Pompeii's Ghosts
A James Acton Thriller
by
J. Robert Kennedy
From the Back Cover
FROM USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. ROBERT KENNEDY
POMPEII IS ABOUT TO CLAIM ITS FINAL VICTIMS—TWO THOUSAND YEARS LATER!
Two thousand years ago Roman Emperor Vespasian tries to preserve an empire by hiding a massive treasure in the quiet town of Pompeii should someone challenge his throne. Unbeknownst to him nature is about to unleash its wrath upon the Empire during which the best and worst of Rome’s citizens will be revealed during a time when duty and honor were more than words, they were ideals worth dying for.
Professor James Acton has just arrived in Egypt to visit his fiancée Professor Laura Palmer at her dig site when a United Nations helicopter arrives carrying representatives with an urgent demand that they come to Eritrea to authenticate an odd find that threatens to start a war—an ancient Roman vessel with over one billion dollars of gold in its hold.
It is a massive amount of wealth found in the world’s poorest region, and everyone wants it. Nobody can be trusted, not even closest friends or even family. Greed, lust and heroism are the orders of the day as the citizens of Pompeii try to survive nature’s fury, and James Acton tries to survive man’s greed while risking his own life to protect those around him.
USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy delivers the historical drama and modern day action in Pompeii's Ghosts his fans have come to expect. Pompeii’s Ghosts opens with a shocker that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the thrilling conclusion in a story torn from today’s headlines.
About the James Acton Thrillers
"James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!"
Though this book is part of the James Acton Thrillers series, it is written as a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without having read any of the previous installments.
About J. Robert Kennedy
USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over twenty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series of which the first installment, The Protocol, has been on the bestseller lists since its release, including occupying the number one spot for three months. He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.
"If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy."
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Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.
Books by J. Robert Kennedy
The James Acton Thrillers
The Protocol
Brass Monkey
Broken Dove
The Templar's Relic
Flags of Sin
The Arab Fall
The Circle of Eight
The Venice Code
Pompeii's Ghosts
Amazon Burning
The Riddle
Blood Relics
Sins of the Titanic
Saint Peter's Soldiers
The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers
Rogue Operator
Containment Failure
Cold Warriors
Death to America
The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers
Payback
Infidels
The Lazarus Moment
The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries
Depraved Difference
Tick Tock
The Redeemer
Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series
The Turned
Table of Contents
The Novel
Acknowledgements
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About the Author
Also by the Author
For the 276 who were kidnapped, and the over two million young girls estimated to have been taken against their will and forced into the global sex trade.
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“You could hear the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants, and the shouting of men; some were calling their parents, others their children or their wives, trying to recognize them by their voices. People bewailed their own fate or that of their relatives, and there were some who prayed for death in their terror of dying. Many besought the aid of the gods, but still more imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore.”
Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, a.k.a. “Pliny the Younger”, nephew of Gaius Plinius Secundus, a.k.a. “Pliny the Elder” Letter to Tacitus, circa 100 AD
“Above all, we should acknowledge that the collapse of the Soviet Union was the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the century. As for the Russian nation, it became a genuine drama. Tens of millions of our co-citizens and co-patriots found themselves outside Russian territory. Moreover, the epidemic of disintegration infected Russia itself.”
Vladimir Putin, April 2005
Preface
To Roman historians, the name “Pliny the Elder” is well known. A prolific writer with an impressive résumé, much has been learned about life and public administration in Ancient Rome thanks to him. His nephew, known as “Pliny the Younger”, is equally well known amongst volcanologists due to his detailed and horrific descriptions of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and the destruction it wrought upon Pompeii and other surrounding towns. His description was so memorable, he has been honored by history—forevermore shall the most violent of eruptions, such as that of Mount Vesuvius, be known as Plinian.
His descriptions have been used throughout this novel to lend realism to the horror that befell twenty thousand people, too many of their ghosts still haunting the nearly perfectly preserved streets of Pompeii to this day.
Though his letters to a friend years later are heavily relied upon, there is one glaring inaccuracy in his accounts that must be challenged.
If Pliny the Elder was overcome by the gasses from the volcano, why weren’t the others with him as well? And if at least some of the others were able to breathe, what could possibly have been so urgent that they would abandon him, rather than take the few minutes to carry him to the waiting boats?
It is a two thousand year old mystery that is about to be resolved.
With tragic consequences.
“Pliny the Elder” Residence, Misenum, Roman Empire
August 24th, 79 AD
“What in the name of the gods is that?”
The ground shook with a rumble as if a beast contained under the marble floor was struggling to escape, its groan vibrating through the house as those lounging on the many cushions and silks jumped to their feet—some more spryly than others—and furtively glanced about, wondering what to do, fear evident in their eyes.
And immediately identifying them as foreign to the area.
For those who had lived near the Bay of Naples for some time, like Lucius Valerius Corvus, knew exactly what it was—just another tremor, the shaking of the ground a too often occurrence, though more frequent as of late. Instinctively he had placed himself in an archway with a hand gripping the stone for balance at the first hint, and now, as the ground beneath their feet settled, Valerius looked to his Lord and Prefect, Gaius Plinius Secundus, to make certain he was okay, then to their honored guest.
The man who had asked the question.
Emperor Titus.
Several of the Praetorian Guard burst into the room, the centurion leading them rushing to his Emperor’s side, bowing—and looking more rattled than his charge. “Are you unharmed, Imperator?”
Emperor Titus waved the man off, having quickly recovered from the scare, he himself never thought of as a coward, having led many successful military campaigns, not the least of which was the defeat of the Jewish Rebellion. A man to show fear he was not, and in this case, all Valerius saw on his Emperor’s face was curiosity.
And true to form, he ignored his guard and looked at Plinius. “Does this happen often?”
Plinius nodded as he motioned for everyone to sit back down. All waited for their Emperor to do so first. Emperor Titus dropped onto the large cushions with the difficulty age and a life in the military inevitably brought. Taking a long drink from his goblet, draining it of the sweet wine it contained, he held up his cup and a servant rushed from out of sight, filling it almost instantly.
Plinius sat, as did the rest of the guests. “Too often, I’m afraid, sire. I fear another earthquake as happened seventeen years ago. We continue to rebuild from it to this day. To have another one I fear would break the will of those who remained.”
“And that mountain that continues to smoke?”
Plinius batted the words away as he swallowed a fat grape. “It has done nothing in my lifetime but threaten. It is like Helvidius. He rattled his saber but was harmless.”
Laughter filled the room at the expense of the avowed enemy and critic of Emperor Vespasian, Titus’ father who had died less than two months ago. The Emperor nodded, a smile on his face for but a moment, his visage suddenly becoming serious. He flicked his hand in the air in a dismissive manner. “Leave us. I wish to speak alone with my dear Plinius.”
The room quickly emptied, no one daring say a word, and Valerius, after making certain all had left, turned to leave himself when his Emperor’s voice stopped him.
“I would have you stay, as you are Plinius’ trusted man, and are fully aware of what I want to speak to your master about.”
Valerius bowed deeply but said nothing, instead sitting on the cushion pointed to by his Emperor, halfway between his Prefect and his Caesar. As he made himself comfortable, Emperor Titus’ voice lowered.
“I have concerns, Plinius.”
“Of?”
“These quakes. The safety of what is kept across the bay.”
Plinius nodded, his face revealing little emotion, though Valerius knew he was about to dismiss the Emperor’s fears but dared not trivialize them. “I understand your concern, sire, and I can assure you I share them. This is why everything has been stored underground, so should the walls collapse, nothing would be revealed. If another quake such as that which struck us over a decade ago should occur, the rubble would merely act to secure your concern even more until your own people would be able to salvage it.” Plinius leaned forward slightly. “And I pledge my life to defend it.”
“As do I, my Caesar,” added Valerius.
Plinius nodded his appreciation to Valerius, then returned his attention to their Emperor whose face was creased with a frown.
“And your plan should something untoward occur?”
“I have over fifty ships and thousands of men at my command, safely anchored here. With a favorable wind, we can be in Pompeii within four hours, and secure the area within minutes of landing. As well, Valerius, my second-in-command and most trusted man, lives in Pompeii, atop the very vault in question, with a small contingent of our best men, and his primary duty is the protection and preservation of that which you have entrusted to me.”
Emperor Titus’ head bobbed slowly, his lips pursing as he looked from man to man. “Then I know it is in capable hands and I shall fret no longer.” He chuckled. “If the Senate only knew what resided in a humble basement in Pompeii, I fear many daggers would hasten my union with Julius Caesar himself!”
He roared with laughter and Plinius joined him, Valerius smiling but not partaking as he knew full well that if anything were to happen to that now entrusted to his safekeeping, he would surely die.
As would his Prefect and friend.
For no one could resist the massive fortune now housed on his property overlooking the sea.
A war chest, taken from the Empire’s treasury when Vespasian ruled, to put down any rival’s bid to the throne.
“Have our guests return!” ordered Emperor Titus. “Let the feast continue!”
Within moments the others returned, none daring show any annoyance at having been unceremoniously ejected from the lunch, an earlier than planned gathering made necessary by the ever changing schedule of the Emperor. If it were Valerius, as it had been before, he knew he too would have shown no expression that might betray his inner anger and annoyance, as it would be of no use. He had served under Plinius for the better of fifteen years and thanks to his Lord’s position had met his share of emperors, and he found they all had one trait in common—supreme arrogance. Having never met any before they had attained their position he couldn’t say whether or not they had always been that way, or if it was an acquired skill learned upon gaining the highest office in the land.
All Valerius knew was that it pissed him off.
And he would never show it.
His Lord, Plinius, was different. Though of a far higher station than Valerius through birth, when Valerius had found himself under Plinius’ command, a young officer fresh from the academy, Plinius had taken him under his wing like a son and treated him as close to an equal as was permitted in an empire obsessed with class and caste.
And through Plinius’ tutelage and care, Valerius was now a wealthy man himself with a home in Rome and a summer home in Pompeii. It is essential you pay as little in taxes as possible. It was sage advice at any time, and coming from Plinius when he had gifted his old escape in Pompeii to his underling, he had explained the importance. Hide your wealth outside of Rome, and the Senate cannot take what you have earned. Keep it in Rome, and they would soon have you parted from it.
The advice, over a decade old, held true today more than ever. With the economy in recession, inflation then deflation wreaking havoc, Emperor Vespasian had tried to stimulate it through massive public works projects to keep the citizenry employed and distracted, his most ambitious a mighty coliseum that would dominate the Roman skyline for centuries to come. It hadn’t worked, instead only draining the treasury, hence the late Emperor’s desire to keep a large portion in reserve, outside of Rome, in the event of a challenge to his leadership.
And it was all kept in Valerius’ basement.
Gold bars filled the newly excavated underground chambers on his property tucked into the mountainside. It was impressive, and terrifying. If word were to escape, every thief and marauder in the empire would descend upon his home and the treasury hidden away from the people of Rome.
It was a massive fortune worth dying for, either in pursuit of it, or defense.
The room shook again, this time harder than even Valerius remembered feeling, eliciting screams from the women and yelps even from some of the seasoned soldiers. The floor cracked at their feet as dust and plaster fell from the ceiling. Valerius leapt to his feet then pulled Plinius to his, ushering him out of the house and onto the lawn overlooking the Bay of Naples, the Praetorian Guard whisking the Emperor out at the same time.
The shaking soon stopped but no one noticed as they all looked across the bay at the sleeping giant that appeared to be awakening.
Valerius looked at Plinius. “I think I should check on our charge.”
Plinius nodded. “Agreed. Send word immediately should you require assistance.”
“I shall, my Lord.”
Plinius gripped Valerius by the wrist, squeezing hard and looking deep into his eyes. “Good luck, old friend.”
Valerius bowed slightly, then deeply to the Emperor who said nothing, this time betrayed by his eyes.
For fear was there, as it
was in all of them.
Mount Vesuvius had awoken, and even in the darkest reaches of their souls, none could imagine the horrors that were about to befall them all.
Exiting Eritrean Airspace
Present Day
“We’re descending.”
Professor James Acton opened his eyes and glanced out the window then over at the source of the comment, Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson, BD to his friends. “How can you tell?”
Dawson shrugged. “Years of experience?” He pointed to a lone road that stretched across the landscape for as far as the eye could see. “We should be at least thirty thousand feet in the air. We’re no better than twenty and falling. Slowly though.”
“You can tell that from a road?”
“The width of it. That’s a two lane road, which means a fairly standard width. There’s a distinctly different look to a road from twenty thousand feet than there is from thirty.”
Acton nodded, the explanation obvious once actually articulated. “Okay, so it was a stupid question,” he said, smiling. “I’m sure there’s a reason, though,” he added, his Spidey senses starting to tingle, setting off a slight adrenaline rush at the thought of yet another thing going wrong in his life. He was an archeology professor at Saint Paul’s, a small Maryland university where he had worked for much of his professional career. And his life now was far too “event driven” for him to remember what had attracted him to the damned profession in the first place.
Indiana Jones.
Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) Page 1
