Solomon's Throne Read Online Free

switched to red. The men moved slowly into the room, cautiously testing out their inside information. If they’d missed just one system… After five quiet minutes, they went straight for a small vault set into the back wall.
    Carefully the leader withdrew a black box from his coverall pocket. He opened it to reveal a man’s index finger. His partner made a face and the leader smiled and shook his head. Not real. The finger, made of a silicone polymer and kept warm on a battery powered bed of foam, was perfect in every respect: fingernail, hairs, knuckle wrinkles. And, most importantly, fingerprints.
    The leader consulted his smart phone, and crossed himself again, to the amusement of his partner. He wiped his upper lip with his shoulder, steadied his stance, and raised his own index finger to the keypad. He began his series of punches. Fourteen numbers. Star. Fourteen more numbers. Enter. This time there was a yellow light, and another touch pad illuminated. Quickly taking the warm finger from its box, the tall man pressed the fingerprints against the screen. The screen flashed red; the man removed the finger, and glanced over at his partner. Both held their breath. Green light. Click. The vault opened.
    Inside the lighted vault was a black velvet box. Carefully withdrawing the box, the smaller man pulled the tab and opened it. All that was inside was a leather pouch, tied with a drawstring, and a small leather bound book. The man gently removed the pouch and opened it. He gave his leader a thumbs up— got it. Picking up the book he raised his eyebrows at the taller man. The leader gave a shrug. Bring it.
    Handing the velvet box to his partner, the team leader took a thick plastic bag from his pocket. He slipped the two items inside, and carefully sealed the opening with the attached tape. A stainless steel box, the size of hardback book, came out of the cargo pocket on his leg, and the plastic bag with its precious contents was carefully stowed inside. With the unplanned addition of the book, the box barely closed. It had been specifically designed for the pouch, but the leader didn’t want to leave the book behind. Anything important enough to keep with his intended target was definitely important enough to steal.
    The men replaced the velvet box in the vault, and shut the door. The leader turned the handle on the door, and a wild claxon began to sound. Shock widened their eyes, and they looked at each other in stunned disbelief. After a moment of frozen silence, the team leader yelled, “Go!” He shoved his partner through the room and up the stairs, frantically trying to stow the box of stolen artifacts back in his cargo pocket while racing up the stairs.
    All pretense of stealth gone, the two men crashed out of the kitchen door into the landscaped back yard. The two sentries had come running from their posts on the front corners of the building, and the four men began running across the lawn, northeast and away from the water. And their boat. As they leapt over the small fence that separated the property from the small side street, one of the men caught his foot on a finial and fell, his leg breaking with an audible snap . The leader stopped briefly, made the sign of the cross with his forefinger on the man’s forehead, and hissed, “Go!” The three men resumed running, leaving the fallen man to his fate.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    London, England
     
    Present Day
     
    T he London office of Xavier International Ltd sat in Kensington, not far from Hyde Park. The streets for miles around were fronted with Perpendicular and Tudor style homes, many on the bustling main streets converted into offices and exclusive stores, with the occasional take away in between. Encompassing an entire renovated home on Gloucester Road, the normally restful rooms of Xavier International were currently a hotbed of chaos. Pacing up and down and yelling in a mixture of English and Portuguese, Luis Xavier had the office staff cornered while he