The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (6 page)

Ananias smiled,
bowing deeper. “I am an
old
man.”

Nero
frowned. “And rave like one, too.” He snapped his fingers, two of his slaves leaping
forward. “Put it in my chambers. I will examine it later.”

The
slaves bowed and took the skull from Ananias, he staring after it almost
longingly. “Sire,” he said, “if it is your pleasure, I will remain here rather
than return to Judea, should you have any questions regarding the skull.”

Nero,
already returning to his chair, dismissed him with a flick of his wrist over
his shoulder. “Fine.” He dropped into his chair, looking at Junius. “It is an
odd thing, that.”

“It is
indeed, sire. I find myself strangely drawn to it.”

Nero agreed,
his eyes following the slaves as they left the room. “If our enemies could see
that, they might just surrender without a fight.”

Junius smiled.
“It is a terrifying spectacle.”

“It is
indeed.” He waved them toward the door. “You are dismissed. Give my thanks to
Antonius.”

“I
shall, sire.”

Junius
backed out of the room at a bow, Ananias doing the same. Out of sight, he
turned, striding swiftly down the corridor, his heart heavy as if he were
leaving behind a child. He looked at Ananias.

“I
wasn’t expecting you to ask the emperor for permission to stay.”

Ananias smiled
slightly. “My place is with the skull.”

Junius
stopped, holding out an arm to halt the man who had become his friend over all
these years. “There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from me, isn’t there?”

Ananias looked
at him, his smile spreading slightly. “And it is a secret I will keep to my
dying breath.”

Fleet Street, London, United Kingdom
Present Day

Hugh Reading walked up the steps to the massive wood doors of a
building he had hoped never to enter again.

The
Triarii Headquarters.

It was a
well-kept secret, he one of the few people who knew where it was outside of the
membership, and he had doubts about how many of them knew. The last time he had
been taken here, it had been against his will, his longtime partner and friend,
Martin Chaney, having shot him with a tranquilizer dart.

He had never
completely forgiven him for that.

Yet now,
here he was, about to willingly enter the lair of a cult he felt didn’t always
have the best interest of those who were not members, at heart.

His eyes
narrowed, a new sign on a brass plaque to the right of the door.

Social
Interactions International Inc.

“What
the bloody hell is that?” he muttered. It must be a new cover.

He tried
the door, expecting it to be locked, but not wanting to appear the fool by
knocking, just in case the cover was indeed a real business.

It
opened.

Interesting.

He
stepped inside and his jaw dropped at the difference. What had once been a
plush, comfortable lobby, littered with old leather couches and rich wood
highlights surrounding a marble floor, had been replaced with sleek modern
furniture and dozens of suits crisscrossing the area and holding impromptu
meetings.

It had
all the appearance of an actual company.

Including
the smiling receptionist who looked at him expectantly.

He
walked up to her, pulling out his ID. “Agent Reading, Interpol.” He paused.
“Umm, this is going to sound like an odd question, but is this the”—he lowered
his voice to barely a whisper—“Triarii Headquarters?”

She
looked at him with a dumb smile, as if humoring an old man. “Sorry sir, this is
Social Interactions International. We develop consumer apps for the mobile
market. Perhaps you’ve heard of one of our dating apps?” Her eyes widened. “You
know, we’ve got an app just for seniors like yourself.”

Reading
felt himself turn red. “Seniors? I’ll have you know, little lady, that I am
not
a senior.”

The
young woman paled, clearly flustered. “Oh, sorry, sir, well, you just remind me
of my granddad, I mean—”

“Before
you taste-test your shoes any more, tell me how long you’ve been here?”

She
sucked in a quick breath, apparently happy the subject had changed. “Next week
we’re celebrating one year.”

Reading
frowned. It fit in with the timeframe, it about the same time that Chaney had
disappeared. If the entire Triarii went into hiding, then things must be far
worse than any of them suspected. “Do you know where the previous tenants
went?”

She
shrugged. “No idea. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never heard anyone mention who
they were. And oddly, no one ever comes here looking for them.” She shook her
head. “Maybe that’s why they went out of business?”

Reading glanced
at the elevators. “Do you occupy the entire building?”

“Yes,
sir, all four floors.”

Reading’s
eyes narrowed. “Four?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“What
about the lower levels?”

Her eyes
popped slightly, the old-man-humoring smile returning. “There
are
no
lower floors, sir.”

“Ahh,
okay.” Reading bowed slightly. “Thank you for your time.”

She flashed
a smile and gave him a wave as he turned around. If these people didn’t know
about the lower levels, then there was a chance the Triarii were still here.

Or…

He
turned around, returning to the desk.

“Yes,
sir?”

“One
more odd question.”

“What’s
that?”

“Can I
see your wrist?”

The Himalayas, Nepal

Chen knelt on the cool stone floor, surrounded by his fellow monks,
the Buddhist temple at the top of the mountain the most peaceful place he could
imagine in this world. In his youth, he had travelled for several years, to
discover his true path, and to join the organization his mentor had, passing
their rigorous training and taking the oath generations of monks in his order
had.

The
crystal skull kept at this holy place had been here for hundreds if not thousands
of years, no one really knew.

It had
just always been.

The
stories told by the elders were that a white man had come almost a century ago,
excited to find it, then had asked for volunteers to teach him the history of
the skull, and to share in the knowledge he himself possessed.

Their
lama had apparently volunteered, returning two years later, making no mention
of what he had learned or experienced, simply resuming his duties.

He had
been but the first of this temple to join the order protecting a worldwide
network of skulls.

The task
to protect the skull had been passed down generation to generation, and it was
now his turn, and eventually, it would be the youngsters in the rear of the
room.

The
doors behind them opened with a bang, cold wind sweeping inside causing the
torches to flutter. He ignored it, it most likely ignorant tourists who had
braved the long climb, thinking their unique effort afforded them uninterrupted
attention.

Then the
purposeful sound of boots marching on the stone echoed through the chamber and
he turned to see who the new arrivals were.

He
cursed.

Gunfire
sprayed across the ceiling, disintegrating small chunks of the roofing in puffs
of dust as someone yelled for everyone to remain where they were.

But he
was already on his feet, sprinting toward the side chamber where the Crystal
Oracle was held, and where he had spotted two of the attackers heading.

“You!”

He
looked and saw a gun swing toward him. He dove, headfirst through the sliver of
a doorway, tucking his head toward his chest and executing a perfect
summersault, immediately leaping to his feet as the two men arrived through
another entrance. His foot snapped out, catching the first one under the chin,
lifting him from the ground and launching him into his partner.

Both
fell in a heap. He immediately rushed forward, two quick jabs to the throat
leaving both gasping for air, their windpipes crushed. Two more rushed inside,
startled to find their partners down. Chen stepped forward, grabbing the first
man’s AK-74 and pulling it toward him, the barrel aimed at the wall. Chen
slammed his forehead into the man’s nose, the attacker crying out as the satisfying
crack left no doubt as to the condition of his appendage. Chen spun the
distracted man around, aiming the weapon at his partner and squeezed the
trigger, several rounds spurting out the barrel and into the target’s stomach.

A fifth
man, backed up by several more, strode confidently into the room, a Beretta
raised and aimed at Chen. Chen spun the man with the broken nose, using him as
a human shield as he backed away, toward the skull.

“You
can’t win.”

Chen nodded
at the three men on the floor. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

The
leader smiled. “You need to be willing to do whatever it takes.”

He
squeezed the trigger, killing his own man, the body slipping from Chen’s arms,
leaving him exposed.

Then the
gun belched lead again, a searing pain radiating from Chen’s chest, sending him
stumbling back toward the Crystal Oracle that had been his responsibility for
so many years, before collapsing to the floor.

The
leader stood over him while the others took the skull, placing it carefully in
a specially designed case.

They
must be Deniers.

He
stared up at the man who now towered over him, struggling for breath. “What do
you intend to do?” he gasped.

“Discover
the truth.”

Chen drew
a final breath, shaking his head. “You mustn’t, it’s too danger…”

The
world went black as the sounds of receding footfalls echoed in the small room,
his last thoughts of how he had failed in his duty, and how his failure had put
the entire world at risk.

Domus Tiberiana, Rome
July 19, 64 AD

Emperor Nero bolted upright in his bed, the voices quickly receding,
now only a dull whisper as if he stood in the center of a large gathering,
everyone else hugging the walls in polite conversation.

It was
driving him mad.

“Are you
okay, my love?”

He glanced
over at the woman who had asked the question, searching for her name.

He came
up empty.

Another
rose to his right, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Can’t sleep, darling.”
She gave him a devilish smile. “There’s a cure for that, you know.”

He lay
back down and both women draped themselves over him.

But he
wasn’t interested.

Something
had woken him. He had been uneasy all evening and he hadn’t slept well. He had
shown the girls a good time, he a talented lover if he did say so himself, it
always a pleasant romp in the evenings when his wife was in Antium.