The Eye of Moses - Vatican Knights Series 22 (2020)

track down Aaron’s rod and the crucible. All I ask is that you bring them home safe.”
Without adding anything further, Mr. da Vinci left the tech lab.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deep Mountain
Switzerland
Inside a central chamber within the Deep Mountain facility was a lab designed specifically for decoding. After the crucible had been placed upon a pedestal, a mechanical arm with a read-only lens circled the container to capture the etched symbols inside the bowl. After the lens of the arm had taken stilled photos of the images, they were automatically entered into a decryption database for processing.
On a pair of wall monitors, the left screen was displaying the nonsensical puzzle pieces that had yet to be decrypted or determined, whereas the right screen had the printed quatrain they were trying to decode. So far, gains were proving minimal.
The analysts were discovering that the symbols within the bowl had a specific syntax to them. The key here was to find the proper arrangement in order to break down the stanzas into a communicable form of reading. Whereas some of the characters appeared to piece together passages into workable form, those same characters also failed to interpret others. Nostradamus had created red-herrings within the crucible to keep the riddles within the quatrains safe. But with computers that can break down enigmatic codes a thousand times faster than the human mind, finding the key to the proper syntax would not take long. Whatever mysteries were hidden within the verses, the Master Techs would eventually discover them.
Having witnessed the failed attempt regarding the extraction of the crystal cocoon from Aaron’s rod, Elias Caspari was hoping that the analysts had made progressive strides concerning the interpretation of the quatrains.
The level of clarification was at 18%, which Caspari considered a great leap in a few days. By the end of the week, the secrets of the quatrains would be completely spelled out. Hidden treasures, Biblical relics, secrets that would empower the Shadow Klan—they were all there for the taking. All they had to do was to read between the lines and see into the mind of Nostradamus.
Though Caspari was pleased on one level and disappointed on another, he eventually returned to his office where the view never disenchanted him. The landscape from his elevated perch was truly God’s country, he considered. A million-dollar view.
Closing his eyes, Elias Caspari realized that he needed patience if he were to lead. To push for results would only cause tension amongst the Master Techs, who might falsify results simply to appease him. What Caspari needed was concrete, verifiable findings. Not mollifications.
Patience, he thought.
And then repeatedly in his mind, a mantra: patience . . . patience . . . patience . . .
But deep down he knew that this was not a part of his makeup. Patience meant that time would have to be plentiful, which it never could be under such circumstances. How long would it take for the Consortium to send forth its forces and try to take back what was taken from them? That was the question that was first and foremost on his mind.
Shifting his eyes towards a wall clock, he noted the time. It had been nearly three days to the hour since he had sent Salt to lead his assault team into Croatia. That was more than enough time for the Consortium to galvanize their league into action. And Caspari could only wonder if the Shadow Klan had done enough to cover their tracks.
He would soon get his answer.
 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Emmen Airport
Lucerne, Switzerland
It was late evening by the time the plane landed at Emmen Airport in Lucerne. The sky was clear as an infinite number of pinprick lights glittered against the nighttime canopy. The air was cold with the course and touch of a light breeze. But it was something Kimball Hayden was used to after living in the Maryland clime during the winter.
Disembarking, Hayden felt oddly out of place with the members of the Consortium. They seemed to be a unique breed amongst themselves, all low-keyed individuals who evidently focused on the mission in silence through the entirety of the trip, the plane’s cabin tremendously quiet. Misters Spartan, Archimedes, Donatello, Galileo, Michelangelo, Shakespeare, and Plato—which were obviously callsigns—appeared to be in states of meditation. Hayden, on the other hand, shifted anxiously in his seat because he wanted to dive right into the fray. But the Consortium, who had been an established society for centuries and the keeper of global secrets, appeared as if they were going to a funeral.
Or perhaps, Hayden considered, they knew what was ahead of them, such as the hardships and the impossibilities they were about to face. If this was the case and by the nature of what he was witnessing, their chances to succeed were apparently slim.
Nevertheless, the itch inside Kimball was too great. They were on the hunt for Aaron’s rod, one of the greatest religious icons ever to exist outside of the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail. The staff, which was carried by Aaron and wielded by Moses, was something he wanted to behold and touch, and perhaps raise it over his head to feel its heft and power. He was already drunk with anticipation.
After they landed and entered the terminal, Kimball Hayden removed his cellphone. Mr. Spartan, who gently placed his hand on Hayden’s forearm to keep Kimball from raising the phone to his ear, said, “One call, Kimball. After that, we go dark. Mission protocol.” Mr. Spartan removed his hand and drew distance from Hayden to give him privacy.
After a few rings, Shari answered. “Kimball.”
“Hi, Shari. Miss me?”
“What do you think?”
Kimball Hayden smiled. “I just needed to hear your voice again,” he told her.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong? I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m fine,” he answered.
“Truth?”
“Truth.” After saying this, Hayden felt dirty and ashamed. He had never lied to Shari and always confided in her with his deepest secrets until there were no skeletons left in the closet. And she reciprocated with