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

the primary objective which is to remove Elias Caspari completely from the equation and to assure that this never happens again . . . And Salt belongs to me.”

Kimball Hayden knew that Mr. Spartan was hardly in the condition to give chase, but he also believed that Spartan’s obsession with bringing Salt down was a personal matter, and not professional. Nevertheless, Mr. Spartan would not listen to reason other than to follow through with the vendetta that had been branded into his heart long ago. Now was his opportunity to salvage that part of him that had disappeared on the day his family was killed: internal peace.

Grabbing the staff and slinging it over his back, and then grabbing the rucksack containing the crucible once belonging to Nostradamus, he grabbed Mr. Spartan by the triceps and said, “We can do this together.”

But Mr. Spartan, after feigning a smile, said, “No. For so long I’ve been looking forward to this moment. Maybe I’ll find him, maybe I won’t. But you, Kimball, must get these relics into the hands of those within the Vatican where they’ll be safe. And be careful. You still have a lot of obstacles to maneuver through on limited time.”

Letting his hand fall from Mr. Spartan, Kimball Hayden said nothing further as he sprinted to the exit that led him to this Vault.

Mr. Spartan, watching Kimball Hayden move with the speed of a well-trained athlete, watched him disappear before he took it upon himself to follow Salt’s trail—bad leg and all—with darkness in his heart.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

As the facility technicians bandied at the elevators only to find them incapacitated, Elias Caspari was winding his way upward along a thin staircase that was not much wider than shoulder breadth. The muscles in his legs were being taxed, the man not used to such physical exertion. Now as sweat broke on his brow and finding himself winded every ten steps, Caspari realized that he allowed his arrogance to lead him into believing that he was untouchable, when, in fact, the Consortium moved against him with eager swiftness. Everything he planned for, his future and his expectations of a brave new world, were becoming jeopardized.

Reaching a level beneath the helipad was a chamber that housed a chopper, an Agusta AW 139, a top-line vehicle which was down for routine maintenance. The main rotor system of the static stops, the teetering hinge, the main rotor hub, and blades were all disassembled from the mast.

Elias Caspari then made his way to a small depository of weapons in an adjacent room. On display against the wall were sidearms and high-powered assault weapons. Hanging by itself was the BFG, a scaled-down rotary-barrel machine gun with a 1,000 to 1,500 ammo capacity/minute discharge. With a 300-round ammo belt attached, the ammunition would be gone in fifteen seconds, maybe less.

Grabbing the weapon and strapping it on, and then attaching the ammo belt into the feed, Elias Caspari, an expert in weaponry, knew he’d have to make the shots count. He had watched the live feeds of the skirmish between his security forces and the Consortium inside the main lobby, which continued to be overseen by the opposing forces.

But after stroking the six rotary barrels of the BFG with admiration, and no matter the weapons the Consortium team carried, they would be no match for the minigun. The rounds were high caliber, enough to punch through concrete. All he needed was an opening and an opportunity; the BFG would do the rest.

Adjusting the weapon and ammo pack until he found them comfortable to carry, Elias Caspari, who found soldiering beneath him, which was why he purchased mercenary services, realized that the notion of combat was somewhat exhilarating. This newfound experience enlightened him as to why people like Salt and Max Ueli found such a vocation an adrenaline rush. It was all about being the master of life and death, often choosing who lived or died.

With the weight of the minigun feeling good in his hands, Elias Caspari made his way topside to make his escape.

* * *

Misters Archimedes and Michelangelo were positioned within the lobby to discourage the approach of additional forces. The results of Caspari’s security team lay on the floor, the men lying and moving about in wild tangles from the painful throes of taking gunshots, with their attempt to retake the facility an abysmal failure on the part of the team.

Outside next to the helipad, the mechanical hum of hydraulics could be heard through the smashed windows of the facility’s front entrance. They were loud as a pair of metal panels lifted and pared back. As soon as the ground hatches raised and fell back, a silhouette of a man stood within the darkness holding something neither Misters Archimedes nor Michelangelo could make out. Within the biting wind, this man was nothing but a shape that was midnight black compared to the surrounding shadows.

Raising their weapons to eye-level, Misters Archimedes and Michelangelo approached this dark image. While advancing, they parted from one another with the two distributing themselves wide to gain the advantage from different angles.

But to the man waiting in the shadows, this maneuver would make no difference.

* * *

The hum and whine of the hydraulic lift was louder than Elias Caspari wanted. And something that would most likely steal away his attempt at stealth. Nevertheless, with the BFG in his hands, he was supremely confident.

As the pair of metal doors parted and opened above him, he immediately felt the icy sting of the mountaintop wind. His hair blew madly with the chilling course. But his eyes remained fixed as he saw the members of the Consortium approach him with their weapons raised.

That’s right, he said to himself. Keep coming.

The two commandos approached and then parted from one another.

That won’t matter, Caspari thought. Not with this baby in my hands.

As his fingers were growing numb, Elias Caspari felt an alien rush flow through his system, something that made his blood throb