The Venice Code by J Robert Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

the request of the others suddenly went silent, then an announcer cut in.
    “We interrupt this broadcast for an important news bulletin. Former President Jackson’s son has been kidnapped at gunpoint. Two of his assailants are dead, and his Secret Service escort have been taken to hospital with non-life threatening injuries. At this point in time the identity and motives of the kidnappers is unknown. Grant Jackson, the thirty-three year old son of the murdered President had just given a speech to a partisan crowd announcing his bid for Congress when his car was rammed and he was taken captive. We will update you with further information as it comes in.”
    The radio flipped back to some pre-meltdown Justin Bieber tune that would normally have Dawson gagging if it weren’t for what they had just heard.
    “Do you think we’ll get called in?” asked Red, holding his son against his side.
    “All things considered, probably, since we’ve already been read-in on the details from before.”
    “What details?” asked Maggie.
    Dawson’s head darted to his new appendage and he had to catch himself from saying something that might hurt her feelings. He smiled.
    “Sorry, need to know.”
    She nodded, backing off slightly and patting his shoulder as she took the spatula from him and attended to the forgotten hamburgers. “I’ve worked long enough for Colonel Clancy to know when to shut my ears.”
    Dawson gave her shoulder a squeeze which he had the sense melted that half of her body into a puddle of nerves and hormones. “Thanks.” He turned to Red just as his phone vibrated, a phone that almost never was called. He answered.
    “Speak.”
    “Mr. Jones, I need you at the flower shop for a delivery.”
    He frowned. “Five minutes.”
    He snapped the phone back on his hip then nodded toward the throng now at the picnic tables.
    “Tell the boys to lay off the beer. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know.”
    “These are ready,” announced Maggie as she handed the spatula to Red and turned to face Dawson. “It’s been fun,” she said, then quickly popped up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the side of his mouth. It was so quick Dawson didn’t even have time to respond. Instead he stood there awkwardly for a moment then turned crimson when a chorus of “ooohs” erupted from the tables.
    He shook his head, a smile creeping up half his face as he turned and headed for his car. As he climbed in Maggie gave him a little wave, a smile on her face that told Dawson everything he needed to know.
    She’s in deep. And you’re in trouble.
     
     

 
     
    Outside the Red Mosque, Karakorum, Mongol Empire
    March 29 th , 1275 AD
     
    Giuseppe was huddled in the snow, shaking once again, the warmth of the church a quickly fading memory. To his right was his master Marco, his bow in hand, and to his left were the two altar boys from the church. Father Salvatore had been insistent that they be taken along and Marco had reluctantly agreed when his reasoning became clear.
    Should they be successful in stealing the crystal icon, the Christians would most likely be blamed.
    And slaughtered.
    Father Salvatore had sent everyone away weeks ago to seek safety in the south, only his two most loyal altar boys had remained with him, refusing to leave. Fortunately, in the Mongol Empire, even those of the cloth learned to defend themselves or perish, and these two young men apparently were skilled in the use of the bow and adept at swordplay as well.
    “ They weren’t always altar boys .”
    Marco had smiled at the priest’s words, nodding knowingly, and expressed his gratefulness at the two additions to their group. The two men, Roberto, who had opened the gate, and Vincenzo, who had taken their horse, were reluctant to join them at first. Giuseppe had no doubt it was not of fear of the mission, but of not wanting to leave their ailing Father alone.
    Giuseppe knew how they felt. Leaving Marco alone, especially if ailing,