The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (13 page)

“You may
be right, but those weren’t my orders. I must insist you both come with me.”

James
placed the case on the ground and took her hand. “Then we’re done here. There’s
your skull.”

Rodney
moved his suit jacket aside, revealing a shoulder holster filled with a very
genuine looking Beretta. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”

Laura
felt her chest tighten and she wrapped herself around her husband’s arm. He
looked down at her and she frowned. “I guess we have our answer.”

James
nodded and they climbed into the back of the SUV, the doors slamming shut,
Rodney getting into the front with the case. He turned back.

“Sorry
about this.”

A panel
slid up, separating them from the front, a hissing sound immediately heard.
James reached for the door but it was locked. She tried her side without
success. Holding her breath, she watched James hammer his elbow repeatedly into
the glass to no avail, his face turning red before he finally gasped for air, a
cough immediately taking over as she too expelled her lungsful of carbon
dioxide, breathing in the gas as her world slowly went dark, her husband still
slamming against the glass, the dull thuds fading away.

To
nothing.

Baltimore/Washington
International Thurgood Marshall Airport, Baltimore, Maryland

Reading waved at Acton’s best friend, Gregory Milton, as he stepped
through the doors, having cleared customs a little quicker than the others, his
Interpol ID greasing the wheels.

“Hugh,
good to see you,” said Milton, shaking his hand.

“Good to
see you too. Thanks for picking me up.”

“No
problem.” Milton motioned at Reading’s carry-on. “Let me get that for you.”

Reading
shook his head. “The day you carry something for me is the day
I
was
shot in the back.”

Milton
chuckled. “Fine, fine. Eventually though, playing the handicapped card is going
to wear thin.”

“Enjoy
it while you can. You’re lucky to be walking, let alone feeling good enough to
carry people’s bags.”

Milton
flicked his wrist. “Bah, I expected you to say no. If you had accepted, you’d
be a heartless sonofabitch if there ever was one.”

Reading
tossed his head back, laughing. “Ahh, I missed that strange American sense of
humor.” As they walked, the conversation turned to the situation at hand. “Any
word? I’ve been out of the loop for too many hours.”

Milton
shook his head, frowning. “Not much. According to the police, their credit
cards haven’t been used, and with the exception of your ticket, none of their
accounts have been touched. None of the numbers that might be called to make a
ransom demand have been called except by known numbers.” He threw his hands up
in frustration. “There’s been nothing!”

Reading agreed.
“That’s because this has nothing to do with ransom, and everything to do with
the damned Triarii.”

Milton
glanced at him then pushed through a revolving door. “You’re certain of that?”

“Without
a doubt. While I was meeting with their Proconsul, he received a call from
their people on this end that witnessed the abduction. They said it was
Martin’s people.”

“Martin
Chaney?”

Reading
nodded, his chest heavy with the admission.

“I
thought you two were best friends?”

“So did
I.”

“Do you
believe the Triarii? I mean, do you really think he might harm Jim and Laura?”

Reading
shrugged. “If you had asked me that yesterday, I would have said no. No
question about it. But if he truly was saving them from the other group killed
in the parking lot, then why haven’t we heard from them?”

Unknown location, United
Kingdom

Acton woke to a pounding headache and a high-pitched tinnitus-like
buzz in his ears. He opened his eyes slightly, the world around him humming as
if he were listening to it from the bottom of a swimming pool.

He tried
to swim for the top.

Yet it
was no use.

He was
simply too tired.

Something
pungent hit his nostrils and he was suddenly jolted awake to find his arms
bound to the chair he was sitting in. His senses reset themselves in a horrific
cacophony of noise and light before settling down. He spotted an elderly man
standing nearby, Rodney at his side.

Laura!

He
twisted in his chair, first to his right, then his left, breathing a sigh of
relief as he saw a young woman administering the same smelling salts to his
wife who jumped, looking around in confusion before spotting him.

“James!”

He
desperately wanted to reach out, straining uselessly against his bonds.

He
glared at Rodney. “What the hell is going on? We had an agreement!”

The
elderly man stepped forward. “Calm yourself, Professor Acton.”

Acton’s
eyes narrowed, his fury redirected at the man obviously in charge. “Who the
hell are you?” But he already knew the answer. He recognized the voice from
their conversation in the confessional in Coventry, and the subsequent phone
call from several years ago.

“I’m the
Proconsul of the Triarii. We spoke before.”

Acton
let out a loud breath. “Yeah, I recognize your voice.” He stared at the man
then sent daggers at Rodney. “I thought we had an agreement.”

The
Proconsul smiled. “We did. And you broke it.”

Acton
felt his chest tighten. “What do you mean?”

“The
case has a tracking device in it.”

Acton
shrugged, trying to keep up the act. “If it did, it’s news to me.”

“Perhaps,
perhaps not. Either way, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

Acton shook
his head, leaning forward in his chair. “Listen, didn’t it occur to you that
Martin might have put a tracker on it just in case it was stolen?”

“Perhaps.
But this was a clever one. It had a delayed signal.”

Maybe
they know where we are!

The
Proconsul flicked his wrist. “Remove their bindings.”

Rodney
stepped forward, cutting the zip ties binding both of them then stepped back.
Acton massaged his wrists then reached out for Laura’s hand. He gave it a
squeeze then looked at the Proconsul, holding up his free hand.

“Why?”

“Because,
Professor Acton, you aren’t a danger to us. You were restrained merely for your
own protection.”

Acton gave
a vigorous harrumph.

“If you hadn’t
been, Professor, can you honestly say you wouldn’t have gone on the attack the
moment you woke?”

Acton
frowned, the man right. His instinct would have been to leap from his chair and
launch himself at Rodney. He nodded. “What now?”

“Well,
if you are assisting Mr. Chaney, then his aim is to find our location. If you
aren’t, and the tracker was merely installed just in case of a theft, then he
knows our current location regardless.”

Acton
tilted his head slightly to the side. “I can’t believe you’d be stupid enough
to bring us anywhere important without being
very
certain the case
wasn’t bugged.”

The
Proconsul smiled. “Professor, you don’t last two thousand years by being a
fool. This location is of no importance. Where we will go now, is.”

“Let me
guess, we’re coming along?”

“Absolutely.
If you are working for him, then he won’t risk hurting you. If you aren’t, then
you might be in danger if we let you go. Either way you’re safe with us until
he finds us.”

“How
will he find you if you’ve turned off the tracker?”

“He’ll
find us, Professor, because we haven’t turned it off.”

Acton’s
eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Professor,
I intend to have Mr. Chaney and his men find us, and deal with him and his
group, once and for all.”

Annapolis Police
Department, Taylor Ave, Annapolis, Maryland

“Why’s Interpol interested in this case?”

Reading
flipped through the case file, it rather thin, not bothering to look up at FBI
Special Agent Foster, it the eyes that always gave away the lie. “We’ve been
monitoring a group involved with archeological thefts, so when it came across
my desk that two preeminent archeologists had been kidnapped in a shootout, I
naturally took an interest.” He finally looked at Foster, waving the file.
“These two have been on our radar before, so I thought I better come and see if
I could be of any assistance.”

Foster
didn’t appear pleased. “I can assure you we can handle things ourselves, but
you’re welcome to attend our briefings.”

Reading
bowed slightly. “That would be more than enough. I assume I can look over the
evidence?”

Foster
chewed his lip for a second, considering Reading. “Sure, why not.” He pointed
to a box on his desk. “Help yourself.”

Reading
removed the top and began to rummage through the very few items inside, all in
plastic baggies. Shell casings and a smashed cellphone, the case it was in one
he recognized instantly as Acton’s. He held it up. “How’d this happen?”

Foster
shook his head. “We’re not sure. A witness says it was tossed out of the
vehicle as it sped away.”

“This is
Jim’s. Where’s hers?”

Foster
dropped the file he was reading on his desk. “Now how the hell would you know
that? And why are you calling him Jim?”

Reading
flushed, his lack of sleep and adrenaline fueled energy causing him to make
mistakes. He said nothing, already hating himself for lying.

“Listen,
buddy, are you holding out on me? Do you know these two?”

Reading
sighed, nodding. “They’re two of my best friends, and I’m willing to do
anything to make sure they’re safe.”

Foster
pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of here before I report you.”

Reading
nodded. “I’m sorry I lied, but they’re my friends.”

Foster
lowered his hand, then his voice. “Look—Hugh was it?” Reading grunted. “This is
my job, day in and day out, and I’m good at it. We’ll find your friends. I’ve
got your number. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know, but for now, you need
to get out of here before someone starts to ask questions about why Interpol is
here, and you and I both lose our jobs. Understood?”

Reading
smiled slightly, extending his hand. “You’re a good man, Special Agent.”

Foster
chuckled and shook his hand. “I’m an asshole if you ask my ex-wife and those I
work with.”

“But
you’re my kind of asshole.”

Foster
tossed his head back, laughing. “Now what movie was that from?”

Reading
shook his head with a shrug. “No idea, but I know someone who’d probably be
able to tell us right away.”

“Well,
you find out and maybe we’ll have a beer after this is all done.”