The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (5 page)

“It’s
too bad, he’s a good man, but now that they’ve seen me, they know I’m trying to
make contact with Hugh, so they’ll keep an extremely close eye on him from now
on.”

“You
knew that could happen.”

Chaney
nodded, taking another drink. “I know, you plan for every contingency, but you
don’t necessarily expect it to actually happen. I never would have guessed that
they’d have two men on him. We thought their resources were spread pretty thin
what with their funding problems.”

Dietrich
grunted. “Each side still has a lot of money.” He sighed then drained his glass.
“And when you think about it, how many people are they actually watching? You
didn’t—don’t—have a lot of friends outside of the organization.”

Chaney
pursed his lips, doing a quick mental tally of the people he’d consider friends
outside of the Triarii, and he had to admit it was a pretty thin list. There
were many at the Yard that he thought of as work friends, though other than
Reading, rarely spent time with them outside of special occasions.

And then
there were the professors.

“So what
are you going to do now?” asked Dietrich, eyeing his empty glass, it apparently
looking like another.

“There’s
one more attempt we can make.”

Dietrich’s
eyebrows rose. “Who?”

“The
only other two friends I can think of.” He leaned forward, putting his glass
aside. “But now that they know I’m trying to make contact, they’ll have
increased their surveillance of them, I’m sure.”

Banks of the Seine, Paris, France

Henri smiled. It was a perfect day, the sun gently kissing his skin,
a nice breeze taking the edge off, the beautiful city he loved going about its
business, as if in defiance of the tragedy that had occurred only weeks ago.

Love
must go on.

He gazed
at the beautiful creature sitting next to him on the bench, the walkway along
the bank of the Seine filled with young lovers. He didn’t know her well yet, in
fact, didn’t even know her name yet, the darling not having succumbed to his
charms.

But she
would.

They
always did.

His
problem was sealing the deal, something always seeming to get in the way, not
the least of which was his thin wallet.

A life
devoted to the Triarii didn’t pay well, not in his position as a janitor at the
Museé du Quay Branly. Some of his fellow Triarii held government or corporate
positions, though he wasn’t so lucky. He didn’t mind. The Triarii did provide
for him, extra funding so that he could live a decent lifestyle, though it was
still modest, especially since he had to maintain his cover. A janitor pulling
up in a Mercedes at work would appear suspicious, as would inviting friends for
dinner to find he lived in a luxury apartment.

No, he
reserved his extra money for small indulgences. A better bottle of wine, a
finer cut of meat, a more expensive block of cheese.

Indulgences
easily hidden from those around him.

He lived
well, and he loved the life chosen for him, a life where he served the Triarii,
his assignment a high honor.

Protecting
one of the thirteen known skulls.

“Come
on, ma chérie, at least tell me your name.”

She
didn’t look up from her phone, a frown spread across her face. “Please, sir,
leave me alone.”

“Sir?
You make me sound like your father!”

This
elicited a look. “You’re old enough to be him!”

That
actually hurt, his chest tightening slightly, the beginning of a pit forming in
his stomach. He caught his reflection in her sunglasses and nearly gasped.

You
are
old!

It was
as if he were seeing it for the first time, he denying it all these years. He
had crossed forty long ago, fifty was far too close. And no matter how much he
wanted to deny it, he was lonely. He had chosen the life of a bachelor, it
something many in his position did, not wanting to have to lie to a woman he
loved about what he did, not wanting to try and explain why he refused
promotions or continued to work in a low wage job at his age when he had a
family to support.

The
single life was easier.

Though
it wasn’t better.

“I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He felt
a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. He looked down at it, then back up at the
young woman who had removed her glasses. He patted her hand then leaned back on
the bench, stretching his arms out, tilting his head to absorb the sunlight.
“It’s okay, my dear, you’re right. I’m an old, lonely man who has to grow up or
he’ll be alone forever.”

She
twisted toward him, hooking her leg up under her so she could face him. “Why
don’t you find a nice woman, one closer to your age?”

His head
lolled to the side and he smiled at her. “It’s complicated.”

She
laughed. “That’s a choice on a social website.” She paused, her eyes narrowing.
“Are you gay? Perhaps you need—”

Henri’s
eyes shot wide open and he sat upright, waving his hands at her. “No no no! I’m
not gay, it’s just my job, that’s all.”

“Ahh,
too busy to find a woman.”

“Something
like that.”

He
positioned himself to face her, smiling. “You know, I think you’re the first
woman I’ve talked to in a long time. I mean, really talked to, without playing
some game.”

“You
mean, without trying to get me into bed.”

He
grinned. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

She gave
him another look. “Don’t ruin this, Henri.”

He
laughed, patting her knee. “I like you. It’s too bad I didn’t meet you twenty
years ago.”

“I’d
have been four.”

“See,
now I know how old you are!” He winked. “Just kidding.” He sighed. “Ugh, I just
realized I’m twice your age.”

She
smiled. “Don’t worry, you don’t look it.”

“I know,
I know, I look older.” He did the quick mental math. Age divided by two, add
seven.

I
can’t date a woman under 31 without looking like a creep.

“Do you
have any older friends? Say, thirties?”

“Yes,
but none I’d set up with a perfect stranger who tried to pick me up on a park
bench.”

His
phone vibrated in his pocket. “I
really
like you,” he said, fishing out his
phone. “You’re going to keep a good man on his toes, one day.”

She held
up her left hand, a diamond solitaire now plainly visible. “Already done.”

“Oh mon
dieu! I wish I had seen that.” He answered. “Oui?”

“Thirty-two.
Sixteen. Oh Seven. Condition Omega.”

His eyes
opened slightly wider. “Understood.” He hung up then took the young lady’s
hand, giving it a gentle kiss. “I’m afraid I must go.”

“The
job?”

He
smiled as he stood. “Yes.”

“If you
don’t want to be alone, Henri, then you should seriously reconsider your
priorities.”

“Somethings
are easier said than done.” He bowed slightly. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“As did
I.”

He
briskly walked toward his car, a beat up two-stroke Citroën that impressed no
woman, especially a class act like the young girl he had just met. He climbed
in his car and headed for the museum, almost on autopilot as their conversation
replayed itself in his mind. She was right. If he didn’t want to be alone, he’d
have to reconsider his choices.

But
leaving the Triarii wasn’t an option.

Was
it?

It was
definitely something he had never considered, so it was something he had never
asked. Could he leave? Could he simply ask to retire? Surely they allowed that.
It wasn’t as if the Triarii was some cult or gang you couldn’t leave, though he
had never heard of anyone leaving.

Except
for those Deniers who had split away. And even they still believed in the
doctrines they had grown up with, they simply wanted to reunite the skulls and
tap their power. Even he had to admit he was curious about what would happen,
but he knew his history, he knew what had happened in London and how it had
changed their chosen path from one of finding and gathering the skulls
together, to one of finding and keeping them separate.

Yet
though he was curious, he would never betray the organization he had devoted
his life to.

He
arrived, waving to the guard in the booth, his face never leaving his paper.
“Bonjour Jacques.”

“Bonjour
Henri, you should get that engine checked, I think only one of those horses is
running now.”

“I know,
I know, but life on a janitor’s salary—”

“I left
my sympathy in the same garbage can you tossed your last promotion offer in.”
He flicked his paper, straightening out the pages. “Have a good day.”

“You
too, mon ami.”

He headed
straight for the storage room, bypassing his normal routine of changing into
his official garb and sticking to his cleaning schedule.

This was
a Condition Omega situation. He had never had one before, though he knew it
meant the council thought the skull was in danger of being stolen. He swiped
his pass, unlocking the storage room.

“Henri,
is that you?”

He
frowned, his partner, Stéphane, beating him there. “Oui. Is everything okay?”
he asked, rounding the tall storage shelf of the row the skull was kept in. One
look at Stéphane’s face and he knew the answer.

“Non.” Stéphane
pointed at the empty box on the floor. “They beat us to it. We’re too late.”

Henri stared
at the empty box, shaking his head.

“They
didn’t even leave a fake.”

“These
people don’t care about maintaining the secret. They only care about uniting
the skulls.”

Henri
sighed. “Okay, close it back up while I get the fake from the car. We don’t
want anyone here knowing it’s missing. We still might be able to recover it.”

Stéphane
agreed. “Okay.”

Henri
left the room, his mind racing.

If
the skull is gone, and I have nothing to protect, perhaps I can retire.

Domus Tiberiana, Rome
July 18, 64 AD

Junius bowed to his emperor, Nero, waiting for the all-powerful man
to acknowledge him.

He
didn’t, instead washing his hands in a bowl held by one of the many slaves, another
then drying them. Nero finally turned to Junius, giving him a once over. He
didn’t appear impressed. “You are the aide to Antonius Felix, Prefect of
Judea?”

“Yes, sire,
and I come with a gift for you.”

“What is
it?”

“A
curiosity, sire.” Junius rose slightly, still partially bowing, then snapped
his fingers. Ananias appeared, the old man who had entered his office over thirty
years ago slower now, though still far spryer than a man his age should be. On
a cushioned tray in Tyrian purple, he carried the sculpture of a skull, carved
from a single piece of quartz crystal.

He
shivered, its eyes glaring at him as if angry to be in Rome.

Nero’s
jaw dropped slightly, his eyes wide, a noticeable shiver rushing through his
body as he stepped toward it, his hand outstretched. “I’ve seen nothing like it
in all my years!”

Junius
bowed again. “Nor have I. It was discovered at the site of the crucifixion of
the man they called Jesus.”

“The
leader of these damned Christians?”

“Yes,
sire. When the ground shook as he died, a large stone rolled down the hill and
split in two. This was apparently inside.” He motioned toward Ananias. “This
man was there when it happened.”

Nero considered
him. “You saw this happen?”

Ananias bowed.
“Yes, sire.”

“What
have you to say about it?”

“Only
that it is a great honor to have this in one’s possession. It is from a time
long ago.”

“And how
do you know this?”