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

a type of cannon or high-caliber weapon that was mounted on a fixed central emplacement that was capable of swinging in a wide horizontal arc to get a fix on its target. Its specific development was a means of protection from aerial weapons like choppers and planes.

They’re expecting us, Mr. Spartan thought. They just don’t know how.

Mr. Spartan, who gave a series of hand gestures to Mr. Galileo, told the operative that the stage now belonged to him. And Mr. Galileo, who offered a wink in acknowledgement, accepted the challenge. With the stealth and cunning of an elite soldier, Mr. Galileo quietly made his way toward the gun turret.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The two-man defense team that was manning the Deep Mountain gun turret was engaged in conversation when Mr. Galileo scaled the exterior ladder to reach the port. Hand over hand, foot after foot, Mr. Galileo climbed over the edge and hunkered down in the shadows, listening.

They were bantering in German over a recent fútbol game, the two so complacent about their surroundings that Mr. Galileo was able to move behind them without drawing their attention. Once the central emplacement was no longer between them and the two sentries a pair of standing silhouettes against the backdrop, Mr. Galileo leveled his weapon, bounced the crosshairs from man to man, then fired off a pair of silenced rounds.

. . . Phfft . . .

. . . Phfft . . .

Both men dropped to the platform, straight down, their lives over before they hit the floor.

Mr. Galileo checked their carotids with his fingertips; both deceased, no question. Then he inspected the double barrels of the gun, which were more like cannons, that sat on a rotating platform. It was a high-caliber weapon capable of disastrous effects. Any airborne vehicle would have easily been knocked from the sky from its pelting gunfire.

Slinging his weapon over his back, Mr. Galileo descended the platform and reached bottom. Then into his lip mic, he whispered, “Clear.”

The troops moved forward and met at the turret’s base.

“Circle the facility,” Mr. Spartan told everyone. “Locate any or all possible breach points so that we can determine the path of least resistance. Clear?”

In chorus, they did.

“Misters Archimedes, Donatello and Michelangelo will follow my lead around the facility’s eastside. Misters Galileo and Plato will circuit the westside along with Mr. Hayden. We’ll meet back here in five.” Without adding anything further, Mr. Spartan took lead and his recon group followed. Mr. Galileo, who took point, started his way alongside the westside with Mr. Plato behind him and Kimball Hayden taking rear.

* * *

Misters Galileo and Plato stayed close to the wall, as did Kimball Hayden. They discovered that the cement foundation was uniform all the way around with no seams, openings, cracks, or fissures, nothing that offered a means of getting inside except for the main entryway that was off the helipad and cable-car platform. AI Dynamic truly was a fortress in every sense. One way in and only one way out.

As blustering winds continued to swirl viciously along the mountaintop enough to kick up eddies of snow, Kimball Hayden found himself strangely comfortable in this element. The brutal winds, the cold, it all brought him back to a Maryland winter, and the thought of Maryland brought him back to Shari. Within the swirls of snow, which were like clouds in the sky, images began to take shape. In miniscule moments of time he thought he had seen the face of Shari within the veils of whipping snow. He saw her mischievous smile and the lift of one brow that was higher than the other. It was a look she always had when she was about to play a harmless and joyful prank. And then she was gone, the wind scattering her like dust and smoke.

Shari?

The wind was beginning to pick up and howl, the disturbances becoming greater across the landing.

When the team returned to the original location at the base of the turret, Mr. Spartan and his unit were already there, waiting.

“Nothing,” Mr. Galileo informed. He nearly had to yell over the course of the wind to get his message across, even from three feet away.

“The only thing in our favor,” Mr. Spartan said, “is the element of surprise. But the only point of entry is through the front gates of the castle. From my position I noted four tangos. If any takes to hostile action, do what has to be done to see this through.” He turned to Kimball Hayden. “Kimball, we’ll clear a path for you as best we can. Once inside, it’ll be up to you to work your way to the Eye of Moses and the crucible.”

Kimball Hayden nodded.

“There may be times, Kimball, where you might be alone in your search.” Then he pointed to the suppressed MP7 in Hayden’s hands. “From what I understand, you’re an expert with that.”

“This isn’t my first time at the rodeo.”

“No . . . I guess it isn’t.”

Mr. Spartan stood up; his figure caught within swirling white eddies of snow. “As practiced, gentlemen. You know what to do and how to do it.” Then raising his weapon to eye level and viewing the world through an NVG scope, Mr. Spartan led his unit to the front gates of AI Dynamic.

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

“Oh come, little children. Come.” Salt had seen it all from his bank of monitors. He understood the astuteness of the Consortium and knew that their cunning easily matched their stealth. To scale the southside of the mountain had never occurred to him. It was too sheer, too high, the elements too caustic and too harsh.

Yet here they were.

The two sentries inside the turret were posted by Salt as moral sacrifices to the cause, should the Consortium team find their way topside, which they did. But he expected a mobilization unit dramatically rappelling from the bays of helicopters with the choppers coming from the southeast, from the city of Lucerne.

As for the cable-car platform across the valley, one of