The Venice Code by J Robert Kennedy Read Free Book Online

did.”
    The old man shook his head and his hand, waving off the apology. “There is no need to apologize. Like the foolish old man I am, I ignored the pleadings of my altar boys and went out in the darkness like a man twenty years my junior in the hopes of making sure when you did arrive, you weren’t followed.”
    “We weren’t, so your mission was accomplished,” smiled Marco. He paused, looked at Giuseppe then back at the priest. “Forgive me, Father, but I believe introductions are in order. I am Marco Polo of Venice, and this is my trusted man Giuseppe. Anything you need to say can be said in front of him.”
    The old man looked at Giuseppe, nodding slightly. “For a master to put so much trust in his slave speaks well of the slave,” replied the old man. “Remember that the lower the station, the more God loves him, and for your master to have such faith in you, I think an honored place in Heaven is in your future.”
    Giuseppe felt his cheeks flush as the praise was heaped upon him by both his master and the priest. His eyes dropped to the floor.
    Marco slapped Giuseppe’s knee twice, giving it a squeeze then turning to the priest. “I have come to think of Giuseppe as my brother, as opposed to my slave. It is merely a twist of fate that I was born to a rich household, and he to a poor. A man’s station shouldn’t influence how he is treated and whether or not he be trusted. I trust Giuseppe with my life, and I hope he does mine.”
    “Absolutely, Master!” exclaimed Giuseppe, his eyes opening wide as he looked at the man who would call him brother. He immediately returned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed by his outburst.
    Marco squeezed the back of Giuseppe’s neck then returned to the elderly priest. “You know of course why we are here.”
    “Absolutely,” replied the old man.
    “Can we speak freely?” whispered Marco, the room currently devoid of helpers.
    The priest nodded. “I trust my people.”
    “Very well. We are prepared tonight to retrieve the idol should you know where it is.”
    “I do indeed, but I fear it is now out of reach by anything less than an army.”
    Giuseppe looked at Marco, his concern matching that of his master.
    “What do you mean?” asked Marco.
    “I mean it now lies at the topmost level of the Red Mosque.”
    “And where is that?”
    “Look out my window, and you will see it.”
    Marco rose, Giuseppe following, both moving aside the heavy curtain and stepping behind it to maintain the shield against the firelight escaping. When Giuseppe’s eyes adjusted he gasped and looked at Marco, whose jaw was set tight, his head shaking slightly at what they were looking at.
    A tower, at least ten stories high, it appearing to be a spiral structure ending in a peak that provided a view of the entire city.
    And anyone who would dare approach.
     
     

 
     
    1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta HQ, Fort Bragg, North Carolina
    A.k.a. “The Unit”
    Present day, one day after the kidnapping
     
    Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson, BD to his close friends, was in his traditional role of Grill Master Sergeant, manning the grills behind The Unit, his home away from home, or more accurately for him, his home. As the leader of Delta Team Bravo, the toughest sons of bitches ever gathered into one group, he had the distinction of leading, in his opinion, the best squad of operators the US Military had ever put forward. The one dozen men, part of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta, were deployed en masse or in smaller teams around the world to put out fires or start them—whatever was needed.
    Today the fire was contained in his two charcoal grills, burgers, hot dogs and one veggie burger for an experimental pre-teen were all on the go, buns on the top grill to toast up slightly, a stack of American processed cheese slices ready to be peeled off one-by-one and melted on what he hoped would be perfectly cooked quarter pounders.
    It was