The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (14 page)

“Sounds
good.”

Reading
left, in a bit better mood now that the truth was out, though a new pit was already
forming, he about to betray the trust granted his position by default.

He
climbed into Milton’s van.

“So?
Anything?”

Reading
nodded. “Yup. Where’s the police impound?”

Lucius Valerius Corvus Residence, Pompeii, Roman Empire
July 22, 64 AD

Flavus leaned back on the comfortable cushions, his legs stretched
out to his side, a bowl of grapes and a glass of wine within reach as slaves
waved large fans, taking the edge off the heat. Across from him was Lucius, his
best friend of many years.

It was a
tough visit as it could be their last.

“You’re
certain you heard him correctly?”

Flavus
nodded. “Absolutely. We’re not to return. Ever.”

“But
that makes no sense! I’ve never heard such an order given. Yes, a legion can be
sent to a location to potentially be permanently stationed there, but the
troops are rotated in and out on a regular basis.” Lucius speared a grape with
his dagger. “That
must
be what he meant.”

“That’s
what I thought as well, but Legate Catius disagrees.”

“You
spoke to him of this?”

“More
like
he
spoke to
me
.”

Lucius
laughed, pulling the skewered grape off the blade with his teeth. “That’s
senior officers for you.” He jabbed the air between them with his dagger.
“Learn from him, he’s a good man.”

“He is,
indeed.”

“Either
way, you’ve got a long, difficult mission ahead of you. The Gauls are always
causing trouble, and these barbarians in Britannia are proving to be a
challenge as well. They seem to resist civilization to their core. I’ve heard
talk of wiping them out rather than attempting to pacify them.”

“Seems
extreme.”

“It’s
just idle talk, I’m sure. They’re an island of barbarians that will never
amount to anything. We’ll be sending a lot more troops there soon to try and
gain more control. Perhaps then you’ll be able to return.”

“Let’s
hope.”

Lucius took
a long swig of his wine then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You didn’t
hear this from me, but the emperor has gone mad. I don’t think he’s long for
this world. Either the gods will claim him, or the Senate. And when his madness
no longer rules the land, you’ll be free to return, I’m certain.”

Flavus
shook his head. “I don’t know. I hope you’re right, but I have a bad feeling
about this.”

“Stick
close to Legate Catius. Follow his orders and you’ll survive.”

“I’ve
been named to his personal guard so I’ll be safer than the poor souls on the
frontlines.”

“Ahh,
then you’ll be protected by the best. Maybe someday you’ll be honored with
admittance into their ranks.”

Flavus
felt goosebumps race across his body at the idea. “It would indeed be an honor
to become one of the third and final line. Should it come to pass, I would die
a happy man. I can imagine no greater honor for the son of a blacksmith than to
serve Rome as a member of his legion’s Triarii.”

London, United Kingdom
Present Day

“Is everyone in position?”

“Yes,
sir.”

Chaney
nodded with satisfaction as he watched the various camera angles available from
the back of their van parked less than half a kilometer from the last known
location of the tracking device. It was still randomly transmitting yet hadn’t
moved. If it had been discovered, he would have expected them to disable it,
which had him hopeful their ruse had worked.

But it
had been over half an hour and there was no way this was their final
destination. He was already five minutes past the cutoff he had given himself
for going in.

It was
time.

“Sir,
look!”

Chaney
leaned forward, the dot clearly having moved from the last update five minutes
ago. He smiled at the others, backs slapped and fists bumped. “Looks like they
were a little too trusting.”

“Probably
can’t believe the professors would betray them.”

Chaney
tossed his hands up, shrugging. “Who cares? Whatever the reason, it worked.
Let’s stand down and follow them. I want to hit them as soon as they reach
their destination.”

Police Impound, Annapolis,
Maryland

Reading lay sprawled across the driver seat, searching the glovebox
then the floor, coming up empty. His Interpol ID had given him access to the
police impound lot along with directions to Acton’s seized vehicle, it now
evidence. The poor attendant had been flustered with Reading’s lack of
paperwork, but his persistence and continued waving of the Interpol credentials
had quickly pressured her into giving him access.

I’m
going to lose my badge if I’m wrong.

“What
makes you think it’s here?”

Reading
glanced at the rear, Milton searching the cargo area. “Jim’s phone was tossed
from the vehicle, smashed beforehand, but Laura’s wasn’t. They wouldn’t let her
keep it if they wouldn’t let him keep his.”

“So you
think she left it in the car?”

“Could
have. It was ringing a few times before going to voicemail, but now it goes
straight through.”

“So the
battery’s probably dead.” Milton gasped, a sound Reading recognized as pain. He
glanced back at the man, bent over and searching, one hand gripping his back.
He had been shot and left for dead, but was now nearly fully recovered, though
his stamina was low.

“Why
don’t you let me finish—”

“These
are the two best friends I have in the world. I’m not going to let a little
pain stop me when there’s a chance I could help.” He paused, looking at
Reading. “Wouldn’t the police have traced it?”

Reading
shook his head, his hand fishing under the driver’s seat. “No, they didn’t have
her number until I gave it to them. By then it was no longer ringing. She’s
still using a phone registered in the UK, so when her name was run through the
system, nothing showed.”

“Christ,
her roaming charges must be nuts.”

“It’s
nice to be rich.” Reading felt his fingers hit something under the passenger
seat, it sliding away. He reached deeper, his fingers finding it once more. He
gripped it and knew immediately what it was. “Got it!” He pulled his hand out
and grinned with triumph at the sight of Laura’s cellphone. He crawled back
outside, showing it to a wincing Milton.

“Just
what good is this going to do? It’s not like we now know where she is.”

Reading
closed all the doors, locking the vehicle. “We need to break into this thing,”
he said as they walked toward the security station with the keys.

“Why,
what’s on it that’s so important?”

He
pointed to Milton’s van. “Get ready to leave quickly.”

Milton
shook out a nervous nod, walking a little too eagerly toward his vehicle, the
engine roaring to life as Reading handed the keys over, a spare set apparently
found at Acton’s home. “Interpol thanks you for your cooperation. I’ll be sure
to mention you in my report”—he leaned in, reading her nametag—“Officer
Bartlett.”

The
woman beamed, mumbling out a confused thank you mixed with a you’re welcome and
have a nice day.

Reading
climbed into the van and Milton hammered on the gas, nearly tossing him out the
side, he not yet having a chance to close the door. “Bloody hell, take it easy,
this isn’t a getaway.”

“Sorry.”
Milton eased off on the gas and Reading pulled his door shut then yanked his
seatbelt on. “Where to?”

Reading
pulled out the phone. “Like I was saying, we need to break into this thing.”

“Why?”

“It’s
got a phone number on it that I need to call.”

“You’ve
never heard of the white pages?”

Reading
chuckled. “This is most definitely an unlisted number.”

Milton’s
eyes widened. “Ohhh, I think I know who you mean.” He nodded at the phone as
they turned into traffic. “If you give that to the police, will they give you
the number?”

Reading
shook his head. “Highly unlikely, and besides, I can’t exactly tell them who it
belongs to and why we want to talk to him.”

A smile
spread across Milton’s face. “If we’re going to do this unofficially, then I
might have an idea on who can help us.”

Reading stared
at Milton. “I’m listening.”

St. George’s Hill, Weybridge, Surrey, United Kingdom

The convoy of three vehicles pulled off the road and through a set
of wrought iron gates, a long straight drive leading to a large estate, dimly
lit, it barely visible from the road.

“Why do
you think they’re letting us see this place?” whispered Laura in Acton’s ear.

He shook
his head slightly. “I was thinking the same thing.” And it was true. There had
been no blindfolds, no knockout gas, nothing. They had left the location they
had woken up in, left London, and now, about an hour later, were arriving at
what he assumed was their destination, a destination supposed to house at least
several crystal skulls, the Triarii’s most secret and prized possessions.

They
intend to kill us.

Laura
latched onto his arm. “I have a bad feeling about this. Martin was right, these
are
the bad guys.”

Their
SUV came to a halt and the door was opened. Acton climbed out then helped Laura
to the ground as he quickly surveyed the area. The grounds were teeming with
armed personnel, there no non-lethal tranquilizer weapons here. This was
clearly a stronghold, perhaps even
the
stronghold. It made sense. They
were away from the city, the grounds were large and cleared with good lines of
sight in all directions, and the structure itself was large and built of solid
stone.