The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (28 page)

He continued to smile. “And I see you have made a
new friend. Please, no need to get up,” he said cheerily, even
though I was already standing. “Any friend of Varus is a friend of
mine. I am Caligula’s uncle, Claudius”

“He is no friend of mine,” rumbled Varus.

Claudius ignored him. “Besides, I know you are one
of the strangers who came through Remus’ gateway. Now, that is
reason enough to get to know you.”

His smile was beginning to irritate me. Unlike
Santino’s, whose smile was always filled with good cheer and fun,
annoyingly so, Claudius’ merely disturbed me. He also knew about
Remus’ message, which only made me more suspicious, because it was
quite well known back home that Claudius was one of those few
people Varus mentioned who could read Etruscan as well.

I decided to play dumb. “Yes, I am one of the few
who came through the gateway. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I
opened my arms in a mirror gesture of his own. “Is there anything
we can do for you?”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to meet you. Your potential
is limitless. I want you to know that you can come to me for
anything and ask that perhaps you may do some things for me, as
your friends have done for my nephew?”

This was getting weirder by the second. The guy was
coming off even less sincere but still heartwarming than even the
most black hearted and malevolent of bad guys. They always start
off all warm and fuzzy until they stick a shiv in your back, and
you end up having to wait until the last ten minutes of the movie
to save the day – only having already lost your family, girlfriend,
best friend, and dog along the way.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” I replied,
trying to sound sincere. “My schedule is wide open.”

Claudius frowned for a brief moment before smiling
again, finally understanding my joke.

“Humorous. Now, if you will excuse me. I have
matters to attend to.”

As the man turned, his traveling cloak swirled
behind him in that bad-guy kind of way. He was gone a few seconds
later.

I snorted. “Quite the character, isn’t he?”

Varus smiled. “I’ve never liked him. He spends much
of his time here reading history and spending many hours wasting my
time. The man loves to listen to himself speak. It was through him
that I learned the Senate had plans to utilize Remus’ orb, which is
why I ended up there when you arrived. I can’t be sure, but it
seemed as though he had something to do with it, and that his
knowledge of the plot was not because he had simply overheard
another’s conversation.”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise me, but I didn’t let
my suspicion show. I couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t the
sharp minded, but weak bodied man he was supposed to be. My mind
kept wandering to the old BBC production of
I, Claudius
that
I loved so much, and how well I thought the actor who played
Claudius had done in mimicking his mannerisms.

Suddenly my suspicions started to grow. History,
after all, was written by the victors, and it was none other than
Claudius himself who succeeded Caligula after his
assassination.

***

I spent the next few hours chatting with Varus and
comparing notes on the situation, but I kept my theories to myself.
By the time I left, Varus had learned little more about Remus’
message, but at least we had ended on good terms, and I found
myself starting to like the little man. He was sharp and curious.
He asked if I would teach him English, and in return, he would help
me with my Latin. I told him I would enjoy that, and that I looked
forward to the opportunity. When my escorts arrived to take me back
home, I excused myself and left with them.

Arriving at the house, I tossed Gaius and Marcus a
quick salute, which they respectfully returned before opening the
door and gesturing for me to head inside where I found a full
house.

The away team had returned.

The team was sitting on the floor in a circle with a
spot left for me. Noticing my arrival, Santino threw his arms in
the air in a childlike greeting. “The prodigal son arrives,” he
squealed.

I looked at him squarely. “You realize the word,
‘prodigal,’ really only means that someone is bad with money,
right?”

Everyone looked at Santino, smiles on their faces.
He glanced at his squad mates, wearing an embarrassed expression of
his own.

He looked at me. “I fucking hate you.”

I smiled. “Love you too, buddy.”

“If you two are done,” Vincent interrupted, trying
not to grin, “we were just about to begin our after action report.
Maybe you can fill us in on where you’ve been when we’re done.”

“I’d be delighted, sir,” I said, sitting between him
and Bordeaux.

I noticed Helena sitting across from me, a
downtrodden expression on her face. I made eye contact with her,
and gave her a welcoming smile. Her expression brightened at my
attention, but her face remained dour.

Shifting my attention, I started things off. “So,
you guys are back early.”

Vincent nodded. “Our guide was very proficient.
Thanks to his direction and the location of the camp residing well
inland of where we expected it to be. We made much better time than
planned. Upon arrival, we scouted the camp from a distance,
identified the high value target and his tent, and located key
points to lay our explosives. Early the following morning, we made
our way to the camp, and rigged it to blow. Our goal was to create
more confusion than casualties as well as direct their attention
away from us. We had to eliminate two guards during our insertion,
which we hid in a tent. When first light hit, we synchronized the
assassination with the triggering of our explosives. At 0535,
Lieutenant Strauss fired upon the HVT, the bullet penetrating the
target’s cranium. Lieutenant Bordeaux simultaneously triggered the
explosive charges set around the camp, programmed on a timed
sequence to detonate at random intervals.” He paused, taking a sip
of water from his CamelBak. “We lingered only long enough to
confirm the HVT was down and that hysteria had erupted in camp.
Satisfied, we left at 0545, encountered zero resistance and made
our way back.”

I nodded. A perfectly successful mission. The only
negative outcome I could think of was some random archaeologist in
two thousand years who discovers what looks like a manufactured
rifle bullet that were dated to have existed during the Roman
Empire. I can only imagine the book he’ll write trying to prove
that time travel exists by theorizing that modern soldiers were
sent back in time to fight history’s wars for them.

I’m sure he’ll be considered a crack pot.

“So, Hunter,” Vincent continued, “did you discover
an answer to our problem with Caligula’s man?”

I looked around the room again, meeting each of
their gazes in turn. Each was expectant, hoping I had somehow
learned how to get us home.

“Well,” I began, “I’m pretty sure I’ve confirmed my
theory on how we got here.”

“Maybe, you should start at the beginning,” ordered
Vincent.

So I started with Varus, and how he had contacted me
to discuss our arrival in the city. I told them about the document,
Remus, the she-wolf and Mars, how Varus and I were related, and how
we were both descended from Remus. I ended with how my rubber band
sphere theory still seemed the most likely cause of our
arrival.

Santino quickly spoke up. Wait, wait, wait,” he
said, rubbing his head in confusion. “So, if what you’re saying is
true, you’re…part… she-wolf? Or are you part god? It’s so hard to
keep up with your stories sometimes, Jacob.”

Everyone just stared at him.

Bordeaux rested his head in a hand. “
Merde
,”
was all he said

“Santino, you really can’t be that stupid,” Wang
ridiculed.

Santino simply smiled.

“He’s kidding,” I said. “But there’s more. As
always. I also met Claudius, Caligula’s uncle and next emperor of
Rome. It know that sounds backwards, but that’s how it turned out.
The important thing is that he was nothing like history remembered
him as. History remembers him as sharp mentally, but weak, feeble,
and physically twitchy, but he’s nothing of the sort. Tall, blond,
good looking, but mentally deranged at best. He’s basically the Lex
Luthor of the Roman Empire. Just with hair. I don’t trust him. The
guy’s evil.”

“Who’s Lex Luthor?” Helena asked.

Santino rolled his eyes. “He’s Superman’s arch
nemesis. Billionaire, evil, scheming, plotting, bald. He’s the
ultimate bad guy.” He sighed. “Women…”

She shifted her attention back to me. “Why didn’t
you just say that?”

I tossed my hands in the air.

“Whatever,” Vincent interrupted before I could say
anything else. “We’ll keep him on our short list, but until we see
him do something that contradicts what we know about history, we
respect him like the rest of our benefactors.”

“I like evil bad guys,” Santino offered. “Their
inflated egos make for big targets.”

“They’d need to be, considering how you shoot,” Wang
quipped, another sign he was feeling better. Santino pushed him
playfully, and laughed at his own expense.

“An interesting day, then,” Vincent commented, “but
we’ll worry about Roman politics later. Bordeaux, break out the
MREs.”

The Frenchman smiled, his look indicating he was
famished as well. “Yes, sir.”

I wasn’t hungry. Varus had some cheese, bread, and
wine for us to snack on during our talk, so I headed to the small
room I had been sharing with Helena. Finding my way to my bunk, I
glanced around the room. Even though it was small, it had enough
room for a few amenities, but I couldn’t help but smile. While my
uniforms were folded neatly, the rest of my stuff was disheveled
and unorganized, whereas Helena’s gear and personal effects were
neatly stacked, arranged, folded, and organized. I guess it was a
universal fact that no matter where you lived on Earth, or when,
women were neater.

I heard Helena’s voice from the doorway.

“Isn’t it time you cleaned the house, dear?”

I continued smiling. “Sorry, honey, but there’s a
game on the TV and I can’t be bothered. Why don’t you go do the
dishes?”

She laughed. “Men. You’re all such lazy pigs.”

“Can’t fault that logic,” I declared

Helena moved into the room and sat on the edge of
her bunk. She placed her meal in between our beds and waited as it
cooked in its self-heating pouch. Like the flickering of a fire,
the magnesium ignited water boiling within generally had a hypnotic
property to it, but I ignored it, and turned towards Helena.

“So how did the mission go? Really?”

She shifted uneasily. “Do you always know when
something’s wrong with people?”

I shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of insecure
girlfriends.”

“I bet you have,” she said, retrieving her cooked
meal. It smelled like the chicken with salsa entree, my favorite.
She ate quietly, but quickly. What she had to say must have been
important, but she needed her nourishment. I could understand why
she didn’t want to be distracted. Finished, she placed the rest of
the MRE’s contents in a pack, took a sip of water from her
CamelBak, folded her hands in her lap, and looked me square in the
eyes.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t tell you this before, and
please try to forgive me, but I think there’s something else you
should know.”

“Oh, this should be good,” I said, sitting on my
bed, propping myself up with my hands behind me.

“Adminius was my first and only confirmed kill. In
fact, he was the first man I’ve ever shot in cold blood…” she
paused, “and up until that day in Syria, I had never even killed
another human being before. I’m sorry.”

She had to be joking. She was too good a shot to not
have had years of practice. Every sniper knew shooting immaterial
targets was completely different from shooting real people. It’s
not just something you can pick up in a day. I had to call her
bluff.

“Yah right, Strauss. Next thing you’re going to tell
me is that you were never even in the military.”

She just looked at me, her expression completely
deadpan. There was nothing amusing in her eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked tentatively.
“There’s no way… you couldn’t…you’ve been in for years. Killed
dozens of targets.”

Her eyes continued to stare right through me.

I reclined onto my back, and started laughing. There
was no other reaction I could think of. We’d gone into combat with
a completely green rookie covering our backs, and still managed to
survive. The situation was nothing, if not funny. I thought I was
going to start crying from the laughter when my inappropriate
reaction must have struck a cord with her.

“This isn’t funny, Jacob. I was given my commission
eight months before I came to Rome, and thrown into an accelerated
basic and then KSK training program. My government knew they
wouldn’t be able to get one of their own on the team, unless they
could offer something no one else could. The Pope was only taking
the most select people. That’s where I came in, a female who was
also a good enough shot that they could mold me into a sniper,
something no one else wanted to offer. They even shipped me off to
the States to participate in one of your sniper schools. I don’t
know why they did it all, since our identities will never be leaked
to the public, but that’s what the Pope wanted, and that’s what he
got.

“When the GS9 agents came to my home and offered me
the opportunity, I leapt at it. Like I told you, it was the first
chance I had to get away from my life. I’m so sorry. I was forced
to secrecy, but considering where we are, I felt the need to come
clean. Everything else we’ve talked about is completely true. My
father, hunting, Oxford, the Olympics, my fiancé. Everything.”