The Prophecy

difficult without a machete. But in the wintry cold, the trees were bare and vegetation was at a minimum. The only thing slowing them down was the snow on the ground and their desire for stealth.

Built from red brick that had faded over the years, Chateau Dubois was an impressive medieval structure. Standing four storeys tall with spires that climbed even higher, the peaked roof was covered with grey tiles that appeared pale green in a certain light. Under the cover of darkness, the roof couldn’t be seen from the ground.

It was unlike any building they had scouted before.

The chateau’s security system had not been activated and wouldn’t be until after ten at night. There were too many people (Dubois’s personal chef, his butler, and his cleaning staff) working inside for alarms or motion sensors. A few armed guards patrolled the outer perimeter and another was stationed at the front gate; otherwise, Dubois had very little protection. His reputation as a cold-blooded killer was what kept rivals at bay.

Fear was a far more effective deterrent than a barbed-wire fence.

Payne and Jones crept around the castle’s periphery, searching for cameras or dogs or anything that might be a threat, but the only thing they saw was the bastard who had tried to kill them. Dubois was sitting in his library, reading a book near a roaring fire. He was smaller and more civilized than Payne had imagined. For some reason, he had pictured the devil incarnate — blood dripping from his fangs, horns thrusting out of his skull. Instead, he saw a well-dressed

Dubois looked more like a CEO than a crime lord.

However, years of training had taught Payne never to be fooled by appearances. During his time in the MANIACs, he had seen baby carriages filled with bombs and kids carrying automatic weapons. He had witnessed terrorists dressed as holy men and monks strapped with homemade explosives. He had even read a story about a war criminal getting arrested in Miami while wearing a bathing suit and flip-flops. The guy had slaughtered thousands of Jews in a Nazi concentration camp and had never been caught. Ironically, he got busted stealing a corned beef sandwich at a local delicatessen. Not surprisingly, the Jewish owner showed no sympathy and decided to press charges.

Simply put, there was no way in hell Dubois’s fancy clothes and upper-crust ways were going to conceal the type of man he was. Nor would it prevent Payne and Jones from doing what they needed to do. The truth was they weren’t there to kill Dubois in cold blood. If they had been, they could have shot him through the bay window and scurried away before they were even spotted.

By 6:55 p.m. Payne was back at the van checking his equipment and going over last-minute details with Jones via a flesh-coloured earpiece concealed in his ear. Each of them knew what they needed to do, and both men were confident they would survive. Otherwise, they would have come up with a better plan.

Like Colin Farrell’s movie, neither man wanted to die in Bruges.

The call came at precisely 7:00 p.m. Payne let it ring a few times before he answered Keller’s phone. When he did, there was no pretending. He didn’t disguise his voice or claim to be someone else. For their plan to work, Dubois needed to know who he was dealing with and what they were capable of doing.

‘Hello,’ Payne said.

Dubois paused for a moment. ‘To whom am I speaking?’

‘The man you’ve been trying to kill.’

‘You’ll have to be more specific.’

‘Please, call me Francois.’

‘Sure thing, Frankie.’

‘Ah, one of the Americans,’ he said smugly. ‘As crass as I had expected.’

‘Crass, yet well-informed. How’s that book you’ve been reading? You seemed pretty en grossed when I was watching you in your library. That fire looked mighty toasty.’

Dubois cleared his throat, slightly unnerved. ‘Are you watching me now? How many fingers am I holding up?’

‘I’ll answer your question if you can guess which finger I’m holding up.’

‘The vulgarity continues.’

‘What can I say? When a man tries to kill me, I get slightly pissed.’

‘Touche.’

‘So,’ Payne said, ‘what do you want? Remember, you called me.’

‘Actually, I rang Monsieur Keller, not you. But why quibble over details? Since you have his phone, I will assume you also possess his artefacts.’

‘Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Are you psychic or something?’

Dubois ignored the sarcasm. ‘If you have the

‘We didn’t come to Bruges for Brussels sprouts.’

‘Shall we say, my chateau in twenty minutes?’

‘Sorry, Frankie, my snipers are getting cold. Let’s make it your chateau in twenty seconds. In fact, I’m pulling up to your gate as we speak.’

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 chateau. 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.

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

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 something in the nearby field. Maybe it was advanced surveillance, or maybe he had been