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

Not only do I have the high ground, officer, but I also hold the bargaining chips in which to barter with.”

“Bargaining chips?”

“Yes. The man who stands before you, his name is Hartwig Klein, who also happens to be a political chieftain of Germany’s Bundestag.”

The tall officer narrowed his eyes. The man called Hartwig looked vaguely familiar to him, but someone he did not readily recognize until now. “And you’ll kill him if I don’t agree to your demands, is that it?”

“Partially,” Mustafa returned. “There are other dignitaries I’m keeping close by, such as an Associate Judge from the Supreme Court of the Great Satan, and four captains of industry. But the windfall, officer, is the Vatican’s Cardinal Secretary of State. Surely, his death would serve to cause a rift between Vienna and the Vatican State, should you fail to follow my demands. The power to save his life remains in your hands, depending upon your compliance. To fail me is to fail him. To fail him is to fail the Vatican.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that you’re just going to hand him over, and the others, as long as we cooperate?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. As I said, the power to save his life remains in your hands. Comply with my needs, then you have nothing to worry about. Decline my needs, then you understand the mindset of those who see Allah as their guide. We have no fear when it comes to martyring ourselves.”

After a pause, Mustafa continued.

“Keep the phone, officer, or do you prefer to be called by your given name since we will be in constant communication?”

“Officer Zeller.”

“Officer Zeller, carry the phone with you at all times. And know this: should you decide to storm the upper levels with elite units, please be aware that I will know. To do so would be foolish. In fact, I have a little demonstration of our dedication to our cause and to Allah. Now, step away from the man wearing the vest.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Zeller. Step away from the man wearing the vest.”

“Oh God, you don’t have to do this.”

“Officer Zeller, everything from here on in will be done on a timely basis. Timing is key. With that being stated, you have seven seconds to draw distance from the Mr. Klein . . . Six . . .”

“No!”

“. . . Five . . .”

Zeller turned and started waving his hands wildly at the members of his force, telling them to get back.

“. . . Four . . . Three . . .”

“Everyone back!”

Hartwig appeared confused, then overly dumbfounded.

“. . . Two . . . One.”

The brick that had been secured to Hartwig Klein’s chest erupted, the plastique destroying flesh and bone and parting the man into pieces of bite-sized chum from the waist up. As his lower body was tossed wide by the explosion, human morsels no larger than a nickel blew outward in a perfect circumference, the tissue adhering to walls and glass and to wood surfaces. The bodies of absconding officers were heaved and pitched through the air, though none would be killed, only wounded. And Zeller was lifted and dropped to the floor, his body skating across the marble surface until he came to a complete stop with the phone still in his hand.

As others groaned in measures of shock and pain, Zeller lifted the phone to his ear. Though he could not find the words to speak, his heavy breathing was enough to inform Mustafa that the officer was listening.

“Remember, you are my liaison in this matter and no one else. And do not forget those bargaining chips I have within my power. I’ll call you when I have something to pass on. And keep the phone with you at all times. When I call, you answer. It’s that simple. Do not delay answering, either. Now, clear the lobby. If you enter the building again, keep in mind that I will not hesitate to kill another.” And then the call was severed.

Zeller stared at the phone as though the object was something alien to him. Then he examined his surroundings. The plastique did not set off any smoke, just an acrid scent. But gore rested upon the glass walls and the floor with the obscenity of a Pollock painting, nothing but incoherent splashes.

Getting to his feet and then aiding his partner back to his, Zeller, along with his team, ushered everyone who had been inside the lobby out of the building.

It was all too clear to Zeller: Ali Mustafa had full control of the situation.

* * *

Zamir had heard everything over his earbud and responded accordingly to the countdown. It had already been a prearranged scenario for Zamir to detonate the C-4 remotely. Making examples was a powerful tool. And making powerful statements often had the desired effect. When Ali Mustafa began to count down the moments of Hartwig Klein’s life, Zamir held the remote high inside the elevator cab with his thumb on the toggle switch. On the cued moment, Zamir flipped the toggle switch. Directly thereafter, he felt a slight tremor inside the cab that lasted less than a second. Then in the subsequent moments he heard the exchange between Mustafa and a man called Zeller, a back and forth conversation where both men jockeyed for power and positioning. But in the end with Hartwig Klein serving as a mere prop, Ali Mustafa had won the battle in a war that had yet to be fully waged.

Then: “The building’s clear, Zamir. You know what to do.”

Every movement had been decided upon in haste, though the planning was sound: Take the high ground, attain assets, cut off breach-ports-of-entry by making them impassable, and then return to base.

While others in Mustafa’s group were executing their duties to establish a stronghold, Zamir moved from the hallway and into the lobby with caution. He panned his weapon from left to right, then from right to left. The pieces and remnants of Hartwig Klein were everywhere—the walls, the glass,