The Goliath Chamber - Vatican Knights 24 (2021) Rick Jones (best classic books of all time .TXT) 📖

they could, they were also Christian men who wondered if this particular undertaking would cost them their souls. Or was the Bangladeshi simply speaking out in nonsensical terms? After resigning to realism, everyone thought the latter.

The Bangladeshi quickly examined the area with his flashlight. The tomb was sitting upon tracks that led to the opposite end of the estate through an underground channel. Since the stone weighed more than a ton, it would take all their might to push the chamber along its tracks, and then load it to the back of the truck.

With the Bangladeshi leading the way, they began to push the tomb along the rails with muscles straining and their efforts herculean. Ten minutes later and having all but exhausted themselves, the Bangladeshi came to a set of steel doors that had not been opened in years. Lifting the locking bar and with the aid of others, they were able to force the doors wide on protesting hinges. For nearly a decade, capes of vines and wild growing creepers had hidden the entryway. In fact, only two people knew of the underground channel, Abesh Faruk and the Bangladeshi. The secret of the tomb had been well guarded.

Once the vault was pushed to the end of the railway, it took another ten minutes to load the cargo into the truck’s bed with the use of mechanical pulleys and wheels, the task not as difficult when they had the proper tools for loading.

Once done, the Bangladeshi wiped his sweat-laden brow with his sleeve and blew out a hot sigh. Then he looked at the Austrian and said, “You know the alleged history of Egyptian builders who erected the pyramids, right?”

The Austrian shook his head. “No.”

“It was said that in order for the architects to keep the secrets safe from vandals and thieves, they would kill the builders to assure anonymity.”

It took a moment for the Austrian’s eyes to flash with the stark realization as to what the Bangladeshi was trying to communicate. Although the interaction between them had been stated somewhat metaphorically from a historical point, the meaning behind the message was clear: The Bangladeshi was the architect . . .

. . . And his hired team were the builders.

As the Austrian attempted to reach for his weapon, the Bangladeshi was much quicker on the draw. He removed his sidearm with practiced speed and shot each man at center mass with direct heart shots, killing them. The area lit up with muzzle flashes, all staccato bursts of light, though the sounds had been dampened by the suppressor.

As the Bangladeshi sat on the bumper admiring his handiwork, he decided to perform his due diligence by adding another bullet to each of their heads to assure their deaths. Once done, he removed the keys from the driver’s pocket, got inside the vehicle, started it, and then drove away with the Unholy Trinity secured inside the truck’s cargo hold.

CHAPTER

ONE

Lakeside Cabin in Maryland

It had been three months since Shari Cohen had been cleared of any signs of cancer, receiving a clean bill of health from her oncologist. Her hair had grown back, full-bodied and luscious. And the color of her complexion had deepened as well, going from ghostly pale to that of tanned leather.

For months, Shari had balked at making a career decision and considered it to be a back-burner issue since her health matters were first and foremost, with the CIA and the Bureau both applying for her services. But as she became stronger, healthier and more in tune with what her future should be, she decided to return to the Bureau. But there was a caveat. She would only do so under a granted condition that she be sent to Rome where she could work from the American Embassy as a counterterrorist agent. However, for an FBI operative to work away from the domestic front, the Bureau needed approval from the hosting country, which was Italy. With the support and backing of the Vatican, however, the Italian government had fully agreed.

Realizing that life could be cut short at any moment for a number of different reasons, she decided to be closer to Kimball. Being an ocean apart at times was hard with the ‘long-distance relationship’ having its challenges. Now she would be within arm’s length of him.

Standing on the deck that overlooked the lake while watching the mallards swim serenely along the surface, she remembered all the wonderful times there. She recalled the moments when her children were swimming and laughing and playing in the shallows. Their voices, even now, sounding gleefully in her head, though the laughter sounded distant and tinny as though fading with time.

Time moves on, she considered, bringing new hopes, new dreams, and a new frontier. After her family had been terminated by a domestic terrorist, Kimball had come in to save her in ways he could not even begin to imagine. After the burial and the sitting Shivas of her husband and children, she had never felt so hollow with her soul little more than a darkened void. But Kimball had become her savior that wore the cleric’s collar of a priest and proffered her a Light to fill the Darkness. All she needed was unconditional love to move along.

While observing the scenery, she smiled dreamily as though her sights were set on something that only she could imagine, a place of contentment where Kimball Hayden was the focus of her thoughts. Her knight, her savior, had worn the collar of a pious man, though he was not a priest, but someone who walked through Darkness to serve the Light. Yet she knew that this man’s heart was also the seat of his emotions. He could sometimes show the greatest heights of decency or vacillate into something that was entirely savage and dangerous. And it was within this area between the Darkness and the Light that he felt most comfortable, she considered, this Between area that was