The Goliath Chamber - Vatican Knights 24 (2021) by Rick Jones (good novels to read .TXT) 📗

ex-SEAL cocked his head back as if to look at the canopy of the night sky, and with his back straight and firm, he fell back and landed hard against the terrain.

Though down, Bienemy tried his best to gain his feet but failed, the operative moving about like an infant who was trying to manufacture his first crawling move. But before Bienemy’s mind could adjust, Kimball was on top of him and pinned the operative to the turf.

After peeling off the Kevlar helmet with the skeletal face, Kimball quickly tossed it aside. In the glow of the half moon, Bienemy’s face appeared ghostly and wan within the moon’s shine.

“Shari Cohen,” Kimball began. “Where is she?”

Bienemy smiled. Even in the moonlight, Kimball could see that his teeth were coated with blood.

“Where is she? The bunker?”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” said the ex-SEAL. “You broke the rules, man. You broke the rules. And now she’s as good as dead.”

“I break rules all the time. Now, where is she?”

Bienemy pointed in a direction to indicate a bunker. It was something Kimball knew an elite soldier would never do—to give up a position unless there were ulterior motives. What Bienemy was trying to do was to lead Kimball into the hands of others, and most likely into a stauncher line of defense.

“How many are in your team?” Kimball asked him.

More laughter from Bienemy, a low chuckle.

“How many in your team?” Kimball repeated, this time shaking the man.

“None,” Bienemy lied. “We were it besides the woman.”

Kimball immediately recognized the dishonesty. Bienemy wanted to lower Kimball into a sense of complacency, hoping that he would walk into a situation unaware of Bienemy’s remaining team.

“How many?” Kimball asked him once again.

“Are you deaf? We . . . were . . . it.”

“You’re lying.”

Bienemy stared at Kimball, the two now pinning each other with hard glares. And within this quiet moment of time, Kimball realized that he was still on the clock that ticked off towards the end of Shari’s life.

And then Bienemy made a move. His hand was fast with his fingers even faster as they wrapped around the handle of Stallworth’s knife that was now attached to Kimball’s leg, and slid the weapon free from its sheath. His move was smooth as though he had practiced the step a million times, the knife now coming up to punch through Kimball’s temple in an attempt to drive the point fatally deep.

But the Vatican Knight moved with the same quick efficiency, grabbing Bienemy's wrist, wrenching it hard until the bones snapped, then removing the weapon and bringing it down in a perfect arc where he drove the knife deep into the ex-SEAL's throat.

Bienemy’s eyes started in surprise by the quickness of oncoming death. As wet gagging sounds originated from the operative’s mouth as though he was trying to speak, while blood bubbles foamed and burst along the edges of his lips, the light in Bienemy’s eyes began to fade. And then there was a final disconnect as he eased into death while lying upon the grass.

Kimball, after returning the knife to its sheath, grabbed Stallworth’s assault weapon, which was a higher quality brand than Bienemy’s.

As he stood over the body, he noticed a star-point glimmer on the soldier’s right hand, a ring. Examining it, he noted the symbol of the upside-down V which tented over the letters of NS, for the Nocturnal Saints. Stallworth also had a similar ring, that with the jeweled signature of the cabal.

Now, Kimball wondered, how many more are waiting for me in the shadows wearing the same signature rings and holding to the standards of extremism? After removing the ring, Kimball examined it with somewhat of a preternatural ability inside the dark. He noted the markings and their suggested ties to Catholicism. Then he concluded that these people did not just show up on his doorstep to exact revenge for what had happened in Washington, D.C. years ago. These people had been sent for. The question was: by whom?

Enclosing his fist over the ring, Kimball made it his personal mission to find out.

Getting to his feet, the Vatican Knight quickly disappeared into the shadows and headed for the bunker at the top of the rise.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Monte Soratte Bunker

30 Miles North of Rome

Shari Cohen could feel the throbbing of the knotty rise against her forehead, something that had turned into awful hues of blues and purples that gave the impression that it was a port-wine stain, a birthmark. On top of that, she had no doubts that she was suffering from the aftermaths of a concussion with mild ringing in her ears, marginal distortions of vision, and nausea. But she was resolved to remain awake, no matter how close she would come to losing consciousness whenever her vision started to fade.

Sitting within the feeble glow of candlelight with her hands bound behind her, Shari spotted the green flare of eyes that watched her from the shadows. The man behind them had no shape or contours. They were simply spectral lights that floated from behind the dark veil.

While Shari was toiling with her flexcuffs—though her efforts were ineffective—the glowing green eyes behind the wall of darkness rose and then hovered, the operative now on his feet. And then he took a few steps forward to stand along the fringe where darkness and light met. His skeletal face appeared like malefic smoke in the gloom, something that was inherently evil. And his glowing eyes appeared alive and ominous and calculating all at the same time.

“I thought you’d like to know that he’s here,” he said with his metallic sounding voice.

Shari stopped her unsuccessful attempt to free herself to look upon the man who skirted the light. And then she asked: “Who?”

“The sinner.”

“The sinner. I assume you’re talking about Kimball. I don’t suppose he walked right through the front door as you expected him to, did he?”

Silence.

“Yeah,” she said. “I didn’t think so.”

“It matters not,” her captor stated. “My team are masters at this type of game. They can