Veil of the Goddess Read Online Free
Author: Rob Preece
the woman's help. But then, his Lord had been vastly more than human and even He had fallen under its weight.
One of the tanks flashed its searchlight past him and he suppressed a curse—taking the name of the Lord in vain had been one of the hardest sins for him to break.
Could the tank crew have recognized what he held? He couldn't be certain. The Foundation had made their requirement clear. Until the time arrived, there would be no witnesses.
He set the ancient relic in the cart behind the mini-dozer, then jumped back into the hidden crypt and lifted the crosspiece.
"Felt heavier than I'd think wood would be,” the Sergeant said. “Father O'Brien will be fascinated when I tell him about this, though.” She unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her uniform blouse and swabbed between her breasts.
Smith felt the tightness of temptation in his groin. Satan was fighting dirty now that His back was to the wall.
"Get behind me, Satan."
"Huh?"
He thought fast. “Sergeant. Insurgents. Watch out."
She spun around, her automatic rifle coming up against the perceived threat.
He'd pray over her later, hoping that the Lord would accept her sacrifice to His greater glory.
Drawing the knife from the pocket where he kept it always, he drove it into her back.
It bounced off the body armor.
He blamed the distraction that brief sight of her exposed chest had caused in him for the stupidity and poor-aim of his attack, but he reacted instantaneously, redirecting the energy from the knife's bounce to drive it upward, toward the carotid artery in her neck.
He'd been through the CIA schools. Before he'd been given this assignment, he'd trained in every weapon, every method of killing. And he was filled with the grace and power of the savior.
"Lord, aid me as I smite your enemies,” he prayed.
His sharp knife parted her skin as easily as if it had been cotton candy, exposing tendons, veins, and arteries.
He jumped back as blood spurted from her neck. Sergeant Newland was dead already, although she was still standing. It would just take a moment for the message to reach her body.
Reacting on training, instinct, perhaps strengthened by the demonic power of Ishtar, Sergeant Newland spun around, the muzzle of her M16 flashing death in a broad circle of automatic fire.
One bullet from that vast swarm caught him in his stomach, its power throwing him back, as if he had been caught up by a giant hand and discarded as wanting.
But even Ishtar cannot control a corpse for long. The sergeant stumbled and fell, her body splashing blood like a drunkard spilling cheap wine.
Smith looked down and saw the hole in his midsection, then felt his mind begin to drift. He'd done his best, been a soldier in the army of the Lord. Satan had taken him down, but Smith felt no sorrow. He was assured of his place, certain of the Lord's promise of eternal life. Surely the Lord would accept him despite his many failures. Amen.
Chapter 2
Captain Zack Herrera had been facing away from where Smith and Newland did their excavation, using the tank's sophisticated night vision equipment to watch the subtle movement of the locals as they crept around, tried to approach the bombed-out mosque without coming in range of the Abrams’ deadly machineguns.
The sudden burst of an automatic weapon sounded too close, but didn't have the characteristic low rattle of the Kalasnikov.
"Soldier down.” His gunner, Billy Jensen's voice bumped up an octave. “Jeez. Looks like Newland and Smith both."
An Iraqi sniper could had gotten past the perimeter. With only Zack's company and the few soldiers in Newland's squad available, their perimeter had been porous at best. But something about this didn't smell right and he'd heard only the rattlesnake snarl of an M16.
"Full reverse,” he ordered. “Other units, cover our vector. And button up Newland's infantry. We may have to make a run for it."
Almost invisibly in the moonless darkness, the chopper's cannon traced the path
One of the tanks flashed its searchlight past him and he suppressed a curse—taking the name of the Lord in vain had been one of the hardest sins for him to break.
Could the tank crew have recognized what he held? He couldn't be certain. The Foundation had made their requirement clear. Until the time arrived, there would be no witnesses.
He set the ancient relic in the cart behind the mini-dozer, then jumped back into the hidden crypt and lifted the crosspiece.
"Felt heavier than I'd think wood would be,” the Sergeant said. “Father O'Brien will be fascinated when I tell him about this, though.” She unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her uniform blouse and swabbed between her breasts.
Smith felt the tightness of temptation in his groin. Satan was fighting dirty now that His back was to the wall.
"Get behind me, Satan."
"Huh?"
He thought fast. “Sergeant. Insurgents. Watch out."
She spun around, her automatic rifle coming up against the perceived threat.
He'd pray over her later, hoping that the Lord would accept her sacrifice to His greater glory.
Drawing the knife from the pocket where he kept it always, he drove it into her back.
It bounced off the body armor.
He blamed the distraction that brief sight of her exposed chest had caused in him for the stupidity and poor-aim of his attack, but he reacted instantaneously, redirecting the energy from the knife's bounce to drive it upward, toward the carotid artery in her neck.
He'd been through the CIA schools. Before he'd been given this assignment, he'd trained in every weapon, every method of killing. And he was filled with the grace and power of the savior.
"Lord, aid me as I smite your enemies,” he prayed.
His sharp knife parted her skin as easily as if it had been cotton candy, exposing tendons, veins, and arteries.
He jumped back as blood spurted from her neck. Sergeant Newland was dead already, although she was still standing. It would just take a moment for the message to reach her body.
Reacting on training, instinct, perhaps strengthened by the demonic power of Ishtar, Sergeant Newland spun around, the muzzle of her M16 flashing death in a broad circle of automatic fire.
One bullet from that vast swarm caught him in his stomach, its power throwing him back, as if he had been caught up by a giant hand and discarded as wanting.
But even Ishtar cannot control a corpse for long. The sergeant stumbled and fell, her body splashing blood like a drunkard spilling cheap wine.
Smith looked down and saw the hole in his midsection, then felt his mind begin to drift. He'd done his best, been a soldier in the army of the Lord. Satan had taken him down, but Smith felt no sorrow. He was assured of his place, certain of the Lord's promise of eternal life. Surely the Lord would accept him despite his many failures. Amen.
Chapter 2
Captain Zack Herrera had been facing away from where Smith and Newland did their excavation, using the tank's sophisticated night vision equipment to watch the subtle movement of the locals as they crept around, tried to approach the bombed-out mosque without coming in range of the Abrams’ deadly machineguns.
The sudden burst of an automatic weapon sounded too close, but didn't have the characteristic low rattle of the Kalasnikov.
"Soldier down.” His gunner, Billy Jensen's voice bumped up an octave. “Jeez. Looks like Newland and Smith both."
An Iraqi sniper could had gotten past the perimeter. With only Zack's company and the few soldiers in Newland's squad available, their perimeter had been porous at best. But something about this didn't smell right and he'd heard only the rattlesnake snarl of an M16.
"Full reverse,” he ordered. “Other units, cover our vector. And button up Newland's infantry. We may have to make a run for it."
Almost invisibly in the moonless darkness, the chopper's cannon traced the path
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