The Nostradamus File

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Selena pulled open one of the big glass street doors and walked into her building. She wore a light silk jacket that concealed her pistol, a lavender silk blouse and black pants that matched her low-heeled shoes. The lobby was all marble and glass. It was an elegant building that spoke of wealth. A security desk with a bank of monitors faced the main doors. The desk was manned 24 hours a day, every day, for the peace of mind of the tenants. The guard called to her as she headed for the elevators.

"Doctor Connor, got something for you." He held up a flat package. "International delivery."

She took the package and recognized the writing of Jean-Paul. It sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Thank you."

She got in the elevator and punched in the top floor. The doors closed. She resisted the urge to tear the package open. In her condo she went to the kitchen counter. She took her holster and gun and laid them down on the cool granite. She pulled up a stool and opened the package. Inside was another file folder like the one Bertrand had sent in Paris. She untied the string and pulled it open and recognized the cramped writing of Nostradamus.

It was a different document, the missing quatrains, the ones that should have been with the others.

Jean-Paul split the manuscript into two parts. The thought gave her chills. It was as if her dead friend had reached out to her from the grave.

There was no note with the package.

She looked at the first quatrain. In her mind, she shifted into the peculiar language of Nostradamus.

I have no idea what this is about. Why couldn't he just say what he means, for once? She read the next quatrain.

That one was clearer. The eagle, the star and the crescent. America was the eagle. The star was probably Israel. She couldn't think of another country so identified with a star, except maybe North Korea. The crescent had to refer to a Muslim nation. Iran? Saudi Arabia? All of them?

Troop withdrawals were underway in Afghanistan. Returning from far lands. She felt a shiver run down her spine. It was as if Nostradamus was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. If he was right, if she understood the prophecy correctly, then a new war was waiting to happen.

There were more quatrains. It would take time to translate them. Selena decided to take the manuscript to Project headquarters so she could work on it with Stephanie. Elizabeth and the others needed to know about this. But before she did that, she thought she might as well make a copy for studying here.

She took the document over to her computer and scanner and began transferring it to electronic files. Ten minutes later she was finished. She copied it to her email and sent it to Stephanie. She turned off the computer and put the manuscript back in the file folder. She put the folder in a black leather briefcase. She clipped her holster back on, closed the door behind her and walked to the elevator.

Selena watched the numbers change as the elevator rose to her floor, thinking about the quatrains. The doors of the elevator opened. She got in and pressed the button for the ground floor. The elevator descended, smooth, efficient.

The doors opened onto the lobby. It took a second to notice that the guard was not at his station. A tiny alarm went off in her head. There's always someone at the desk, she thought. Always.

Instinct and training saved her. As she stepped from the elevator someone swung a club at her from the right. She moved and took the blow on her shoulder. Her arm went numb. The briefcase was in her left hand. She swung it around in a fast arc, more to distract than injure. The man grunted and blocked the blow. Selena bent and kicked and landed a solid hit on his chest. He grunted again and swung the club at her. She dodged, let go of the briefcase, spun and threw her left elbow into his face, followed with a knee to the groin, slammed the hardened edge of her left hand against the side of his neck. She felt bone break under the blow.

He went down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more men coming for her. Her right arm was still numb and useless. She couldn't draw her pistol. She ran for the stairwell door on the side of the lobby and pushed it open. The body of the guard lay crumpled at the foot of the stairs. She ran up three steps and turned as one of the men came through the door. She launched herself from the steps and caught him with both feet under his chin. His head snapped backward. She heard the bones crack. She fell hard onto her back on the cement floor. It knocked the breath out of her. Gasping, she climbed to her feet.

The door to the lobby stayed closed. Feeling came back in her arm. Her fingers tingled, but she had control again. She drew her pistol and took a deep breath. She stepped over the body of the guard and pulled open the door.

The lobby was empty. The man who had clubbed her lay partway in the elevator, his head at an odd angle. There was a two foot length of pipe lying on the lobby floor next to him. Must be what he hit me with. The elevator doors were cycling, trying to close against his body. The third man was gone.

So was her briefcase with the Nostradamus file.