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

from the Salzburg military base,” he answered. “An 18 AW169M, and three Chinooks that were on loan for training from the United States with the Chinooks to be used for the airlift. They’ll be stationed inside the Heldenplatz where they’ll wait for the order to commence the operation of the transfer.”

“The Heldenplatz,” he said. “Where all this started.” The Heldenplatz was a public square in front of Hofburg Palace and the Imperial Treasury, with the irony not lost on the Einsatzkommando leader. Everything would begin and end from the same center, he determined. And then: “Were you able to verify the number of guests that left the hotel thus far?”

Zeller nodded. “Everyone with the exception of fifty-four people. All who were believed to be above the fiftieth floor at the time of the explosion.”

“That’s it?”

“Everyone else is accounted for. The upper tiers of the hotel are high-end rates because they’re suites, not rooms, for people with deep pockets. A lot of the suites just happened to be vacant.”

“Thank God for that,” said Müller. “The Chinooks can perform the airlifts with two runs, less than ten minutes.” Since a Chinook helicopter can hold up to thirty-six people including the crew, and with only fifty-four people to extract from the site, Müller felt somewhat confident, but not entirely. The only unknown was how fast the fire would move now that it had a life of its own.

“I can see it on your face,” Zeller told him. “The doubt.”

“There’s a good chance that the Vatican Knights didn’t make it once the building lit up. In fact, I’m leaning in the direction that there’s a good chance that they didn’t. I hope I’m wrong, though.”

“You don’t trust Mustafa?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t care about the people. He only cares about himself and his cause. Seriously, do you really believe he’s going to allow the Vatican’s Secretary of State and the judge from the Supreme Court live?”

“Maybe,” said Zeller. “I’m sure Mustafa will try to ransom off the cardinal, which the Vatican will pay for his release. And I’m sure, even though the United States claims that they don’t negotiate with terrorists, will do so for the sake of attaining the release of the judge.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But at least we’ll be able to extract the others.”

“Only if the Vatican Knights are capable of escorting the remaining guests to safety. If not, then the Chinooks will never get off the ground since there would be no reason for them to lift.”

Müller considered this a moment before saying to Zeller, “Get on the line with Command Center and inform them that the time factor has significantly changed with an ASAP deadline.”

Zeller continued to watch the rapid climb of the flames, then back to Müller. “You don’t think they’re going to make it, do you?”

Müller sidestepped this question by saying, “Tell Central Command that we’re fighting two enemies here. Ali Mustafa and the fire. The only rescue for those trapped above the fiftieth floor is now in the hands of the Vatican Knights. I just hope they made it before the gas line went off.”

Zeller, as he was walking away, added, “We can only hope.”

By the measure of their tones, however, they sounded as though they had both conceded to defeat.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Inside the Kristallpalast

Vienna, Austria

Ali Mustafa found himself alone inside the master suite as a desperate man who clung to desperate hope. The firestorm beneath him was raging and out of control, something he did not believe would happen under the mighty power of the Holy Lance. Surely it was the conduit between he and Allah, he thought, a mystical talisman that would see him directing Allah’s vast armies across a wasteland. But the Spear of Destiny seemed to promote greater challenges, greater adversities. The fire was climbing at an exponential rate. And soon, like the twin towers in New York City, it would collapse with the monolith piling at the building’s foot as mere rubble. Such horrific images continued to play through his mind like a film loop, seeing the twin towers falling in a moment he once rejoiced at, now brought him a shiver from an ice-cold trace of an unseen and bony talon that ran up along his spine. Death was approaching, and the touch was a foretelling that Death was close by.

“No. No-no-no!” Mustafa grabbed the holy relic and pressed it to his forehead. Still, there was no fantastical magic to its touch or tingling of sensation. Nor was there an absorbing heat that transmitted from the artifact to the flesh of his brow.

“Please, Allah. Gift me with the power of the Holy Lance which had once been dipped in the blood of a great and holy messenger and bestow upon me the gift of leading a great army commanded by You . . . through me.”

He closed his eyes and pleaded for the transfer. He waited. He prayed. Still, the scent of rising smoke became more acute and definitely more sinister.

“Allah . . . Pleeeaaase.”

As Ali Mustafa prayed, the world below, the fire and flames of a brewing Hell, were moving at record pace.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Inside the Kristallpalast

Vienna, Austria

The Vatican Knights knew that Mustafa’s primary base of operation was a suite on the seventieth level, an aerie to work from high above the streets of Vienna.

On the fifty-sixth level, which was an obvious killing ground, the smoke was little more than a thin veil. Bodies were lying along the floor of the corridor, the results of outright killings and executions. Some had the wounds of being strafed by gunfire. Others had the telltale sign of powder burns that surrounded the bullet wounds on their foreheads, the round having been fired from close range. And by the look of the bodies’ positions, the victims had died on their knees while pleading. There were six bodies all together, three men and three women, with no obvious consideration of gender since terrorists were equal opportunity