The Prophecy

46

François Dubois had enough money to live anywhere in the world, but he chose the city of Bruges because of its old-world charm. In the summer he often took long strolls by the canals and watched the boats as they glided past stone buildings and ducked under ancient bridges. During the golden age of Bruges, the rivers and canals were constantly dredged, allowing trading ships to carry their goods into the heart of the city where they could be unloaded in large water halls or sold in the market. Centuries later, the covered halls no longer exist, but the market continues to thrive — although its purpose has changed over the years.

Once the commercial hub of the city, the Grote Markt is now a traffic-free square, surrounded by picturesque buildings and small cafés with matching green awnings. Whenever the weather cooperated, Dubois would sit outside for hours at a time, conducting business by phone while his bodyguards looked for potential trouble. The crowds here seldom provided any threat. Understandably, most tourists would be focused on the twelfth-century belfry, which towered over the market like a medieval guard. Made of tan brick and stone, it stood over 270 feet high and housed a series of bells that had a distinct sound and function. Some indicated the time, but others had been used to warn the citizens of Bruges of impending danger. Of course, that was long ago, back when the belfry served as a watchtower. Otherwise, the warning bell would have rung every time Dubois entered the market place.

Recently, tourism in the city had increased significantly thanks to the award-winning movie In Bruges, which starred Colin Farrell and Ralph Fiennes. Much of the movie had been filmed in the old city and Grote Markt, including a climactic scene at the top of the belfry. Dubois had never seen the film and never would — he preferred operas and symphonies to the silver screen — yet several filmgoers had told him the movie had presented the city in a favourable light. To Dubois, that was a blessing and a curse. He was delighted the rest of the world could see the beauty that he got to see every day, but he loathed the sudden influx of tourists.

In his line of work, the appearance of strangers was rarely a good thing.

Despite the falling temperatures and the chance of snow flurries, Dubois bundled himself in a tailored coat and made his way to the market place for an early dinner. His driver stopped the car as close to the café as possible, and Dubois waited for one of his bodyguards to open his door. A few minutes later, he was sitting in a window seat, staring at the neo-Gothic provincial court on the northern side of the plaza. The building had been built on the site of the old water halls and had been reconstructed in 1878 after a fire destroyed most of the complex. Critics argued that the neo-Gothic style conflicted with the medieval architecture found in the rest of the city. Ironically, that was the reason Dubois found comfort in the building. In many ways, it reminded him of the cathedrals back in Paris, a city he loved deeply but rarely got to visit.

‘Good evening, Mr Dubois,’ the waitress said in Dutch.

He nodded but refused to address the help. It was beneath him.

She unfolded his cloth napkin and carefully placed it on his lap. Then she handed him a leather-bound menu. ‘Would you like to hear our specials?’

Dubois shook his head and waved her aside, letting her know that he would summon her if and when he needed assistance. Until then, he didn’t want to be disturbed. Glancing at his Vacheron Constantin watch, he discovered it was time to make his call. First, he would handle his business in America, and then he would order dinner and a nice bottle of wine.

Dubois dialled the number from memory and waited for his intermediary to pick up. This was standard procedure for Dubois, who preferred for his subordinates to get their hands dirty any time they were operating outside the letter of the law.

The phone rang three times before Haney answered.

‘Hello,’ he said in English. Haney wasn’t his real name, but it was the one they used when they were talking on the phone — even though their phones were encrypted.

‘Where do things stand?’ Dubois asked.

‘I’m afraid we’ve had some trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’

‘We’ve had some… interference.’

‘Please explain.’

This was a moment that Haney had been dreading. Up until now, he had let his boss believe that everything was under control in Pennsylvania. He knew how Dubois could get whenever he was upset, and Haney didn’t want to be the one to feel his wrath. He’d hoped if he kept the bad news to himself until the situation was handled, then he could give Dubois nothing but good news. Unfortunately, things hadn’t work out the way he had hoped.

‘The girl from Philadelphia passed the document to two outsiders before we got to her. Since that time, we have been unable to retrieve it.’

His nose flared with anger. ‘Why not?’

‘Unforeseen circumstances.’

‘Meaning?’

‘The outsiders have a special set of skills that we weren’t anticipating.’

‘What type of skills?’

‘Special Forces, sir.’

Dubois snatched the napkin from his lap and flung it against the window. His bodyguards, who were positioned a few tables over, scanned the room for an impending threat, but they quickly realized Dubois’s outburst was related to his conversation.

‘When did this happen?’ he demanded.

‘Saturday night.’

‘You’ve known about this for two days, yet you’re telling me now?’

‘No, sir. This information has recently come to light, after two failed attempts.’

‘Define failed.’

Haney cleared his throat. ‘My associate silenced the girl, but died in a traffic accident shortly thereafter. I sent a replacement to retrieve the document, but he failed as well.’

‘Another accident?’ he said sarcastically.

‘Actually, sir, it was. He fell off a cliff.’

Dubois shook his head, the anger building inside him. ‘Two associates in two days, yet not an utterance from you. May I ask why?’

‘I… um…’ he stuttered. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I should’ve called earlier.’

‘You’re sorry? Well then, I guess all is forgiven. Haney is sorry, so everything is okay!’ Dubois took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. ‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell me what you’re going to do to fix this! Where are these men now?’

‘In Philadelphia.’

‘And what are they doing there?’

‘They’re protecting the girl.’

Dubois furrowed his brow. As he did, his eyes looked like slits. ‘What girl?’

‘We’re still figuring that out, sir. We think maybe the document belongs to her.’

‘Who is this we you keep referring to?’

‘Me, sir. I think maybe the first girl — the one who tried to get the letter translated at Penn — wasn’t the actual owner. I think maybe she was working on behalf of this new girl.’

Dubois smirked. ‘An intermediary who ended up dead. It’s funny how that happens on occasion.’

Haney gulped at the implied threat. ‘I sent an associate to investigate her, but her guardians intervened. They killed him in broad daylight. A cop also got killed in the crossfire.’

Dubois stood abruptly and walked towards the door. He flung it open with a violent push. ‘The news keeps getting better and better! I ask you to retrieve a single document, and you turn it into World War Three. How many people have died so far? Five, maybe more? Do we even know the names of these interlopers?’

‘Yes, sir, we do.’

‘And?’

‘And we’ll find them soon. I promise.’