‘And robbed your friends of this event? I should think not. Do you know how many people in the world worship Nostradamus? Millions upon millions read his prophecies like scripture. To some, he is the Muhammad of the Middle Ages — not quite a god, yet more than a man. Someday the three of you will look upon this moment as one of the highlights of your lives.’
Although Payne doubted it, he didn’t want to debate Ulster’s statement. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he wanted to know about the document. Specifically, what Nostradamus had written.
‘Petr, tell us about the message. I get the feeling you understood it.’
‘The second half, yes. The beginning, no.’
‘Then let’s work backwards. Tell us about the ending.’
‘As you surmised, Genève is a name. Not the name of a person, but a city. Genève is the French spelling of Geneva, Switzerland.’
‘I’ll be damned. How close is that to the Archives?’
‘How old is the road?’
Ulster paused in thought. ‘Honestly, I can’t recall, but the city itself is quite old. At one time it was part of the Roman Empire. In fact, the man who named it Genua was Julius Caesar.’
‘In other words, the city is much older than Nostradamus.’
‘Good heaven, yes! Nostradamus lived in the mid-sixteenth century, during the time that John Calvin first arrived in Geneva to preach his faith. If my memory is correct, it seems to me that Nostradamus died in 1565 or 15…’ Ulster stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the number’s significance. ‘The number at the top of the page. I’m fairly certain that Nostradamus died in 1566. Somehow I doubt that’s a coincidence.’
Jones was excited by the revelation. ‘What about CS? Any theories on CS?’
‘Sorry, David, none at the moment. Perhaps something will spring to mind as I browse through my library. I have several wonderful books about his life and prophecies. Once we’re done conversing, I’ll see what I can find.’
‘Petr,’ Megan said meekly, ‘may I ask you a question?’
‘Of course, my dear.’
‘Would your books include information about his personal life?’
‘They certainly would.’
‘In that case, will you do me a favour? While you’re searching for CS, can you keep an eye out for my surname? Maybe Moore is a part of his family tree.’
Ulster smiled at her request. In truth, he was surprised she had taken so long to ask. ‘It would be an honour, my dear. And if I find anything, you shall be the first to know.’
Payne hung up the phone and looked across the desk at Jones and Megan. For the past few hours, they had been reasonably safe at the airbase, but as soon as they left Willow Grove, they would be
He had broached the idea of stashing Megan in a safe house for her protection, but she had fiercely objected. There was no way in hell she was going to let them risk their lives for her while she rested comfortably. She was a fighter and had been as long as she could remember. In her mind, it was pointless to stop now — even if the violence escalated.
In Payne’s opinion, the best way to accomplish their goal was to become aggressive. No more detective work behind the scenes. No more treading lightly. He and Jones were two of the best-trained soldiers in the world, but over the past forty-eight hours they hadn’t been playing to their strengths. Instead of searching for targets, they had become one. Instead of firing first, they had been fired at. If that trend continued for much longer, it was just a matter of time before someone got lucky and picked them off. That was the law of averages.
It would be overseas — with Jones by his side and blood on their hands.
52
A private jet, chartered by Petr Ulster, and paid for with funds from one of his confidential Swiss bank accounts landed at the airbase. The name of a fictitious company had been used during the transaction, and a fake flight plan to Paris had been filed, thereby minimizing the possibility of detection. As long as the workers at NASJRB Willow Grove kept quiet, no one would know Payne, Jones, and Megan had boarded the transatlantic flight to Geneva without the proper paperwork.
Once they landed in Switzerland, things would get a bit more complicated. Due to its proximity to the French border, Geneva international airport was divided into two sections. The majority of the facility was in Switzerland — where Ulster had plenty of clout — but a small part was known as the French sector. This area allowed passengers on certain flights to enter or leave France without possessing a Swiss visa. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem because
Of course, Payne and Jones weren’t the least bit concerned. Sneaking across borders was a way of life for them. And because of their confidence, Megan was able to relax and focus on more important things — like her connection to Nostradamus.
‘I still don’t understand how he could’ve written a poem about me. He lived in the sixteenth century. That’s before Philadelphia was even a city!’
Reclining in a plush leather seat, Jones glanced up from a book he had been reading about the French prophet. It was one of several that an airman had bought for them at a bookstore near Willow Grove. The titles ranged from the academic (Nostradamus and His Prophecies) to the simplistic (Nostradamus for Dummies). They thought
‘Honestly,’ Jones admitted, ‘I’ve been a casual fan of Nostradamus ever since I saw a movie about him back in the mid-eighties. It was called The Man Who Saw Tomorrow and was hosted by a fat Orson Welles, who smoked a cigar through half of his narration.’
Payne, who was sitting next to Megan, laughed at the memory. ‘I remember that film. The first time I saw it I was just a kid. When they started talking about our impending war with the third antichrist, I pulled the blanket over my head. It scared the crap out of me.’
Megan giggled at the image. She found it hard to believe that anything scared him, even as a child. ‘I’ve never seen the movie. Was it any good?’
‘Way back then, I thought it was awesome. Unfortunately, I saw it again a few years ago and couldn’t believe how cheesy it was. Everything was so over the top. Then again, that’s Nostradamus in a nutshell. Some of his prophecies were accurate; others were way off base.’
‘Or maybe they haven’t happened yet,’ Jones joked.
She pondered Payne’s comment. ‘I have to
Jones answered, ‘The first was Napoleon. The second was Hitler.’
‘He predicted them?’
‘Kind of,’ Payne admitted.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means his prophecies weren’t written in straightforward language that could be easily read. Like your letter, his quatrains were coded and ambiguous.’
‘Why do fortune-tellers always do that? If they really know what’s about to happen, why don’t they come right out and say it?’
Jones smiled at the question. ‘Why? Because most fortune-tellers are charlatans. They speak in generalities to preserve their ruse for as long as possible.’
‘Is that what Nostradamus did?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. He wasn’t reading tea leaves at the local carnival, trying to string along some sucker for an extra buck. Nostradamus was writing verses for the masses. By doing so, he opened himself up to a world of trouble. In fact,
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Nostradamus wrote his prophecies in the sixteenth century during the same time as the Catholic Inquisition. Tribunals, established by the Vatican, prosecuted people throughout Europe who were accused of sorcery, witchcraft, and other offences. If he had written his thoughts in simple French, he would have been burned at the stake. Instead, he coded his messages, sprinkling in Greek, Latin, and other languages, in order to protect himself. That way he could claim they were puzzles or poetry, not prophecies.’
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I guess I can understand that. But if his writing is so vague, why is he famous?’
‘Because there’s a beauty in his ambiguity. Take Hitler, for example. In the passages
that describe the second antichrist, Nostradamus claimed that the evil one would come from the Rhine and Hister. Well, guess what? The Rhine runs through Germany, and the Hister is the Latin name for the Danube. Later, he mentions Hister again in connection with armies and fighting. Most people go nuts over that one.’
Megan scrunched her face. ‘What’s your point?’
‘When Adolf was a young boy, he played along
‘And what do you think?’
Jones pointed to himself. ‘Me? I think most of his verses have been pushed and pulled and contorted so much that his believers could make his words fit any historical event. I also think his critics have plenty of ammunition to poke holes in every quatrain he’s ever written.’
Payne smirked. ‘That wasn’t an answer.’
Jones laughed. ‘I know it wasn’t. But like Nostradamus, I’d like to remain mysterious.’
Megan glanced at Payne. ‘And what about you?’
He shrugged. ‘Like DJ, I think some of his verses have been distorted to fit certain world events. That being said, I’ve heard enough stories about him to think maybe he had a gift that can’t be explained in simple scientific terms.’
‘Such as?’
‘Did you hear the one about Nostradamus and the Pope?’
Payne shook his head. ‘No, it’s not a joke — although my setup made it seem that way. This is a story I’ve read many times over the years. Obviously I don’t know if it’s true or not, but if it is, you’ll have to admit it’s pretty freaky.’
She smiled. ‘Cool. I love freaky stories.’
‘While travelling through Europe, he came across a group of lowly Franciscan monks in Italy. Despite his advancing years, Nostradamus immediately threw himself on his knees and kissed the feet of one of the monks, a man named Felice Peretti. When asked why he was doing this, Nostradamus said one must kneel before His Holiness the Pope. Peretti, who was much younger than the prophet, was deeply embarrassed by this and helped the old man to his feet. Amazingly, more than thirty years later, Peretti was named Pope Sixtus V.’
‘Are you serious?’ she shrieked.
Payne shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve heard it from many different sources.’
‘I’ve heard it, too,’ Jones admitted. ‘But that story pales in comparison to the one about his burial. If you want freaky, that shit is freaky!’
‘Wait! Is this the one about the French soldiers?’
‘I forgot about that one! You’re right. That blows the Pope out of the water!’
‘Tell me,’ Megan said excitedly.
Jones launched into his story. ‘When Nostradamus died in 1566, he was buried in a cemetery near his home town. Back then, he was fairly well known, but not the celebrity he is today — mostly because the bulk of his prophecies were just starting to come true. Anyway, somehow a rumour got started that said anyone who drank from Nostradamus’s skull would be able to see the future, but would die shortly thereafter.’
She grimaced. ‘They had to drink from his skull?’
He nodded. ‘More than two hundred years later, during the French Revolution, three drunk soldiers stumbled upon the grave of Nostradamus. Wanting to know how the revolution would turn out, they decided to dig up his body to see if the stories were true. Under the cover of darkness, they grabbed some shovels, and started digging. Several minutes later, they finally got down to the wooden coffin and pried that sucker open. Once they did, guess what they saw?’
‘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.
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