THE GOLIATH CHAMBER By Rick Jones © 2021 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: [email protected] Visit Rick Jones on the World Wide Web at: rickjonz.com 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 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 Crimson Dagger The Goliath Chamber The Vladorian Keep (coming) The Baal Manifesto (coming) 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) Stand Alone Novels The Man Who Cast Two Shadows Jurassic Run Mausoleum 2069 with RICK CHESLER First Strike Standalone ADVENTURE The Menagerie (A John Savage/Alyssa Moore Adventure) The Hunter Series Night of the Hunter The Black Key Theater of Operation Contents Prologue 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 Epilogue PROLOGUE Zurich, Switzerland Seven Months After the Sinai Directive Early Morning Hours Though his name was Amal Purakayastha, those within his orbit knew him as the Bangladeshi and as the man who neither had a first nor last name. All they knew was that he was a qualified assassin who had trained with the Bangladesh Special Operations Forces. He was tall and thin and had a skinny range of emotions as someone who neither smiled nor grimaced. Though when a humorous moment or a flash of anger had been presented to him, he would only reveal his emotional state with a facial tic. While sitting in the back of a moving truck with his four-man team, the Bangladeshi brought to mind memories of an arms dealer by the name of Abesh Faruk, his one-time handler. He recalled the moments when he served Faruk as an operator who performed with the cold fortitude of a machine. If Faruk Abesh needed an assassin, Purakayastha was there. If Faruk Abesh needed someone to transport weapons on the black market, Purakayastha was there. If Faruk Abesh needed someone he could trust under any circumstance . . . Purakayastha was there. But seven months ago, while trying to hunt down the Golden Calf, the Bangladeshi had failed to achieve the treasure, which was something that left him with a bad aftertaste. Faruk had negotiated the terms of trading black-market weaponry to a terrorist faction in exchange for the Golden Calf, a barter agreement, so long as the Bangladeshi served as the middleman between the trade once the relic had been unearthed. Now that the hunt was on and the terms agreed upon between the principals, it was Purakayastha who lead the guerilla unit to the top of Mount Sinai. But everything came to a crashing halt when the Vatican Knights interceded and brought down the terrorists with the exception of the Bangladeshi, who had escaped. Though the Bangladeshi had failed Faruk, it mattered little since the arms dealer was found dead in what was believed to be a professional hit before he had been informed of the Bangladeshi’s failure. The arms dealer had been discovered sitting inside the glass chamber that was supposed to display the ancient relic with a bullet to his head and two to center mass. As the truck hit a bump that jarred him from these memories, the Bangladeshi took inventory of his team. They were mercenaries who had been informed by the Bangladeshi that they were picking up a special load from a hidden chamber beneath Abesh Faruk’s stately mansion, in what the Bangladeshi had told them was a ‘deal maker.’ As the truck turned onto the estate, the vehicle quickly made its way along the long stretch of a driveway. At the top of the incline where the FOR-SALE sign was posted, the Bangladeshi started to see the manor that was hidden behind thick tree lines. After Faruk’s death, the estate had been placed on the market for twenty-six million dollars in American currency, an amount few could afford, but it featured a one-of-a-kind museum that displayed hard-to-find artifacts. There was a movie theater; an indoor swimming pool; a pair of chefs’ kitchens, one at both ends of the house; a ballroom for entertaining; a racquetball court; twelve bedrooms; eight bathrooms; the list went on. But there was only one room that the Bangladeshi was interested in. When the vehicle stopped before the mansion’s main entryway, the Bangladeshi jumped down from the truck’s bay along with his teammates, then ordered the driver to take the vehicle around back where he was to park it within the brambles As the truck took the winding road to the rear, the Bangladeshi led his team to the front door, which was locked, but he had the key. Removing a suppressed firearm from his holster, he placed three muted shots that destroyed the lock’s mechanism, then pushed the door wide. Knowing that the alarm system had a twenty-second window before the distress signal would sound, he knew exactly where to go. Finding the unit’s keypad within the foyer, he typed
