The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (2 page)

The men
executed two smart salutes before running down the path, away from whatever had
just happened atop the hill. For a moment, he thought of ordering them back, he
having just realized they were probably abandoning their posts.

Though
he didn’t blame them.

It
was
terrifying.

It was
one thing to face an enemy made of men, another to face the gods. And they
certainly seemed in a rage today.

“Sir!”

He
finally turned his attention to the young soldier beside him. “What is it?”

“You
have to see this, please sir, come!”

He
frowned but followed the excited soldier. “What is it?”

“I-I’m
not sure, sir. When the earth shook, a large stone tumbled down the slope then
split at the bottom. There’s something inside it. Something—” He shrugged. “I
don’t know how to describe it.” He shuddered. “I don’t
want
to describe
it.”

“What in
Hades does that mean?”

The
young soldier continued around the base of the hill, past others fleeing for
the walls of Jerusalem and safety from the storm. “When I looked at it, I swear
it looked back at me!”

What
is he talking about? Some sort of animal?

The man
skidded to a halt, his arm outstretched, pointing at a large boulder, a dark
chasm wide enough to fit a man’s head, forming a jagged line down the center.

“Where
is this creature?”

An old
man, standing nearby, pointed at the center. “It is in there, but it is no
creature.”

Vitus stepped
forward and peered in the crevice, seeing nothing. He stood back up. “You’re
imagining—” A bolt of lightning lit the area and for a brief moment he saw
something, something strange. A shiver raced up his spine as he stepped back.

“You see
it, don’t you!” exclaimed the soldier, standing a safe distance back.

“Torch!”

A torch
was shoved in Vitus’ outstretched hand, its flame battling the wind and rain.
He pulled his cloak over his head, creating a barrier between the elements and
the crevice, the torch spurting to life as he jammed it inside.

He
gasped, his bowels nearly loosening as two red eyes peered back at him.

What
in the name of the gods is that?

Salem, Virginia
Present Day, One Day Earlier

Madely stretched then yawned.

“You
know, sometimes I wonder why we’re here all the time.”

His
partner, Johnson, looked at him, stifling his own yawn. “Because it’s always
been done this way?”

“Right,
but just because we’ve always done it this way, doesn’t mean it’s the right
thing to do. I mean, you and I have been on this detail for what, twenty damned
years? Nothing has ever happened.”

“Well,
that’s not true. Remember London.”

Madely
nodded. “True, but ultimately that didn’t affect
us.
It was just a
precaution that we took it into our safekeeping. In the end it went right back
to her, and she knew who we were the whole damned time. Hell, she’s even
invited us to do our shifts in the comfort of her living room.”

“HQ
would never go for that.”

Madely chuckled.
“No, but what they don’t know…”

Johnson
grinned. “I’m in if you’re in.”

Madely
smiled. “No, no, just wishful thinking.” He poured himself another cup of tea
from a thermos the old lady had provided them and took a sip.

Best
damned tea I’ve ever had.

He
handed it to Johnson who filled his own cup. “Tea and cookies at the beginning
of every shift is a nice perk that I bet no one else gets.”

“True. I
don’t know how many more days like this we’ll have. She’s an old lady.”

Johnson frowned,
nodding his head slowly as he glanced down the street at the humble home. “She’s
been looking weaker.”

“Yeah, I
guess when you think about it, that’s why we’re here. If she dies, we have to
get in there and retrieve it before anyone else does.”

A car
pulled up behind them, Madely adjusting his mirror. “Huh, they’re early.” He
rolled down his window, turning toward their approaching relief. “Hey guys,
you’re not due for another hour.” Suddenly a gun was pulled, pointed directly
at his head. “Hey, wait a—”

A shot
fired to his right and he felt something wet hit his face. He spun to see Johnson’s
lifeless body fall against the dash just as another shot thundered behind him.

Friedrichstrasse, Berlin, Germany

Martin Chaney stood under the awning of the Rossmann Drogeriemarkt,
the Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, on an indefinite leave of absence after
being shot in the deserts of Egypt, having no business here, his business
actually just now emerging from the train station across the street.

Former
Detective Chief Inspector Hugh Reading of Scotland Yard, now an Interpol agent.

He
sighed.

He
hadn’t seen Reading in over a year, a man he considered his best friend, at
least his best friend outside of the Triarii. Though the Triarii was different.
It was a brotherhood formed over two thousand years ago, something you were
essentially born into, and by the time you were of age, so indoctrinated into,
you could think of no other thing you would rather do.

Though
some did.

He had
never had any doubts about devoting his life to the Triarii, but life within it
wasn’t like some cult. He had trained to be a doctor, yet after seeing so many
lives wasted in the ER to crime, he had instead turned his attentions to law
enforcement, working his way up through the ranks, a good chunk of his career
spent working for the man now walking out the doors.

I
miss you, old friend.

He
stepped out, quickly crossing the street, searching for his friend’s shadow. He
spotted him, about ten meters behind.

Got
you!

He
slowed, turning his back so they wouldn’t spot him, he not yet ready for his
old partner to see him. The sometimes crusty old bastard walked by, oblivious
to him being there, Chaney desperate to reach out and say hello.

The
shadow passed him and Chaney stepped back into the flow, his hand gripping the
pistol in his overcoat pocket. He raised the weapon, took aim, then fired.

There
was a loud pop, the noise lost among the din of the busy street, the tiny dart
embedding itself in his target’s back. The man reached for it, his shoulder
blades squeezing together as he gasped in shock, then collapsed slowly to the
ground, passing out within seconds.

Somebody
shouted for help, a crowd immediately forming around the downed man. Chaney stared
at his old partner who turned to see what was happening.

Okay
Hugh, do you see me? It’s time to talk.

“Let me
through!”

Chaney
spun to see another man rushing up, pushing the crowd aside then kneeling
beside the unconscious man. He then glared directly at Chaney.

Oh
shit!

Fear
gripped him as he recognized the man, he failing to take into account there
might be two watching his old partner. He knew that Reading would be watched,
just in the off chance he attempted to contact him, though he had never thought
they’d spare two resources.

And he
knew this man.

He was a
friend.

Rage
filled his friend’s eyes.

He
means to kill me.

Chaney
looked at Reading, their eyes meeting, his old partner’s jaw dropping in
recognition. But there was no time for a reunion.

He
bolted.

Interpol Agent Hugh Reading stared, his mouth agape, his heart
slamming with shock and excitement at the sight of his old friend. They had
been partners for years, he the senior of course, but Martin Chaney was a good
friend, they spending many an off-hour together.

Until about
a year ago, when he had last seen him in Venice.

Then
heard nothing since.

He’s
terrified!

The fear
in his friend’s eyes was clear, a wave of relief washing over Reading as that
meant Chaney had probably disappeared for some good reason. It had pained him
that his friend would leave without saying anything, that he wouldn’t trust him
enough to say something.

Yet he
knew the reason.

The
bloody Triarii.

It had
been a shock to learn where his partner’s true loyalties lay, and it had hurt
their relationship, the trust having to be earned yet again, but it had. And it
wasn’t until Venice when they had learned the true extent to the battle raging
within the Triarii that he had an inkling of doubt return.

An
inkling that had turned into outright suspicion when he had disappeared,
putting in for an indefinite leave of absence to recover from his gunshot
wound.

And not
telling his old partner why.

Chaney
turned, running in the opposite direction. Reading rushed after him, his tired
bones not as quick to react as they used to, he raising his hand and shouting
after him. “Martin, wait!”

Another
man cut in front of him, stepping away from the man who had collapsed, and chasing
after Chaney. Car tires squealed ahead, an Audi A4 racing toward them on the
opposite side of the street, the wheel suddenly cranked as it swung across,
pulling a 180 just ahead of the oncoming traffic. It screeched to a halt, the
passenger side door thrown open.

Chaney
dove in, the tires spinning, the traction control off, before it peeled away in
a hail of blaring horns. The other man jumped out into the street, raising a
weapon, oblivious to the vehicle about to run him down. Reading slammed into
him, they both hitting the ground hard, the gun clattering away before a shot was
fired. He spun him over onto his back, his fist raised when he froze.

Wait
a minute!

“Rodney?”

He
couldn’t remember the man’s last name, though he had been a guard at the
British Museum, a guard who had
fled
the British Museum, rather than face
questioning. He was a man he knew to be a member of the Triarii, and apparently
a friend of Chaney’s.

“What
the bloody hell is going on?” He hauled the man to his feet, keeping a firm
grip on him as he pulled him out of traffic. “Why are you trying to shoot at
Martin?”

Rodney
shook his head. “Agent Reading, you don’t know what’s going on. You need to let
me go, now.”

“Not
going to happen.”

Rodney
swung his arm in a loop, breaking Reading’s grip before he placed a foot behind
Reading, pushing him off balance and onto his ass.

Reading
cursed, glaring up at the much younger man.

A car
pulled up beside him, two men jumping out and grabbing the still unconscious
man, carrying him to the curb and placing him in the backseat. The car pulled
up slightly, Rodney getting in the passenger seat. He pointed at Reading.
“Don’t get involved, Agent, or someone you care about could get hurt.”