Chris Kuzneski - The Prophecy

‘Relax. I’m fine, and I’m no longer mad at you. In fact, your mistake turned out to be a blessing. We got the name of the guy who’s been coming after us.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Ulster said, breathing a sigh of relief. Then, as if he was afraid the whole room was filled with spies, he crept closer to Payne and Megan. ‘Guess what?’

Payne studied the cryptic look on his face. ‘What?’

Ulster leaned in and whispered. ‘You aren’t the only one who got a name. Capital Savings was very cooperative.’

59

It took a few hours to work through the political mess at the Beau-Rivage. Payne and Jones had entered Switzerland illegally and had just gunned down eleven people, but they had saved many more with their heroism — including Petr Ulster, a personal friend of Geneva’s mayor.

A phone call from Nick Dial helped strengthen their case. He explained that Payne and Jones had been attacked in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, and the only reason they had entered Switzerland was to work out who was trying to kill them. He assured the police that Payne and Jones had worked closely with his office in the past, and Interpol would soon be involved in the investigation due to the international nature of the shootings. In addition, he also told the Geneva police they should announce the death of twelve criminals, not eleven, in order to protect a valuable snitch in a very important case.

Once the duo was finally allowed to leave the scene, Jones retrieved their SUV near the

During the next forty minutes, Jones used every driving tactic he could think of to ensure they weren’t being followed. He crossed several lanes of traffic to leave the highway at the last possible second. He ran red lights and made illegal U-turns. He even drove down a one-way street in the wrong direction. The entire time Payne was focused on their surroundings, memorizing cars and faces, even searching the skies for aerial pursuit. At one point, they pulled into a parking garage where they searched the SUV for listening devices and tracking beacons.

In the end, they were confident they were clean.

‘According to Capital Savings,’ Ulster explained, ‘box number 1566 was closed on December the first by a man named Louis Keller. That was the main reason they were willing to give me his

Jones read between the lines. ‘What was the other reason they helped?’

Ulster grinned. ‘I threatened to pull my family fortune from their bank.’

‘Well played!’ Megan said, laughing.

‘What do we know about Keller?’ Payne wondered.

‘He is fifty-two, never married, and lives in Lausanne. It is a French-speaking city on the shores of Lake Geneva, roughly thirty miles north-east.’

Jones frowned. ‘I’ve heard of Lausanne, but I’m not sure why. Does it have anything to do with Nostradamus?’

‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Ulster admitted. ‘Lausanne is in the Swiss wine region. We refer to it as Capitale Olympique because the International Olympic Committee is located there.’

‘That’s why I’ve heard of it. Every time an Olympic athlete gets busted or a new host city gets announced, the IOC issues a statement from Lausanne.’

Payne barely heard Jones’s comment because he was focused on something far more important. ‘How far did you say it was from Geneva?’

‘How big is Lausanne? A hundred thousand people?’

‘Larger than that. I’d say, closer to three. Why do you ask?’

Payne ignored the question. ‘In other words, it has dozens of banks.’

Jones glanced at him. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘Why would a man from Lausanne have a safe-deposit box in Geneva?’

‘He wouldn’t,’ Jones joked. ‘That’s why he closed it on the first.’

‘I’m serious.’ Payne turned in his seat and spoke to Ulster. ‘When you were at Capital Savings, did you read Keller’s file? Or did they just write down his contact info?’

‘Neither. They pulled up his account and printed everything on the screen.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘Of course, you can. But it won’t do you much good.’

‘Why not?’

Ulster unfolded the paper and showed it to him. ‘It’s written in French.’

Ulster glanced at the document, looking for the requested information. As soon as he spotted the answer towards the bottom of the sheet, his eyes widened. ‘I can’t believe I missed this.’

‘Missed what?’

‘I was so excited about getting his name and address I didn’t even bother to read the paper they gave me.’

‘Missed what?’ Payne repeated.

Ulster looked at him. ‘Louis Keller didn’t rent the box. A man named Maurice Keller did.’

‘Maurice Keller? Is it a relative of his?’ Megan asked.

‘I would bet on it, but…’ Ulster hesitated, trying to figure out the significance of what he had discovered. ‘But a relative who Louis had never met.’

Confusion filled Payne’s face. ‘They never met? Why do you say that?’

Ulster tapped on the paper for emphasis. ‘Because Maurice Keller rented the box on December the first — exactly one century before Louis closed it.’

Megan gasped. ‘Are you serious?’

Payne was quite familiar with family trusts since one had been established in his name — although he hadn’t known anything about it until his parents had died. A week after their funeral, his grandfather had sat him down and explained the basics to him so he wouldn’t be worried about his future. He had been told his inheritance was being held for him at a major bank until he was old enough to handle ‘the financial responsibility’.

In order to encourage his growth as a person, his parents had placed several incentive clauses in the document. They included high school and college graduation, mandatory charity work, and a number of other things Payne would have done anyway. Surprisingly, he never rebelled or complained about his obligations. Deep down inside, he knew his parents had been looking out for his long-term interests. They had tried to do everything they could to ensure he didn’t turn into one of those trust-fund celebrities who were always getting drunk or arrested. To proud people like

Eventually, Payne and his grandfather even joked about the clauses.

They called it ‘parenting from beyond the grave’.

‘Hey Petr,’ Payne said, ‘does that document say anything else about the trust fund? Who started it? How much it was worth? Anything like that?’

Ulster shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. Why do you ask?’

‘I was wondering if it might be the fortune mentioned in the text message. I figure if Nostradamus is behind all of this, there’s always a chance his life savings have multiplied over the years. After four centuries of prophetic investments, there could be a lot of money socked away.’

Ulster shrugged. ‘We’ll find out soon enough. We’ll be in Lausanne shortly.’

60

Lausanne, Switzerland

(38 miles north-east of Geneva)

Louis Keller lived in a nice chalet near the University of Lausanne where he had taught business and economics for the past decade. With its steeply sloped roof and its overhanging eaves, his timber house looked like many others in the quiet neighbourhood. Of course, looks could be deceiving, which was why Payne and Jones studied the nearby streets before they were willing to park their SUV near Keller’s home.

Snowflakes filled the air as the four of them walked up the stone steps of his front porch. Payne led the way, followed by Megan, Ulster, and Jones, who lingered several strides behind with a pistol in his hand. Payne was armed as well, but kept his weapon concealed as he approached the house. Since they still weren’t sure how Keller fitted into all of this, the last thing Payne wanted to do was spook the guy and