Chase Baker and the Da Vinci Divinity (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book 6) Read Online Free Page A

precedes you, Mr.
Baker,” Millen says. “Now you know why we brought you here the way we did. We
couldn’t take a chance on your saying ‘no.’ Not when the sit rep is as
desperate as it is.”
    “Sit rep?” I say. “Meaning.”
    “The state of the world is rapidly
deteriorating.”
    “Terrorism? ISIS? Al Qaeda? Boko Haram?
Pick a terrorist group … any terrorist group.”
    Andrea leans in, places both her
palms flat on the table.
    Shaking her head, she says, “Soon,
those evil organizations will be dismantled, crushed, and destroyed. Given
enough time, enough firepower, enough resolve on the part of the free world
leaders, radical Islam will be effectively neutralized. Of that, we have no
doubt. But what Deputy Inspector Millen and I are concerned with involves a
force with far more staying power, far more fire power, and far more resources
than those murderous Islamic bastards in Syria and North Africa.”
    I sit back in my chair. “Who the
hell are you people?”
    Andrea looks at Millen. He looks
back at her.
    “Ever heard of MI16?” he says.
    I feel the short hairs on the back
of my neck rise up.
    “James Bond,” I whisper.
    “Bond is MI-6,” Andrea points out. “But
close enough.”
    “And who are these bad guys you’re
talking about?”
    “The Russians,” she says with a
smile. “Naturally.”

 
4
     

     
     
    “Before we go on,” I say, “is it possible for me to grab a cup
of coffee? Shaken, not stirred?”
    Millen nods emphatically.
    “My apologies again,” he says. “Of
course, you can have some coffee. I’ll have my men gather coffee all around and
something to eat with it.”
    He turns, issues the orders to the
Poseidon Brothers. Both of them don’t look too happy about being gophers.
Especially on my behalf. Hope they don’t spit in my Maxwell House.
    “Oh, fellas,” I say, as Poseidon
Jackie places his meaty hand on the door opener. “I’ll take a chocolate frosted
and a plain cruller … chop chop.”
    Poseidon Jackie slips his hand off
the handle, raises his middle finger high, flips me off. The finger is about
the size of my forearm. He then storms out along with his big twin brother.
    “You really know how to make
friends,” Andrea says.
    “You and I got along pretty well,”
I say. “I’m hoping that we can get out of here soon and pick up where we left
off.”
    Millen clears his throat, opens his
file.
    “We really must get down to
business,” he insists.
    The photo on top isn’t a photo at
all, but an old sketching. A very old sketching.
    “Do you recognize this man, Mr.
Baker?”
    “Of course, I do,” I say. “I live
in Florence part time. It’s Leonardo da Vinci. He owns the joint. So to speak.”
    Millen raises his head, peers up at
the ceiling.
    “Run it,” he says.
    “You got it,” replies a piped in
voice. “Killing the lights now.”
    The lights dim. A screen that’s
just as translucent as the glass walls descends from the ceiling. Displayed on
it is a panoramic view of Florence, Italy, the famous Duomo which covers the
altar of the Florence Cathedral taking up the center of the still shot.
    Andrea stands.
    “Florence, Italy,” she says. “Ground
zero of the Renaissance which lasted approximately 1300 to 1700 AD, and gave
birth to such artistic and scientific geniuses as Michelangelo, Galileo, and,
of course, Leonardo da Vinci. A literal interpretation of Renaissance is
rebirth. In this case, Europe was arising out of the ashes of the Dark Ages and
beginning to redefine itself in a new age of enlightenment that mirrored
ancient Rome and Greece some fifteen hundred to three thousand years before.
The creative groundswell was nothing less than a revolution artistically,
scientifically, financially … and, also, politically and militarily.”
    I’m listening to her, and I
appreciate the history lesson, but what does this have to do with me? Why the
hell did it necessitate my