The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

by Edward Crichton

  ***

  A brisk walk later, we arrived at a large doorway ornately decorated with religious motifs. The doors had to have been centuries old, but I was hardly an expert in such matters. Before I could think much more on the subject, Father Vincent knocked gently, sparing a single glance in my direction to offer me a curt nod.

  I understood.

  This was it, time to meet the new boss, and I couldn’t be more nervous. A quiet “enter” came from inside. Father Vincent opened the doors and led the way in. I spotted two individuals inside. The first man was in his golden years, although aging quite gracefully. He wore white robes and a skull cap, and had a rosary around his neck. He was sitting behind a desk situated in the center of a richly decorated room with religious paintings scattered throughout.

  The second individual was standing rigidly straight behind the first man’s chair and had the look of a career military man. His dark brown hair was cut short and he sported a thick mustache which, along with his slightly graying temples, prominent jaw line and nose and hawkish blue eyes, gave him the look of a dignified statesman. The man wore olive drab Battle Dress Uniform cargo pants, and a Woolly Pully combat sweater of the same color. If I had to guess, I’d peg him as a member of Britain’s SAS – as members of the Special Air Service itself had developed the Wooly Pully during World War II.

  I’d worked with members of that illustrious group before, and had nothing but positive memories of how they operated. So far, I was impressed.

  I looked at the perfectly groomed and dressed man, and immediately felt horribly underdressed. His BDU pants and Woolly Pully were formal enough wear, but were also combat ready in a time of need. I, on the other hand, wore tan boots of a civilian brand, military style khaki cargo pants and a Hawaiian shirt obnoxiously colored in bright yellow and blue. To complete the ensemble, I had even left my shirt open, revealing the sleeveless undershirt I wore beneath.