The Eye of Moses - Vatican Knights Series 22 (2020), Rick Jones [learn to read books txt] 📗

Finally, an indirect admission. Something Kristoffel’s pride failed to observe.

“Even if you did happen to breach the facility, you’d be welcomed accordingly by the Shadow Klan. Problem is, I wish I was there to see it all go down.”

Mr. Spartan had all his doubts completely erased. Kristoffel had taken the bait and had run with it, the marlin whom Mr. Spartan had landed in the end. Though Alix Kristoffel did not come right out and give a voluntary statement, he did acknowledge circuitously that AI Dynamic was a cover name for Elias Caspari’s true establishment: that of constructing weapons of mass destruction for black-market sales.

But Mr. Spartan needed more. He needed that 100% certainty.

“The Consortium is aware of the capabilities of the Shadow Klan, which we witnessed in Croatia. From that incident, we were able to learn from our mistakes. And believe me when I say this.” Mr. Spartan took a step closer to Kristoffel, who tried to pin him with a one-eyed stare of disdain. “After tonight, the Shadow Klan will be no more. You will be taken to a black site where you will live with nothing more than the memories of those lost in battle up there on that mountain.”

Kristoffel fought against his chains, trying his best to rip the mooring from the stone wall. And as he spoke, he did so with spit flying from his mouth in all directions, his anger paramount. “You stand in front of me all cocky and arrogant thinking you’re just going to march right in that stronghold without so much as a fight? Seriously? Well let me tell you something.” The angry hostage leaned forward as far as he could on the cot and said, “Even if you manage your way onto the landing, Caspari will be waiting for you . . . believe me. And it won’t be pretty for you or your team.” He then looked at the scrolled picture in Mr. Spartan’s hand and added, “So, you might as well take that photo and shove it up your ass since it’ll do you no good, whatsoever.” Kristoffel then eased back until his back was flush against the wall. Then as a parting shot, he said, “Have a good fight . . . and an even better death.” Then he laid back down on the cot with his one eye staring ceilingward.

Mr. Spartan, having all doubts rested, exited the chamber, and made his way topside to the safehouse. Now that he had confirmed what the Consortium believed to be the point-of-origin for the source calls from Alix Kristoffel, Mr. Spartan had plans to make.

Storming this castle was not going to be easy. Kristoffel had stated that the facility had the means to knock a chopper from the sky for up to a mile away, no doubt from a cannon of some type. That left the cable-car platform, which most likely had their failsafe protocols and alert systems. And neither proved desirable to Mr. Spartan as a means of approach.

Reaching the central area of the safehouse where everyone congregated, many were surprised to see Mr. Spartan donned in the attire of engagement.

Placing the photo on the table and spreading it flat, Mr. Spartan relayed the conversation he’d had with Alix Kristoffel. The mountainside fortress was perfectly situated against the approach of any and all hostiles. The helipad was off limits, as was the tactic by breaching the facility using the cable car.

“So that leaves us with nothing,” said Mr. Archimedes. “They’re impervious to assault.”

“Not totally,” said Mr. Spartan. “There’s another way.”

Mr. Plato looked at the photo and didn’t see a possible way. “No,” he said. “It’s just not there. A frontal breach is impossible.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Spartan replied. “A frontal breach is impossible. But there is another approach. Something they may not be looking at.”

Kimball Hayden slid the photo so that he had a clear view. The mountain fortress did appear impervious except for one point: the straight climb to the mountaintop from the mountain’s south face.

He looked at Mr. Spartan. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said.

“No. I’m not.”

“You expect me to climb—what, a thousand feet before we reach topside.”

“That’s exactly what I expect.”

“I’ve done some climbing, but never to this scale of difficulty.”

“We have the tools, Kimball. You’ll be fine. All I ask is that you keep your mind on the prize, which is the Eye of Moses.”

Kimball Hayden locked eyes with Mr. Spartan for a long moment before they eventually gravitated to the photo. A thousand feet of climbing a sheer wall of stone and ice, he thought. This was going to be a long night.

Then he thought of Shari—could see her smiling face. If she were in his position, would she see this as an adventure? An unnecessary risk? Perhaps his swan-song performance?

Then from Kimball, he said: “Then we’ve no other choice . . . We climb.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“They’re closing in,” Salt said to Caspari. “In fact, they were at my residence holding my family at gunpoint.”

“And your family?”

“They’re fine.”

Elias Caspari studied Salt for a moment before saying, “They seek the prize of the Eye of Moses. And most likely the crucible belonging to Nostradamus. The treasures they seek are unattainable. So, when they do come, my friend, and they will try, remember our agreement about sending the Consortium a message.”

Salt nodded. What Caspari was referring to was to kill off the team and line them up in a neat row, side by side, a show of corpses to send over the internet to let Mr. da Vinci know who held the true power. It was also a command that had never left Salt since he relished the thought of doing so. Now that his family had been at the wrong end of a gun, he became obsessed with the idea.

Elias Caspari stood and went to the window. Darkness was falling. “There are only two ways to reach this precipice,” he said, as he stood before this panoramic view.