The Eye of Moses - Vatican Knights Series 22 (2020) by Rick Jones (best novels to read for students .txt) 📕

about him to take cover, Bjornson, Elias Caspari’s lead technician, took flight alongside his comrades as the enemy approached.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Mr. Spartan led his unit deep inside the mountain facility. The surrounding walls had been bored to the smoothness of glass. The chambers and labs were as large as ballrooms and the equipment state-of-the-art. The problem for the Consortium Operations Unit was that they had no concept of the facility’s layout. Obviously, these chambers had been burrowed deep into the mountain with numerous branches and channels. Finding Aaron’s rod and the crucible was going to be a timely affair.

As Mr. Spartan hunkered low inside a lab, he noted a bell-chamber in the center of the room. Straight ahead was a console and multiple screens, all which monitored the bell’s interior.

Mr. Spartan, along with his team, maneuvered to the console with Mr. Plato watching point and Mr. Galileo watching rear. Sirens blared and red lamps flashed in warning, giving the area somewhat of a fire and brimstone quality to it.

Mr. Donatello, who examined the monitors also noted the timestamps, which had been locked to an earlier timeframe, meaning they were recorded files. “I got this,” he said, taking a seat at the console. “Keep me safe.” Then removing his helmet, after finding it cumbersome as well as impeding his ability at the keyboard, he placed it on the console.

Mr. Spartan obliged by spreading his team across the floor. He sent Mr. Plato to the left and Mr. Galileo to the right, but he kept Kimball Hayden close. Somehow, the Vatican Knight gave Mr. Spartan the vibes that he was the perfect fighting machine; therefore, Kimball became a comfort to him.

With Mr. Donatello’s fingers dancing across the keyboard with the agility of a skilled pianist, the Consortium operative was able to activate the files. With a few adjustments, Mr. Donatello was able to key in on certain parts of the facility with live feeds.

On most screens, technicians were scrambling for safety, whereas on another monitor a military force was converging against their position.

“We’ve got company,” Donatello stated.

“How far off?” asked Mr. Spartan.

Donatello shrugged. “Unknown.”

“Can you get a fix on the relics?”

“I can try.” Mr. Donatello worked his fingers to bring up numerous spots within Deep Mountain. Screen after screen seemed to flip from one image to another, nothing but labs and offices.

On the middle screen Salt’s unit was beginning to divide and separate, the teams maneuvering into a flank position.

Mr. Spartan counted a dozen. “We’re running out of time,” he mentioned.

“I can only do so much so fast,” Mr. Donatello returned while typing commands at a furious pace.

Mr. Spartan began to examine the surroundings and the many access tunnels. Salt and his unit could come from any one of them to divide and conquer.

Then Mr. Donatello caught the image of a vessel that once belonged to Nostradamus. It sat upon a pedestal as a place of honor. And in front of that was a chest. Along the seam that divided the lid from the trunk came the glow of a pulsating light.

Gotcha!

Panning the camera, he discovered that the items were in L-6: Laboratory Six, which was noted by the bright yellow characters stenciled on a concrete pillar.

Mr. Donatello then tried to tap into the facility’s blueprints, which he was able to do after locating the files. Laboratory Six was close to the southside of the mountain, a long journey.

“Here,” said Mr. Donatello, who addressed Kimball Hayden. “The relics are in L-6. Laboratory Six.” Then he pointed to an outlet at the opposite end of the chamber, a bored out opening that had a bullet-shaped archway. “Straight down that corridor for six hundred yards,” he told him.

Hayden studied the facility’s blueprints on the monitor and committed to memory all the numerous twists and turns. It was a labyrinth within a labyrinth, he considered, a funhouse maze which he had to negotiate on recollection alone.

“You think you can handle it?” Mr. Donatello asked him.

Kimball nodded. “I can.”

Just as Mr. Donatello was about to add ‘good luck,’ a bullet smashed into his temple which snapped his head violently to the side. Then with a lazy sideways roll from his chair, his body slipped away and fell to the floor with gaping eyes of surprise. The precise kill shot had left Mr. Donatello with a bloodless wound to his skull.

Mr. Spartan, however, appeared to react impersonally to Donatello’s death and appeared numbed by the action, as though it was the norm of battle. Then to Hayden, he yelled, “Find the relics! From this point on my team’s agenda is to give you opportunity! This was an expected scenario! We’re the soldiers in this war! Not you! Make sure the items find their way back to the Consortium Stronghold and the Vatican!”

Kimball Hayden nodded as gunfire erupted all around them. He also saw the sadness that clung to Mr. Spartan like a cancer—that malignant piece that could always be cut away to allow healing, only for it to return more aggressively to metastasize the soul.

“I’ll see you topside,” Hayden told him.

Mr. Spartan feigned a smile, one that said, ‘not likely.’

Keeping low to the ground as bullets skipped off the floor around him, Kimball Hayden made his way toward the bullet-shaped outlet.

* * *

Salt had Mr. Donatello within the crosshairs of his sight and pulled the trigger. It was a clean shot, the round entering through one temple and exiting out the other. As the body slipped away from the chair and to the floor, he saw a member of the Consortium team race his way toward the vault that contained the Eye of Moses. The operative, however, was dressed differently from the others, more like a priest.

Commanding his team to stay behind to terminate all hostiles, Salt gave chase.

* * *

Mr. Spartan keyed up his lip mic and said, “Mr. Plato, Mr. Galileo, do you copy?”

They did.

“We lost Mr. Donatello and Kimball’s on the move. Mr. Galileo, I need you to provide cover for