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

was asking a lot. Nevertheless, it was agreed upon by the liaisons between the Vatican and the Federal Ministry of the Interior.

Plans and strategies were discussed, as well as the teams remaining in constant communication throughout the operation, with everyone needing to be on the same page. This, above all else, was paramount.

Just as the Cessna started to make its descent into the Vienna International Airport, everyone buckled in. Kimball retrieved his cellphone from his shirt pocket to examine the call log. Outside of a few robocalls, his slate was clear. Shari had yet to return his calls or text. With concern beginning to weigh on him regarding her welfare, Kimball stared out the window of the plane and began to tap his foot nervously against the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Vienna, Austria

Ali Mustafa was sitting before his dead computer with the Holy Lance held within the grip of his enclosed hand. Wearing his lip mic, he remained in constant communication with Ghazi, who was standing sentinel on the rooftop next to the helipad, and to Zamir and Talib, who were shoring up the defenses on the floors below. Qusay had finalized the suicide vests. And with the aid of Abd-al-Mumin, they were fitting the garments on the cardinal and the judge while under the watchful eye of Abd-al-Mumin’s gun.

Mustafa continued to glance at his watch trying to determine when to make his demands. Right now, he knew that his enemy was trying to get into his mind, perhaps even creating a psychological profile. But he knew exactly what he was doing by calculating everything down to a precise moment. While his opponents tried to determine their next plan of action, these costly wastes of time only benefited Mustafa. In the time it was taking the Austrian faction to decide upon their next actionable measure, Mustafa was taking countermeasures to bolster his defenses from top to bottom. Of course, it was rudimentary thinking that his opponents had three points of entry to choose from: the two stairwells and the helipad.

Looking at his watch, he then contacted Ghazi, who was topside. “Ghazi, anything?”

“Negative.”

“Remember, any approach is considered hostile. In other words, shoot now and don’t ask questions later.”

“Copy that.”

Then Mustafa tapped his earbud for a second time. “Zamir.”

“Go.”

“Location?”

“Inside the restaurant.”

“Inventory?”

“We discovered a pair of culinary torches. Not much else, I’m afraid.”

“The torches, are they functional?”

Ali Mustafa could hear what sounded like gas leaking, and then the ignition of fire over his earbud.

“They are,” said Zamir.

Mustafa looked at his watch. Though they were behind schedule, he knew that the authorities were trying their best to evacuate the lower levels, which helped Mustafa since the process was proving to be time consuming. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, listen closely, Zamir. I want you and Talib to go to the fiftieth level, the restaurant, and find the gas lines . . . Once found, this is what I want you to do.”

For the next three minutes, Ali Mustafa outlined his wishes in detail.

Zamir listened before he probed Mustafa’s intentions with a single question, which was a mistake. “Are you sure, Mustafa?”

“Question me not, Zamir, or I’ll order Talib to toss you through a window. There’s a reason for everything I do, a motive behind my thinking. It’s the only way. Soon, the authorities will gather their forces to make another run at us the moment I make my demands clear, only for them to stall us for hours as they decide upon a mission plan. What I’m doing, Zamir, is taking away their ability to delay us by forcing them to act quickly. They will have no other choice but to do exactly as I tell them. The advantage is for us to take.”

“Mustafa, it’s not that I question your cleverness or your ability to plan.”

“Then what?”

“The action . . . There would be no escape if the Austrian authorities refuse.”

“They won’t refuse, Zamir. Not when we hold the hostages.”

“I understand.”

“Zamir, should the strategy fail to pay off, remember that Allah will embrace us. Don’t forget that we are the vessels of His choosing. He, along with the Holy Lance, will see us through.”

“Yes, Mustafa.”

“Now, do as I ask . . . And light the wick to this candle.”

“Yes, Mustafa.”

* * *

Abd-al-Mumin was standing on the thin landing of the balcony that surrounded what used to be the glass-bottom pool, though he was careful as a slight wind buffeted him. Seventy stories below, people were being systematically evacuated and the building cleared.

Raising his weapon over the railing and then directing his aim at the masses, he bounced from target to target within his sight thinking how easy it would be to take them down in sport. He even made a few sounds as though he was pulling the trigger with rounds being spent. But it was all in malicious play—that he was the hunter and they his quarry.

He turned and carefully walked along the walkway and into the suite. “The building is being cleared,” he said to Mustafa.

“Good,” he said. “The time it takes to do so only grants us additional time to perform what is necessary for us to do.”

“Mustafa—” He cut himself off.

“What? Something still worries you?”

Abd-al-Mumin nodded. “We’re not going to get out of here, are we? Be truthful.”

Ali Mustafa held the Spear of Destiny directly in front of Abd-al-Mumin in display, as though the relic was some sort of a magical talisman. “Do you see this?” he asked him curtly. “Do you not understand the power it holds?”

“What I understand, Mustafa, is that we’re trapped inside a building with nowhere to go.”

“And that, Abd-al-Mumin, is why you will never lead. It’s because you lack vision.” Mustafa lowered the artifact. “Whereas you question what Allah has bestowed upon us, I embrace it. I know that the Einsatzkommando won’t stay idle for long. But by the grace of Allah, He has given me the insight to see what has to be done. Tonight, Abd-al-Mumin, believe me when I say that