Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘No way! Are you serious?’

‘I’m serious, but I’m not done. Obviously, this sign freaked them out, but they’d been drinking so much they decided this was actually a good omen. They decided Nostradamus was expecting them, so the rumours must’ve been true. With a simple drink, they’d be able to see the future. Anyway, the bravest of the bunch stepped forward and poured a bottle of wine into the prophet’s skull. Getting swept up in the moment, he mumbled a drunken toast in the dead man’s honour then took a big gulp from the hollowed-out head. Just then a bright light flashed in the distance! His friends assumed it was the spirit of the prophet returning from the great beyond, but it wasn’t Nostradamus. Instead, it was rifle fire from a nearby skirmish. Unfortunately, one of the stray bullets sailed through the night and pierced the drunken soldier right between the eyes. The poor sucker dropped dead on the spot before he had a chance to reveal the future.’

‘Come on! The guy died?’

Jones shrugged. ‘According to legend, the guy actually fell into the grave. Of course, that’s the

‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘that one seems pretty far-fetched.’

Payne smiled. ‘Actually, I think it’s a lot easier to accept than Nostradamus writing a poem about you, but what the hell do I know? I’m not a historian. Or French.’

She laughed. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m still doubting that one myself. I guess we’ll know a lot more once Petr tests the ink and parchment.’

Payne nodded. ‘Tests like that would normally bore the hell out of me, but in this case, I can’t wait to hear the results. Personally, my gut’s undecided, but not my heart.’

‘Meaning?’

‘I think it would be pretty cool to know what’s going to happen in the future. Especially if we’re given a chance to change it.’

‘You think we can change the future?’ she asked.

Payne shrugged. ‘Who knows for sure? But let’s be honest, it’s a philosophical debate that is bound to rage on for centuries. However, some of the greatest thinkers of our time believe that we control our own destiny. Not God. Not the stars. And certainly not Nostradamus. It’s our

53

Tuesday, 15 December

Geneva, Switzerland

Payne, Jones, and Megan had departed Pennsylvania on Monday evening and arrived in Geneva on Tuesday morning. Although the temperature was below freezing and flurries of snow fluttered through the sky, the plane was able to land on a Swiss runway far from the French sector. One of Ulster’s associates met them as they hustled across the tarmac and led them into a nearby hangar where a silver Mercedes SUV and a black Mercedes sedan were waiting for them.

The sight confused Payne. ‘Why two vehicles?’

The associate, whom he had met several times, explained, ‘One is for your time in Geneva. The other will deliver the document to Küsendorf where the testing will be done.’

Payne pointed at his choice. ‘If it’s okay with you, we’ll take the SUV.’

Jones overheard the comment. ‘Petr’s here ? He didn’t tell us he was coming.’

‘I believe he wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘Great! I haven’t seen him in a while.’

Jones went over to the late-model SUV, admiring its heavily tinted side windows. Peeking through the windshield, he saw Ulster sound asleep in the front passenger seat. A drop of drool oozed from the corner of his mouth. Jones grinned at the sight and decided to play a trick on his friend. He put his face next to the windshield then rapped loudly on the glass, hoping to scare him. The loud noise spooked Ulster, who tried to leap from his seat but was restrained by his seatbelt. His arms flailed wildly and spittle flew in all directions like a broken sprinkler. Due to Ulster’s girth, the entire SUV shook as though a small earthquake had just hit Switzerland.

Payne noticed the movement as he approached. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘It wasn’t me,’ Jones claimed as he slowly backed away.

‘For some reason, I don’t believe you.’

Jones picked up his bag. ‘You can drive. I’ll sit in back where it’s safe.’

‘I’m great, Petr. How about yourself?’

‘Wonderful. Just wonderful!’

Jones walked over timidly. ‘Hey, Petr. Good to see you.’

‘David! I just had a dream about you.’

‘Really?’

He paused and pointed. ‘Strangely, you were wearing those same clothes.’

Jones hoped his host wouldn’t put things together. ‘All this talk about Nostradamus, and now you’re seeing the future. How crazy is that?’

Ulster laughed. ‘Yes, that must be it!’

‘So,’ Jones said, trying to change the subject, ‘why are you here?’

‘Why? Because this is my home. Wherever you go in Switzerland, I go.’

Payne put his hand on Ulster’s shoulder. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid we have to refuse. People have been hunting us since Saturday, and I get the feeling they’re not going to stop

‘And I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt in my homeland.’

‘But Petr—’

Ulster cut him off. ‘Jonathon, this isn’t open to debate. I know the streets of Geneva like my own back yard, and I have trustworthy friends who can help us throughout the city. Furthermore, I can speak and read all the languages that Nostradamus used, plus my knowledge of the prophet is greater than all of yours combined. Pardon me for saying so, but you’d be foolish to turn down my expertise.’

Jones glanced at Payne. ‘He’s got a point.’

‘But—’

Ulster cut him off again. ‘And take a look at this.’ He trudged towards the SUV and opened its hatch. Inside the trunk was a wide assortment of guns and ammunition. All the weapons looked brand new. ‘I come bearing gifts.’

Jones eyed the merchandise. ‘Merry fuckin’ Christmas.’

Ulster laughed. ‘I took your advice after the last attack on the Archives. Now we have a modern armoury at our disposal.’

Jones grabbed a Benelli semi-automatic 12-gauge

Payne took a few seconds to consider their options. Although he didn’t like the thought of Megan and Ulster in the fray, neither of them would be deadweight. Megan had been invited by name and might be the key to whatever they were searching for, and Ulster was one of the few people in the world who could interpret all the clues along the way.

‘Fine,’ he said reluctantly, ‘you can tag along. But in the field, I’m in charge. If I say something, you do it. No questions, no quarrels, no hesitation.’

Ulster nodded and grinned.

‘One more thing, and this isn’t negotiable. Both of you need to wear bulletproof vests.’

Ulster grinned even wider as he pulled up his sweater. Hidden underneath was the largest Kevlar vest that Payne had ever seen. Custom-built to protect Ulster’s massive stomach and man boobs, it had been decorated with red and blue paisley. ‘I’m ready to rock and roll!’

Jones grimaced at the sight. ‘And I’m ready to throw up.’

*

‘As soon as I got off the phone to you, I hustled to the Renaissance Room at the Archives and located a copy of Les Prophéties in its original French, and all the materials I had on Nostradamus. That included some handwritten correspondence to his son. Although nothing will be conclusive until your document is tested, I can assure you the handwriting is a perfect match. If your letter wasn’t written by Nostradamus, it was done by a master forger.’

Sitting next to Ulster, Megan shook her head in disbelief. ‘You mentioned he had a son. Did you find any connections to my family?’

Ulster patted her on the leg. ‘If I had, my dear, I would have called.’