The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (22 page)

Milton Residence, St. Paul, Maryland

Reading woke to the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand. He
sat up, removing the CPAP that had arrived within less than an hour of Sandra’s
call, all properly set and ready for him.

It’s
who you know.

He glanced
at the phone, it an unknown caller. He hit the button turning off the machine
and pulled the mask from his face.

“Hello?”

“Agent
Reading, this is the Proconsul of the Triarii.”

Reading
was immediately awake, the clock on the wall suggesting he had been asleep for
a little over an hour, though with the miracle of the CPAP, that one hour would
last him for another eight. “You have news?”

“Yes.
Mr. Chaney’s people have taken the professors to an unknown location.”

Reading
frowned. “How do you know this?”

“A lot
has happened, Agent. It would appear that the professors were working for Mr.
Chaney, apparently willingly.”

“Why
wouldn’t they? They know him, he’s a good man.”

“He’s
not the man you once knew, Agent.”

“I’ll be
the judge of that.”

“Well,
have you heard what happened in England tonight?”

Reading
frowned. “You mean the mass shooting?”

“Yes.”

“What of
it?”

“That
was a result of Mr. Chaney and his Deniers attacking our compound.”

Reading
felt his chest tighten. “Are Jim and Laura okay?”

“They
survived the attack, if that’s what you mean.”

“What
the bloody hell does that mean? They’re either okay or they’re not!”

“I mean,
Agent, that they survived the attack, then left with Mr. Chaney and his men to
a location known only to them.”

Reading’s
hand shot up and grasped his temples, massaging them. “I don’t understand.”

“The
Deniers now have all thirteen skulls and they plan on uniting them.”

“Frankly,
sir, I don’t give a shit about the skulls. I want Jim and Laura back.”

“I don’t
think you understand, Agent. Professor Acton and Professor Palmer left with Mr.
Chaney, voluntarily.”

Reading
froze. “Excuse me?”

“They
left with him quite willingly.”

Reading
shook his head, knowing his friend well enough that the ridiculous notion could
indeed be true. “Why the hell would they do that?”

“Part
curiosity, part, I think, hoping they could stop them if anything went wrong.”

Reading
pursed his lips. “They’re not buying into this garbage, are they?”

“Perhaps,
perhaps not, but I will ask you one thing, Agent Reading. What was your
reaction when you first saw the skull from the British Museum. The genuine one,
not the fake.”

Reading
shrugged. “I don’t know. It was impressive. Beautiful, I guess.”

“Any
physical reaction?”

Reading
thought back to that moment in Laura Palmer’s flat when the skull had been
first revealed to him. He remembered cradling it in his hands, of the uneasy
feeling that had spread over him. “I don’t know. Butterflies maybe. Wait, I
think I shivered. Is that what you mean? Come to think of it, I shivered when I
saw the skull in Venice.”

“As most
people do. Do you know why?”

“Because
it’s goddamned creepy looking?”

The
Proconsul chuckled. “To some, yes, but even we who are so used to them have the
same reaction.”

Reading
rolled his eyes. “Listen, if you’re trying to suggest that it’s some sort of
magical power, I’m not buying it, and I can’t see Jim buying it either.”

“Yet he
did go with them when he had the chance to stay.”

Reading
sighed. He couldn’t explain away that one fact. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t
know, but I will.”

Reading
sat up a little straighter. “How?”

“We
planted trackers on the professors, unbeknownst to them, and they are still
transmitting. We have what little remains of our people trying to get to them,
but I’m afraid our situation isn’t what it once was.”

“What do
you mean?”

“Many of
our people are dead. The Triarii is fractured down the middle, and most of our
funds have been stolen or frozen, each council member having a substantial
portion of our money under their direct control. When the council split, they
took their funds with them. And after the events of London a few years ago, it
had taken many millions to cover that up, draining a significant portion of our
reserves.”

“So
you’re broke.”

“Compared
to before, yes, but we do have funds. Our problem at the moment is manpower. It
is spread across the world, with half of it out of touch with their primary
contact now on the wrong side.”

“So you
need help.”

“Frankly,
yes.”

Reading
rose. “I may be able to get you it, but you’ll probably want to stay out of
their way.”

“Why?”

“They’ll
be the same people who killed most of your staff in London.”

“I see.
Can they be trusted?”

Reading
grunted. “I trust them more than you.”

The
Proconsul chuckled. “I can understand that. All I ask is that they do nothing
to harm the skulls.”

Reading
strode out of the room, heading for the stairs. “Their priority will be Jim and
Laura, anything beyond that is of no concern to me.”

“Very
well. When they are done, please let us know, so we can send people in to
recover the skulls.”

“I’ll
see what I can do.”

“That’s
all I can ask.”

“Do you
have any idea where they might be heading?”

“Our
best guess at the moment is Iceland.”

Reading’s
eyebrows shot up as he entered the living room, everyone turning expectantly.
“Really?”

“It
makes sense. It’s close, yet remote. If something goes wrong, I assume they are
hoping to minimize civilian casualties.”

“How
thoughtful of them. Let me know when you know for certain.”

“I
will.”

Reading
ended the call, turning to Fang. “Tell Delta to head for Iceland immediately.”

The Unit, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

“It looks like they might be heading for Iceland.”

Dawson’s
eyes widened slightly at the news from Lee Fang. He had been to Iceland before
for some survival training, though that was it. He had never fired a shot there,
and in his wildest dreams—save Red Storm Rising fantasies—had never thought he
would.

Looks
like you might get your chance.

“Do we
have any idea how many hostiles?”

“Negative,
and the destination is just a best guess from the Triarii.”

“What
makes them think they’re heading there?”

“They’ve
apparently placed trackers on the professors.”

“Huh.
Let’s hope these Deniers don’t figure that out.”

“Yes.”

Dawson
sensed Fang hesitate. “What is it?”

“Well,
with the little I know about the Triarii, I don’t trust them.”

Dawson
grunted. “Neither do I, but from what I know, they are standup people, though
misguided and singular in their beliefs. When will we know?”

“If they
are indeed heading for Iceland, then shortly.”

Dawson
nodded. “Okay, we’ve got a jet on standby here. We’ll head for Iceland now and
change course if need be. Have Leather’s team head there as well.”

“I
will.”

“Good,
I’ll make some calls and make sure some transport and equipment is ready for us
when we arrive.”

“Good
luck.”

HM Coroner’s Court, Woking, United Kingdom

“Agent Reading sends his regards, and appreciates you taking the
time to help us out.”

The
coroner, Alicia Malone, nodded, pulling out the final drawer holding the
victims from the recent slaughter outside London. “How is Hugh doing? I haven’t
seen him since he went to work for Interpol.”

“I
haven’t seen him in a while, but my understanding is he is doing well. Getting
to see more of the world than I think he anticipated.”

Malone laughed.
“I can’t picture him the world traveler, he’s so stuck in his old ways.”

Leather
smiled as he checked wrist after wrist while Malone wasn’t looking, each one
branded with the Triarii tattoo. He stopped bothering after the fourth, it
clear this was indeed a Triarii incident. “This is all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Any
wounded?”

“Yes,
but we’ve confirmed none of them are Professor Palmer or Acton.”

“Good.”
Leather finished checking the faces of the deceased, relieved to find neither
of his charges lying on slabs. “Any leads on who did this?”

Malone shook
her head. “No, not yet. We’ve had some reports of helicopter activity in the
area, so we’re trying to track that down, but the type of people who do this,
don’t file flight plans.”

“True.”
Leather handed her his card. “This is my personal cellphone. Please call me if
you come up with anything. Professor Palmer has been good to me and my men. I’d
hate to let her down.”

Malone began
pushing the bodies back into their drawers. “Reading tells me you’re ex-SAS.”

Leather
smiled, but said nothing.

Malone chuckled.
“Okay, I get it. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

Leather
bowed slightly then left the chilly room, his phone vibrating in his pocket.
“Hello?”

“Hello,
sir, this is Lee Fang. Our Triarii contacts indicate they have tagged the professors
and are tracking them. Best guess on their destination is Iceland. Delta is
heading there now.”

“How
many?”

“Only
four.”

“Any
intel on how many we’re facing?”

“None,
but I’m guessing much more than four.”

Leather
grunted. “Me too. Okay, I’ve got six here. We’ll be wheels up in less than an
hour.”

“I’ll
inform the others and send you updates as we receive them. Good luck.”

Leather
shoved his phone in his pocket as his body continued to warm up.

Only
four Delta.

With him
and his six, they were eleven against God only knew how many.

This
could turn bad, fast.

Off the coast of Britannia
December 25, 64 AD

Flavus coiled the rope around his forearm, gripping the side of the
boat with all his might, and only one arm, the other gripping the bag
containing the skull. He wasn’t about to lose it now, not after all they had
been through, not after so many had died.

But the
storm they were battling had other intentions.

The
winds howled, the waves crashed, the rain stung, yet they hung on. He wiped the
water from his eyes, trying to spot the others. Dark shadows of those closest
were barely visible, the other side of their boat nothing but a gray blur.