The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020) Rick Jones (ebook reader play store txt) 📖

of the Golden Fleece; and the original insignia of the Kingdom of Bohemia, which was comprised of the scepter and the orb. Nothing appeared out of place or strange.

A young man by the name of Franz Wagner was investigating the area that contained the ceremonial objects that once belonged to the Archduchy of Austria, items he had seen a thousand times before. The beam of his light passed over the objects, then over and around the cases, searching. As he panned his flashlight to the left, a figure that was blacker than black was standing beside him and at arm’s length. The shape made no noise or offered any clue of its advancement from the nearby shadows. It was a wraith whose eyes were as black as the balaclava that covered the majority of its features. In its hand and in full display was a khanjar, an Arabian curved dagger.

Before Franz could utter a word as his eyes flared to the size of communion wafers, the blade of the knife came across and slit the young man’s throat. There was a horrible sound as air bubbles surfaced around the gash that appeared as a second horrible mouth. Dropping the flashlight and bringing his hands to his throat, the wraith reached out, grabbed Franz by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him into the shadows.

* * *

Manfred Holler was at the opposite side of the room from Franz when he heard the sound of a flashlight striking the floor. Turning his own flashlight to the abrupt sound, he noted that Franz’s light was resting on the floor next to the Archduchy of Austria display case. Franz, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Holler took a few tentative steps towards the flashlight sitting on the floor. “Franz?”

Nothing.

Then louder: “Franz?”

Silence.

Then the shadows around him became alive with movement. A number of arms lashed out at him from different points of attack, from behind and beside him, as the blades of khanjars struck and scored deep gashes, causing Holler’s flesh to part and divide. Then a hand reached out from the darkness to cup a hand around the security guard’s chin, pulled his head back to expose the bare flesh of his throat, then neatly ran the blade across Holler’s skin. And like Franz Wagner, his body was dragged into the shadows.

* * *

Inside the Ecclesiastical Room where the devotional images and altars from the Baroque era were, Brücker Reiter and Werner Strobl also met with similar fates as Holler and Wagner. Stilled shadows had come alive to become uncontested predators who took their prey with ease. And like Holler and Wagner, they followed them in death when the sharpened edges of Arabian khanjars slit their throats.

* * *

Unlike the unarmed sentries, the armed personnel were from a seasoned stock of warriors. Both men had served with Austria’s Jagdkommando Group, a highly elite special-forces unit. These men were bred to be the best and learned how to skillfully use their trait of the sixth sense.

They maneuvered through the hallways and corridors using the NVG capabilities of their rifle scopes to guide them through the darkness. Still, the stinging odor remained, now a faint hint. But both had processed, and then realized, that the scent was that of C-4, which had a distinct smell to it. Since C-4 was a military-grade explosive obtained only through black-market channels, both had considered this to be a specialized operation with the treasures inside the Secular and the Ecclesiastical Rooms the targeted areas.

Both men moved with grace that had been performed repeatedly over the years. They moved in whispers as they approached the Secular Room, which held the greatest of all the treasures.

As they entered the chamber, they fanned out with one operator moving east and the other moving west.

Hiding within the shadows, things of wicked natures awaited.

* * *

The digital display on the console deep in the sublevel chamber read 3:06, the minutes and seconds counting down to the restart of the mainframe program.

. . . 03:05 . . .

. . . 03:04 . . .

. . . 03:03 . . .

Time never seemed to drag as it did at this moment, with the two operators who were manning the console powerless to do anything about it.

Behind them, even within the hellish red glare of lights that swung in their warning globes, a shape loomed tall. It was a silhouette of pure darkness that was as black as pitch.

. . . 03:02 . . .

. . . 03:01 . . .

. . . 03:00 . . .

In its hand something glimmered red in the light, as though aflame. And then it threw off beams of light because this particular item had a mirror polish to it. It was a blade of a khanjar.

Like those who moved topside, the two who manned the monitors were skilled operators who had worked the fields countless times; therefore, they, too, operated more from instinct than practice. Though something remained out of sight, they could somehow sense its heartbeat.

As if on cue, both men wheeled around in their seats and started to stand to confront and fight. But the shape was uncannily fast and moved with a skillset of a professional.

The curved blade of the dagger moved swiftly in diagonal sweeps and arcs, cutting and slicing flesh.

When the console operators went for their firearms, the slasher’s accuracy was surgical and precise as the edge of the khanjar cut across their hands to sever tendons, which disabled their ability to unholster their Glocks. The seasoned vets then began to lash out with straight, side and roundhouse kicks to keep the assassin at bay. But the intruder deflected these kicks easily while waiting for the opportune moment.

. . . 02:46 . . .

. . . 02:45 . . .

. . . 02:44 . . .

The attacker in dark clothing noted the time on the LED readout. Time was ticking off with his opportunity slipping away. He needed to get at the console to completely disable