The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (11 page)

Yet they
could be in danger. If the Deniers were now killing, and they thought they
could use them to get to Chaney and the thirteenth skull, then there may be no
escaping getting involved and helping to bring down the Deniers. It might put
an end to the Triarii in their lives.

Laura
squeezed his hand, he knowing her well enough to know she was having the same
thoughts. He turned to Chaney. “Okay, so the case is bugged. They’ll scan it
for signals then hopefully decide it’s clean and use it to transport the skull,
you hope to the location where they have the others.”

“Exactly.”

Laura
leaned forward. “But what if they scan the case again?”

Chaney
smiled. “They’ll have to get lucky. The tracker will only activate for a thirty-second
interval every five minutes. After a few scans, I’m sure they won’t bother.”

Acton
let out a long sigh. “So you’re hoping to get lucky.”

Chaney’s
head bobbed. “Yup.”

“And
what happens with us?” asked Laura.

“They
should take the skull, hear your story, then let you go. There’s no reason to
harm you, and at that point they won’t care about me anymore, so there’s no
point in following you. They’ll have what they want.”

“Let’s
hope you’re right.”

“So
you’ll do it?”

Acton
looked at Laura, who nodded slightly.

“Brilliant!”
Chaney handed him a phone. “Time to make the call.”

Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site

Cameron Leather peered through his sunglasses, the glint of light in
the distance exactly where he expected it to be. He raised his binoculars and
peered through, the image of an Egyptian soldier immediately popping into
focus. The man waved, Leather returning it before continuing his patrol.

It had
been quiet here since the attack on the camp by extremists hell bent on
destroying anything they considered blasphemous. Good men had been lost,
including from his own security detail, though the children, the students, had
been saved.

As a
soldier, he had seen a lot of death, especially in the British Special Air
Services. He had retired a Lt. Colonel and formed his own company, mostly
hiring ex-Special Forces from around the world to provide private security to
the rich, powerful or famous.

Though
never the infamous.

He had
his standards.

Laura
Palmer, who fell solidly in the ‘rich’ category, had hired him several years
ago to provide security after an incident in London, with a stipulation in the
contract that he had been reluctant to agree to, it meaning he’d be out of the
action, action he thrived on.

She
wanted
him
to provide the security whenever possible. She felt since she
was hiring
his
firm, she should get
him
. He had refused, but the
remuneration she offered had been huge.

And he
had been wrong about the action.

The
woman had a propensity to get herself in trouble along with her new husband. It
had meant he’d been in more intense firefights than he had ever dreamed of
after retirement, so he was more than happy to stick where she wanted him.

He was
rarely bored.

Things
were still slightly tense here at Professor Palmer’s archeological dig site.
Students from her former school of University College London worked the dig
expertly, grad students Terrence Mitchell and his new wife Jenny running it
when Laura was away. She was supposed to have returned by now, but a gunshot
wound in France had taken her down and mostly out for a while, she not yet
fully recovered.

He
looked forward to her return.

Then
there might be some action.

Though
he doubted it.

Their
little patch of the desert attracted little attention, and with a permanent
Egyptian military guard stationed less than a kilometer away, funded by her, he
had little doubt things would remain quiet.

I
wonder who’s richer, the Queen, or Laura Palmer.

He had a
funny feeling it would be the latter, with most of it being liquid assets.

His
satellite phone vibrated on his hip. He extended the antenna and took the call.
“Go ahead.”

“Colonel?
This is Agent Reading.”

Leather’s
eyebrows rose slightly, his spine tingling as he sensed he was about to get in
on some of the action he and his men were so desperately craving. “Hello Agent,
if you’re calling me, I assume there’s a problem?”

“Yes.
Jim and Laura have been kidnapped.”

Leather
froze, then began to jog back to the dig. “From where?”

“A mall
parking lot in Maryland.”

“Any
ransom demand?”

“Not
yet, and there won’t be. It looks like it’s a breakaway sect of the Triarii
known as the Deniers.”

Leather
frowned. “Christ, those bastards again?”

“It
looks that way.”

“Okay,
do we have any idea where they might be headed?”

“No, but
my money’s on London.”

“Why?”

“Because
that’s where three of the skulls they want are located, and they’re the only
ones they don’t have.”

“Okay,
I’m leaving inside of ten minutes. I’ll meet you in London, but it’s going to
take me almost a day to get there.”

“That’s
fine. I’m getting on a plane now to go to Maryland to see if I can track down
any leads from that end.”

“Understood.
I’ll contact you as soon as my team arrives.”

“Good.
And colonel?”

“Yes?”

“Be
prepared for a firefight. These people are armed and dangerous and possibly
large in numbers.”

“Understood,
we’ll be ready.”

Leather
ended the call as he arrived in the camp, his men joining him.

“Problem?”
asked his second-in-command, Warren Reese.

Leather
grunted. “Isn’t there always?”

Reese laughed.
“I love this gig.”

Motel 6, Annapolis, Maryland

Acton read the coded sequence on the back of the card Chaney had
given him, his chest tight, his stomach in knots as he was once again about to be
thrown into the fray against his will. Triarii business had tortured his life
and that of his wife’s over the past several years on too many occasions, and
after retrieving the thirteenth skull for them, he had assumed it was over.

Until
the man across from him had disappeared.

Then he
had known, someday, somehow, he’d be pulled back into it.

It was
just the way his luck seemed to go.

His life
had always been fairly routine, at least for an archeologist. He loved going on
digs, spending weeks or months on his hands and knees digging the dirt to
unlock the secrets of the ancient world. He loved shaping young minds, teaching
them about the past so they might better understand the world today and where
it was headed, as their leaders seemed to ignore the lessons learned at such a high
price, sometimes only decades ago.

He had
never anticipated being in regular gunfights. He glanced at Laura as he heard
the call being put through, his code accepted. Part of him might link her to
his bad luck, though the discovery of the skull in Peru was before he had ever
met her. If anything, he was the unlucky one.

She just
made it bearable.

God I
love that woman.

He gave
her a quick wink when a voice was finally heard. He tapped the screen, putting
it on speaker.

“Professor
Acton, this is an unexpected surprise. Are you okay?”

Acton
frowned, glaring at the phone. “Yes, no thanks to you.”

“I’m not
sure what you mean.”

Acton
shook his head. “Listen, I know what’s going on. Martin told us everything.”

“Did he
now? And are you certain he told you the truth?”

Acton
glanced at Chaney, suddenly wondering if putting the call on speaker had been
wise. “He had no reason to lie to me. Either way, I want out from under this.
He saved my life, you’re trying to take it.”

“We’re
trying no such thing—”

“Stop. I
don’t want to hear it.”

“Then
what is the purpose of this call?”

“I have
something you want.”

“And
what is that?”

“The
thirteenth skull.”

There
was a pause. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.
You
have the thirteenth
skull?”

“Yes.”

“How,
may I ask, did you acquire it?”

Acton
looked at Chaney, the man nodding with a smile, urging him on. “Martin trusted
us and showed us the skull. I realized that the only way to protect my life and
that of my wife’s was to prove to you that I’m not a risk, so I took it from
him.”

“How?”

“I’m
well-trained, so is my wife, you know that.”

“Yes,
Colonel Leather has done an admirable job with you both. So what now?”

Acton inhaled.
“I want to meet and give you this damned thing, then we part our ways. You’ll
have no reason to be after us since Martin will never trust us again, so will
never be found near us, and he’s a good man, so he won’t take revenge on us.”
Acton glared at the phone. “I want the Triarii out of our lives once and for
all.”

There
was a pause, Acton beginning to wonder if the signal had been lost.

“Professor
Acton, I think that can be arranged.”

British Airways Flight 289,
London, United Kingdom

Reading buckled his lap belt, trying to get comfortable, it an
impossible achievement with his long legs and the ridiculously inadequate
legroom found on most planes today. He could have gone first class, hell, he
could have chartered a private plane and Acton and Laura wouldn’t have
questioned it for a moment, but that wasn’t him.

He felt
guilty enough having paid a ridiculous amount for a last minute flight.

Why
do they feel they can jack the last minute fares when they have the seat
available? Don’t they want it filled?

He
growled slightly, the young girl sitting beside him staring at him curiously.
He winked at her. “Might have been my tummy.”

She
giggled, burying her head in her mother’s side.

He
stared down the aisle, his right leg stretched out in it, giving at least half
his body some reprieve as he continued to obsess over the cost of his ticket.
Why was it when the price of jet fuel went up, ticket prices went up, but when
fuel prices dropped, the ticket prices remained high? It was the same with
gasoline for the car, groceries, or any other bill nowadays.

But he
knew damned well why it was happening.

Consumers
had shown they were willing and able to pay the inflated prices.

He
didn’t fault companies for raising their prices when their own expenses went
up. The problem was they no longer seemed to pass on the savings when things
changed. Now they would lower the price slightly, then edge it back up to the
full price consumers had been forced to pay previously.