To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II)

by Crichton, Edward

  Eight rounds, four hits, two confirmed kills. Not a good start, but even for a sniper of my caliber, these targets were very hard to hit. Helena’s breaking of concise, military radio protocol, resulting in a constant stream of profanities on her end confirmed she was having trouble as well.

  I swiftly reloaded and followed a new target, vowing I was going to get this particular agile bastard.

  Agile, yes. Creative, no.

  He made a pattern of two skips, a zig, followed by a roll, the latter aggravating me more than anything else. On his third repetition of the pattern, I put a bullet in his right flank as he came to his feet from his latest roll.

  This ain’t the movies, pal.

  The impact of the bullet pitched him left into his partner. I took advantage of the other man’s stumble and put a round in his chest. 500 yards away, my third target was far less predictable. I had to recheck my secondary range card after it took five rounds to finally get him with a solid, but lucky, shot in the neck. Two more targets expended my remaining rounds.

  Reloading my third magazine, another problem quickly became evident: I’d only brought four magazines with me. Eighty rounds ensured three to four rounds per target had there only been twenty some targets out there. With that many rounds per man, a drunk cat would have ended the night with rounds to spare, but with the way these guys were moving, and their additional numbers, Santino could be in serious trouble.

  “Uh, guys?” Santino asked over the radio, his voice only slightly belabored from his run. “Why aren’t you calling out dead bad guys like you were earlier?

  “You try doing this,” Helena suggested in frustration. “Tango down.”

  “They’re catching on to what’s happening to them,” I reported. “Where are you?”

  “I’m almost to the Horn. I’m running out of room to run here.”

  This was very bad. If I took more careful aim to hit everything I targeted, too many bad guys would slip through and reach Santino, but if I fired erratically, I’d run out of ammo before I could kill enough of them. I only had a few magazines for Penelope, but at these ranges I’d be lucky to hit much of anything.

  “I could use an exit route here,” Santino urged frantically, rare concern emanating from his voice.

  I tried to think as we quickly ran out of options. Plan “B” didn’t exist and fear for my friend slowed my rate of fire as Santino ran for his life. If only we had an army that could counter Agrippina’s, maybe we’d stand a chance. But where the hell was I going to find an army? It wasn’t like nations left armies just laying around, waiting for someone to come around and find an excuse to use them. Did they?

  “Head to street level,” Helena recommended. “Lose them in the alleys. It’s your only chance.”

  Santino didn’t answer and I felt ashamed that I hadn’t said anything. Helena’s suggestion was obvious, and had Santino not already come to the same conclusion, I knew that he had to have been close. Yet, it seemed so utterly brilliant that I couldn’t even fathom how such a thought would have ever come to me.

  “What’s next, 3-1?” Helena’s voice called out again insistently.

  I tried to think but couldn’t. I didn’t know what to do.

  “Jacob!” She pleaded.

  “I don’t know…” I trailed off, not know what was about to happen.

  The situation was turning into a clusterfuck along with my state of mind. I felt delirious, so much so that in my own confusion, I almost missed my eye piece flash in front of my eye, indicating my computer had received some form of update. Interested, I tapped the screen on my forearm and a brief text message appeared on my lens.

  LOOK UP

  Confused, I craned my neck up towards the night sky, wondering what the hell I was looking for. I saw the Big Dipper and the rest of the stars that made up constellations I had never bothered learning, but nothing out of the ordinary. Not until I caught sight of a star moving faster than it should have, pulsating a dull shade of red.

  I blinked. Either my eyes were deceiving me, I was observing a UFO or the last thing I expected to see was stealthily hovering above us at one thousand feet.

  Santino’s UAV.

  For the first time in what seemed like years, I laughed out loud uncontrollably, my moment of indecision almost forgotten. The UAV could mean only one thing.

  Accompanying my discovery was the unmistakable roar of Bordeaux’s Mk 48 LMG spewing forth dozens upon dozens of 7.62 caliber rounds of destruction. I yanked open the sheath on my wrist mounted screen and for the first time in months, saw an aerial view of my surroundings thanks to the UAV, along with six green dots scattered throughout, pulsating a bright green.

  Bordeaux’s team must have done some advanced intelligence gathering with the UAV because along with our green dots, were a series of smaller red triangles, about thirty five of them, indicating enemy troops. Thanks to the Blue Force Tracker II software installed on our computers, updating anything on the map was as easy as tapping the screen on our wrists. These red triangles were caught in a horseshoe created by the six of us, with Helena and me at the ends. Our reinforcements must have crossed the Golden Horn and entered the city from the north.

  I watched as red triangles winked out of existence in quick order. Looking through my scope, I observed man after man fall to Bordeaux’s hail of gunfire and the steady stream of two other rifles, until only Gaius and Marcus remained, their IR strobes still flashing brightly.

  Another flash indicated a second data package, one that displayed a radio broadcast frequency. I reached for my radio and tuned it to the proper frequency, smashing the PTT button with vigor. “Bordeaux, is that you?”

  “Oui, mon ami,” he said, and my smile broadened at his continuous and somewhat pretentious use of French. “Who else would it be?”

  I didn’t reply immediately, the memory of only a few minutes ago coming back to me. How could I explain my apparent inability to make tactical decisions or form conscious thought into words when I needed to most? The only thing I could take solace in was that they hadn’t heard our radio transmissions, the one that offered proof of my negligence. I put it into the back of my mind for now.

  “You couldn’t have picked a better time to show up,” I commented. Are Vincent and Wang with you? You guys there?”

  “We are, Hunter,” came Vincent’s Italian accented voice, despite being a native of Switzerland. “It is good to hear you.”

  “Wang?”

  “Aye, Hunter,” the Asian descended Brit said in his Welsh accent.

  “God, it’s good to hear from you,” I said, unconditional happiness beginning to percolate amongst my dire spirits. Their presence was more than uplifting. Not only did I have new allies at my side, but the only other friends I had left in ancient Rome. Friends I hadn’t seen in years.

  “Look,” I continued, my mind clearing as the stress of the situation ebbed and my blood pressure leveled, realizing we still had work to do. “We’ve got a lot to clean up here. Those two Romans out there with the IR strobes are Gaius and Marcus. Wang, find them and have them take you back to our apartment. They know the way. Keep it quiet.”

  “I live to serve,” he joked. He’d always been a quiet jokester, not as overt as Santino but always one with a quick quip on his tongue.

  Great.

  “Bordeaux,” I continued, “we need your help policing these bodies. We can’t have any evidence of what happened tonight. Your gun show had to have awoken half the city, but let’s just hope they thought it was thunder, or the gods, or something. You, Santino, and Vincent get on that. Dump the bodies in the Bosporus.”

  “Copy,” he replied.

  “Helena, let’s get to work finding those IR patches scattered around and pick up the fisheye cams from Hide-2. Also, now that we have the UAV, we’ll see if we can hunt down any remaining Praetorians.”

  “Sounds good, Jacob,” she said, all semblance of radio protocol abandoned.

  I think that just about covered eve
rything we needed to do. During my transmission, I glassed as much of the city as I could from my viewpoint, and only saw a few innocents peeking their heads out into the very early morning sky, only to find nothing amiss, and go back inside. I packed up my things and secured my bags before I swung my legs over the low wall and descended the ladder.

  “Seems like you’re doing well as the leader of this group, Jacob,” Vincent radioed.

  “He’s not our leader,” Helena corrected quickly. “We just like to follow him because he’s got a cute butt.”

  “Yeah,” Santino agreed. “We… wait, what? No, no we don’t. People’d just think it was sexist if we followed you because of your cute butt.”

  “Either way,” Vincent pushed on, remembering even after four years it was best to just ignore Santino. “It’s nice to have someone else do it for a change.”

  “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure I’m up for it,” I said from the bottom of my heart. I wasn’t even sure I was up to it anymore. “Want the job back?”

  “No thank you,” he answered easily. “Bordeaux’s already filled us in, and I’m not sure I could handle it. This is your plan.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a quiet I think, “but things aren’t nearly as simple anymore.”

  I had a lot to explain in the next few hours. Things weren’t nearly as crazy as capturing a child anymore, but only because I had a sinking suspicion that our lives were about to get far worse, but for now, it didn’t matter. What mattered was cleaning up Byzantium and getting reacquainted with my old friends. I didn’t have much to fall back on in these times of need. Just one beautiful woman and an annoying best friend.

  I needed all the friends I could get.

  VII

  Band

  Mission Entry #7

  Jacob Hunter

  Byzantium, Thracia - July, 42 A.D.

  No time to write.

  Got the band back together.

  Catch you later.

  I couldn’t help but be brief in my last entry since Helena and I were way behind schedule. Everyone else had to be back in the apartment by now, and I was way too excited to take the time to write much more.

  We were so late because one of the ninja-Praetorians managed to slip through our net, and it had taken us quite a while to chase him down. We’d found him a few hundred yards beyond the city, and Helena took him down with a well-placed shot to his back. We then had to dispose of his body, just like all the rest, and the task of hunting him down, dumping him and collecting our equipment had taken far longer than I’d anticipated.

  I took the few moments Helena and I spent retrieving a small cache of indigenous clothing from its hiding place near our apartment to jot my thoughts down. Not overly insightful right now, but I was too giddy to form a compelling thought. Despite being caught off guard, the night had been a major success. We’d eliminated a numerically superior force, obtained one of the two time traveling orbs and had found our friends in the process. All I wanted was to get back to my room and celebrate, and I knew Helena did as well.

  We donned our local clothing as quickly as possible and made our way inside our building and up the stairwell, sure enough encountering the night owls on the prowl. I went up first and watched in horror as one of the prostitutes walked towards me, trying to solicit my attention. I was about to deny her politely when Helena bounded up the stairs past me and body checked the nasty creature into the wall, hissing an apology as she went. I apologized more diplomatically, but didn’t break stride until I caught up to her at the entrance to our room. Helena opened the door and went in first while I followed, shutting it behind me.

  We had a full house.

  Gaius, Marcus, Santino, Bordeaux, Wang, Vincent, and two other people, one a young male, the other a woman in her thirties, were all present in our apartment. Space was tight, and everyone had spread out amongst the room as comfortably as they could manage. Bordeaux and the unidentified woman sat at the far end of the table, facing the door, with Gaius and Marcus across from them, facing the window. Between the table and the bed sat Vincent on the final chair in the room, while Wang and Santino sat on the side of the bed, already bickering about something.

  I smiled at the two of them. They had become pretty good friends in that first year they’d known each other, but always seemed to fight over something. Whether it was tea or coffee, cricket or baseball, football or… football, they never seemed to agree on anything except their shared hatred of 80’s music.

  The final soul in the room was a young man who leaned against the wardrobe, which stood against the wall opposite Vincent’s position

  Every head in the room turned to face us, eager expressions on their faces.

  But no one moved.

  Everyone just sat in their seats, unsure or unable to do anything. All we needed was a spark to set the room off, which occurred when Helena dropped the 2x4 that secured our door with a loud clang. With that, the room erupted into excited confusion. I felt a flood of raw emotion overwhelm everyone as conversations were restarted, smiles blossomed, and Helena and I moved around to greet our long lost friends.

  I quickly shook Bordeaux’s hand, as I’d seen him only a few months ago, but moved over to embrace Vincent and Wang, pounding each man on the back exuberantly, exchanging a few words with each. Helena likewise embraced her friends but also offered quick kisses on their cheeks as well. While Helena and I welcomed our friends, Gaius and Marcus moved their chairs near the door and Bordeaux angled the table so that it, the benches, the chair, and the bed formed a loose oval around the perimeter of the room. Once everyone was settled, Helena and I moved to sit upon the table, silence befalling everyone once again, no one sure where to begin.

  And as if on cue, Santino spoke up first.

  “Don’t everyone start at once,” he said, breaking the tension as always.

  We all laughed, eliciting Bordeaux to speak up.

  “Perhaps you should start with what you’re doing here,” he offered from his seat next to the unknown woman. “I thought we were meeting in Valentia a month from now.”

  Even though I knew it was coming, I found myself taken aback by his comment. I honestly wasn’t sure how to respond. The only reason we were here was because I fucked up with Agrippina. I looked around, noticing everyone had their attention focused squarely on me. They were expectantly waiting for an answer while Santino rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. I noticed in particular the two new faces in the room, and realized I couldn’t say what I had to say in front of them.

  I felt Helena, seated to my left, reach out and grip my hand before she answered for me.

  “We had some trouble obtaining Nero,” she said. “I take it you filled everyone in on what we were trying to do?”

  “They understand, oui,” he answered.

  “Good.” Helena continued. “We encountered Galba on campaign in Germany under Vespasian…”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Vincent said, shaking his head. “Vespasian? In command in Germany?”

  “It seems you’re out of the loop, sir,” I said. “Things are changing.”

  “It seems so,” he agreed, looking at the floor in thought.

  “Anyway,” Helena started again, “we found an opportunity to take Nero, who was in the company of Agrippina as she prepared to take control of the army. Or so we thought. She set a trap for us. Jacob got pretty banged up by the same people we encountered tonight,” she pointed at Gaius and Marcus as examples, “and we had to flee the area and lie low. Jacob decided Byzantium was a good place to stop since he knew you’d have to come through the area to get back to Europe.”

  Our three friends nodded their heads, accepting her story completely. I squeezed her hand in a silent thank you. She looked over and smiled, but it wasn’t completely compassionate. I owed her something. Probably a back rub or some other equally fun punishment. She was a nice taskmaster like that.

  “So,” she said, letting go of my hand, “who are your friends?”

 
Bordeaux and Vincent looked at each other, before Vincent offered his only remaining hand in Bordeaux’s direction.

  The big Frenchman nodded politely, and stood.

  “This,” he said, indicating the tall, attractive, redheaded woman who I knew could only be one person, “is my wife. Madrina.”

  Madrina smiled and stood next to her husband. Just as the picture indicated, she was enormous, almost my height. She seemed older than in the picture, but her pale skin, high cheek bones and cute dimples made her a very comely woman.

  “Madrina,” Bordeaux continued. “This is Jacob and Helena. The silly one over there is John, but just call him Santino.”

  She smiled at each of us as Bordeaux ticked off our names.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in Latin but with a very thick accent that sounded almost like modern German. “I have heard a lot about all of you. Especially, you… Santino?”

  She looked up at Bordeaux curiously as she tried to pronounce his name properly. Bordeaux nodded. It had been pretty close.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Santino said with his typical smile.

  “I wouldn’t,” Madrina finished, before retaking her seat, almost embarrassed she may have offended him.

  Santino just kept smiling.

  “I like her,” Helena said, smiling at Bordeaux. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she told Madrina. “It’ll be nice to have another girl around here for a change.”

  Madrina returned Helena’s smile, and I feared their potential girl talk.

  No man knew what happened during those little pow-wows.

  “What about your children?” I asked.

  “They are on their way home with some of Madrina’s family that came with us,” Bordeaux answered. “They should be in Illyricum by now.