The Crimson Dagger - Vatican Knights Series 23 (2020), Rick Jones [free ebooks for android txt] 📗

The assassin, who was wearing a balaclava, moved with clinical proficiency and was no stranger with double-edged weaponry by the way he moved his khanjar in choreographed sweeps. Though the former Jagdkommando operatives were holding their own, they knew their inability to fully contest the assassin was not going to eliminate the threat, either.

. . . 02:13 . . .

. . . 02:12 . . .

. . . 02:11 . . .

The assassin then found his mark, a clear opening that was quickly closing. As the operator to the assassin’s right lifted his leg in a straight kick that was directed to the solar plexus, the assassin hooked his arm around the leg behind the knee, held it firm, then drove the blade deep to sever the femoral artery. As he pulled the blade free, a rope of blood erupted forcefully from the wound. There was a cry, a bark, the ex-Jagdkommando suddenly going to the floor. The assassin turned against his standing foe, the two elites now eyeing each other, appraising, and then the assassin moved on his prey by slashing his knife through the air in blinding slashes and arcs, the blade cutting and driving deep to part muscle and tissue. The operator tried his best to deflect and defend while being driven back toward the console.

. . . 01:39 . . .

. . . 01:38 . . .

. . . 01:37 . . .

The cuts and slashes of the ex-Jagdkommando quickly turned from red-hot pain to white-hot agony.

The assassin that was blacker than black continued to drive the man back.

And then the ex-Jagdkommando realized the inevitable as he was pressed against the console, and that he was too incapacitated to challenge the attacking fury of this black mass. So, he turned to face the computer console knowing the pain that would soon follow. But he was happy knowing that he would die as a Jagdkommando, and that he would do so as a moral sacrifice.

To the left of the keyboard was a failsafe switch that would disengage the mainframe from the command center, so that the system could work independently in order to guarantee a reboot. Just as he lifted the cap to expose the plunger, the ex-Jagdkommando officer felt the blade of the khanjar drive deep into his back with the blade as cold as ice, and then a quick withdrawal. As his bloodied palm came down on the plunger, the knife drew swiftly across his neck.

But the killing stroke came too late. The timer locked on 01.06, which was the disconnect time between the mainframe and the console.

As the ex-Jagdkommando slid to his knees while his life bled away from a number of wounds, he turned to see his comrade lying on the floor in a pool of blood, though his motions were undeniably slow because his life was obviously slipping away. Then as the edges around his vision began to close in until his sight turned into pinpoints of light, he finally fell forward when his lungs expired a final breath.

The assassin, who looked over the console, suddenly appeared angry and lost. Sitting at the console and setting his bloody blade aside, the assassin began to type with incredible speed. He tried to hack and log in, only to be DENIED ACCESS. He repeated the task, and then took different routes to access the system’s programming, always failing. In frustration, he brought the heel of his hand down hard against the console. Then he followed this up with more attempts and subsequent failures.

In time, the countdown had completed itself. In the background was a humming noise as though something was powering up. It was the sound of the mainframe gathering steam to reboot.

* * *

In the shadows of the Secular Room, the former members of the Jagdkommando maneuvered about. Though they could see no one, they could feel them.

They took caution and moved with purpose. The display cases exuded little light, usually a feeble cast to highlight the object of interest within. But as they neared the edges where the shadows remained darkest, that’s where they trained their NVG scopes. But the recesses were vacant and offered no surprises. Then from behind, a whisper that would be imperceptible to most untrained ears but not to an Jagdkommando, was the sound of a foot sliding across the tiled floor.

The former Jagdkommando pivoted around to redirect the point of his weapon. But a dark shape that was caught within the light cast from the cases attacked with full force, and knocked aside the point of the weapon, which fired off with a short burst that lit the area with muzzle flashes.

As soon as the second operator turned his attention on the conflict opposite him, nearby shadows came alive. A khanjar lashed out from a veil of darkness and struck the second operative in the shoulder, the blade cutting deep enough to sever the muscle and render his arm useless. The operative, trying to swing his assault weapon around, was immediately eclipsed by the enemy. Two assassins of Abd-al-Mumin’s team acted like wolves taking down their prey, with knives rising and falling as the blades stabbed repeatedly enough to cause sickening wet sounds whenever the knives were driven and then retracted. The ex-Jagdkommando never had a chance.

Operator One, however, remained fully functional. But as he tried to adjust his stance to engage in combat, his attacker was just as accomplished with the skillset between them equal.

The assassin came across with the knife, which was easily deflected by the ex-Jagdkommando, who then thrust forward a leg and caught the attacker by surprise. The flat of the former commando’s foot had struck his opponent in the chest and drove him back into a standing case, which rocked heavily upon impact. The attacker, with a hand covering his solar plexus because the air had been knocked free from his lungs, fell to his knees which provided the ex-Jagdkommando a ripe opportunity. Just