The Goliath Chamber - Vatican Knights 24 (2021), Rick Jones [e ink epub reader .TXT] 📗

using the scope’s zoom lens, the brush now becoming a close field of study.

Nothing.

Not even the leaves moved to give away the position of whatever it was that roamed about.

McKinley continued to examine his surroundings through his scope and zoomed in to discover little outside of natural growth and trees. And then to the left of the last sighting was the slight movement of a tree limb that was nearly imperceptible, a marginal waver.

So, the Nocturnal Saint homed in and sharpened his focus, something the mask was unable to do from long distance.

And there it was, a glimpse of white against dark with the shape and meaning behind it unmistakable. And then it was gone, like magic; here one second and gone the next. But it was all that McKinley needed to know. What he spotted was the white band of a Roman Catholic collar, the accessory belonging to a Vatican Knight.

The Knight had moved far through the darkness, he considered. But in order to do so, he had to have taken out the first line of defense, which was Stallworth and Bienemy, and a task that was far from easy.

Returning the mask to give him an overall view of the landscape instead of the pinched view through the scope, McKinley started his way towards Kimball for a full-on engagement.

With the stealth of a master warrior, Shonn McKinley, a former Army Ranger who in the name of God operated as a soldier of the Nocturnal Saints, began to close the gap between two alpha predators.

* * *

Kimball Hayden could sense the approach of something moving through the brush, a stalker that remained soundless and unseen. Yet Kimball could clearly identify its intention to maim and injure, something that was a true predator who had mastered the technique of stealth.

I know you’re there, Kimball thought.

Yet the surrounding growth remained still, even as something approached him from within.

Kimball raised his appropriated assault rifle and was fully aware of the knife attached to his thigh rig. He had come with nothing as required, the Vatican Knight believing that he may have been under surveillance since he found the recorder on his bunk. But here he was, now fully stocked with weapons.

But will these be enough? he asked himself.

Standing within the growth of waist-high shrubbery, Kimball waited for the lion to pounce.

* * *

“I have him within my sights,” McKinley whispered into the internal lip mic.

Then from Mannix, who was on the other end, “Wound him if you must but don’t kill him. The handler would like to have a word or two with the sinner before final judgment is passed.”

“Copy that.”

McKinley was an expert of stealthy movement. He knew that people were never tracked by tamped down grass or by the stamps of footprints in the soil. Elite soldiers always tracked their subjects by making observances from the waist up, such as broken stems or the redirection of leaves. But in the case of the Vatican Knight, the man was apparently a master of sanitizing his traces. If not for his NVG capabilities, McKinley would not have even seen the Vatican Knight at all.

With one foot rising and the other falling to stalk his prey, he was careful not to upset his surroundings.

Through the hanging leaves, he was able to catch a partial view of Kimball Hayden—either an arm or a portion of his leg, but never both. And as he approached with silence to close the gap between them, Kimball was suddenly gone with the Vatican Knight on the move.

McKinley immediately found himself in awe of the man. The Vatican Knight had drawn distance without making a sound. Nor did he leave behind any trace evidence to follow. McKinley soon realized that he was now standing on a same plot of land that had been occupied by the Vatican Knight seconds before. Through the NVG lenses of his mask, he spotted nothing within his surroundings.

The former Army Ranger maintained his cool as he scoped his current situation.

Nothing.

Then like all seasoned warriors, he felt the cloying menace of something approaching.

McKinley pivoted on the balls of his feet by first moving to his left and then to his right. Then he scoped the areas above and behind him with his movements silent but quick.

Nothing.

But the weight of the Vatican Knight’s looming presence was too great to dismiss, the enemy closing.

Where are you?

And like two trains about to collide head on, McKinley performed a 180 on his feet to find Kimball within arm’s reach. Through the built-in NVG of his mask, McKinley could see the brewing rage in the man’s eyes that communicated to the Ranger that the two men were about to enter the arena with one man leaving. Their arena, however, was little more than a small patch of dirt.

As McKinley tried to turn his weapon on the Vatican Knight, Kimball already had his directed to McKinley’s center mass and pulled the trigger. The area lit up with a staccato burst of light. Rounds pounded into McKinley’s armor and lifted him off his feet, then carried him into a soft bedding of shrubbery. The pain was excruciating, the blows coming as though from a sledgehammer hitting him repeatedly. He lay there wondering if his ribs had been broken, Kimball was on top of him with a knife pressed against McKinley’s throat.

“Shari Cohen,” he said. “Where is she inside that bunker and how many of you are there?”

McKinley, whose voice sounded metallic, came across as laughter. “Thousands,” he answered. “We are everywhere.”

This wasn’t necessarily a lie since the Nocturnal Saints were believed to be an organization that incorporated captains of industries, physicians, attorneys, politicians, blue- and white-collar workers, even priests. What Kimball wanted to know, obviously, was the manpower he was up against. “You know what I’m talking about,” he told McKinley. “Now is not the time to get cute.”

More metallic laughter. “We are thousands,” was the answer.

Kimball showed his frustration by shaking the man. “Where is she?”

“You broke the