THE EYE OF MOSES By Rick JONES © 2020 Rick Jones. All rights reserved. This is a property of EmpirePRESS & EmpireENTERTAINMENT, LLC The Vatican Knights is a TRADEMARK property This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information e-mail all inquiries to: Visit Rick Jones on the World Wide Web at: Also, by Rick Jones: Vatican Knights Series The Vatican Knights Shepherd One The Iscariot Agenda Pandora's Ark The Bridge of Bones Crosses to Bear The Lost Cathedral Dark Advent Cabal The Golgotha Pursuit Targeted Killing Sinners and Saints The Barbed Crown The Vatican Knights series continued: The Devil’s Magician The Nocturnal Saints The Brimstone Diaries Juggernaut Original Sins (a prequel) In Between God and Devil The Sinai Directive The Barabbas Connection The Eye of Moses The Eden Series The Crypts of Eden (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) The Thrones of Eden (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) City Beneath the Sea (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) The Sacred Vault (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) City Within the Clouds (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) City Beneath the Ice (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) With RICK CHESLER First Strike Standalone ADVENTURE : The Menagerie (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) The Man Who Cast Two Shadows The Valley (Severed Press) Mausoleum 2069 (Severed Press and Luzifer-Verlag) The Hunter Series: Night of the Hunter The Black Key Theater of Operation Contents CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE CHAPTER SIXTY CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE CHAPTER SEVENTY CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE CHAPTER EIGHTY CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO EPILOGUE CHAPTER ONE Mayfair, the West End of London Nineteen Days Ago On a beautiful evening with streamers of fading light disappearing beyond the horizon, Wendall J. Somerset could not have been happier. Not only did he live in one of the most affluent locations in London, he also adored his family. And since little in life was perfect, he considered his wife and daughter to be close to it. Getting off the tube at Mayfair, Somerset stopped by a flower shop to purchase a colorful arrangement of roses before continuing to his residential flat. Entering his home, he called out to his wife from the foyer while placing his fedora on the entry table, then walked into the dining room with the bouquet in hand. Within the subsequent moments that seemed to move with the slowness of a bad dream, Wendall J. Somerset released the bouquet to the parquet floor. Sitting at the table with his wife and daughter was a man with a pallid complexion, shock-white hair, and eyes so pale they appeared almost entirely white. When Somerset tried to pin the stranger with a matching stare, it was as though he was looking directly through the man. “Good evening, Mr. Copernicus,” the stranger stated evenly. In his hand and directed to his daughter’s head was a suppressed Glock. Across the table and sitting with paralytic terror was Somerset’s wife, whose eyes darted inquisitively from her husband to the stranger as their daughter wept. Then from the stranger whose measure remained strangely indifferent, he said, “You’re ten minutes late.” Looking at the roses on the floor, he added, “But now I see why.” “What do you want?” “What I want from you, Mr. Copernicus, is the answer to a single question. That’s all I’m asking for.” At the mention of the name ‘Copernicus,’ Somerset let a facial tic slip that was noticed by the man holding the Glock. “I see,” the pale man said after intuiting the movement. “You obviously left your family in the dark regarding certain moments of your life, didn’t you? Choosing to be a man of mystery by allowing your family to live with a lie.” He turned to Somerset’s wife. “Did you think that your husband could provide you with such a lavish lifestyle in one of the most affluent places in London simply on an accountant’s salary? Or did you turn a blind eye because you were afraid to learn the truth in fear that it might all go away?” Then he cocked his head like a baffled dog to study her features before he made his conclusion. “No,” he said, “I believe you really thought that he was an accountant.” He turned to Somerset. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Copernicus? You lied to your family as to who you really work for. Or what you really do.” Then the stranger clicked his tongue several times as if to shame Somerset, though in jest. “I don’t have anything you want,” Somerset informed the stranger. “Believe me.” “Believe you? I believe you have the answer I’m looking for, Mr. Copernicus. And I plan to get it.” Then from his daughter who, in between hitching gasps, asked, “Why does he keep . . . calling you . . . Mr. Coperni—” Somerset cut her off by patting the air with his hands. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.” Then the stranger whispered into the daughter’s ear with the point of his weapon pressed to her temple, causing the flesh to dimple beneath its touch. “Yes, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine as soon as your father tells me what I want to know.” At this precise moment when Somerset saw his daughter sobbing with indescribable fear, it was then that his integrity broke down to the point of disavowing any honorable oaths he had taken to conceal ancient secrets. Then, and in a voice that was on the edge of cracking, he said, “Please . . . All I ask is that you don’t hurt my family. I’ll give you whatever
