The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (36 page)

Route 1 Ring Road, Iceland

Niner jerked the wheel to the left, setting them back on track as
the heat and flame suddenly dissipated. Acton lifted himself off his wife as
Niner continued to struggle for control, three more loud bursts heard before they
ground to a halt, their tires blown.

“Everyone
out!” ordered Dawson as he threw his door open. Acton helped Laura from her
seatbelt then followed her out her door and onto the scorched pavement. He
stared, eyes wide, at their vehicle. Anything that wasn’t metal was melted or
still burning, the paint job flaking off, the rubber tires smoldering goo.

“I can’t
believe we survived that.” He looked back at the other two vehicles to see them
in even worse shape, the third actively burning, the men inside shouting for
help.

“Oh my
God!” cried Laura.

Acton
sprinted toward the rear vehicle, the others following, flames licking up the
sides. Dawson smashed the driver side window with the butt of his MP5, the
others doing the same. Acton pulled his leather jacket off and threw it over
the melted doorframe, momentarily smothering the flames, allowing Dawson to
reach inside and haul the driver through as Leather did the same on the other
side. Acton helped pull the driver to safety, glancing back to see Niner
reaching through the shattered rear window and pulling Spock free, Atlas
tumbling out after him.

Dawson
rose. “Is that everybody!”

“Yes!”
shouted Leather, dragging his last man from the vehicle, the interior now
engulfed in flames. “We’ve gotta get out of here, there’s ordnance in there!”

Dawson
hauled the driver to his feet. “You good?” The man nodded. Dawson turned to
Spock and Atlas. “You guys?”

Spock
patted himself down. “I’d feel at home in a bucket of the Colonel’s finest, but
I’ll live.”

“I’m
good,” replied Atlas who then looked at Niner. “And my hips fit through that
window just fine.”

Niner
grinned, Acton not getting the joke.

“Then
let’s go! Everybody, move!”

Acton
helped the still weakened driver as they all began to sprint toward the bend in
the road that would provide them cover. He glanced back at the complex,
engulfed in flames, black smoke billowing into the night sky, and said a silent
prayer for the poor misguided souls who had given their lives for nothing.

Hugh!

His
chest tightened as he remembered his forgotten friend in all of this. Reading
and Chaney had been best friends, and he had been heartbroken when Chaney had
disappeared. If Delta was here, then Reading certainly knew what was going on,
which meant he would know his friend had betrayed them all.

And now
he’d have to deliver even more bad news to the man.

His best
friend was dead.

For no
reason other than idolatry.

How
much more bad news can Hugh take?

Reading
was strong. The strongest man he knew. But the death of Kinti had killed him
inside, and Chaney’s disappearance had left an even deeper hole, he losing his
best friend when he needed him most. Yet at least there had been hope, hope
that one day his partner would return.

And now
that hope was gone.

The
angry roar of ammo and grenades ripping at the interior of the rear vehicle had
them all ducking as they pressed forward. Acton reached back for Laura’s hand, the
driver now running on his own. She grabbed hold and he hauled her ahead,
putting himself between her and the danger behind them, when suddenly there was
a massive screeching sound as the fuel tank ignited. The blast of heat and air
pressure nearly knocked him off his feet, but he regained his footing and
continued forward, checking to his left and right to see the others still
pressing on and around the bend.

Dawson
raised a fist and they all slowed to a halt, turning back to stare at the
devastation they had just escaped. The flames at the Denier facility had died
down dramatically, the smoke having thinned. Much of what Acton had seen was
concrete, glass and steel, materials that didn’t burn well, which probably
meant most of the fireball was the explosives themselves.

“Choppers,”
said Spock, pointing to the waters.

Acton turned
and spotted two choppers, their searchlights on, racing toward the area. Dawson
pointed down the road where it was slightly wider and looked at Niner. “Have
them land there.”

Niner
nodded, activating his comm as he ran down the road to direct their evac.
Dawson turned to Acton.

“Is
there anything worth going back for?”

Acton
shook his head. “There’s no way they survived. They designed it that way.”

Dawson’s
eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“They
sacrificed themselves so the mystery could live on.”

“What
about the skulls?”

Acton
shook his head. “I don’t see how they could have survived that blast, but I’m
guessing they did. Chaney mentioned a shaped charge or something. Even if they
did, I couldn’t give a shit. It was all faked, the entire thing. They killed
themselves and made it look like it was the skulls that caused it so that the
fact nothing happened would never get out.”

Dawson
stared at the smoldering complex then at Acton. “They’re not going to want that
secret getting out. Did you just survive one problem to worry about another?”

“No.
Besides us, no one knows it was faked. If the Triarii go in there, they’ll
think Chaney’s crew died because the experiment succeeded but they weren’t able
to control it. It’s the Great Fire of London all over again.”

Dawson
pointed to the first chopper as it landed. “Let’s get you two home. There’s a
lot of people worried about you.” Dawson turned when Acton reached out and
grabbed him.

“BD, I
never got a chance to thank you.” Acton extended his hand. “Again.”

Dawson
smiled, shaking his hand. “I think we’re going to start charging for the
service.”

Laura
hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You just name your price.”

Niner
bounded toward them. “I see kisses are being handed out!”

Acton
grabbed him and planted a wet one on his cheek then shoved him away. “Good for
you?”

Atlas
and Spock roared as Niner wiped his cheek dry. “I get no respect.”

“Aww,
poor baby. Come here.” Laura reached out and pulled his head closer, planting a
gentle, tip of the lips kiss on the pouting operator. She gently pushed him
away. “All better?”

Niner
threw his arms in the air, fists pumping. “Oh yeah!” He jabbed a finger at
Atlas. “
That’s
what you can enjoy when you’re single.”

Atlas
smiled at him. “Enjoy it while you can, little man, you and me got a date in
the ring when we get back.”

Acton
laughed. “What did he do this time?”

“Talked
about his mama’s hips,
and
his sister’s hips,” replied Spock.

Acton
winced. “Really, Niner? And I thought you were an intelligent man.”

Niner
shrugged. “So did I. Apparently I was wrong.” He lowered his voice slightly.
“Umm, so Laura, if I needed to make a quick getaway, could I borrow one of your
jets?”

Laura
laughed. “For you, Niner, anything.”

Niner
winked at Acton. “Watch her, Doc, I think there might be love here.”

Acton
laughed. “I’m thinking it’s more a pity thing.”

“Oooh,
burned by the Doc!” laughed Spock, punching Niner in the shoulder. “Let’s get
you to safety before the lovely lady’s husband wants to join Atlas in the
ring.”

Spock
led Niner away, Leather approaching.

“Good to
see you two are okay, mum.”

Laura
smiled at him. “And your men?”

“A few
are singed, but they’ll be okay.”

“If they
need anything, you just let me know.”

Leather smiled.
“I’ll send you the bill.”

Laura
laughed. “You do that!” She gave him a hug. “Thank you, Cameron. You and your
men have always been there for us, and I appreciate it immensely.”

“Just
doing our job, mum.” Leather nodded at them both then rejoined his men as they
boarded the second chopper.

Dawson
helped Laura and Acton into the first chopper, the other Bravo Team members
following, Dawson the last boot off the ground.

“Take us
over the facility!” shouted Dawson to the pilot, the man nodding then banking
toward the smoking debris. Acton leaned against the window, staring down at the
devastation below, and gasped.

It was a
crater.

A near
perfect crater, radiating out from the center of where the skulls had been.

Preserving
the illusion that the skulls truly did have power, a power Acton now had no
doubt was purely myth. He looked at his wife and thought of how she must be
feeling now, then remembered her words when they had first met and she had
described what sculptors using ancient methods would have had to go through just
to polish the surface.

It
would have taken over three hundred years to complete.

He
closed his eyes as they banked back toward Reykjavik and sighed.

If no
one knew how to make them today, then who
did
make them?

And why?

Denier Installation, Iceland

Proconsul Kennedy leapt to the shore and rushed through the obstacle
course that was the rock-strewn landscape. The flames were mere flickers now,
the smoke continuing though blowing gently inland. As the others swarmed around
him, all eager to see the aftermath of the disaster, he found himself slowing,
his heart heavy with the thought of what he was about to find.

They’d
be dead.

Of that,
he had no doubt. No one could survive this, though someone had. They had
spotted two choppers landing briefly then leaving, obviously having picked
someone up. He hoped it was the professors and their friends. They were
innocent in all this and didn’t deserve to die for the beliefs of the Triarii.

He would
know shortly, a simple phone call when they returned to London would be enough,
though the first phone call would be to give notice to the new tenants at their
Fleet Street headquarters.

The Triarii
would be coming home.

He
reached the edge of what turned out to be a large crater and gasped. It was
easily a hundred feet across, and almost perfectly circular, it as if a meteor
had just hit.

In the
center was the wreckage of what must have been the lab, shattered and melted
terminals and displays evident.

He
gagged.

And
bodies.

Charred,
blackened bodies, some strewn about, some just parts tossed about, torn away by
the explosion, but the majority clustered in the center of the facility, as if
they had been huddled together to comfort each other in the end.

They
must have known something was going wrong and there was nothing they could do
about it.

His eyes
burned as he pictured these people, these people who were still Triarii,
despite betraying the organization. They all believed. They were all
descendants of the original Thirteenth Legion.

They
were all family.

Family
had died here today, it a horrible thing that would be mourned when the time
was right.

But for
now, they had a job to do.

A duty.

“Sir!”

Kennedy looked
down in the pit, Simmons waving up at him. “What is it?”

“The
skulls, sir! You have to see this!”

Kennedy
stumbled down the edge, his arms out to his sides as he tried to keep his
balance. “Are they okay?” he asked as he rushed up to where Simmons and several
others stood, tearing away at some sort of orb. He peered inside and gasped.

All
thirteen skulls were together, unharmed.

He
breathed a sigh of relief.

And
shivered.

“It’s a
miracle!” cried Simmons.

Kennedy
looked around him, the perspective entirely different from inside the crater.
Everything around them was broken concrete, twisted metal and melted glass and
plastic, save this one spot.

“Just
like London.”

It was
almost exactly as described in the ancient texts. The skulls had been found at
the center of a blast zone, untouched.

Just as
today.

May
the gods be praised.

He
closed his eyes for a moment, remembering those who had been lost, then opened
them. “Get them into the boat, now. And keep them as far apart as possible. We
have irrefutable proof that they are indeed powerful. I want footage of
everything before you touch them though. Let’s document this so there can never
again be any doubt.”

“Yes,
sir!”

The team
scrambled, phones out taking HD video of everything as he stepped back and stared
at the charred remains of Chaney and the others who had joined him. He placed
his hand over his heart and bowed his head, speaking to no one but the spirits
of the departed.