Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

Payne furrowed his brow at the line of questioning. ‘Police stations? Discotheques? War planes? What in the heck are you rambling about?’

‘Your letter,’ Ulster explained. ‘I have a theory about its author, but I need a black light to prove my hypothesis.’

‘Tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll see what I can do.’

Ulster leaned back in his office chair. ‘Since 1282, papermakers have been using watermarks to identify their products. The first technique was called the Dandy Roll Process, a pressure roller developed in Bologna, Italy. In time, governments started protecting their products as well, using special paper for stamps and currency in order to discourage counterfeiting.’

‘And what does that have to do with the letter?’

‘Eventually the art world followed suit. Painters protected their works by using special types of

Payne grabbed the corner of the letter and held it up to the light, searching for a watermark of any kind. ‘Sorry, Petr, this letter is watermark-free.’

‘Wonderful! Just wonderful!’

‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘No, Jonathon, not at all. In fact, I’m thrilled with the news. As I mentioned, I have a theory about the puzzle maker. If the author is who I think he is, the only way we can be sure is with a black light.’

‘Wait. Who do you think it is?’ Payne wondered.

Ulster shook his head. ‘For the time being, I’d rather not say. But if my hypothesis is correct, I can understand why people are willing to kill for that letter.’

50

While Ulster waited on his cell phone, Payne used the office telephone to call the base commander. The grey-haired supervisor answered on the second ring. After a moment of small talk, Payne got right to the point.

‘Let me apologize in advance, but I need to ask you a strange question.

The commander smiled. ‘You mean stranger than being smuggled into Willow Grove and setting up shop in a back office?’

Payne laughed. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’

‘What can I do for you, son?’

‘I was wondering if you had a black light anywhere on the base.’

‘As a matter of fact, we do. Hand-held and battery-powered.’

‘Seriously? Why in the world do you have one?’

‘Every year we have one of the biggest air shows in the country. Sometimes we get in old bombers from World War Two. The type we built

‘Sir, I’m confused. What type of panels are you talking about?’

The commander grunted. ‘How disappointing! I figured an academy man like you would know this stuff. You soldiers nowadays need to learn your history.’

‘You’re right, sir. If you have a moment, please fill me in.’

The commander smiled, happy to impart his knowledge to a younger generation. ‘Back in the old days, the bright glow of our instrument panels used to give away the position of our planes during night raids. During the war, we experimented with UV-fluorescent dials and black lights. We even printed charts in UV-fluorescent inks and designed special UV-visible pencils and slide rules for the navigators.’

Suddenly, Ulster’s comment about war planes made sense to Payne. ‘That’s pretty fancy gear for the forties. Was it effective?’

The commander laughed. ‘Not really. That’s probably why you never heard of it. The damn power inverters kept blinking out on takeoffs. And no power meant no instruments.’

‘A series of crashes forced us and the Brits to abandon the programme back in forty-five. Surprisingly, some of the old birds are still functional. Not the inverters, though. That’s why we have to break out the wand. To light those panels up.’

‘If it’s all right with you, could I borrow the wand for an hour or two?’

‘Not a problem, son. Someone will bring it to you in a few minutes.’

‘Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. And, sir? Thanks for the history lesson.’

As promised, the UV wand was delivered less than five minutes later. It was nearly a foot long, and the casing was made of black plastic. There was a thumb switch near the handle, which turned on the UV lamp — a single UV bulb that shone light over a limited space.

Jones saw the device being delivered and was immediately intrigued. As soon as the airman left, Jones and Megan hustled into the office.

‘Close the door,’ Payne whispered as he covered the mouthpiece on his cell phone. Jones did what he was told, then took a seat next to Megan.

‘What kind of test?’ Jones asked.

Payne signalled for Jones to hold on for a moment. ‘Petr, the wand just got here. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to put you on speakerphone. I’m here with DJ and Megan.’

‘Hello everybody,’ Ulster said through the speaker. ‘This is so exciting!’

‘What’s exciting? What are we checking?’ Jones wondered.

‘I have a theory on the identity of your mysterious writer. If I’m correct, your letter will have a special UV watermark in the parchment.’

Jones scoffed at the notion. ‘Petr, none of us are experts in the field, but this letter looks several centuries old. I doubt UV technology was available when it was written.’

‘Technology, no. Ink, yes.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Believe it or not, phosphorescent ink is older than modern man. Several forms of phosphorescence can be found in nature. For instance, there are many species of fish that glow under UV lighting. Insects, too. Have you ever seen a scorpion under a black light? Very creepy!’

‘Maybe so, but—’

Jones smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘Because that’s what forward thinking is all about. Some of the greatest minds of all time designed contraptions long before we had the technology to build them.’

‘In other words, you’re telling us that ancient writers used UV watermarks to verify their work for future generations?’

Ulster clarified his point. ‘No, I never said writers. Just one in particular.’

‘And why would he do that?’

‘Because his most important work focused on the future.’

‘The future, huh? Care to give us a name?’

‘In a moment,’ Ulster promised, ‘but first, you need to do something for me.’

‘What’s that?’ Payne asked.

‘Turn off the lights, turn on the wand, and tell me what you see.’

Despite being highly sceptical, Jones walked towards the door and put his hand on the light switch. Megan slid round the desk to stand next to Payne, who anxiously held the wand over the letter.

‘Ready?’ Jones asked.

‘Holy shit!’ Jones blurted as he rushed over to read it.

Payne echoed his sentiment. ‘Holy shit indeed.’

‘What do you see?’ Ulster demanded.

Jones answered. ‘It’s glowing. The damn thing is glowing!’

‘But what do you see? Words? Shapes? Numbers?’

‘All of the above.’

‘The shape! Tell me about the shape.’

Payne moved the lamp closer and did his best to describe it. ‘The object is in the centre of the page. It’s roughly two inches in diameter and looks like a crescent moon on its back.’

Jones growled in the dark. As he did, his teeth glowed. ‘Please tell me it’s not Islamic. The Saudis are still pissed about what we did in Mecca.’

‘No, it’s not Islamic,’ Ulster assured them. ‘In fact, it’s not even a moon.’

‘What is it then?’

‘A bowl? Like for Frosted Flakes?’

Ulster ignored the question. He’d explain everything soon enough. ‘Tell me, Jonathon, is the bowl being cradled?’

‘Yes,’ Payne said. ‘It’s being held in the air by some kind of support.’

A loud belly laugh filled the line. ‘Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! I simply knew it!’

Payne smiled at Ulster’s excitement. ‘Knew what, Petr?’