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

the gold, tainting it. Then Kimball wondered about the tales of the artifact and the powers it exercised. Throughout history, the Spear of Destiny had been the hands of gentle souls and madmen with the item exchanging between good and evil minds, between the Darkness and Light. And he had to wonder what it was within man that they wanted to take such a glorious artifact and weaponize it. To create massive and powerful armies. To rule with uncontested challenge. Or to sit upon the highest throne and dictate who lived or died, depending on the mindset of the one who held it as the scepter of rule, be it with good intentions or bad.

What mankind needed was a person of reasonable thought and someone who understood that such a belief in an article with divine attachments should never be looked upon as either a weapon or as a king’s staff.

Below, the building was starting to give, and then tilted, this time unable to hold itself upright.

And it was at this moment that Kimball understood why he worked within the Gray. It was because he was the Balance Keeper.

As the building tumbled and the flames reached skyward as if to claim the chopper, Kimball held out the Holy Lance and released it to the flames. Oddly, the fire retracted as though appeased now that the gift had been accepted.

Feeling the eyes of the Vatican Knights upon him, no one questioned his action. Kimball Hayden was always a man who had operated to the tune of his own making.

Then as the Chinook lifted and started to bank, the Vatican Knights watched the plumes of rolling smoke and fire as they drew distance from the scene.

* * *

After the second chopper landed safely to unload the surviving hostages and guests, Müller received word that all were accounted for with the exception of a Vatican Knight and four others, who had been lost. Five lives, the Einsatzkommando team leader considered, was a small price to pay against overwhelming odds. Yet the Vatican Knights performed the impossible, which earned his utmost respect of the unit.

Looking skyward as the choppers moved west of his position, he knew he would never see Kimball Hayden again or the members of his team. They surely are elite, he thought.

Then sighing, he focused his attention to what used to be the Kristallpalast, a building so luxurious that few could measure up to it, with those competing structures only in Dubai. Right now, as his team and Zeller looked on in dismal silence, the tower now lay as a heaped and smoldering ruin. 9/11 had come to the soil of Austria. But like all Austrians, they would rebuild and come through with resolve, since the fortitude of these people often remained strong in adversity.

Once again Müller looked to the sky and with the choppers moving away, they were little more than pinhead dots.

And then they were gone.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Somewhere Between Vienna and Rome

The flight back to Rome took on a somber tone. Inside the chartered jet a pall seemed to linger, something that was both heavy and dark.

Cardinal Favino sat in a chair looking out the window, though cloud cover obscured his view of the landscape 15,000 feet below. He appeared deflated, perhaps emotionally wounded by his newfound revelation as to where he stood within his faith and his level of conviction to God. He had sobbed and wept and cowered, instead of drawing strength from his spiritual devotion. The judge even pointed out his significant weakness, which was obviously apparent. The judge had been stoic. The woman, though she had shed her rightful number of tears, eventually raised her chin in defiance. Whereas he remained spineless throughout the entire ordeal.

Where was my faith when I needed it most?

The plane hit a slight bump of turbulence, but it did not appear to shake the cardinal from his thoughts.

When the judge proved to him that he was a man of weak substance given his station as a cardinal, only then did the Cardinal Secretary look deep into himself. Not only was he afraid of death, but the consequences for not entrusting himself completely to his Lord and Savior. All he could think about was existing in an afterlife filled with lakes of fire and the smell of brimstone.

Then the cardinal, as though in self-debate, nodded. He would atone for his sins. He would reach out to find his God, and he would cherish Him with bounties of prayer and with acts of kindness.

As the plane rode another wave of turbulence, Kimball Hayden took the seat opposite the cardinal, who continued to stare out the window and refused to acknowledge him.

After a long moment of silence, though the cardinal could feel Kimball’s eyes, he asked, “Something you want?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m waiting.”

Cardinal Favino was one of the pontiff’s—for lack of a better word—lackeys. He was a major contributor in Pope Clement’s camp who fostered beliefs that the then-cardinal was best suited for the position of pope since he had been a long-standing member of the preferiti. He had lobbied hard with political acumen, which catapulted the then-cardinal to the top of the rankings who would later become one of the highest spiritualists in the world. But the pontiff was riddled with corruption and misdeeds, always formulating strategies not to benefit the church but to benefit himself. This Kimball knew.

“I’m waiting,” the Cardinal Secretary repeated.”

“That chair you’re sitting in,” Kimball said.

“What about it?” The cardinal turned to face Kimball, who was still wearing his ash-laden uniform and smelled highly of smoke. His face also remained greasy and stained with the smudge marks of soot.

“I’m talking about Daniel.”

The cardinal nodded humbly. “The one who was lost.”

“He was not much more than a kid. Young. Devoted. Had his whole life ahead of him. But in the end, Cardinal, he turned out to be a real man who was lost during the operation to free you.” Then Kimball leaned forward as though to emphasize