Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (11 page)

Avita
nodded, resigned to the fact that no matter how distasteful the decision had
been, it had been the right one. The priority had to be the children. The
others in the supply wagon could walk, and if lucky, catch up, for they seemed
to be barely moving. A brisk walk wouldn’t even describe how slowly they appeared
to be progressing, and if it weren’t for the air outside, she would suggest it
was indeed better to walk.

A
tortured whinny from behind had them all turn.

“What is
it?” asked Avita.

Labeo’s
head disappeared for a moment then the cart came to a halt. His head poked back
in for a moment. “It’s the second carriage, they’ve just caught up but have
just lost one of their horses.” He turned to Seneca. “Are you well enough to
help?” The man nodded, climbing to his knees then out the front. Labeo looked
at his mistress. “I’ll get water and some food. I’ll be back shortly.”

Labeo
disappeared behind the blankets and Avita felt the carriage rock as the two men
stepped down. The horror on the other side of the canvas continued, strangled
screams, wails of sorrow, cries of children, and the near constant shaking of
the ground terrified her even more now that they weren’t moving and their only
protection, Labeo, had gone, despite him only paces away.

Suddenly
she heard a shout behind them and the distinct sound of two swords clashing.
She spun around, the children spilling to the sides as she pushed a blanket out
of the way and peered into the darkness behind them. She gasped at what she
saw. The servants in the supply wagon were nowhere to be seen. Seneca was
leaning against the body of one of the horses, his stomach opened by a blade,
his life force pouring onto the ash that was up to his waist. Labeo was
fighting their attackers, but was outnumbered three to one. Avita knew he was a
skilled swordsman, but he was already wounded on his right arm, near the
shoulder, and he was now forced to fight with his left in his weakened state.

He
thrust forward, plunging his blade into the nearest man, his screams of pain
added to those coming from every home and every street within earshot. As Labeo
withdrew, he was set upon by the other two and before he could parry the next
attack, he was struck in the leg. He fell to one knee, turning his head toward
Avita’s carriage, their eyes meeting.

“Go!” he
yelled as a blade was thrust through his back, his eyes bulging, his chest
bursting forward as his shoulder blades pulled back. Blood burst from his mouth
as he gasped then before he collapsed into the ash, his lips moved once more,
mouthing his final word again.

“Go!”

Avita
pulled back inside as his body disappeared into the blanket of ash. She dove for
the front of the carriage, throwing the blanket aside and climbing into the
seat once manned by Labeo. Grabbing the reins, she flicked them, yelling at the
horses to proceed. They jerked forward, straining against the weight they
carried, and after several false starts, they began to move, Avita letting out
a sigh of relief.

As a
strong hand gripped her arm, yanking her onto the street below.

She
cried out, covering her face as she hit the ground, but surprised at the lack
of pain, the ash acting like a massive cushion protecting her from the hard
stone underneath.

“You’re
a pretty one, aren’t you?”

The
lechery in his voice was obvious even to her, her upbringing affording her
little opportunity to ever hear such a tone, it simply not tolerated in polite
company. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt her breast pawed by the animal
and she spun around, her fist clenched, opening it as it emerged from the ash,
filling the man’s face with the powder. Cursing, he stumbled back and began to
cough, visibly sucking in the thick ash with each gasp. Realizing what was
happening, he covered his mouth with his robe and fell to his knees, his sword
falling from his hand.

 A cry
from the cart had her heart in her throat as she realized the horses were
continuing forward without her at the reins, her children still in the rear.
She scrambled through the ash, trying to grab hold of the cart as it began to
pick up speed but stumbled and fell, losing sight as she collapsed into the
powder. With the presence of mind to hold her breath and close her eyes, she
began to push herself to her knees when somebody gripped her by the hair,
painfully hauling her to her feet. She cried out in agony, her children
responding with their own cries as they heard their mother in pain. She looked
up and saw the blade of her assailant’s sword swing toward her neck. She
twisted her head to the side, her hair ripping from her scalp, and sunk her
teeth deep into the man’s arm. Crying out in pain he loosened his grip, his
swing slowing as he tried to wrench his arm loose.

Avita
yanked herself free and jumped to her feet, rushing after the cart. Grabbing
the side, she tried to pull herself up and cried out as she began to slip.
Suddenly a hand reached out from behind the blankets hanging over the front and
grabbed her arm. As she was pulled inside she saw Flora emerge, her tear
streaked face grimacing with the effort.

Avita
pulled herself the rest of the way and grabbed the reins, flicking them hard,
screaming at the struggling beasts who immediately responded. The cart began to
pick up speed but Avita had little confidence they would be able to escape
their attackers. She looked about for something, anything that she might be
able to use as a weapon but saw nothing. Turning back, she was about to ask Flora
to search for something when the pregnant woman pushed through the blankets,
holding a hammer. Without a word she handed it to Avita then plunged back into
the rear and out of sight, Avita switching the hammer to her left hand.

A roar
of rage from her side had her instinctively swing the hammer back, the
satisfying sound of bone crunching as it made impact allowing a slight smile to
emerge as her attacker’s growl turned to a cry of agony, the distinct sound of
him falling giving her a surge of hope.

As she
peered into the darkness she couldn’t see beyond the snouts of their saviors as
they struggled valiantly against impossible odds. With each rotation of the
wheels they put more and more distance between them and their attackers and the
poor, valiant Labeo and Flora’s husband, whose name escaped her.

Suddenly
the horses stopped, and no amount of urging would send them forward. A gust of
wind cleared the ash enough for her to see a cart blocking their path, one of
its rear wheels askew, and no room in the narrow streets to go around it. Her
shoulders sank as she realized there was no way they would be able to proceed.
Twisting around, she pushed her head through the blankets.

“Let’s
go! We'll have to walk from here!”

The
children scrambled forward and she pulled them through, helping each to the
ground. Flora handed the water and food forward, along with several blankets,
then crawled out herself. Avita was the last to jump down and she was about to
unhook the poor horses so they might have a chance to survive, when an enraged
man’s voice overwhelmed the din around them.

“Forget
them!” cried Flora, tugging at Avita’s arm, urging her forward. Avita
reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled along as she said a silent goodbye to
the terrified animals that had done their best to save their masters.

As they
pushed forward, the ash so high the children were barely visible, she suddenly
realized they were only moments from being separated. “Everybody join hands!”
she ordered as she grabbed her two youngest by the hands, pulling them in her
wake as she followed Flora who held the oldest.

Suddenly
the entire ground shook harder than it had since this calamity had begun,
knocking them all off their feet.

“By the gods!”
cried Flora as she pointed to the horizon. A massive plume of red hot flame was
spewing from the top of the mountain, thousands of feet into the air.

We're
going to die if we stay out here!

Over Eritrean Airspace
Present Day, One day before the crash

Night was fast approaching as their helicopter raced across the arid
landscape. It had been a whirlwind of activity once they had agreed to go with
Reese and Wangari, and despite the fact the impression was left they had little
choice, they would have gone regardless. It was one of the many things they had
in common.

A drive
to discover.

And if
there were thousands of bars of ancient Roman gold in Eritrea, the mystery
begged to be solved.

It was
supposed to be a quick in and out operation. Simply verify the find as genuine,
tell those on the ground what they needed to do to preserve the find according
to international antiquities laws, then leave.

“Look!”
exclaimed Laura, pointing out the window. Acton leaned over his fiancée and
peered through the small round window of the large transport chopper, it brimming
with personnel and equipment. There had been no time for introductions, and
Acton had the distinct impression that the vast majority were military, yet
there wasn’t a gun in sight.

Below he
could see the winding Tekezé River, then in the distance a massive area bathed
in bright lights, illuminating the entire scene as if it were under the midday
sun.

“That
must be it,” he observed as he leaned back in his seat. He pulled out his phone
and activated the Maps app, showing their location to Laura. “The border to
Ethiopia is just across the river.”

“Isn’t
this disputed land?” she asked.

“It has
been,” said one of the men sitting across from them. Pleasantly plump, he
smiled, revealing deep dimples as he extended his hand. “Charles Tucker, UN,”
he said, shaking both their hands, the professors introducing themselves.
Tucker motioned out the window. “Eritrea and Ethiopia fought a two year war
over this area about fifteen years ago. Before that they fought a civil war
over the area, Eritrea gaining its independence. That one lasted the better
part of thirty years. And before that? Well, let’s just say British colonialism
isn’t the only colonialism to have screwed up this country.”

“Ottoman,
Italian then British, wasn’t it?” asked Acton, who knew the answer full well,
but was enjoying having someone informed to talk to.

“Indeed.
You know your history well, Professor.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not an
historian, are you?”

“In a
manner of speaking,” replied Acton. He nodded toward Laura. “We’re both
archeologists.”

“Then
I’ve been showing off to experts!” laughed Tucker, his cheeks flushing. “I
apologize if I came off as arrogant!”

Acton
laughed, shaking his head. “Not at all, not at all. Once you get to know me,
you’ll realize I’m always sharing my infinite wisdom, whether people want to
hear it or not!”

“Tell me
about it!” said Laura with a wink and a smile.

Acton
elbowed her gently in the ribs.

Tucker
motioned to the engagement ring on Laura’s hand. “You two wouldn’t happen to
be…” He let the question trail off, his eyebrows climbing inquisitively.

Laura
held up the ring, beaming. “We’re engaged.”

Tucker
smiled, holding up his left hand, revealing a gold wedding band. “Fifteen years
next week.” He frowned. “I’m afraid I might miss it if what they have here is the
real deal.”

“What
have they told you?” asked Acton.

Tucker
shrugged. “Not much beyond a hoard of Ancient Roman gold bars found on a buried
shipwreck. The Eritreans threatened to melt it down and sell it on the open
market if we didn’t negotiate. If the estimates are correct, there’s enough
gold there to be equivalent to over a quarter, possibly half their GDP. It
could completely destabilize their domestic economy, and depending on what they
decided to do with the money, which we suspect is purchase weapons, could
trigger another war with Ethiopia. There’s also a lot of tension with the
Sudanese, what with the ongoing Muslim on Christian violence. Anything that
tips the balance in this region is never a good thing.”

This was
more information than Acton had been expecting. “What did they agree to?”

“Essentially
we agreed to pay them double what the raw find would be worth, but over a ten
year period.”

“They
agreed to that?” asked Laura, her surprise clear.

“Once we
told them we’d delist any exchange that agreed to buy the gold, they really had
no choice.”

Acton’s
head bobbed. “Ruthless.”

“You
should see me negotiate with my teenage daughter.”

Acton’s
smile spread up his left cheek. “You lose every time, don’t you?”

Tucker
tossed his head back, roaring in laughter. “You’re absolutely right! I can
negotiate favorable deals with foreign nations, but my daughter’s bedtime keeps
creeping up!”