The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) (7 page)

But
tonight had been different.

What’s
changed?

He ran
through the day’s events, it one of constant meetings as they usually were,
running an empire so large not at all the glamourous life he had dreamed.

Maybe
I shouldn’t have killed mother.

At least
she had done most of the mundane work, but he was pretty sure she had planned
on killing him. To what purpose, he wasn’t sure. It was not as if she could
become emperor, and any successor would have tossed her to the lions.

Perhaps
she was as innocent as she claimed.

He did
have to admit he felt some regret, he now realizing that everyone around him
was plotting against him, though he had no evidence of it. Yet. As soon as he
did, he would have them all staked to crosses as examples to anyone who thought
they could defy him.

He was
emperor.

Of Rome.

He was all-powerful.

A living
god.

The
voices laughed.

“Shut
up!”

The
cooing girls, one servicing him, unnoticed to this moment, halted their
efforts.

“Do you
wish us to leave?” asked the one who had been nibbling on his earlobe.

He shook
his head, realizing he was feeling pretty good. “No, resume.”

And they
did.

It
was
a good life.

“Fire!”

He
ignored the voices.

“Fire!”

The
girls didn’t.

“Don’t
stop.”

“But,
sire, there’s a fire!”

He sat
up, realizing that it wasn’t the voices after all. Footfalls pounding toward
the room had him swinging out of bed and throwing on a robe. His aide entered,
breathless. “Sire, there’s a fire!”

Nero
strode toward the windows, noticing the strange orange glow for the first time.
“Where?”

“Everywhere!”

He
reached the window and gasped. For as far as the eye could see the city burned,
easily several districts engulfed in flames.

“What
should we do?”

Nero
leaned out, the air heavy with a smell he had always loved—burning wood. Cries
in the distance told him his citizens were terrified, and that this was his
opportunity to prove to any doubters, especially the voices, that he was the
right man at the right time.

“Call up
all fire brigades and the reserves. Evacuate all people at risk to the public
buildings in safe districts and send for additional food and water. We can’t
risk the people starving should the food stores be destroyed or the aqueducts
damaged.”

“Yes,
sire.”

“And
wake the Senate. I will be going to personally survey the scene at first
light.”

“Yes,
sire.”

His aide
hustled away as his two bed companions stood whimpering at his sides,
terrified. He put an arm around each of them. “Calm down, ladies, you are
perfectly safe here.” Heads buried themselves into his chest. “What can I do to
convince you?”

The raven-haired
beauty who was one of his favorites stared up at him. “Play us a song?”

He
smiled, eyeing his lute sitting nearby. “Very well. One song, then I must go.
We can’t have people thinking that their emperor fiddled while Rome burned.”

Fleet Street, London, United
Kingdom
Present Day

“They’re gone.”

“What do
you mean they’re gone?”

Reading
shrugged to no one, his phone pressed against his ear. “I mean they’re gone.
The Triarii headquarters is now some hi-tech company that makes dating
applications for old people.”

“Did you
sign up?”

Reading
glared at the phone, wishing Acton could see his face. “Sod off.”

A burst
of laughter and static responded.

“Now
there’s one thing she said that has me curious.”

“What’s
that?”

Reading
continued down Fleet Street at a brisk pace. “She said there were no lower
levels.”

“Really?
There were several, weren’t there?”

Reading
nodded. “Absolutely. Now, when Martin was shot, you said you guys came out some
sort of tunnel with a ramp at the end. Do you remember where it came out?”

“No, I
was busy tending to him. Hon? Any idea?”

Laura’s
voice joined the conversation. “It’s a blur, but I know we travelled a couple
of hundred meters maybe, enough to get you perhaps a street or two over, then
we ramped up, a garage door of some type automatically opened and we were in an
alleyway. I continued forward until we came to a street then we
turned…umm…right, I think.”

“Do you
remember the street?”

“No, but
my next turn put us back on Fleet, and if I remember correctly I could see the
police in the rearview mirror.”

Reading
stopped, looking about. “Wait, you came out, turned right onto a street, then
your next turn was onto Fleet, with the Triarii HQ behind you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you
remember if you turned left or right onto Fleet?”

“Oh God,
Hugh, umm, wait. Right. No, left. I’m so confused. Americans all drive on the
wrong side of the road—I’ve been away too long. No, I turned left, because I
didn’t have to try and cross the traffic.”

“Excellent.”
Reading glanced behind him at the building that had once housed the two-thousand-year-old
organization, then the traffic flowing next to him. “Okay, I think I know what
street you came out on.” He briskly walked toward the next intersection then
turned left. “I’m guessing you came out on Farrington.”

“That
could be right, now that I think about it.”

He
continued down the sidewalk and stopped at the narrow entrance of Bride Lane, a
large delivery door fifty meters from the street. “I think I may have found it.
Give me a minute.”

He began
to jog toward the door then thought better of it, he quickly losing breath,
silently making another commitment to hit the gym. He reached the door and
examined it, it large enough to fit a four-by-four with little problem.

“I’m
here. I think this is it.”

“Can you
get in?”

Reading
shook his head. “I don’t see any handles or any type of keypad, bell, anything.
Just plain walls.”

“They
were probably controlled by transponders in the vehicles,” said Acton. “I don’t
think you’re getting in there unless they want to let you in.”

Reading
hammered on the door, the resulting din making him cringe as it filled the narrow
lane.

“I don’t
think that’s going to work. Remember, they did everything with codes.”

Reading
nodded. “Yeah, and they were very security conscious.” He looked about, trying
to spot anything out of the ordinary.

He
smiled, a CCTV camera under a balcony catching his eye. “I think I’m being
watched. Just a second.” He eyed his surroundings and spotted a good-sized
piece of cardboard lying on the ground. He picked it up, fishing a pen out of
his pocket, then quickly drew two straight horizontal lines, followed by a
third line, slightly curved upward. He added his cellphone number then held it
up to the camera.

His
phone vibrated almost immediately.

“Bloody
hell!”

He held
the phone to his ear.

“Jim,
I’ll call you back.”

Unknown Location, London, United
Kingdom

The Proconsul of the Triarii, Derrick Kennedy, watched the former
Scotland Yard detective as he stood in front of the sealed escape tunnel that
led to their former headquarters. They had been forced to abandon the location
a year ago after the rift became too much, and it had been the greatest
humiliation of his life.

But
necessary.

“Can he
be trusted?” asked one of his team manning the security station.

Kennedy
pursed his lips. “His loyalties lie with his friend. He can be trusted as long
as he thinks he’s helping him.”

“And if
he were told the truth?”

“They
were partners for years. He wouldn’t believe us.”

The door
opened and Rodney Underwood stepped inside. “Sorry I’m late, sir.”

“Look!”

They all
turned toward the screen the security tech was pointing at. Reading was writing
something on a piece of cardboard.

“What’s
he doing?” asked Rodney.

Kennedy
remained silent, knowing the question was about to be answered as Reading
flipped the finished product around.

It was
the symbol of the Triarii and a phone number.

“I think
we better see what the man wants.”

The Home Depot, Forest Plaza Shopping Center, Annapolis, Maryland

“Take them out.”

“Sir?”

Chaney held
the phone closer to his mouth. “Take them out! That’s an order!”

“Yes,
sir.”

Chaney stared
through the window at the two professors he considered friends, their hands
slightly raised as two armed men confronted them. He knew from Professor
Acton’s history that he was plotting his escape, the man the luckiest unlucky
bastard he had ever met.

The first
gunman dropped, then the second, then the driver.

His
chest tightened and his stomach flipped, it always a sad day when his fellow
Triarii had to die.

“Let’s
go,” he said, his voice subdued. Their vehicle surged forward, toward the scene
then screeched to a halt as he threw open the side door, reaching out to the
two terrified professors. “Professor!”

Acton stared
at him, startled. “What—”

“Come
with me if you want to live!”

There
was a moment’s hesitation then Acton grabbed his wife by the hand and pulled
her toward the door, helping her inside, then jumping in himself.

“Go! Go!
Go!”

The van peeled
away as Chaney slid the door shut, turning toward his friends. “Give me your
phones.”

“Huh?”

“They
can be tracked.” He motioned with his fingers. “Hurry, now.”

Acton
pulled his phone from his pocket, handing it over as Laura searched her handbag
then pant pockets.

“I must
have dropped it.”

Chaney
put the phone on the floor and smashed it with the butt of his gun.

“Hey!
That’s expensive!”

Chaney
rolled down the window and tossed the phone out as they pulled onto the main
road. “Sorry, necessary. We can’t risk that they’re tracking you.” He turned to
Laura. “You’re sure you lost it?”

She
nodded. “I had it in my hand when those men arrived. I must have dropped it.”

“Okay,
fine.” He leaned forward toward the driver. “Take it easy, we don’t want to
draw any attention.”

The man
nodded, the van immediately slowing.

“Who
were those people?”

Chaney
frowned, looking at Acton then Laura. “I’m afraid they were Triarii. Or at
least, used to be.” He sighed. “A lot has happened since we last saw each
other, Professors.”