The Prophecy

37

After eating breakfast in Payne and Jones’s room, the three of them checked out of the hotel and drove back to Megan’s apartment building. Thanks to the tinted windows on the Suburban, they felt safe as they circled the block twice, searching for any signs of an ambush. Confident that the area was clean, they parked the SUV across the street and planned their next move.

Ideally, Jones would have entered the basement alone while Payne and Megan stayed hidden in the vehicle. With his lock-picking skills, Jones figured he could break into the storage closet and search it in less than five minutes. Unfortunately, that plan wasn’t feasible because Megan didn’t know the unit number. She was pretty sure she could identify it by sight although she had only been there once, a few months back, but she wouldn’t know until she looked for herself.

Following much discussion, the trio split in two. Jones and Megan entered the complex together, and Payne kept watch from the driver’s seat of the Suburban. He held his gun in one hand and his cell phone in the other, ready to signal a warning or answer a distress call at a moment’s notice. For him, it was a position he wasn’t used to. Normally Payne would’ve been at the front line, taking the biggest risk, while the rest of his squad watched his back. But on this mission, it made a lot more sense for Jones to go inside. Not only was he better with locks, but he also knew a lot more about historical artefacts than Payne — a skill that might come in handy if Ashley’s storage unit was filled with more relics than the mysterious letter.

Not that they were expecting a roomful of treasures.

The truth was they didn’t know what to expect from a career thief like Ashley. The unit might be filled with a shipment of stolen goods, or it might be emptier than Al Capone’s vault.

Whatever the case, they wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.

As Jones led the way into the lobby, he held his gun inside his coat, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Megan walked closely behind him, suspiciously eyeing everyone they passed as they opened the door to the stairs. Jones paused and searched for signs of an ambush before he stepped inside. Wasting no time, they hurried down one flight and entered the basement through a thick fire door. Fluorescent bulbs hummed overhead, lighting the concrete corridor.

‘Which way?’ Jones whispered.

‘Up ahead on the left.’

Jones nodded, then hustled forward, trying to minimize the time they spent in a corridor that had no exits or places to take cover for nearly twenty feet. At the end of the stretch, Jones peeked his head into the storage area and saw nothing that worried him. Locked doors, approximately twenty in all, lined both sides of the room which ended in a cinderblock wall. As far as Jones could tell, extra security measures had not been installed, meaning he didn’t have to worry about cameras or alarms. All things considered, he couldn’t have been happier.

‘You’re clear,’ he said to Megan. ‘Which one is hers?’

‘Let me check,’ she said as she walked forward.

Megan knew it was roughly two-thirds of the way back on the right. Ashley had needed her help to carry a breakfast table that was more cumbersome than heavy. She remembered they had struggled to get it through the closet door. Eventually they had been forced to turn the table on its side and angle it in. As they did, they had laughed hysterically at their clumsiness, which made their task even more challenging.

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to Megan’s face. A few days ago, she had considered Ashley a friend. Now she didn’t know what to think of her. Despite the lies, the Ashley she knew simply didn’t match the person Payne and Jones had described. And because of that, Megan didn’t know how to feel about her neighbour. Should she grieve at her death, or be thankful she was out of her life for good?

‘Any luck?’ Jones asked from the doorway.

Megan blinked a few times, then nodded. ‘It’s this one here. I helped make all these scuffmarks on the door frame.’

‘Trade places with me,’ he said. ‘If you see or hear anyone, let me know right away.’

‘No problem.’

Brushing past Megan, Jones pulled out his lock picks and eyed the closet. It was protected by a simple keyed knob, one that took him little time to defeat. With a quiet click, he opened the door a few inches and eyed the interior for booby traps. Thieves were typically a paranoid lot, mostly because they knew how easy it was to steal things, but also because they were concerned about the police finding their goods. The last thing Jones wanted was to swing the door open and have his face blown off by a homemade explosive. He knew the odds of that happening were pretty slim but Ashley had fooled him in Pittsburgh, and it had nearly cost him his life. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Megan asked.

‘Patience,’ he said to her. ‘Never rush into the unknown.’

A few seconds later, he was confident the door was clear.

Payne eyed the traffic as it flowed in both directions past the apartment complex. Even though the snow had stopped falling and the temperatures had climbed above freezing, the grey skies remained. People streamed past on the slush-filled sidewalk, trekking through puddles that had been layers of ice the night before. Most walkers shivered as they moved, their faces red and chapped from the bitter winds. Instinctively, Payne turned up the heat in the Suburban.

Throughout Pennsylvania, it was a miserable time of year.

Up the street, a group of six people huddled together for warmth inside a bus shelter, waiting for a bus to whisk them to another part of the city. Payne stared at them, thinking back to the tragic events of Saturday night. If not for the bus accident on the Pitt campus, he could have questioned the shooter, all but eliminating his need to be in Philadelphia.

Not that Philly had been all bad. Without this trip, he never would have met Megan, the first woman to pique his interest in a very long time. Due to his wealth and celebrity status, he rarely met anyone in his hometown who wasn’t familiar with his life story — at least the details that weren’t classified. Because of that, he found it difficult to meet people who wanted to get to know him instead of people who knew about him. In his world, gold diggers and smooth talkers were round every corner, always trying to get a piece of him. For that reason and a few others, he spent most of his time walled off from the rest of the world.

Out of the corner of his eye, Payne noticed a vehicle turning into the circular driveway in front of the complex. He blinked once, then shifted his gaze to his left.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled. ‘This can’t be good.’

As he peered into the storage closet, Jones’s cell phone started to vibrate. He quickly fished it out and glanced at the screen. The call was from Payne.

Jones answered. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘A squad car just pulled up to the building.’

He cursed under his breath. ‘How many cops?’

‘Two. Right now they’re sitting in the car.’

‘Let’s hope they stay put for a while.’

‘What’s your status?’ Payne asked.

‘I just picked the lock. I still have to search.’

‘How long do you need?’

‘At least ten minutes. Ashley was a damn pack rat. This place is full of boxes.’

Payne nodded. He was familiar with the type. His grandfather had been the same way. ‘Work as quickly as you can. I’ll keep you posted on their movement.’

‘If they’re here because of Ashley, they’ll probably go to her apartment to look for clues. That should give me all the time I need.’

Payne agreed with his assessment. ‘Wipe your prints before you leave.’

‘No worries,’ Jones said as he adjusted his gloves. ‘Already done.’