The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020) Rick Jones (ebook reader play store txt) 📖

benign in nature. Before we can proceed with the laparoscopic procedure, we would need to verify that the shadows are anomalies. And I assure you, Ms. Cohen, this is not a unique situation. Shadows appear quite often.”

“And if these shadows prove to be malignant?”

Dr. De Natalie hesitated. Then: “Well, then, the damage, I’m afraid, could be extensive. We’d have to see if the surrounding areas are a causation or connection to possible metastasizing.”

“Meaning that the cancer, if that’s what it is, could be spreading?”

“Yes.”

Shari appeared as though she had been punched in the gut. Hearing the C-word was as palpable as the day her family was killed by the domestic terrorist, hard and cruel and permanent.

At first, her mouth moved with mute protest before she finally found the words to speak. “And my appointment with the gynecologic oncologist?”

“Two hours from now.”

“That’s quick.”

“It’s best to confirm what these areas are and act accordingly.”

“You know something, don’t you?”

“All I can tell you, Ms. Cohen, is that these shadows—may they be malignant or benign—do exist. The oncologist is equipped to deal with such matters and is more than capable of satisfactorily managing the condition, should one even exist. Again, these shadows are not necessarily cancerous. I want you to understand that. This is simply a prudent measure to fully determine what these anomalies might be.”

“And should they prove to be cancer?”

“Then a hysterectomy would most likely be the recommended procedure,” he told her, “along with radiation or chemo sessions to assure that the malignant cells haven’t spread. But that would be entirely up to your gynecologic oncologist.”

Shari’s thoughts became chaotic with the inability to suddenly piece together the fragments into cogent thinking.

Intuiting this, Dr. De Natalie said, “Are you all right, Ms. Cohen?”

She closed her eyes and took a breath to collect herself. A moment later, she nodded. Then she opened her eyes to reveal the twin orbs the color of newly minted pennies, though they were glazed with tears. She always wanted to have more children, though not to take the place or to be surrogate replacements for those she had lost, but to start anew with Kimball. The boy had to look like him and the girl like her, something Kimball always stated in jest. But she also knew that it was more than just a quip but a subliminal suggestion. It was also a need and a desire hunkering deep inside him. She always knew that his dream was to have a family together.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cohen. I really am.” But the doctor’s voice held the measure of apathy to it—this certain deadness that had been brought on by years of providing regretful news to the point where it had numbed him.

She looked at Dr. De Natalie just as a tear slipped from the corner of one eye. “It’s not me that I cry for,” she told him.

De Natalie gave her a questionable look, one that came and went as though it was simply a marginal and inquisitive thought.

Shari got to her feet. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Ms. Cohen, in most cases it’s not as bad as it seems. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.” His confidence, she considered, sounded just as flat as when he gave her the prognosis.

Then from Doctor De Natalie, who called after her when she turned to exit, said, “The front desk will have all the necessary information for your appointment with the gynecologic oncologist.”

Wiping away the tears with the sleeve of her blouse, Shari did not respond as she walked out of the doctor’s office.

CHAPTER FOUR

Austrian Imperial Treasury

Vienna, Austria

Late Afternoon

Ali Mustafa was not wearing his normal attire of the head-to-toe black robe and balaclava. Today, he was dressed in a suit and tie, with the Western wear somehow making him feel dirty and hypocritical. Such attire was not meant for people of his wiring. But he had to ‘fit in’ with the culture in order to become one with the enemy, so as not to draw unwanted attention.

As he walked along the aisles of the museum to view the pieces that lay within their glass cases, he was not alone. His second lieutenant, Abd-al-Mumin, who was equally dressed and just as uncomfortable, was with Mustafa to memorize the layout of the museum. They noted the entry and exit ways, the positions of the CCTV cameras, the guard stations and caged sentry posts. They noted the overhead airshafts and vents, as well as the museum’s weak spots and its strengths. Everything within the Austrian Imperial Treasury did not go without notice.

They meandered through the hallways and corridors that milled with crowds. They looked at objects of ‘supposed’ interest and concluded that only one item would hold any relevance to them at all, which was the Holy Lance. Undoubtedly, it would be the centerpiece of their rapt attention and a marvel to behold.

As Ali Mustafa and Abd-al-Mumin rounded the corner, they came upon a small room that displayed the ecclesiastical relics which included the Spear of Destiny. Since a long line had gathered before the relic, Ali Mustafa found his patience tested as he and Abd-al-Mumin moved along the line with near glacial speed. In time, the ISIS operatives found themselves standing before the Holy Lance. Beneath the dim cast of an interior spotlight within the glass case, the daggerlike tip glowed as an aura rose from its semi-gold sheath. Here was the power of Jesus that could command elite armies, a magic wand when, in the hands of its master, could be waved about as the staff of absolute rule.

The corners of Ali Mustafa’s lips curled into lines that took on the shape and thinness of fishhooks, as he appraised the glass container. He evaluated the display case in its entirety—top, bottom, sides. The case was neither armored nor bulletproof.

Moving along, Mustafa and Abd-al-Mumin quickly found themselves outside where a light rain had started to fall. Whereas Ali Mustafa took the rain in stride, Abd-al-Mumin hiked the collar of his