Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (37 page)

“Thunder!”
he challenged.

“Flash!”

Dawson
smiled at Jimmy’s voice.

Nothing
like going old school.

The four
men joined up, weapons lowered. “Report.”

“All
charges planted but in the secondary location. Primary was blocked by a new
wall. You?”

“All set
at our primary. Did you pick up that transmission?”

Jimmy
shook his head. “We’ve been getting nothing but static. Barely heard anything
you
were sending.”

“Did you
run into Atlas and Jagger?”

“Negative.”

“You
lookin’ for us?”

Atlas’
voice echoed from farther down the corridor, his flashlight beam quickly
appearing then the man himself, Jagger behind him.

“Report.”

“Charges
set. Encountered a couple of hostiles, took them down but not out.” He glanced
at the two lying nearby. “I see you found a couple too.”

“Yeah.”
Dawson pointed up. “I assume everyone is hearing that, not just me?”

Atlas
nodded. “Yup. They know we’re here.”

Spock
looked at his computer. “Which means they probably know how we got in.”

Dawson
agreed. “We need to find another way out of here.” He checked his watch. “Who’s
up first?”

Everyone
glanced at their watches, Spock answering first. “Two minutes for ours.”

“Seven
for ours,” said Atlas.

Dawson
nodded. “Good, ours are eleven.” He pointed at Spock’s computer. “Which way to another
drainage pipe?”

Spock
pointed from where they had just come.

“Then
let’s get moving and hope the doc does his part.”

Acton opened the window to the hotel room, holding a hand up to his
ear. “Do you hear that?”

Reading
nodded. “Sounds like an alarm. I think it’s coming from the castle.” He looked
at Acton. “Did you hear any explosions?”

Acton
shook his head, turning to Verde who was on the phone. “Any word from Langley.”

Verde
nodded. “It looks like they’ve been discovered.”

“Shit!”

“Oh no!”
cried Laura. “Have they been captured?”

Verde
shook his head. “They don’t know. If they have, their signals are still out of
range.”

“Any
sign of detonations?” asked Reading, Verde relaying the question then shaking
his head.

“Negative.”

“Then
they’ve failed.” Acton’s shoulders slumped. “What the hell do we do now? If
they’ve been captured, we need to tell someone, someone has to rescue them.”

Reading
jabbed a finger at him. “It’s
not
going to be you.”

Acton
gave him half a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We better get in touch with Red.
He’ll know what to—”

The
floor vibrated, glasses shaking on the table, it all over in a few seconds.

“Did you
feel that?” asked Acton, standing, his hands held out to his sides.

“The
dead felt that,” said Reading. He suddenly pointed out the window. “Look!”

Dust was
rising from the direction of the castle. There was no fire or smoke, just dust,
and he recognized immediately what it was.

Something
made of heavy stone had collapsed.

Verde
handed him the phone. “That’s your cue.”

Acton
smiled, dialing.

Hofmeister grabbed his phone, the call display indicating a blocked
number, though he had a feeling who it was. “Hello?”

“Did you
get my message?”

He
immediately recognized the voice, and the words sent a pulse of rage through
his body as he realized Acton was responsible for whatever had just shook the
entire complex.

But
how?

“What
the hell is going on?”

“You
have five minutes to evacuate before the next detonation. I highly recommend
you move. Now.”

The call
ended and Hofmeister slipped the phone into his pocket, his jaw dropping in
shock as he stared at the footage, the security cameras just completing their
reboot. The entire north side of the castle lay in ruins, walls collapsed, dust
everywhere, obscuring the view.

“Casualty
report?”

Koenig shook
his head. “We don’t know yet, but it should be low. They picked the emptiest
part of the castle for this time of day. It’s like they knew where we weren’t.”

Hofmeister
nodded. “They’re sending a message.” He pointed at the alarm panel. “Sound the
evacuation alarm.”

Koenig’s
eyes shot open wide as he stared at Hofmeister. “Are you sure?”

“Do it!
Now!” He turned to the rest of the room. “Make sure the executive is evacuated
immediately, initiate total destruction of all paper and digital. Have everyone
report to their evacuation rally points and await further instructions.”

He left
the room, there no time to waste, there no way to tell what building the next
detonation might bring down.

How
could a lowly professor do all this?

Dawson stared up at the ceiling, a cloud of dust slowly settling.

“Tough
old broad, but we’re going to need to get out of here. That first one was just
a warning. The next two are going to take us out with them.”

Spock
waved the tablet. “There’s no way we’ll make the secondary exit point before
the next detonation.”

“Any
suggestions?” asked Niner.

Dawson
pointed up. “We go topside.”

Niner
grinned. “That’s just crazy enough to work.”

Dawson
turned to Spock. “Where’s the nearest access point?”

“We
spotted one on the way to our detonation point.”

Niner
looked at him. “You mean you want us to go
toward
the next explosion.”

Spock
shrugged. “It’s the only way I can guarantee we get out of here. Any other location
is just a guess.”

Dawson
pointed. “Then let’s move!”

Leroux snapped his fingers. “Okay, people, you know what to do.
Start flooding the news wires. Terrorist attack in Angera, Italy.” He turned to
Therrien. “Do we have the footage from Professor Acton yet?”

“Yes,
sir.” He pointed at a display showing a cloud of dust or smoke rising above the
castle. “Good, I want footage hitting YouTube and LiveLeak now. Get this thing
trending. Once we’ve got some traction, hit the conspiracy sites with the ownership
history.” He turned to Sonya. “Notify the Italian police that this is where the
stolen painting is.” He turned to watch the displays. “We want a media circus,
people.”

Hofmeister sprinted down the hallway, shoving people out of his way
as he tried to reach the offices of the executive. Over the PA system the
evacuation announcement was playing, a recording made years ago, one its
creator was probably certain would never be needed. In the offices he ran past,
he could hear papers being shredded and keyboards being tapped away at as evacuation
protocols were implemented.

But
there wasn’t enough haste.

He was
the only one who truly knew what was going on, and he was concerned that the
Doctor might not be out in time, and he couldn’t risk that. The Doctor was
their leader, and if he were to die because a lowly professor had somehow
tricked them, it could demoralize them all.

The
Congress must survive.

He
shoved through the doors and out into the courtyard, organized chaos greeting
him as vehicle upon vehicle lined up from the motor pool, people climbing into
their designated ride, boxes of materials tossed in the back of several
transport trucks.

He
sighed with relief when he saw the research staff rushing from their building
and loaded into a truck, it roaring away with a gnashing of gears. The research
would continue, just at a different location. He spotted the doctor getting
into the back of a large Mercedes and he raced across the courtyard, dodging
vehicles, reaching him just as his son, and the current head of their research,
arrived.

The
elder Mengele asked the question Hofmeister was dying to ask. “What’s the
status on the lab?”

“All
data is being wiped. We keep nothing printed so there will be nothing left. All
data is backed up nightly offsite so all we lose is time.”

“And the
test subjects?”

“Sanitation
procedures have already been executed. No one will know what was happening
here.”

Mengele
smiled. “Good. And the artifacts?”

His son
shook his head. “We’ve got some, but there won’t be time for all.”

“No
matter, we’ll simply reacquire them.” He motioned for his son to join him. “Get
in.”

The
younger man climbed in and Hofmeister stepped up to the door, Mengele waving
him off. “This is
your
doing. Get your own ride.” He pointed a finger at
him. “And don’t even consider not showing up at the rendezvous point.”

Hofmeister
gulped, jerking out a nod, then stepping back as the door slammed shut and the
tires chirped, the two most important people in the Congress escaping.

Our
mission will continue.

He
looked about for a moment, then began to sprint toward his designated vehicle
when there was an incredible rumble, the ground quaking beneath his feet,
several times worse than the first, his feet swinging out from under him. He
hit the cobblestone hard, his elbow screaming out in pain as he rolled to his
side and gasped in horror, the entire medical research facility dropping into
the ground, as if Mother Earth herself had swallowed it whole.

“Here they come!” shouted Acton as the first vehicle raced down the
road that wound its way up to the castle. A second explosion rocked the room,
Acton grabbing onto the windowsill until things settled down, a massive dust
cloud, many orders of magnitude bigger than the first, filled the skyline.

“They
did it!” Laura squeezed him tight as they watched vehicle after vehicle pour
from the castle, an evacuation definitely underway. And judging from the size
of the explosions, Dawson’s team must have succeeded brilliantly, his plan to
take out the structural supports in the catacombs inspired. If it worked—and it
certainly appeared it had—then the structures above them would drop into the
massive empty spaces of the catacombs below them.

Rebuilding
would take years and untold monies.

And a
lot of outside help.

Their
secret lair was no longer a secret.

“I can
hear the locals,” said Reading, cocking an ear.

Acton
nodded as he heard the first of what he was sure would be many sirens.

“Now
let’s just hope Langley can do their part,” said Verde, joining them at the
window, taking another video.

And
hope BD and the team get out alive.

Dawson tried the door at the top of the narrow stone staircase. It
was locked. He motioned for Niner to give him a charge and it was handed up the
line. Dawson quickly put it in place and everyone hustled down a dozen steps
and covered their ears, squeezing their eyes shut.

The tiny
explosion was deafening in the tight quarters, though if anyone on the other
side noticed, there wasn’t any indication yet. Dawson climbed back up the
stairs, pulling the door open slightly and peering out.

It was
chaos.

People
were screaming, running in all directions, there clearly a civilian contingent
here that lacked discipline. Soldiers in plain black uniforms with no insignia
were trying to direct things, he impressed that they seemed to be holding it
together, he finding it hard to believe they had ever been able to be properly
trained. Then again, there were enough private security companies now to do the
job, so anything was possible.

You no
longer needed military service to experience boot camp or live fire exercises.

He
stepped back inside, glancing at his brightly colored team. “Fashion show’s
over, boys.”

He
reached down and pulled his track pants off revealing black fatigues. Tossing
the ball cap to the side, he removed his jacket, the black t-shirt underneath more
appropriate for the situation. Reaching into his backpack, he stuffed three
mags in his pockets, his phone, and a knife. He pointed at Niner. “Make sure
you take a couple of charges. Give one to Atlas.”

Niner
nodded, handing a charge to the big man who pocketed it.

“Ready?”

The team
nodded.

“Then
let’s do this.”

“I’ve got signals again!”

Leroux
looked up at the display, Child’s announcement turning all heads as six signals
suddenly appeared, clustered together with no other heat signatures in their immediate
vicinity.

“They’re
alive!” cheered Sonya, her elation shared by Leroux who had been they were caught
in one of the explosions or shot deep in the underbelly of the castle.

He
pointed at Child. “Notify Acton.”

“What
the hell are they doing?”

Leroux stared
at the screen. “What?”

Child
pointed at the screen. “They’re a couple of hundred feet, tops, from the main
gate, but they’re heading deeper into the complex.”

Leroux
took in the display, there still over one hundred targets displayed, mostly
clustered around the main gate and in the courtyard. The numbers dwindled
however in the direction the team was heading. He pointed. “They’re heading for
the rear entrance. That has to be it.”

Child
leaned back, grabbing at his hair. “They need to get outside those walls. If
they stay inside, there’s no one that can help them.”

“What’s
the ETA on the locals?”

“Emergency
teams are responding,” replied Therrien. “ETA two minutes.” He snapped his
fingers, pointing at one of the displays. “First footage is going live from the
locals.”

“Push
it. I want every dummy Twitter and Facebook account sharing that. I want
#italyattack trending before the hour’s out.”

“Yes,
boss.” Therrien’s fingers were flying over the keyboard as automated routines
manipulated social media in ways only governments could. With thousands upon
thousands of dummy Twitter accounts at his disposal, each retweeting each
other’s messages, each followed by thousands of lemmings who accepted and
reciprocated every Follow request, the videos would be in the feeds of millions
of people within minutes.