The Goliath Chamber - Vatican Knights 24 (2021) by Rick Jones (fastest ebook reader TXT) 📕

meaning that if there were others, then he would have come across them.

“So now what?” she asked. “You’ll kill me too?”

“I want to know where Shari is.”

“And if I refuse to tell you?”

“Then your ring will be added to those,” he said, pointing the tip of his knife at the jewelry sitting on the table. “I promise.”

* * *

Shari was frustrated because her bindings were impossible to loosen. Her head ached and throbbed with pulsations. And she was nauseous, which were no doubt signs of a concussion.

When she heard the metallic clanging of the door being unlocked from the other side, she tried her best to show a brave face, even as she was on the cusp of losing consciousness. Her world wavered across her field of vision as the stone walls surrounding her appeared to shudder with somewhat of a gelatinous movement to them, and strangely alive.

Then as the door opened, she saw an odd shape that quickly broke off into two separate entities, with one shadow much larger than the other. The larger shape closed the gap between it and her with its hands reaching out to grapple and hoist Shari to her feet. But the voice behind this black mass was gentle and soft and filled with a great deal of relief.

Then as the face fell into the marginal light of the candle’s glow, she honestly believed that her heart would misfire inside her chest. She was looking at the face of an angel whose cerulean blue eyes glimmered like sapphires. His touch was gentle as he lifted her to her feet and into his embrace, with the hug as encompassing as a warm blanket.

“Kimball,” she said. Then once more, but softer, “Kimball.”

“I’m right here,” he told her. He had been told by Mannix that she was dead, the lie striking him with a blow that sent him reeling emotionally, the false admission perhaps to knock Kimball off his game enough to give Mannix the leverage. And he did go off the rails, he recalled. He had lost focus and gone into a rage with the Vatican Knight quickly becoming bestial as he cried out with primal savagery, when informed of her death. He had fired off his weapon without keeping track of the rounds spent until it had finally gone dry. And wasting ammo was something a true warrior never did.

Holding her within his clutch, he told her, “Everything’s going to be all right.” Then after easing away a bit, he reached up to move a lock of hair that covered her bruised forehead. It was an awful rise, red and purple. Then he leaned forward and kissed the bump softly, the light peck stinging, but an act that was also medicinal. “You might have a concussion,” he told her.

“I know I do.”

Using his knife, Kimball cut the binds of her flexcuffs and held her steady.

Standing across from them with her hands clasped behind the small of her back was Antle, whose features remained stonelike. “Tell me, Sinner,” she began, “now that you have the woman, are you going to kill me? It is, after all, a part of your nature, is it not? To kill innocent women and children.”

Kimball directed the knife in her direction. “Your ring,” he said. “I want it.” Then the Vatican Knight started to advance on her position inside the room.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Above the Tyrrhenian Sea

15 Miles Offshore

The H155 chopper was flying at a speed that reached 193 miles per hour of the 200 mph of its listed capability. Isaiah remained in the bay whereas Nehemiah helmed the aircraft. With the moon the only source of light and the stars twinkling in concert, the lights of the shoreline had disappeared. Beneath them were the rolling caps and waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea.

As the timer continued its march towards zero hour, Nehemiah kept pushing the chopper. They had less than ten minutes.

And then from Nehemiah: “What about here? I think we’re far enough with sufficient time to fall back . . . Maybe.”

Isaiah looked at the suitcase with the emblazoned red stamp of the False Prophet on it—that of an angel with a halo and demonic wings. Then he undid the straps until the unit was free from its tethers. “All right!” he shouted above the rotors.

“This is it!” Nehemiah returned. “We do it now if we want to draw distance!”

But Isaiah wanted to tell him that no matter how fast the chopper might be, they would never be able to fly beyond its blast radius, even if the explosion was contained and muted by the sea.

The aircraft hovered about three hundred feet above the waves. “You ready?” Nehemiah asked him.

Is anyone ever ready for something like this? Isaiah thought. And then he slid the suitcase across the bay and towards the edge. As it hung precariously over the side with half the unit still inside the chopper’s bay, all it would take is a final heave. If it was rigged, then the unit would sense a tumbling sensation during freefall and detonate soon after it was shoved into space.

After a final and silent prayer had been said, Isaiah pushed the suitcase over the side and beyond the skids, the False Prophet now tumbling freely towards the sea’s surface.

Once Isaiah informed Nehemiah that the unit was on its way, the pilot quickly peeled back and started his eastbound flight back to the mainland at the fastest possible speed.

* * *

When the False Prophet splashed down in the Tyrrhenian Sea, the suitcase had slapped the surface hard enough to dent the aluminum shell, but the device did not activate upon impact. In fact, as the anchor weights of the lead shields carried it further into the depths, the countdown meter managed to keep flawless time.

. . . 00:00:03 . . .

. . . 00:00:02 . . .

. . . 00:00:01 . . .

Detonation.

* * *

At the 120-foot level, the False Prophet detonated with