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

cupped Minerva’s face with his free hand and pulled her close enough to give her a quick peck on the lips. “Remember when I told you that a day may come when you’ll need to leave quickly without packing? That an emergency might arise?”

She nodded.

“Today’s that day,” he told her. “Take the children to our residence in Paris. You’ll be safe there.”

“Johannes, please tell me what’s going on? I’m frightened.”

“Go to the bank. There’s enough money in the safety-deposit box to see you through. See to the children’s safety until I get to Paris.”

Just as she was about to speak, a volley of bullets impacted the areas around them. Quarter-sized holes magically appeared on the wall behind them.

“Go!” he told her. “I’ll provide cover.” Then he gave her a slight push towards the hallway and to the front door. Grabbing her children and hunkering low, Minerva, with the fabric surrounding the wound colored crimson, escorted her daughters to the exit. Salt, maintaining his position, continued to fire off round after round.

Once his family was gone, a silence fell over the room that was weighted with something that had a sinister feel to it.

“Your advantage is now gone,” Salt told them evenly. “Now the confrontation is between you and me only, yes? The question about the whereabouts of the Eye of Moses will be one that you’ll both take to your graves.”

Salt, however, knew this was an empty threat since he had two bullets left in the magazine. Unless they were precise shots, Salt realized that he would find himself on the wrong end of a retreat.

There was no responding answer.

Only silence.

But this was Salt’s home, his territory. He knew the outlay of the apartment better than anyone. And for all the silence, he knew they were coming around to flank him. So, he slid quietly into the shadows and waited.

Remaining as still as a Greek sculpture, he opted to let them come to him.

* * *

Mr. Donatello was silently reprimanding himself. This part of the operation had been twofold: extract information from Salt and then terminate him. On paper it was simple enough. But Salt had proven his worth as an elite assassin and a formidable opponent, so the strategy had gone to the wayside.

Worse, the leverage of using Salt’s family had been taken away from them. Even if they bested the assassin from this point on, there was no guarantee that he would offer them a single breath of information.

Damn!

From a doorway across from Mr. Donatello, Mr. Archimedes waited for instructions, which Mr. Donatello provided with hand gestures. Mr. Archimedes was to circle around to the hallway and come up on Salt’s side. With a nod acknowledging that he received the instructions, Mr. Archimedes fell back and disappeared.

Mr. Donatello, who gripped his suppressed Glock firmly, also fell back to come up on Salt from the opposite side.

With Mr. Donatello working the shadows to his advantage, he knew that Salt would be doing the same to even the playing field.

A couch.

A nightstand.

A comfortable-looking lounger.

A rack filled with magazines.

Against the far wall was a fireplace with a marbled mantel.

Mr. Donatello moved silently and with feline grace, the man searching for his target.

When he rounded the wall to this room, he saw Mr. Archimedes making his way down the hallway from the opposite side. Salt, who should have been between the two, was nowhere to be seen. The only one there and laying on the floor in mock crucifixion was Mr. Michelangelo.

Mr. Donatello pointed to a small recess to his left, but to Mr. Archimedes’ right. Mr. Archimedes nodded.

Then from Mr. Donatello: “Salt, it doesn’t have to be like this. There’s nowhere to go and we will find your family. Your choice.”

Silence.

It was obvious that they weren’t going to extract anything from the assassin, so their only option was to neutralize a clear and present danger.

Mr. Donatello raised his hand for Mr. Archimedes to see three fingers extended, and then Donatello began to tick them down from three . . .

. . . to two . . .

. . . to one . . .

The two quickly united and began firing into the recess. Muzzle flashes from the mouths of their pistols lit the area like a strobe light, with the intermittent flickers of illumination unable to cast light on their target. As soon Mr. Donatello stepped closer, he noticed that the area was empty and that the wall was pocked and pitted with gunfire.

That was when a hand reached out from the veil of darkness to cup a hand over Mr. Archimedes’ chin, and summarily dragged him into the shadows.

* * *

It felt like someone was pressing a hot iron against Minerva’s flesh as she hurried the children down the street and around the block. Minutes before the bank closed, she was escorted to the vault under the curious eyes of employees who noticed the fabric around her wound had bloodied. But Minerva tried appeasing their concerns by feigning a smile and stating that it was ‘an accident,’ and that ‘everything was fine.’ The appearances on the children, however, were telling a different story, which seemed to raise their curiosities rather than to retard them.

Once inside the vault, she pulled her safety deposit box, set it on the counter, and opened the lid. Inside were their passports and an envelope filled with euros, the bundled bills close to fifty thousand in American currency.

Removing the money and passports, Minerva left the box on the counter, grabbed her children by the hands, then rushed from the bank wondering if she would ever see her husband again.

* * *

The moment Salt drew Mr. Archimedes into a space between two bookcases to use as a human shield, Mr. Donatello turned his weapon on them. In darkness that was not absolute, Mr. Donatello could see Salt pressing the point of his pistol against Mr. Archimedes temple.

“Throw down your weapon,” Salt stated. “I won’t ask again.”

Mr. Donatello maintained his stance,