The Prophecy

38

Jones stared at the crowded space and wondered where to begin. The closet was eight feet wide, nine feet high, and ten feet deep. Boxes were stacked from the cement floor to the unfinished ceiling. A single bulb above the door filled the front half of the room with light. Everything in the back was either masked by shadows or too far out of reach to worry about. In the limited time he had, Jones would focus his search on the boxes near the door. In his mind, those were the only ones that Ashley could have accessed at a moment’s notice, so the odds were pretty good that’s where the letter would be hidden.

That is, if the letter was in there at all.

Wearing leather gloves, he opened the first box and looked inside. It was filled with T-shirts, shorts, and an assortment of summer clothes. Apparently she had been forced to make room for her winter wardrobe in her closet upstairs. The second box was crammed with much of the same. The only difference was a layer of sandals underneath her skirts and blouses.

To give himself a little extra room to manoeuvre, Jones hauled both boxes outside the door as Megan watched from the hallway. ‘Any trouble?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Need a hand?’

‘Nope.’

She smiled. ‘Nice talking to you.’

‘Yep,’ Jones said with a grin.

The third box was half the size of the first two. It was made out of thick cardboard and had been placed on top of some larger boxes along the right-hand wall. With a black marker, Ashley had written ‘STUFF’ on the side of the box. It wasn’t the most descriptive noun in the world, but unlike the first two boxes, at least she had taken the time to mark it.

The passenger door of the squad car swung open, and a brawny officer climbed out. Dressed in dark blue pants, a turtleneck sweater, and a long patrol jacket, he adjusted his hat and holster, then slammed the door shut. A few seconds later, he was walking towards the lobby like a sheriff from the Wild West.

Although Payne couldn’t see his face from across the street, based on his muscular torso and cocky stride, he assumed the cop was in his twenties. During his time in the military, Payne had learned to recognize this particular model of meathead. Even now, he did everything in his power to avoid them. Their tempers ran hot, their brains were rarely used, and their experience was far too limited to understand the world around them. Most of the time, they relied on their bulging biceps to get them out of trouble. Ironically, it was that line of thinking that usually caused their problems to begin with.

For the time being, Payne wasn’t concerned with the young cop’s presence. As long as his partner stayed in the car, he wasn’t going to venture deep into the building. Especially if they had come here for a murder investigation.

Flying solo was simply too risky when a homicide was involved.

Jones opened the box and smiled at what he saw. Sitting on top of several photo albums was a manila envelope with a strange-looking postmark. He couldn’t tell where it had originated — the stamps were exotic, the postmark had been smudged, and there was no return address — but the name of the recipient was visible. As expected, it hadn’t been sent to Ashley.

Still wearing gloves, he turned the envelope over and was surprised to see the flap completely intact. Whoever had opened it — probably Ashley — had done so carefully, possibly steaming it open to prevent any damage. If so, had she known what it contained before she had taken it? Or had she been planning to return the envelope before anyone knew it was missing?

They were all good questions, but Jones didn’t have time to answer them now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand. He needed to make sure the letter was inside.

With a delicate touch, he tapped on the bottom of the envelope and emptied its contents on top of a nearby box that he had brushed clean. Two pieces of cardboard, attached with clear tape that had been broken on one side, formed a protective shield around a single sheet of parchment yellowed with age. Although Jones was no expert, the letter appeared to be quite old. At least a century, probably more.

Next, his eyes drifted to the body of the letter. A grin quickly surfaced on his face. He was confident that he was staring at the original. The handwriting was distinct, and the shift in ancient languages unique.

Payne knew there was trouble as soon as the meathead cop waved his partner inside. A minute later, they were greeted by an elderly man who had a gigantic set of keys dangling from his hip. The cops handed him a sheet of paper, which he studied intently before he started fiddling with his key ring. Whether he was a janitor or the building’s superintendent, it was pretty obvious that he had been summoned to give the police access to some part of the complex.

The only question was: would they be going up, or down?

Just to be safe, Payne called Jones before the officers had revealed their decision, hoping to give him as much notice as possible. He answered on the second ring.

‘I found the letter,’ Jones announced.

‘I’m glad, because the cops just produced a warrant.’

‘That’s not good. Which way are they heading?’

‘I don’t know yet. They’re standing in the lobby with someone who looks like the Keymaster.’

Jones smiled at the Ghostbusters reference. ‘We have nothing to worry about until the Gatekeeper shows up. After that, all bets are off.’

‘Actually,’ Payne said as he watched them from afar, ‘you need to worry now. They’re heading towards the stairs, not the elevator.’

‘Shit!’

Both men realized the police wouldn’t trudge up six flights of stairs to Ashley’s apartment, but they might walk down one flight to her storage unit in the basement.

‘What’s wrong?’ Megan asked from the hallway.

Jones hung up the phone. ‘The cops just showed up. We have to clear out.’

The colour drained from her face. ‘What can I do?’

‘Tuck this under your shirt,’ he said as he handed her the envelope. ‘I’ve gotta move these boxes.’

It didn’t take him long to carry the two boxes inside. Their placement wasn’t important, so he tossed them against the others without rhyme or reason. The only thing that mattered was turning off the light and closing the door before he was spotted in the closet. The moment the lock clicked shut, Jones figured they were in the clear.

At least he thought they were — until he met the meathead.