The Prophecy

44

Jones slid Megan’s phone across the desk to Payne, who read the text without comment. Although he wrote the cryptic quatrain in his notebook, his main concern was finding the phone number of the sender and the time it had arrived. While Payne searched for that information on the phone, Jones took over the questioning.

‘I consider myself an educated man,’ he said to Megan, ‘so when I read poetry I tend to ask myself certain things. For instance, what was the central theme of the piece? Why did the writer choose this particular rhyming scheme? Occasionally, I even like to speculate on which schools of thought influenced the poet’s word choice.’

Payne glanced at Jones, trying to figure out where he was going with his line of questioning. He knew damn well that Jones didn’t read poetry — apart from the lyrics of his favourite rap songs.

‘That being said,’ Jones continued, ‘do you know what question popped into my mind while I read your text message?’

She shook her head. ‘No, what?’

He leaned closer. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you show us this last night?’

‘Excuse me?’ she blurted.

Payne cleared his throat. ‘Language.’

Jones raised his hands defensively. ‘Sorry for being so crass, but vulgarity isn’t nearly as offensive as gunfire. I mean, curse words sting and all, but bullets freakin’ kill!’

Payne cleared his throat even louder.

‘What?’ Jones snapped. ‘I said freakin’, not fuckin’.’

‘I know you did, but calm down.’

‘Calm down? Why should I calm down? Personally I think you should be more upset!’

‘And what good would that do?’

‘What good?’ Jones asked incredulously. ‘Maybe it would help her understand that she shouldn’t keep intelligence from us. That keeping us in the dark is a good way to get us killed.’

Megan had heard enough. She wasn’t the type of person who was going to let two people argue about her while she was in the room — especially since she didn’t feel she had done anything wrong. ‘Wait a second! Do you mean like not telling me about the translation of the letter? I’m not stupid, you know. I heard you guys whispering about some Petr guy translating it for you. Why should I tell you everything if you’re not going to tell me everything?’

Jones glared at her for a few uncomfortable seconds. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a valid point. They had been keeping things from her. Important things. Of course, that’s the way it had been for them during their military careers. Information was compartmentalized. Everything was on a need-to-know basis. And since Payne and Jones were at the top of the MANIAC pyramid, they got to pick and choose when intelligence was passed to their men. Unfortunately, now that they were in the real world, they occasionally struggled with the concept of give and take. Sometimes information had to be shared for trust to be earned.

‘Listen,’ Jones said, suddenly not as loud or angry as a moment before, ‘I can understand your point of view, but you have to understand mine. When it comes to safety, there are no secrets. If you get a text message or a phone call that mentions death or threatens anyone in any way, you tell us ASAP. In return, we’ll do our best to keep everyone safe.’

Megan nodded in agreement. That sounded like a fair deal to her. ‘In hindsight, you’re right. I should have shared the message with you sooner. However, in my defence, I received this message way before anyone tried to kill me. I honestly thought it was some kind of a prank. It never dawned on me that it was actually important until earlier today.’

‘Well, now you know.’

She nodded and stuck out her hand towards Jones. ‘Still friends?’

He smiled and gave her a fist bump. ‘Still friends.’

For Payne, it was a major struggle not to tease Jones. He had never seen one of his rants cut so short. Normally, Jones spouted on and on until he eventually ran out of steam, but she had managed to disarm him with a well-timed rebuttal and a few kind words. To Payne, it was like watching a woman use the Jedi mind trick. Only better. Because this wasn’t fiction.

‘Hey, DJ,’ Payne said, ‘do you feel like working your magic?’

‘With what?’

Payne handed Megan’s phone to Jones. ‘The message was sent to her on Wednesday night from a restricted number. Can you access her account and find out who sent it?’

‘I can, but I’ll have to do it in the other room. It’s the only place I can hook up my laptop to a high-speed connection.’

Payne nodded. ‘That’s fine. I think I can handle things from here.’

‘Scream if you need me,’ Jones said as he walked through the door.

Megan glanced over her shoulder to make sure he couldn’t hear what she was about to say. ‘Well, that was interesting.’

Payne leaned back in his chair, impressed. ‘I have to admit, you showed a lot of moxie. Not only did you stand up to him, but you managed to calm him down.’

She smiled slyly. ‘What can I say? I have a gift.’

‘What gift is that?’

‘The ability to soothe the savage beast.’

‘Well, I—’

She cut him off. ‘Choose your next words wisely. If you say anything about a beast in your pants that needs soothing, I’m leaving and never coming back.’

Payne laughed. ‘Although I’m flattered that you’re thinking about my pants, I was actually going to say your gift probably comes in handy at work.’

As hostess at one of the fanciest restaurants in Philadelphia, Megan was often forced to deal with angry clientele — everyone from the snobby rich to the obnoxious drunk. ‘As a matter of fact, I have handled some of the most delicate reservation snafus in the history of this fine city. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Fagan Fiasco of 2006? Or the Hennessy Debate of 2008?’

He shook his head. ‘Actually, I haven’t.’

She playfully slammed her fist on the desk. ‘That’s because I handled them.’

Payne grinned at her, trying to remember the last time he had felt so comfortable with a woman in such a short amount of time. ‘As much as I’d like to hear all the details, let’s focus on the text message for a moment.’

She nodded. ‘Whatever you need, just ask.’

‘Out of curiosity, what did you do when you received the message?’

‘I did what most people would do: I tried to figure out who sent it. Unfortunately, as you know, it came from a restricted number. And when I replied to it, my text got bounced back.’

‘Then what?’ Payne asked.

‘I tried to make sense of the riddle.’

Payne, who had written the poem in his notebook, read it aloud. ‘Your fortune waits for you. Protect it with your life. Death shall visit those untrue. Blood of his first wife.’

‘Strange, huh?’

‘More than strange. It was prophetic.’

‘In what way? Please tell me there’s a big cheque in that envelope.’

‘Actually,’ Payne explained, ‘I was talking about Ashley. She came to Pittsburgh, claiming the letter had been sent to her, and she was killed because of her deceit.’

Megan opened her mouth to argue how preposterous that was, then realized Payne was right: Death had visited Ashley for that very reason. Suddenly, a chill went down her spine. ‘Jon, that is so creepy. Look at my arms. They’re covered in goose bumps.’

‘If you think that’s creepy, hand me your envelope. Since it was addressed to you, I think it’s time I told you what the letter said.’

Payne carefully removed the mysterious letter and laid it on the desk. As he did, she walked around to his side and stared at the ancient languages, trying to understand why it had been sent to her.

‘Is this my fortune?’ she asked.

Payne shook his head. ‘If the letter is as old as we think it is, it’s probably valuable, but I doubt it’s worth a fortune.’

‘Oh well, it’s probably for the best. Most rich people are assholes.’

‘Hey,’ he argued.

She patted him on the back. ‘Relax, big guy. I said, most.’

‘Anyway,’ he said as he flipped his notebook to the verse he had copied down during Petr Ulster’s lecture, ‘the main reason we came to Philly to investigate Ashley’s death was because of the cryptic message of the poem. She didn’t know it, but it talks about Philadelphia.’

He set the notebook on the desk and allowed Megan to read the modern translation.

Payne focused on Megan’s face as she read the poem, hoping to see how she reacted to the letter that had been intended for her. Would she be surprised? Or confused? Or maybe some other emotion that would allow him to learn more about her?

He watched her lips as they moved silently, slowly sounding out the words as she tried to decipher their meaning. In the middle of the message, she paused, as if she’d noticed something that no one else had and needed to read it again and again to make sure that she wasn’t imagining things. Finally, after several seconds of bewilderment, she clasped Payne’s arm.

‘Who wrote this?’ she demanded, her voice filled with concern.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘Who wrote the letter, Jon?’

Payne shrugged. ‘We don’t know who wrote it. Why? What’s bothering you?’

‘The letter,’ she said as she sank into Payne’s chair. ‘I know who it’s describing.’

He stared at her and noticed the blood had drained from her pale face. ‘Who?’

Megan glanced up at him. ‘The letter is about me.’