The Prophecy

‘No,’ she assured him, ‘this will be my last. I’ve embarrassed myself enough.’

‘Curious,’ Jones interjected, ‘but not mad.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So,’ she wondered, ‘where should I start?’

Payne shrugged. ‘The floor is all yours. Start wherever you’d like.’

Ashley paused for a moment, trying to remember what she had rehearsed on her journey to the Pitt campus. Without practising it first, she knew she might get flustered and screw up her explanation, which was something she couldn’t afford to do. With men like Payne and Jones, it was a one-shot deal. If she didn’t pique their interest now, there wouldn’t be a second chance.

‘I’m a nobody,’ she assured them. ‘I’m a gradeschool teacher from a nice suburb in Philadelphia. I was raised by a single mom, who died of cancer a few years back. I have no siblings, I’ve never been married, and, despite today’s events, I normally try to avoid drama. My idea of a good day is sleeping late, walking my dog in the park, and renting a romantic comedy.’

‘Hold up,’ Jones joked. ‘I think I saw your ad on a dating site.’

Payne rolled his eyes. ‘Just ignore him. He’s been drinking.’

‘So,’ Payne wondered, ‘what’s happened?’

She looked at him, confused. ‘Why would you ask me that?’

‘Why? Because something compelled you to abandon your life, hop in your car, and drive across the state to talk to two strangers.’

‘Don’t forget the snow,’ Jones added.

‘Excuse me?’ Payne asked.

‘She drove through a blizzard to meet us. To me, that screams of desperation.’

‘Good point. Something compelled you to wake up early on your day off and drive through a major snowstorm. Therefore, it must be something big. Or, at the very least, pressing.’

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘the word I would use is puzzling.’

‘Puzzling?’

She nodded. ‘Puzzling.’

‘Go on.’

‘On Monday, I came home from school and grabbed my mail like I always do. Inside my

‘What do you mean by strange?’ Jones wondered.

‘Asian, I think. I simply couldn’t read it.’

‘Go on.’

‘I’ve been a teacher for ten years now, so I’ve had plenty of students. Sometimes one of them goes on a trip and sends me a postcard. You know: “I’m seeing the sights and having fun.” Nothing more complex than that. But this thing? It was completely different.’

‘How so?’ Payne wondered.

‘First of all, it was written in calligraphy on real fancy paper. You know, the kind that feels old and expensive but isn’t brittle.’

‘Parchment?’ Jones guessed.

‘Yeah, parchment. Like an old Bible or something. Definitely not normal paper.’

‘That’s because parchment is made out of animal skin, not trees.’

‘Really?’

Jones nodded. ‘Depending on its age and

‘Excuse me?’ she said.

Payne shook his head. That wasn’t the type of thing she needed to hear. ‘Don’t worry, he’s kidding. Sometime he likes to joke around in serious situations. Just ignore him and continue.’

Jones stared at him and mouthed the words: I wasn’t joking.

Thankfully, Ashley was looking at Payne when that occurred.

‘Wait,’ she said, trying to recall her place in the story, ‘where was I?’

‘You were telling us about the letter.’

She nodded slowly, as if remembering. ‘That’s right, the letter. Not only was the paper different, but so was the language.’

‘In what way?’

‘The letter wasn’t written in English. It was written in French.’

‘French?’ Jones asked, getting more intrigued. ‘The postmark was Asian, but the letter was French. I have to admit, that’s a weird combination.’

‘Trust me,’ she assured them, ‘it gets even weirder.’

9

Ashley reached into her coat and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It had been folded in half, then folded again, and tucked into one of her pockets. ‘I didn’t want to damage the original, so I made a photocopy at my school. I hope that’s all right.’

‘A copy is fine,’ Jones assured her. ‘May I see it?’

‘Of course, you can. That’s partly why I’m here. To show you the letter.’

‘Really? It must be one hell of a letter.’

She smiled as she unfolded it. ‘Let’s just say it’s puzzling.’

‘There’s that word again. That’s the second time you’ve used it.’

‘I know, but it’s the only word that fits.’

Payne re-entered the conversation. ‘Speaking of puzzling, why us?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Obviously the letter confused you, but why come to us?’

‘What newspaper?’

‘The Philadelphia Inquirer.’

Payne furrowed his brow. ‘I’m afraid you just lost me.’

‘Me, too,’ Jones seconded.

‘Sorry,’ she apologized, ‘I better explain. I rarely read the newspaper — it’s just too depressing to me — but yesterday at lunch I was glancing through the Philadelphia Inquirer. In the weekend section, they had an article about your recent adventures in Greece. It also mentioned your annual fundraiser. As soon as I read that, I figured this had to be fate. I honestly didn’t know where to turn, but the story gave me your names — two of the biggest experts in the field of archaeology — and where you were going to be today. I figured I couldn’t pass that up.’

‘We’re hardly experts in archaeology,’ Payne assured her. ‘We got lucky and stumbled onto something big. Nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Jones argued. ‘We flew halfway round the world and found one of the largest treasures in the history of mankind. How in the hell is that stumbling? It’s not like we tripped over a pot o’ gold in my back yard. I that would be stumbling. What we did required a certain level of expertise, and if I may be so bold, a dash of panache.’

Payne rolled his eyes at Jones’s comment. Not because it was inaccurate — their discovery of an ancient Greek treasure had rocked the archaeological world and had filled their bank accounts with unbelievable wealth — but because Payne didn’t like to boast about his accomplishments. It didn’t matter that they had risked their lives to