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

Still wearing the ash-laden uniform and with his face still carrying the warpaint of greasy and sooty smears, Kimball looked at the rows of fencing that surrounded the cabin. They were ugly and incongruous, he thought. But Shari did it for him to bolster his sense of what the American Dream should be. But he was wrong. Shari was his American Dream. And to lose her would be devastating. Even the thought of losing her drew a tear from him, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his grimy shirt.

The white-picket fence was just a picture he envisioned of living a suburban lifestyle of owning a small but comfortable home, having the statistical one-point-six children, a fenced-in yard with a barbecue and a dog—just a place where he could live in peace, which had eluded him over a lifetime.

The fence was not the dream, it never was.

Shari was.

After descending the steps, Kimball started to tear down that fence. And he did so with relish and he felt a strange liberation with each board being pulled apart. Once the kindling had been piled high along the beachfront of the lake, he torched the wood to create a bonfire that went on into the night.

For hours he stood before the flames feeling an odd kinship with the fire, then he listened to the wood crackle and the knots explode. Fire. Smoke. The man he was and the man he had become. Everything leaned towards him having found the Light of Loving Spirits. Though as he stood there, he remained unsure.

As the night wore on and the fire dimmed with some of the charred pickets still glowing orange, Kimball laid down upon the lounge chair on the deck and looked skyward. Without the light pollution of city skies, nothing was more beautiful, he considered.

Then as time moved along and as the coals of the fire finally expired, Kimball kept to his promise by falling asleep on the lounge chair and would continue to do so until Shari returned.

The bed would have to wait.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

One Month Later

In Vienna, as the cleanup and removal of the Kristallpalast was still going on, the consensus was that the hotel was more of an eyesore given that the modern construction did not fit well with the highly decorative and theatrical style of its Baroque surroundings. In fact, no plans had been made for its reconstruction, at least not yet.

In regard to the Austrian Imperial Treasury, a replica of the Holy Lance now sat in display inside the Secular Room for the one that had been stolen and never recovered. History had asserted that when Hitler died inside his bunker, the true Spear of Destiny was handed over to the Allied Forces, but chiefly to the United States. In time, the United States had returned the Holy Lance to Austrian authorities, who had questioned its authenticity since the article appeared slightly dissimilar. The spearhead appeared newly forged and the gold sheath that surrounded it newly minted.

In Maryland, Shari Cohen sits on the deck of their log cabin with a heavy blanket covering her. As a direct result of her treatment, her hair had fallen out, so she wears a head covering. But she is still beautiful, still glamorous, the woman going to be all right as she sits alongside Kimball with the two holding hands. Today, the lake looks beautiful as a layer of mist blankets the surface.

In the Middle East, recruitment was at fever pitch after Adolphus Hoorn’s video, though short, whipped up enough frenzy through social media that young men joined the ranks of the Islamic State in great numbers. And now that the United States had withdrawn their military might with only a small number of Coalition Forces to man the reservation, ISIS was once again building their numbers. What Hoorn had done was to stoke the flames of fanaticism by allowing the world to see Ali Mustafa’s handiwork. And if Ali Mustafa can take down a tower with just a handful of soldiers, then what could an entire legion do? Darker days would surely follow.

At the Vatican, Cardinal Favino begins his lifelong mission to better himself and atone for the ultimate sin of lacking true faith. He prays and he gives, the man becoming a beacon of Light within the College of Cardinals while trying to maintain that image in the eyes of God.

However, Darkness continued to follow the pontiff as he overlooks St. Peter’s Square from the balcony. It’s night, and he stands upon the very spot where he once pushed Pope Gregory over the edge, killing him, with the purpose of the action to usurp the pontiff’s seat. But the position had been granted to Bonasero Vessucci, a longtime mentor to Kimball, who had long become a thorn in his side ever since he took leadership. Just the thought of Kimball Hayden caused him to clench his teeth. But there would be more missions and more chances to place the commando’s life in jeopardy, he considered. In the end, he would glory in the moment when he finally heard that Kimball Hayden had been killed in action, something he would pray for.

Inwardly, the pontiff smiled, knowing that patience was key.

Patience.

EPILOGUE

The Pentagon

Washington, D.C.

In a subterranean level beneath the Pentagon exists a warehouse that stores numerous TS documents in regard to U.S. secrets that contained the truths behind the assassinations of John and Robert Kennedy, the killing of Martin Luther King, the facts about Project Blue Book and the hidden truths that were secreted away within government satellite stations, namely Areas 51 and 52, along with other historical and factual evidence that contain the dark realities of U.S. history.

Peter Holman, who was a TS-classified employee of the federal government, was taking inventory with a digital reader. He would go along the rows tagging barcodes that would instantly download onto the recorder