The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020) by Rick Jones (romantic novels to read txt) 📕

use the shadows to their advantage, but they were in league with the Light—not the Dark as the Islamic State would believe them to be.

Mustafa quickly grabbed the Holy Lance from the computer station and held it to his forehead. Closing his eyes, he prayed to Allah with his lips moving soundlessly. When he finished his litany of entreaties, he extended his hand to examine the Lance. There was no magic or divinelike enchantments, only a relic that remained cool to the touch.

Tapping his earbud, he said, “Ghazi, do you see the chopper?”

“Negative. It’s difficult to see through the walls of smoke.”

Mustafa checked his watch. Time was running short. Then into his lip mic, he said: “Zamir, Talib, Qusay and Abd-al-Mumin, there comes a moment when we all become tested in both faith and conviction. A Vatican Knight rarely fights alone. Where there is one, there will be others. Find them. And with the blessings of Allah, destroy them. Remember, I hold the power of the Holy Lance, a conduit to Allah’s might. The presence of the Vatican Knights is a true test that will enable its powers.” After a slight pause, Mustafa, sounding disheartened, said, “Allahu Akbar.”

The challenge was on.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

When Kimball’s weapon went off with errant bursts of gunfire after Zamir deflected the point of the barrel, the assault rifle jammed due to a malfunction. After lashing out with a hammer blow to Zamir’s jaw, Kimball fell back into the shadows trying to get the weapon operational. He racked it and tried to clear the chamber, only for the assault rifle to remain nonfunctioning. Laying the weapon aside, Kimball, with his trusty combo of KABAR knives that were sheathed and attached to his thighs, removed them. These were his weapons of choice because he never had to worry about them going dry or malfunctioning, like the MP7.

Using the shadows as his allies, Kimball moved into position with Zamir in his sights. The Arab, in panic, set off a volley of gunfire into the partition which Kimball had used to conceal himself moments after the Vatican Knight had fallen back into the room’s darker circles.

Then the terrorist spoke in whispers, the man no doubt wearing an earbud with an attached lip mic.

Kimball moved within the shadows, black on black.

Zamir continued his manic search by aiming his Glock in all directions, his target close but not yet seen. And then a piece of loose clay, a fragment, from the terracotta soldier, fell from the damaged head and to the floor, the clay fracturing. Zamir turned his weapon on the figure and pulled the trigger in quick succession, his aim deadly and true as the rest of the head exploded into particles of dust.

And then there was a series of dry clicks, the Glock empty.

Zamir looked at his firearm with something Kimball assumed as anger. Then Zamir patted himself in search of another magazine, but quickly discovered that he was out of ammunition.

Kimball emerged from the shadows with a KABAR in each hand, and with the points of the black matte blades keen.

Zamir tossed the gun at Kimball, who sidestepped it, and backed away until he could back up no more. Pinning himself against the wall, Zamir looked at the shadowbox hanging to his right.

The katanas.

Though not the greatest sword on the market when it came to durability, it certainly had the sharpness to sever limbs with simple sweeps. And the katana had a far more effective reach than a KABAR. Using the point of his elbow, Zamir smashed the glass. The displayed swords were crisscrossing over one another, with the pair coming directly from an expert craftsman in Japan. Zamir grabbed both weapons and hefted them with the feel good in his hands. Then he began to operate the sword in his left hand with the simple ease that a majorette swings a baton. And then he deployed the same measure of skill with his right hand, the action telling Kimball that the Arab was highly trained in the art of double-edged weaponry.

Kimball knew instantly that his KABARs would be useless since the reach of the knife compared to the reach of the sword gave Zamir an effectual advantage.

As Zamir cautiously approached, Kimball carefully slid his knives back into their sheaths and started to back away towards the opposite wall where another shadowbox hung. Inside were another crisscrossing pair of katanas with sharp-whetted edges that could carve and dice. And like Zamir, Kimball used his elbow to smash through the glass. Then grabbing the swords, Kimball, like Zamir, performed his own routine. He swung the blades in circles and poetic arcs with graceful choreography, with his message just as clear to Zamir as Zamir’s was to him: That they both had a remarkable skillset when it came to bladed weaponry.

Zamir and Kimball sized each other up as they circled one another, with the two drawing closer upon each rotation. As they circled close enough for the two to be within the kill zone, it was Zamir who struck first.

The blade of his katana came across in a horizontal arc with the sword easily deflected by Kimball, the sparks flying with the metal-on-metal impact. Then Zamir became the aggressor with his skill apparent as he attacked with blinding speed, arcs and sweeps that were carefully calculated and performed with practiced design. But Kimball was just as fast as the katanas swept aside and deflected the blows, the blades moving with blinding speed and going faster and faster with every maneuver and movement.

Zamir continued to slash and stab with the intention to gore and slice, only to fall short of his endeavor. The blades continued to slash and cut through air as blurs, with metal striking metal to create matchhead-sized sparks that took flight and died off.

Faster and faster the blades of the katanas moved with the two fighting effortlessly without tiring, with each looking for an opportunity to strike and maim. More flashes of brilliant