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turn to hesitate on the other end of the line. “I’ve done horrible things I’m not proud of. But I’ve been open about my past and I have been spending a lifetime trying to redeem myself.”

“And how’s that going for you? I understand that you’ve fallen to drink, which is another sin. Perhaps a sin on top of many sins, yes?”

“If you know so much about me, then you’d know that I gave up drinking some time ago.”

“Being sober is admirable, but there’s nothing you can do to resurrect the innocent lives you have taken long ago to achieve the means. Nothing.”

“A night doesn’t go by where I don’t see their faces or hear their moans. Not one. I’ll be plagued by their images for the rest of my life, believe me.”

“I see,” she said gruffly. “So, your conscience is getting the best of you, is it? You do the devil’s work and yet he rewards you with horrific images. It only bolsters what I have said. You do the devil’s bidding, and yet you’re too blind to see that you’re under the command of the Dark Angel.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Kimball told her. “You’re so possessed by your ideology that you’ve become blind to reality.”

“It’s a matter of perspective,” she responded, “which you’re entitled to up until your Day of Judgment. But in the end, God knows the truth.”

There was another pause between the two.

Then from Kimball: “Tell me, is this an act of vengeance for what happened in D.C. when I took out your cell? Or are you here under the command of somebody else? Is that why you’re not disguising your voice like the recorder you left behind? You want me to know who’s behind this?”

“The recorder was done by someone else, a handler who does not want to be recognized. But me, I have nothing to hide.”

“I see.”

“You see nothing.”

“I see the writing on the wall.”

“Now you’re a prophet?”

“Let’s say that I’m not blind.” Antle worked the muscles in the back of her jaw.

“Look,” Kimball began, “I got the message. I’ll be there—wherever ‘there’ is. Shari Cohen has nothing to do with this, so don’t try to justify a reason that there is. We both know you’re using her as bait to entice me to an unknown location. I’m not stupid.”

“No weapons, Vatican Knight. And you’re to come alone. Remember the instructions that have been laid out. Notify the Vatican Knights, law enforcement, or anyone else for that matter, she dies.”

“That has been made abundantly clear to me,” Kimball countered. “Do I have your promise that she’ll be released upon my arrival?”

“You’re in no position to ask questions or make demands,” she told him. “If you don’t show within the window of time that was given you the moment you started the recorder, which is now down to fifty-three minutes, then she dies.”

Silence.

And then from Kimball: “I’ll be there.”

“Then you better get a move on,” she added with a triumphant pleasure. “According to my timer, you now have fifty-two minutes and time is obviously precious.” At that point, Antle severed the call.

Laying Shari’s cellphone aside, Antle turned to her left. Standing along the fringe of the room’s shadows all decked out in full riot gear and donning a skeletal mask was Mannix. In his grasp was an automatic weapon that was fully loaded, checked, and ready to go.

“He’s on his way,” she told him.

Mannix remained silent.

“But be careful,” she added. “I don’t trust him. He will come with a warrior’s heart to save the life of the woman he loves. To believe that he’ll grovel before you on his knees and plead for her life is not going to happen. If I were you, I’d expect a full-frontal assault. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Vatican Knight, especially when that Vatican Knight is Kimball Hayden.”

Mannix, in his getup, remained silent.

Then from Antle: “He will come as a man provoked by rage. But more importantly, be prepared because he is also a man who kills simply because he’s good at it. It’s what he does. It’s what he’s been bred for.”

The field leader of the Nocturnal Saints military team remained unmoving and silent until he was finally turned away by a dismissive wave of Antle’s hand.

As soon as he was gone, Antle was alone in the gloom of her surroundings. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Kimball Hayden, a dark force in league with the devil, she believed, was on the move with the intent to kill and savage.

This she knew.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Vatican, Vatican City

Kimball Hayden had always been a man of calm collectedness. But he was also very human with real human emotions, most of which he wore upon his sleeves. Shari Cohen had been taken by the Nocturnal Saints, a Catholic extremist faction with an obvious cult mentality. They were dangerous, he considered, as any group he had ever dealt with, whether it had been in the Middle East or somewhere else. For him, one terrorist faction was as equal as any other. It simply wore a different face.

As he stared at the hexagon-shaped unit realizing that the clock was ticking on Shari Cohen’s life, he also knew that he had an obligation to the church as a Vatican Knight. His duty was to Vatican City where he was to uphold and protect the sovereignty of the State. And even though Kimball had found himself standing at a crossroads with few directions to take, his decision was quick and firm and with no other alternative.

With forty-nine minutes left on the timer, Kimball met with Isaiah and Nehemiah within the Hall of the Barracks, which was the central area the Vatican Knights held their ceremonies to either welcome a new Knight or to bury one, and spoke with them in confidence, though he was careful with his words.

Kimball appeared agitated as he addressed Isaiah, and something he could not hide. “I have to leave the

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