‘Neither. They pulled up his account and printed everything on the screen.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘Of course, you can. But it won’t do you much good.’
‘Why not?’
Ulster unfolded the paper and showed it to him. ‘It’s written in French.’
‘In that case, do me a favour. We know he closed the safe-deposit box on December the first. Try to find out when he opened it.’
Ulster glanced at the document, looking for the requested information. As soon as he spotted the answer towards the bottom of the sheet, his eyes widened. ‘I can’t believe I missed this.’
‘Missed what?’
‘I was so excited about getting his name and address I didn’t even bother to read the paper they gave me.’
‘Missed what?’ Payne repeated.
Ulster looked at him. ‘Louis Keller didn’t rent the box. A man named Maurice Keller did.’
‘Maurice Keller? Is it a relative of his?’ Megan asked.
‘I would bet on it, but…’ Ulster hesitated, trying to figure out the significance of what he had discovered. ‘But a relative who Louis had never met.’
Confusion filled Payne’s face. ‘They never met? Why do you say that?’
Ulster tapped on the paper for emphasis. ‘Because Maurice Keller rented the box on December the first — exactly one century before Louis closed it.’
Megan gasped. ‘Are you serious?’
‘One hundred years to the day,’ Ulster assured her. ‘But that’s not all. According to this, the annual fee for the box was paid by some kind of trust fund. I’m not sure who set it up, but it appears the bill has been handled in this manner since the very beginning.’
Payne was quite familiar with family trusts since one had been established in his name — although he hadn’t known anything about it until his parents had died. A week after their funeral, his grandfather had sat him down and explained the basics to him so he wouldn’t be worried about his future. He had been told his inheritance was being held for him at a major bank until he was old enough to handle ‘the financial responsibility’.
In order to encourage his growth as a person, his parents had placed several incentive clauses in the document. They included high school and college graduation, mandatory charity work, and a number of other things Payne would have done anyway. Surprisingly, he never rebelled or complained about his obligations. Deep down inside, he knew his parents had been looking out for his long-term interests. They had tried to do everything they could to ensure he didn’t turn into one of those trust-fund celebrities who were always getting drunk or arrested. To proud people like his parents, that would have been a fate worse than death.
Eventually, Payne and his grandfather even joked about the clauses.
They called it ‘parenting from beyond the grave’.
‘Hey Petr,’ Payne said, ‘does that document say anything else about the trust fund? Who started it? How much it was worth? Anything like that?’
Ulster shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering if it might be the fortune mentioned in the text message. I figure if Nostradamus is behind all of this, there’s always a chance his life savings have multiplied over the years. After four centuries of prophetic investments, there could be a lot of money socked away.’
Ulster shrugged. ‘We’ll find out soon enough. We’ll be in Lausanne shortly.’
60
Louis Keller lived in a nice chalet near the University of Lausanne where he had taught business and economics for the past decade. With its steeply sloped roof and its overhanging eaves, his timber house looked like many others in the quiet neighbourhood. Of course, looks could be deceiving, which was why Payne and Jones studied the nearby streets before they were willing to park their SUV near Keller’s home.
Snowflakes filled the air as the four of them walked up the stone steps of his front porch. Payne led the way, followed by Megan, Ulster, and Jones, who lingered several strides behind with a pistol in his hand. Payne was armed as well, but kept his weapon concealed as he approached the house. Since they still weren’t sure how Keller fitted into all of this, the last thing Payne wanted to do was spook the guy and have him clam up before they got the answers they were looking for. That is, if Keller even had any answers.
A half second before Payne could knock on the door, he heard the lock being opened from the inside and the security chain being jostled. Unsure who it might be, Payne raised his closed fist in the air, the military signal to halt. Everyone behind him stopped as if a cold wind had blown in from the nearby mountains and turned them into ice. For the next few seconds, the tension continued to build until the door finally swung open.
A middle-aged man wearing a sweater, slacks, and slippers stood in the doorway. He neither smiled nor frowned, his face a blank mask, his eyes devoid of emotion. He stared at the foursome in front of him, not the least bit surprised they were there. Strangely, his gaze sought them out, one after another, as if he was trying to match their faces to names he had known for years. A moment later, his comment seemed to confirm that.
‘I was told you were coming,’ Keller said in English.
‘By whom?’ Payne wondered.
‘Nostradamus.’
With that, he turned around and walked back inside his house, leaving his door open so they could enter. Confused by the remark, Payne glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, not completely sure what they should do. Surprisingly, Megan was the first one to react. She had come too far and had too many questions to wait any longer. Without asking for permission, she wiped her feet on the mat and walked inside where she spotted Keller standing in front of a roaring fire. He signalled for her to sit on the couch, and then waited for the others to follow.
One by one, they entered the house without saying a word. Payne roamed the ground floor searching for anything that troubled him, but his gut told him they weren’t in danger. In fact, for the first time for several days, he felt their path was free of obstacles. Like their quest had finally come to an end. Like they were meant to be there.
In an unpredictable world, it was a feeling Payne wasn’t used to.
Keller waited for him to join his friends before he spoke again. When he did, there were no introductions or small talk. He launched into an explanation, starting with some background information about himself.
‘I am not a whimsical man,’ Keller informed them. ‘I don’t like literature, I don’t watch movies, and I never play games. For as long as I can remember, I have loved the structure of numbers. To me, they are the only constant in my life, the one thing I can depend on. Numbers never lie. They are always black and white, never grey, and somehow I find comfort in that.’
Keller walked across the room and sat in a worn leather chair that looked older than he was. Brushing the hair away from his eyes, he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, as if he could finally relax now that his guests knew he wasn’t fanciful or the least bit crazy. Seemingly, that was important to him. He needed everyone to know he was a rational man with rational thoughts, not some random loon who searched for Bigfoot in his spare time.
‘Thirty-two years ago, my father drove me to Geneva under false pretences. He told me we were going to the city to celebrate my twentieth birthday. Instead, he took me to the bank and added my name to his safe-deposit box. At least I thought it was his box. Later in the day, he told me that wasn’t the case. It was our family box and would be until December of this year.’