The Prophecy

2

Dressed in black, the shadowy figure trudged through the blizzard on the nearly deserted campus. Six inches of snow had already fallen, and three more were expected by midnight, thanks to a storm that blanketed the region. Although the evening’s temperature was in the upper-twenties, it felt much colder due to the harsh winds that whipped down the empty streets, pelting everything with ice.

Lowering his head, he continued onward, unwilling to stop despite the tiny crystals that had formed on his hair and clothes. He had lived in the city for several years, so he knew Forbes Avenue was up ahead, and beyond it, his final destination.

Dedicated in 1937, the Cathedral of Learning towers above the University of Pittsburgh (Pitt) campus. The sand-coloured skyscraper stands forty-two storeys high and contains more than 2,000 rooms. Its steel frame, overlaid with Indiana limestone, is Gothic Revival in design, similar in style to the Palace of Westminster in London and St Patrick’s Cathedral in New York.

Simply put, it is one of the most breathtaking buildings in the world.

On most nights, the golden lights on top of the Cathedral can be seen for miles, but because of the snow, he could barely see the building from across Bigelow Boulevard.

Five minutes later, he tramped up the stone stairs behind the panther-head fountain, then stomped his feet outside the main entrance of the Cathedral, trying to clean his dress shoes the best he could. After brushing the ice from his clothes and hair, he straightened his bow tie and pushed his way through the giant revolving door. A surge of warm air greeted him inside the building, as did two female students who were manning the registration table.

‘Good evening, sir,’ said the blonde. ‘May I take your coat?’

The black man nodded as he took off his overcoat, revealing a tuxedo underneath. He wasn’t used to fancy clothes. In fact, the last time he had worn a tux was at his senior prom, nearly twenty years before. But because of the formality of the event, he had promised to wear one. Not that he was happy about it. If he’d had his way, he would have been on the other side of campus — near the building where Dr Jonas Salk developed the polio vaccine — settling into his seat at the sold-out Petersen Events Center, watching the Pitt basketball team beat Duke University in front of a raucous college crowd. Instead, his evening would consist of boring speeches, watered-down drinks, and cheese cubes on toothpicks. Or so he thought.

The redhead looked at the guest list. ‘And you are?’

A voice from the side answered for him. ‘That’s the infamous David Jones.’

Jones turned and snarled at Jonathon Payne. Not only was Payne his best friend, he was the only reason that Jones was there. ‘Don’t start with me, Jon. I’m not in the mood.’

Also dressed in a tux, Payne put his massive hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘What’s wrong, princess? Still pissed about the game?’

‘Of course I’m pissed. We’re playing Duke.’

Payne shrugged. He wasn’t happy about it, either. Even though he had played football and basketball at the US Naval Academy, he had been a Pitt fan since birth. ‘Like I told you, the event was planned before the game was scheduled. There was nothing I could do.’

‘But it’s your event,’ Jones complained. ‘You should’ve cancelled it.’

Payne laughed at the thought. Five hundred of the area’s wealthiest people were gathered inside for a black-tie gala. The goal was to raise money for local charities and the continued renovation of the Cathedral of Learning. ‘This isn’t the type of event that you can cancel.’

‘Well, the least you could’ve done is asked for better weather. I froze my ass off outside.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I’m telling you, I had to walk a mile from my parking spot.’

‘Why in the world did you do that?’

‘Because the street outside was blocked off.’

‘Yeah, blocked off for valet parking.’

‘Seriously?’ Jones demanded.

‘Seriously,’ Payne said, laughing. ‘Come on, you should know better than that. Rich people don’t walk anywhere. Especially not in a foot of snow.’

Jones glanced at the two female students, who were nodding their heads in total agreement. As if only a moron would think otherwise.

‘Son of a bitch,’ he mumbled to Payne. ‘I’m so cold I can’t feel my nuggets.’

‘Well, don’t look at me. I’m not going to feel them for you.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I should hope not,’ Payne teased. ‘Heck, you’d have to donate a hell of a lot of money for me to even consider something like that.’

‘Knock it off, Jon. I simply meant…’ He paused in mid-sentence, realizing there was no reason to explain himself. ‘Which way to the bar?’

Payne pointed to the right. ‘It’s over there.’

‘Thank God. Me and my boys need a drink. Wake me when your speech is over.’

Jonathon Payne was the CEO of Payne Industries, a multinational corporation founded by his grandfather, a self-made millionaire who had gone from mill worker to mill owner in less than thirty years. Payne had shunned the family business as a youngster — opting instead for a decorated career as a Special Forces officer — but returned home when his grandfather passed away and left him the controlling interest in the company.

Although he willingly took over for his grandfather — the man who had raised him after Payne’s parents were killed in a car accident — he wasn’t thrilled about his career change. In private he often joked that business meetings were held in the ‘bored room’, yet he never publicly complained about his obligations. Not only to avoid sounding like an ingrate, but because he realized his current position had certain advantages: like the ability to help others. It was something he had always been passionate about. Even in his former life.

In the past, he had used blades and guns to get the job done.

Now he used his quick wit and killer smile.

As host of the charity event, Payne took the stage in the centre of the Commons Room, a four-storey Gothic hall in the belly of the tallest academic building in the western hemisphere.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said as he adjusted the microphone to accommodate his height, ‘my name is Jonathon Payne. Thank you for braving the cold and coming out tonight.’

Dressed in tuxedos and formal gowns, his guests turned towards the podium where Payne waited to kick-off his fundraiser. At six foot four and two hundred and forty pounds, he had the ability to control a room with his physical presence alone. Throw in his charisma and his boyish good looks, and the crowd didn’t stand a chance.

‘I realize most of you are here for the free cocktails, so I promise I’ll be brief.’

Payne smiled as he gazed at the sea of faces in front of him. Normally the great hall was filled with Pitt students doing homework or studying for exams. However, since this was the last day of classes for the fall semester, Pitt’s chancellor Mark Nordenberg had given Payne permission to hold his event where it would have the most success — right across the hall from the Nationality Rooms, one of the main beneficiaries of that evening’s fundraiser.

‘We are standing in the Commons Room, which is a true example of Gothic architecture. The stone ceiling is fifty-two feet high and all the arches are self-supporting. How they built them without steel beams is beyond me.’ Payne paused and looked skyward. No matter how many times he had been inside the Cathedral, he always left impressed. ‘Amazingly, this entire room was a gift from one man, Pittsburgh native Andrew Mellon.’

Applause filled the room even though Mellon had died in 1937, the same year the Cathedral had officially opened. Then again, in the history of Pittsburgh, certain names stood above all others when it came to philanthropy: Andrew Mellon, Andrew Carnegie, and H. J. Heinz.

‘As you know, one of the best things about Pittsburgh is the ethnic diversity of our population. Thanks to the steel industry, immigrants from every corner of the world came to our city, looking for jobs. And if you’ve ever glanced at a local phone book, you know a lot of them stayed.’ The crowd laughed at the joke. ‘One of those immigrants was my great-grandfather, who came here from a small town in Poland and actually worked on this building. I never met the man, but according to my grandfather, he had a favourite expression. He used to say, “If America is the original melting pot, the blast furnaces of Pittsburgh provided the heat.”’

Once again, applause echoed throughout the great hall.

‘For those of you who are new to the Cathedral, we are currently surrounded by one of its unique features: the Nationality Rooms. Scattered throughout the first three floors are a collection of twenty-seven classrooms donated by many of the ethnic groups that helped to build our wonderful city. By simply walking down one of the corridors, you can visit a Greek classroom from the age of Pericles, a palace hall from China’s Forbidden City, or a room from London’s House of Commons. All these rooms are decorated with authentic artefacts meant to enrich the learning experiences of Pitt students and the thousands of visitors who come to the Cathedral every year to learn more about our city’s past.’

Payne stared into the crowd, making eye contact with as many people as possible.

‘One of our main goals tonight is to raise money for these rooms. Not only to aid the preservation of the current classrooms, but hopefully to build several more. This is our way of honouring the ethnic groups that helped shape our city and make it the special place it is today. With that in mind, we have representatives of more than forty countries here to answer your questions about the Nationality Rooms and to discuss our amazing plans for the future. Who knows? With a little help from you, that future might begin tonight.’

Amid loud applause, Payne glanced at the crowd one last time before he left the main stage. As he did his eyes focused on a solitary figure in the back of the Commons Room. She was standing alone, partially hidden behind a stone column and obscured by shadows. Although he could barely see her, years of training told him that something was wrong.

Somehow he knew she didn’t belong.