The Eye of Moses - Vatican Knights Series 22 (2020) Rick Jones (amazing books to read TXT) 📖

your conscience despite the even measure you maintain on your face. But we both know that certain measures have to be taken against certain individuals who deal with creating chaos. In this instance, killing the opposition is a means of accomplishment. We’re not dealing with novices here. We’re dealing with trained assassins.”

Again from Mr. Spartan: “Understood.”

“To find Salt is to learn the location of Aaron’s rod. Corner him. Mine him. And then terminate him. Find the rod, the crucible, then head back to the Stronghold.”

Mr. Spartan nodded.

“Godspeed to you, then,” said Mr. da Vinci. Then: “Out.”

After shutting down the BGAN system, Mr. Spartan fell back into his seat and began to rub the itch and fatigue from his eyes. That was when he realized that he was not alone. “Hello, Kimball,” he said while looking at the blank screen. “You’ve heard?”

“I did.”

“What we do is different than the Vatican,” he told him.

“To a degree. But in my view, which is outside the protocols of the church, is not to waste my time by putting a Band-Aid on a situation when the cancer needs to be cut away.”

Mr. Spartan turned to Hayden, who was entering the room with his arms folded across his chest. “We’re not assassins,” he told him. “But we will, on occasion, take out those who we believe will continue to prove to be an egregious threat on a global scale.”

“And that’s your call to make?”

“Salt is a killer who will murder at will to win at any cost. He has killed women and children whom he believed would compromise his position. He’s even murdered children in front of their parents to make a point, believing that God will forgive him because he’s working for a goal that’s often unachievable, though he also believes it to be Biblical in nature. He’s a sick man, Kimball. One who perceives violence as the means to cure the ills of the planet, the people, or to bend circumstances to promote stability. We have a dossier on him a mile long regarding his crimes against the innocent. He has no boundaries, no parameters, nothing to steer him right.” Mr. Spartan continued to stare at the empty screen.

Kimball, while continuing to mull this over, finally said, “I’m not judging you,” he told him. “Or the Consortium. What I do wonder, however, is if we take on Salt, do we also take on the entire Shadow Klan?”

After sighing through his nostrils, Mr. Spartan said, “Most likely.”

Hayden was a practiced fighter in his own right, a master, in fact. Taking on skilled commandos was not above his pay grade. And seizing the Eye of Moses was paramount. Conflict was all but guaranteed.

“Your job,” Mr. Spartan continued, “is to locate the rod and the crucible. The job of the Consortium team is to pave the way for you to do so. Not all of us will make it. But our sacrifices, Kimball, as were the sacrifices of the Knights Templar, will assure that you find these treasures and return them to either the Vatican or to Mr. da Vinci.”

“Of course.”

“The Eye of Moses must be forever locked away and made safe from people like Salt and those he works for.”

While standing there, Kimball Hayden heard the hint of defeat coming from Mr. Spartan. It was as if Mr. Spartan’s tone inferred that the odds were highly against them with success only a marginal possibility. It was also something Kimball was accustomed to as a Vatican Knight—to go against insurmountable odds but to come away as the victor. What he was about to do was nothing novel.

Then from Mr. Spartan, “You’ll be fine, Kimball. All you have to do is locate the items and make sure they find their way into the proper hands.”

“I’m not the one I’m worried about. And you’re sounding like you won’t be by my side for some reason. Is there something I should know about?”

It was here that Mr. Spartan feigned a smile, which Hayden clearly detected. Then getting to his feet, Mr. Spartan said, “Kimball, mission plans always look great on paper, but rarely are they ever performed to perfection. Be alert, be aware, and never lose sight of your goal.”

Without saying anything further, Mr. Spartan left the room leaving Kimball Hayden to stare at a blank monitor.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Lucerne, Switzerland

The Consortium had dozens of safehouses located across the globe, especially in the European zones. The one in Lucerne was in a quiet community that had high-brick walls, manicured lawns, and brush that were artfully designed with ornamental pruning. The Consortium safehouse was small in comparison to most in the area, about 1,700 square feet with most of it hidden-vault space.

After Mr. Spartan ended his BGAN connection with Mr. da Vinci and then leaving Kimball Hayden alone with his considerations, he entered a small bedroom with a single-sized bed with flanking nightstands and a small desk. After opening the closet door and spreading clothes on the hanging rod to opposite ends, he pressed a button which opened the closet’s rear wall panel. Once he stepped inside this hidden addition to the home a bank of fluorescent lights activated from motion sensors.

Behind glass panels and braced within racks were suppressed assault weapons alongside a display of ballistic vests and Kevlar helmets. The Consortium always made sure that a mobile unit was always well equipped.

Standing before the display with his hands in his pockets, Mr. Spartan appraised the rifles, all MP7s. Fine weapons, he thought; all light and powerful. Then his mind appeared to wander as images of his wife and child entered his mind’s eye, a memory that came popping up like an old super-8 film.

They were at a picnic whose lawns landlocked a small lake filled with carp, which his daughter loved to feed scraps of bread. The day was sunny with cloud patches providing intermittent shade, and a moment when his family was a focal point of his life outside of his work with the Consortium.

Then inside this weapons depository, Mr.