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

“I’ll be fine.”

“Your body’s trying to tell you something, Shari. Promise me that you’ll get that looked at while I’m gone.”

“We’ll see.”

“Promise me.”

Staring into his cerulean blue eyes and seeing his desire for her, she caved. “I promise.”

Then as a couple, and as the fog started to burn off while the mallards swam about in majestic colors, Kimball Hayden and Shari Cohen stood as one to watch the sun rise completely above the pines.

CHAPTER TWO

The Vatican, Vatican City

Three Days Later

It was close to midnight when Kimball reached the bullet-shaped doorway to his chamber that was located within the garrison of the Vatican Knights. It was a nondescript building made of field rock that was situated in the Old Gardens, with the structure having been pieced together stone by stone more than five hundred years ago.

As Kimball stood before the wooden door that was held together by black bands of metal and rivets, something with a medieval touch to it, he read the Latin that was etched into the stones that surrounded the doorway.

Pietas Maxime Praeter Honestatem

(Loyalty Above All Else Except Honor)

He traced his fingers carefully over the lettering while remembering fond memories, and as he did so the corners of his lips curved gently into a marginal smile. He remembered those who had come into his life and then departed, soldiers and warriors and clerics, but not before they left behind their impressions that made Kimball think of them as family.

Turning the knob and opening the door to his chamber, Kimball stepped inside the room which was as black as pitch. But he knew every inch and every crack that ran along the walls because he was familiar with moving through darkness as though he was a part of it.

On the nightstand and by the smell of its oil was a kerosene lamp. With a bold stroke of a match, Kimball lit the wick and adjusted the brightness once he returned the lamp’s glass chimney.

His footlocker was gone from the end of a cot that no longer had any bedding. Military magazines and tomes that were stacked knee high in some areas were gone. And the steel plate of metal that had a mirror polish to it was no longer stationed on the wall above the washbasin. Pope Clement XV had done his best to erase Kimball not only from his life, but also from the church. Everything that had been a reminder of Kimball Hayden had been removed from the chamber.

Untouched, however, and on the opposite side of the room was the votive rack for which the candles had never been lit, a kneeling rail which had never been knelt upon, and a podium that accommodated a Bible that he had never opened. High on the wall that divided the chamber was a stained-glass window of the Virgin Mother who held her arms out in invitation. At a certain time of day when the sun traversed the sky, a biblical beam of light would enter the room as a warm and gifted shaft to absolve Kimball of his sins only for the Vatican Knight to reject it, since he never felt comfortable in accepting what he believed he didn’t deserve. Earning the Light had always been a far-reaching goal not yet acquired, but certainly attainable.

Kimball sat on the cot whose mattress was military issue, meaning that the pad was only two inches thick. But to him, it was more comfortable than the bed he shared with Shari.

Looking at the stained-glass window once again, and with the flame of the lamp’s wick dancing, the image appeared to shift macabrely. Where there had once been a gentle smile upon her face, warm and welcoming, it had now been replaced by a sardonic grin that appeared to shift into horrible distortions and unruly malice.

Sighing, Kimball turned away and laid on the cot. He then interlocked his fingers and placed his hands behind his head to create a makeshift pillow. As he lay there staring ceilingward, he thought about Shari . . .

. . . And he thought about the Vatican Knights.

Then he wondered if he could live in a world where he could divide his time between the two.

Another sigh, this one caused by the realization that he was truly where he needed and wanted to be, at the Vatican.

. . . Shari . . .

. . . My team of Vatican Knights . . .

Kimball closed his eyes knowing that sleep would not come to him on this night.

CHAPTER THREE

Medstar Medical Center, Office of Doctor Simon De Natalie

Washington, D.C.

Following Morning

The office of Doctor De Natalie had an odd smell of peppermint to it as Shari Cohen sat in a chair before a large desk and waited. Accolades hung on the wall behind the desk, all gold-starred with impressive honors from well-renowned institutions of medical learning, with perhaps the certificate from Johns Hopkins the most admired.

Behind her came the complimentary taps of door knocking from the doctor before he entered his own office. In his hand was an open manila file. As he made his way to his desk without acknowledging Shari, he took his seat while continuing to review the results of her recent examination.

After Shari considered the moment to be the longest minute in her life, Dr. De Natalie provided a few nods as though he was debating with himself before saying, “The results of your x-ray, Ms. Cohen, which I have here, shows sizeable growths on both ovaries, which may be cysts. Not uncommon for a woman of your age. But there are also radiolucent areas, or shadows, to nearby tissue we’d like to examine further before we consider laparoscopic surgery to remove the cysts. So, I’ve taken the liberty to schedule an immediate appointment for you to see a gynecologic oncologist.”

“Oncologist? You think I have cancer?”

“It’s a mere precaution we take when radiolucent areas appear. I wouldn’t worry, however. Most cases are