBs monitored their territory and reported pertinent information to Interpol’s headquarters in Lyon. From

Unfortunately, that wasn’t always enough. Sometimes the head of a division (drugs, counter feiting, terrorism, etc.) was forced to take control of a case to cut through red tape or handle a border dispute or deal with the international media. All the things that Dial hated to do. In his line of work, the only thing that mattered to him was justice . Correcting a wrong in the fairest way possible. That was the creed he had lived by when he was an investigator, and it had continued in his new position. If he focused on justice, he figured all the other bullshit would take care of itself.

Still waking up, Dial stumbled into his kitchen and returned Payne’s call, using a landline that was routinely checked for listening devices. ‘Who’d you piss off now?’

Payne laughed at his directness. ‘You mean, besides you?’

‘Sorry about that. As you know, I’m not a morning person.’

‘Which is why I called you now. It’s not even morning yet.’

Dial shook his head as he turned on his coffeemaker. ‘With that kind of logic, no wonder someone wants you dead.’

‘So, how can I help?’

‘Let’s start with the people I’ve killed.’

Dial rubbed his eyes. ‘Before you say another word, let me remind you what I do for a living. I arrest guys who kill people. Are you sure you want to tell me this?’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be charged. One shooter fell of a cliff, the other got hit by a bus.’

‘Were you driving the bus?’

Payne laughed, then explained the incident on the Pitt campus, the mysterious letter, and everything that had happened on Mount Washington. He also mentioned the nationality of the first shooter.

‘The guy was Belgian?’ Dial said as he sat down at his kitchen table. ‘We rarely run across killers from Belgium. Crime-wise, Brussels is on par with most European capital cities of the same size. There is some violence there, but most of their crimes centre on the tourist trade — pickpockets, purse snatching, street drugs. Not hitmen and homicides.’

‘What about Antwerp or Ghent?’

‘As the cities get smaller, so do the crime rates. Rural areas are virtually crime-free.’

‘Until then, what would you like me to do?’

‘Do you have any trustworthy contacts in the world of antiquities?’

‘I have several,’ Dial assured him. ‘Over here, art forgery is a billion-dollar business. We have an entire floor at headquarters devoted to nothing else.’

‘If you have the time, I’d appreciate if you could poke around a little bit — maybe see if anyone is familiar with the type of letter that I described.’

‘Not a problem. I know who I’m going to call already. Of course, I’ll wait until the guy is actually awake before I bug him.’

‘Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure what time zone you’d be in.’

‘Relax. I’m just busting your balls. Do me a favour, though. Try to stay out of trouble.’

‘I’ll try,’ Payne said. ‘Two shootouts in one weekend are more than enough for me. I’m supposed to be retired.’

‘Yet you still manage to kill more bad guys than any cop I know.’

Payne shrugged. ‘What can I say? Old habits are hard to break.’

36

Monday, 14 December

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Therefore, it was no surprise that Payne was still awake at 2.13 a.m. when he heard a soft tapping on the connecting door from Megan’s room. There was no urgency to the sound, so Payne didn’t leap out of bed with his gun drawn. And Jones didn’t flinch, either — although one of his

Wearing tracksuit pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, Payne crept across the dark room and put his ear to the door. ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered.

‘I’m fine,’ Megan said. ‘Are you decent?’

‘I think so. And you?’

Instead of replying, Megan opened her door, revealing the soft glow of a lamp on her bedside table. Dressed in silk pyjamas and a hotel robe, her hair was pulled back with a white scrunchie. ‘Do you have a minute to talk?’

‘Of course,’ Payne said, looming in the doorway like a palace guard. At six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, he was a foot taller than she was and more than double her weight. ‘Do I need to wake my chaperone, or will you behave?’

‘I will, if you will.’

‘No promises,’ he teased.

She moved aside and smiled. ‘Keep in mind, I still have pepper spray.’

He stepped into her room. ‘Duly noted.’

Her queen-size bed was a tangle of blankets and sheets, as if she had been tossing and turning

‘Did I wake you?’ she asked, concerned.

‘Not at all. I’m something of a night owl. Have been my whole life.’

‘Me, too,’ she admitted. ‘But even if I wasn’t, I would be tonight.’

He smiled. ‘To be honest, I would’ve been shocked if you had fallen right to sleep. Guns and virgins rarely mix.’

‘Did you say virgins ?’

‘Sorry. It’s a military term for new soldiers in the field. Rookies, virgins, newbies, fresh meat — they all mean the same thing. Whatever you call them, they rarely sleep well.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t even imagine how scared I’d be.’

He shrugged, not sure how to explain it to someone who had never served in the armed forces. ‘If you’re interested, I have some heavy

‘Wow,’ Megan joked, ‘we just met, and you’re already trying to corrupt me. First it was guns, now it’s drugs. What’s next? Are we going to rob a bank together?’

‘That depends on you, Bonnie . Can you handle a getaway car?’

‘Not a problem, Clyde — as long as it’s an automatic. I’m a little rusty with a stick.’