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

But he did see a man of misguided conviction. Salt’s ideology of total conformity without questioning authority and to accept everything with blind faith.

Kimball Hayden, who left the staff on the floor, stood to his full height. Then: “I’m sure that Elias Caspari made declarations to you regarding the realignment of a new world order that could save mankind’s suicidal reign, am I right?”

Salt remained silent as he continued to hold his weapon steady.

Then from Hayden: “One Rule under One Voice.” When Hayden took a step closer and saw Salt’s trigger finger twitch—that slight action cause for Hayden to approach no further. “Look, Caspari is not the first of his kind to think like this nor will he be the last,” Hayden said, then he pointed to the staff. “The power lodged inside that rod is too great to question its authority. For Caspari to think that he can use its properties to manufacture the ultimate weapon of mass destruction only heightens the ability to destroy the masses, not benefit them.” Against his better judgment, Kimball Hayden took another step forward. “Let me put these relics to bed where they belong. Let me put them in a place where people like Elias Caspari can never get the chance to place anyone in jeopardy again.”

Salt’s eyes shifted in their sockets, cold pale orbs that had more of the milky sheen of blindness to them rather than insightfulness. Then in Salt’s earbud, as if the devil were sitting on his shoulder, he heard: “Finish this up, Salt . . . We need to get out of here.”

Salt offered Hayden a wry grin the moment Caspari signed off. And then: “You know what,” he said to Hayden as he held his weapon firm. “I think it’s time for you to die.”

Hayden stood ready to take the impacts by puffing his chest out in face-saving macho posturing, only to feel overwhelming relief when he heard the voice of his savior.

“Not on my watch,” a voice behind Salt said. “Not today.”

Salt, without redirecting his weapon, recognized the inflection and the way the man spoke with even authority.

Nodding acceptance of his opponent, Salt said, “Mr. . . . Spartan.”

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The Semtex charges that had been strategically applied against the columns within Deep Mountain counted down in unison . . .

. . . 14:23 . . .

. . . 14:22 . . .

. . . 14:21 . . .

. . . with absolutely no means to stop them.

. . . 14:20 . . .

. . . 14:19 . . .

. . . 14:18 . . .

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

“Salt,” Mr. Spartan acknowledged, as he hobbled forward with a Glock pointed to the back of his enemy’s head. His knee was terribly wounded, and the adrenaline lift that had carried him through the pain was now gone.

“I can hear your footfalls, Mr. Spartan. So, my advice to you, if you care about the life of the man who stands before me, is for you to drop the gun I know you’re wielding.”

Mr. Spartan stopped. The fabric below his wounded knee was saturated with blood. And Kimball Hayden could see that Mr. Spartan’s face was becoming as slick and pale as the underbelly of a fish. Mr. Spartan was slowly losing his footing in the conscious world, this Kimball Hayden could clearly see, but it was something Salt could not because he maintained the entirety of his focus on Hayden.

“I did not hear the gun drop, Mr. Spartan. And I have two of the three pounds necessary to pull the trigger. From your distance you may miss. But I assure you, from where I stand I will not. The choice is yours to make. And let it be known that neither of us has all day.”

Mr. Spartan continued to hold his weapon, though it began to wobble in his grip, the man losing strength, which was a concern to Hayden.

And then it occurred to Mr. Spartan that he had heard Salt’s voice before. Where, however, had escaped him.

Cocking his head slightly to the side with the wobble of his grip growing increasingly unsteady, he said, though with the questioning tone of unsureness, “I know you, don’t I?”

“Of course, you do” said Salt. “Only you cannot remember where.”

Mr. Spartan took a step, though he really dragged his bad leg along rather than lift it and carry it forward. A ribbon of blood marked his wake. And then: “I do know you.”

Salt redirected his aim to a spot between Kimball Hayden’s eyes. “Not one more step, Mr. Spartan. Not one.”

Mr. Spartan stopped. Now that the gun was becoming too heavy for him to bear, the mouth of the barrel dipped occasionally to the floor, only for Mr. Spartan to force himself to return it to its rightful aim. The man’s strength was ebbing quickly. Then he repeated: “I know you.”

Salt nodded in agreement. “We met one time before,” he told him. “Face to face.”

Mr. Spartan, however, could not recall the moment. “When?”

Salt smiled amusingly before saying, “Imagine me, if you will, wearing sunglasses, a fedora and a goatee.”

Then it hit Mr. Spartan like a sledgehammer to the chest, a daunting blow that sparked a revitalization within him as he discovered a second wind deep inside his reserves. He raised the weapon and drew a bead. “You’re the one,” he stated through clenched teeth. “You were the one at the picnic that day. You and one other. You killed my wife and daughter.”

Salt nodded. “That I did. And if remember correctly, I left you for dead as well. Sloppy on my part, that I must agree with.”

“You murdered two innocent people who knew absolutely nothing!”

“I had an agenda to fulfill,” Salt stated. “And Elias Caspari had an agenda to fulfill. And the only one who stood in our way was the Consortium. That’s why I tried to discover the stronghold location and the whereabouts of Mr. da Vinci, which you refused to surrender to me on that day. That was the purpose of