The Prophecy

66

After receiving instructions from Dubois, the guard at the front gate didn’t talk to Payne or search him for weapons. He simply opened the gate and waved him through.

Payne wasn’t the least bit surprised. He had dealt with men like Dubois before. Whether it was hubris or lunacy, they believed they couldn’t be caught or conquered. They felt their intellect, or their strength, or their personal god would help them overcome every obstacle they encountered, and in the end, they would emerge unscathed.

Payne’s goal was to make sure that didn’t happen.

As he drove the van along the stone driveway, he spotted Dubois on the steps outside the main entrance to the château. He was simply standing there, waiting for his arrival. He even gave Payne a friendly wave, as if they were long-lost friends who were about to catch up over cocktails. Payne ignored him. He was far too occupied with the positioning of the van.

Driving ten feet past Dubois, he shifted into reverse, and then backed up to the bottom of the steps. Payne glanced at his side view mirrors to make sure he was where he needed to be and saw Dubois’s face bathed in the tail lights. The arrogant bastard even moved a few steps closer, drawn by the objects that had been promised to him. Payne shook his head in frustration. If he had been a merciless killer, he would have tramped on the gas and hit Dubois with the van. It would have been so easy to do. There would have been a thump, followed by a scream. After that, Dubois would have been out of their lives for ever.

Unfortunately, Payne’s conscience prevented him from doing it.

He was more than willing to kill, but not without provocation.

Some people might argue that Dubois had provoked him by sending assassins to Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and Geneva. However, as far as Payne could tell, those men had been sent to retrieve the Nostradamus artefacts, not to kill him specifically. Obviously they had been told to eliminate everyone who got in their way, but Payne had no proof that his life (or his friends’ lives) would be in danger after Dubois acquired the items he wanted. In fact, if the meeting Dubois had arranged with Keller was any indication, he was prepared to purchase the artefacts for a fair price, if given the opportunity. Otherwise, Dubois would have sent a hit squad to Lausanne to kill Keller and retrieve the puzzle box without giving him a cent.

At least, that was the way it seemed to Payne.

Before he was willing to kill a man he had never met, he needed to look him in the eye and decide whether or not they could come to an agreement. If they could, that was great. Payne and his friends could walk away feeling safe, and they would happily allow Nick Dial and his team at Interpol to build a case to put Dubois away for the rest of his life — using the gunman they had captured as a witness. On the other hand, if they couldn’t come to an understanding, Payne would do whatever he needed to do to protect the people he cared about.

All he needed was five minutes alone with Dubois.

After that, he would know how this would end.

Dubois studied Payne as he opened the van door and climbed out. The first thing he noticed was Payne’s size. He was much larger than he had expected. But that wasn’t the only thing that stood out. Payne was wearing a wool cap that covered his ears, dark clothes, and mud-splattered boots. That told Dubois he had been doing something in the nearby field. Maybe it was advanced surveillance, or maybe he had been eliminating the château’s guards, one by one.

Either way, Dubois realized Payne was a worthy adversary.

‘Welcome to my home,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘One of many, I must admit, but certainly my favourite. Any trouble finding it?’

‘No trouble at all. The satellite knew exactly where to look.’

‘Come now, Mr Payne. There’s no need to threaten me with snipers and satellites. By now, I am fully aware of your military background. I am also aware of your personal wealth. A man who can’t be fought or bought is a rare man indeed.’

‘Apparently, we have that in common.’

Dubois placed his hand on his heart and bowed slightly. ‘Finally, a kind word. Perhaps we won’t be enemies after all.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘So,’ he said, ‘what have you brought for me today? May I take a look?’

Payne nodded. ‘Of course.’

Dubois opened the cargo doors and stared at a slatted wooden crate in the back of the van. Made out of pine, it was 24 inches long, 10 inches wide, and 10 inches deep. A box, wrapped in several layers of bubble wrap, sat inside the crate.

Smiling at the possibilities, Dubois noticed a plastic pouch had been attached to one of the front slats. He peeled it open and pulled out the shipping manifest that had been stamped at the airport. Holding it up to the light, his eyes scanned the document. The puzzle box was listed first, followed by two carrying cases that contained ‘miscellaneous parchments’.

Payne said, ‘I won’t even pretend to be an expert like you, but I was warned we shouldn’t open this stuff in the cold. Something about permanent damage.’

Dubois nodded, never taking his eyes off of the crate. ‘That is correct. The elements have ruined their fair share of antiquities over the centuries, which is why I keep mine in an optimal environment. If I may be so bold, may I offer a temporary solution to our problem?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Instead of leaving the artefacts in the cold while we conduct our business in the warmth of my château, perhaps we can bring the crate with us?’

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Obviously we won’t carry it ourselves. A member of my staff will do that for us.’

Payne paused, pretending to give it some thought. ‘Fine, I’m willing to allow it under two conditions. Number one, the crate never leaves my sight. I go wherever it goes.’

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. And number two?’

‘We conduct our business in your library.’

Dubois raised an eyebrow. ‘That can be arranged, but why there?’

Payne smiled. ‘As you know, that’s one room I’ve already scouted.’

Despite his aversion to the cold, Jones lay on a blanket in the snow, staring through the scope of an M24 sniper rifle. Dead brush and leaves concealed his position on the outer edge of Dubois’s property where he was just beyond the reach of the château’s outdoor lights. An earpiece, similar to the one that Payne was wearing, allowed him to listen to Payne’s conversation with Dubois. And if the situation required it, he could also speak to Payne.

Jones watched in silence as members of Dubois’s staff carried the crate up the steps and into the château. As Payne and the others walked through the hallways of the massive house, they were temporarily out of view. But Payne did his best to inform Jones about the layout of the château by making casual conversation with Dubois, asking him about certain rooms and pointing out anything that had been modified from the blueprints.

Jones, who had trained at the US Army Sniper School at Fort Benning, slowly inched his rifle to the right, waiting to reacquire his target through the library’s window. Less than a minute later, Dubois’s head was once again in his crosshairs, where it would remain at all times.

Although Jones had been an ‘average’ sniper in the military — mostly because his appointment to the MANIACs had limited his advanced training — he was still one of the best in the world. That’s how deadly American snipers are. According to figures released by the US Department of Defense, the average number of rounds fired in the Vietnam War to kill one enemy soldier with an M-16 was 50,000. The average number of rounds fired by US snipers to kill one enemy soldier was a staggering 1.3 rounds. That’s a cost-difference of $23,000 per kill for the average soldier versus $0.17 per kill for the military sniper.

Nowadays, American weaponry is much more advanced than it had been in Vietnam, but the current figures are still shocking. According to the US army, the average soldier will hit a man-sized target 10 per cent of the time at 300 metres using the M16A2 rifle. Graduates of the US Army Sniper School are expected to achieve 90 per cent first-round hits at 600 metres, using the M24 sniper rifle — the weapon that Ulster had acquired in Geneva for a small fortune.

To Payne and Jones, the rifle was worth every penny.

From where Jones was currently positioned, less than 200 metres away with virtually no wind to speak of, the odds of him missing were about the same as hitting the lottery.

It could happen, but Payne was willing to bet his life that it wouldn’t.