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

he was going, Hayden knew that he would hit the floor within ten minutes.

* * *

As Mr. Spartan struggled across the snow-covered surface to reach his quarry, he could see that there was nothing benign in the way Salt looked at him. Trying to get to his feet but failing, Salt lashed out with his right hand, the move so swift that Mr. Spartan failed to recognize the motion that knocked the piton gun from his grip.

“You are a suicidal one, aren’t you?” Salt asked with malice. “I guess it’s time for you to join your wife and daughter.”

“Not yet!” cried Mr. Spartan, who had to yell over the howling wind. “Not until I sit back and watch as your life slips away and descends into hell.”

“Yeah, well, you first!” Salt threw a punch to Mr. Spartan’s wounded knee and at the point of his weakness, which dropped the man to the snow. That was when Salt noticed the timer of his watch counting down.

. . . 1:16 . . .

. . . 1:15 . . .

. . . 1:14 . . .

If there was one thing that was a constant to Salt, a countdown in this business was never a good thing.

“What’s this mean?” Salt asked him as he shook Mr. Spartan’s wrist. “What?”

“It means that you have about a minute to live.”

Salt reared back and stared at Mr. Spartan with an incredulous look. Then: “You set charges.”

Mr. Spartan did not respond.

“You’re a dead man anyway,” Salt told him. “You’re not worth my time.” Struggling to get to the second of the two rappelling lines and then looking over the edge, he was able to see Kimball Hayden slip out of sight and into the swirling maelstrom. Then he pulled on the second wire. A titanium cord, strong and durable.

After attaching himself to the line properly for a safe downward climb, Salt, wounded leg and all, began to descend along the south face in an attempt to catch up with Kimball Hayden.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

. . . 00:46 . . .

. . . 00:45 . . .

. . . 00:44 . . .

Hayden was about 200 feet from topside when he noticed Salt rappelling on the second line.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

The man looked as if he had practiced the maneuver his entire life.

Then Hayden started to rappel by taking longer, and less safe, jumps from the wall with thirty-foot leaps from point to point.

Salt, however, was less cautious, or perhaps overly confident, in his maneuvers as he descended upon Hayden’s position along the wall. By Kimball’s estimate, Salt would be by his side approximately two hundred feet above the valley floor.

They continued to skip off the south face with the two plunging at an incredible rate of speed, with safety no longer a considered factor in this game of cat and mouse.

Just as Salt maneuvered into a parallel position, he launched himself and grabbed Hayden by his rucksack. Hayden, who could feel the wind buffeting him, clung to the wall like a barnacle, the man gritting with restraint.

Then like a raking talon, Salt, with the point of the piton still sticking outward from his shinbone, found it to be an effective weapon. Pushing away from Hayden to gain space, he thrust his wounded leg up and drove the point across Kimball Hayden’s dragon-scale vest to reveal exposed flesh.

“The next one,” cried Salt, “will divide your spine, believe me!”

Just as he was about to launch into his kill-strike maneuver, Kimball Hayden looked at his watch and smiled. “I don’t think so,” he whispered.

. . . 00:03 . . .

. . . 00:02 . . .

. . . 00:01 . . .

Detonation!

The precipice that was known as Deep Mountain lit up in a display like no other.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

The charges that were set within Deep Mountain by Mr. Galileo went off in unison, as expected. The precipice the facility sat upon was the first to collapse, the horn crumbling like a house of cards in the wind with stones falling and tumbling to the valley below.

The pipeline of the blast, as flames scurried through the mountainous warrens to consume oxygen with absorption, eventually reached the munitions depot. Ammo and explosives manufactured for state-of-the-art weaponry discharged, adding fuel to the flames. With the pressure so great, many were crushed in the corridors from the powerful concussive waves that swept through the hallways. Walls crumbled. Ceilings caved. And stones as large as kitchen stoves were hurled with ease as they smashed their way through exterior walls, including the south face. Others catapulted skyward as the landing erupted and opened wide, the earth heaving and pitching as projectiles went airborne.

Topside, Mr. Spartan, who was governed by the instinct of self-preservation, raised his arm as if such an action would provide the necessary protection against the coming rain of rock and stone.

* * *

Inside the mountain, Mr. Plato’s group cried out helplessly as thick dust swept into the chamber, blinding them. Walls began to tremble and shake, whereas other parts gave and crumbled to crush those nearby. Mr. Plato, with his head trapped between his hands, wondered if had done the right thing.

* * *

Against the south wall, large stones smashed through the mountain’s face like projectiles around Salt and Kimball Hayden. Just as Salt was about to use the embedded piton in his leg as a weapon against Hayden, stones were launched from the mountain’s icy face with tremendous force, along with concussive blasts that tossed Salt and Kimball Hayden about like rag dolls.

Then from these new openings in the face, licks and geysers of fire spat forward to taste the open air before retreating into these newly formed cavities.

Kimball Hayden quickly regained his maneuverability and found a hold against the wall. All around him, black smoke poured through the gaps and spiraled upward with the plumes reaching for the stars. Beside him and hanging limp against his wire was Salt, who was beginning to gain his senses after