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

by J. Robert Kennedy

  What had been barren landscape in the satellite photos was now awash in bright lights, large camouflaged doors having slid open, revealing an intensely white circle at least a hundred feet across. After his eyes had adjusted, he was able to make out what appeared to be a state of the art laboratory with men and women in jumpsuits, rushing around as if something big were about to happen.

  He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

  Leather grunted. “Are those what I think they are?”

  Dawson nodded, shifting his focus to the thirteen arms projected above the lab in a circle. “If you mean a whole whack of crystal skulls, then yes, it would appear so.”

  “I’ve heard about them but I’ve never actually seen one.”

  “Wait ’til you see one up close,” muttered Dawson. “It’s a whole different experience.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s creepy, for lack of a better word. When I saw it the first time, it sent chills up and down my spine. It was weird. It takes a lot to weird me out, but this did.”

  Leather pulled away from his binoculars, glancing over at Dawson, saying nothing.

  Dawson looked at him. “I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my life, but I still think about it to this day.”

  Leather returned to peering through his binoculars. “Sounds like I need to see one up close.”

  “You enjoy nightmares?” asked Niner.

  “Nope, but I’ve been doolally since I was a kid when my parents let me watch The Time Machine.”

  Niner rolled to his side, staring at Leather with a grin. “Me too! When the Morlocks came out that first time? Man, I’ve had nightmares about that going on twenty years. That and pink elephants. And now the word doolally.”

  Atlas’ voice rumbled. “Pink elephants? I’m not even going to ask.”

  “I think you just did.”

  “Save it for your shrink’s couch.”

  Dawson surveyed the area around the large opening. “With those bright lights we should be able to get into position undetected.”

  “Agreed,” said Leather.

  “Colonel, have two of your men get down to the shore and set the charges on those power lines, then get the hell out of there. I’m guessing the place will be swarming with guards as soon as they go off. I want to try and keep the killing to a minimum if we can.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  Dawson grunted. “I’m not optimistic. If they start firing, I want sniper teams here, here and here,” he said, indicating the three positions. “Take out anything in sight, but watch out for our professors.” He lowered his binoculars, looking to his left and right at the men on the ridge. “You all know what they look like?” he asked, his question for the benefit of Leather’s team.

  Leather was the only one to reply. “We’ve been guarding them for several years now, so don’t worry.”

  Dawson grinned at him. “Forgot about that.” He raised his binoculars, searching for the air vent Langley had found. “We’re going to have to try and get in through that air vent. If we can effect entry, we’ll signal you to detonate the charges.”

  “Something’s happening,” said Spock.

  Dawson adjusted his view, the lab coming back into sight. His eyes narrowed, those in the lab clearly focusing on their panels, others staring up at the skulls overhead. “Okay, I think their experiment is about to start.”

  “Which means this entire area could be about to blow,” said Niner.

  “Then let’s boogey. I don’t care what they’re doing, but they do, which means they’re probably distracted.”

  He rose.

  “Let’s move!”

  Control Center, Denier Installation, Iceland

  Acton’s heart slammed against his ribcage as his head pivoted between staring at the needle in front of him and up at the skulls moving almost imperceptibly overhead. His right hand hovered over a large red button, his other gripped the edge of the panel.

  He was sweating and shaking all over.

  Laura put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, almost hitting the button.

  “Relax, dear.”

  He nodded, taking a deep, slow breath, then holding it before exhaling slowly out his mouth, the tactical breathing exercise calming his adrenaline-fueled excitement.

  “Sit.” Chaney pointed at the chair bolted to the floor in front of Acton’s terminal. “You’ll be able to see better and perhaps not hit that button prematurely.” He gave Acton a wink then turned back toward the center of the room.

  Acton frowned, knowing he had been caught. He sat, Laura standing behind him, massaging his shoulders as the activity continued around them, the voice of the woman controlling the proceedings echoing overhead through speakers, apparently the entire complex listening in. It made sense. The installation wasn’t manned by just anybody—it was manned by believers. They were not just Deniers, but Triarii, all men and women who had dedicated their lives to the crystal skulls and what they represented.

  All eager to discover the truth.

  From the scientist who manned one of the terminals, to the man who pushed the broom in a lonely corridor.

  Today they were all equals.

  And Acton had no damned clue why he was here.

  He was terrified, why, he didn’t know, though as he continued his breathing exercise, he began to calm, his racing pulse easing, the roar in his ears, the hammering in his chest, subsiding, his wife’s ministrations helping. He looked up at her. “Thanks.”

  She smiled down at him. “Better?”

  He nodded. “Much.”

  She wiped the sweat off his brow with her fingers, her eyes wide in excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

  He stared back at his gauge, it not having budged from the zero reading since the process had begun moments before. The screen in front of him showed images cycling between various cameras documenting this important moment in Triarii history, all the data apparently live streaming to secure servers on the other side of the planet, just in case something were to go wrong.

  He had questioned the choice of locations when he had heard it. “Why are you going through with this if you think there’s the chance you might blow up half the planet?”

  Chaney had smiled at him as if humoring a child. “It’s merely a precaution. If we truly thought that might happen, we wouldn’t proceed. We’re not insane, simply abundantly cautious.”

  But the zeal in the eyes of those manning the control room suggested otherwise, and even his wife’s had him realizing that those who had spent their lives dedicated to the skulls, even outside of the Triarii, had been affected by them.

  And so had he.

  He wanted something to happen. Anything. Not a disaster of course, but he found himself praying for something to happen, for the needle to move, for the skulls to actually release energy of some sort. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it would give some meaning to all the death that had surrounded them over the years. His students in Peru, the Triarii in London and around the world, the Delta Force members that had died before he had become friends with their surviving comrades.

  For young Robbie Andrews who had sacrificed his life trying to save his professor.

  Years of fear, of nightmares, of death, of guilt, wouldn’t come to an end tonight, though they might at least be given some meaning. Did they all die, did they all suffer for some curious sculptures with no meaning, or did they die because these skulls were actually special?

  There has to be something. It can’t have all been for nothing!

  “Advance another ten millimeters.”

  Acton tore his eyes from the skulls and focused on the gauge in front of him.

  “Movement complete. Report on readings.”

  His needle hadn’t budged.

  “Negative indications,” reported another voice over the speaker.

  He eyed the right hand side of the gauge, the large red swath indicating the danger zone. If the need
le entered that area, even for a moment, he was to hit the button and abort the operation, the skulls immediately retracting away from each other and into nonconductive holding chambers.

  They all had such a button.

  But he was the control. The only one here not motivated by a near religious fervor to discover the truth.

  Though he was definitely caught up in the moment.

  “Advance another ten millimeters.”

  Again, his gauge showed nothing. He looked up at the skulls and wondered if indeed something were to go wrong, would the precautions the Triarii had taken be enough. They were operating under the assumption that they would be dealing with some sort of power that could be harnessed like electricity. What if it were some sort of explosive force, or worse, radiation?

  Get a grip, Jim!

  He shook his head, watching his gauge as the skulls advanced again. His mind was running wild with scenarios as the excitement around him pulled him in, and if he weren’t careful, he’d forget his true purpose here.

  To make sure things didn’t go too far.

  “Advance another ten millimeters.”

  And still nothing.

  Exactly as he had expected.

  It was disappointing. He had been hoping for an Indiana Jones moment, where a little bit of the mystical might prove to be real, returning wonder to the world if only in a small way.

  But he was a scientist.

  Even if something were to happen here tonight, it would be for a scientific reason, not supernatural. If something were to happen, then it would have something to do with the composition of the skulls, their refractory properties, or something else scientists who specialized in these things would be able to explain.

  But the supernatural?

  Never.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, they burning with fatigue.

  But it would be nice.

  “Advance another ten millimeters.”

  The needle jumped as did he, before it settled back down to zero. He spun toward Laura.

  “Did you see that!”

  Off the coast from the Denier Installation, Iceland

  Proconsul Kennedy stood at the prow of the ship, watching through binoculars the events unfolding in the distance. He could make out little beyond the bright lights now coming from the installation, their position intentionally far enough that they would be protected from any potential blast.

  Any blast worth surviving.

  “The drone is in position now, sir.”

  Kennedy nodded, returning to the bridge, a display showing the footage from their drone launched a few minutes ago.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” muttered Terry Simmons, one of the crew, as they all stared, Kennedy counting the skulls.

  Thirteen.

  All of them.

  “They’re really going to do it!” cried another. “They’re insane!”

  Kennedy nodded then closed his eyes, tilting his head toward the heavens.

  May the gods protect us all.

  Outside the Denier Installation, Iceland

  Leather held position behind a large rock, listening. All he could hear was his own breathing and the sound of the ocean, it loud enough unfortunately to obscure anything that might be approaching. He scanned the area with his night vision goggles.

  All clear.

  He motioned for Jeffrey Moore, one of his trusted men, to advance, he rushing forward toward the cables Langley had spotted, Leather holding his position as he continued to scan the area for any hostiles. He flipped his goggles up, the bright light from the complex a couple of hundred meters away simply too much for them to work effectively across the entire area. It was causing deep shadows everywhere, shadows that could hide the enemy, though if he was right, it was an enemy so distracted by what was happening, they could probably park a tank on their front door and no one would notice.

  If they knew where the damned front door was.

  Moore rushed back, giving a thumbs up. “I was able to remove the cover. They were definitely cable bundles, but some pipes as well. Hard to say what’s inside. Could be more cables or some sort of drainage.”

  Leather nodded. “Good. Let’s hope they lead to their primary power source and not just some damned sewage disposal.”

  Moore grinned. “If it is, then I guess we’re really blowing the shit out of the place.”

  Leather didn’t bite. “Your charges are set?”

  Moore held up the detonator. “Ready to blow the shit—”

  Leather held out his hand. “I’ll take that.”

  Moore placed the detonator in Leather’s palm. “Don’t trust me?”

  “Once I knock you out you won’t be able to operate this.”

  “So, no more jokes?”

  “No more jokes.”

  Dawson knelt behind Niner as the operator examined the vent Langley had discovered. They had managed to reach the position without encountering any opposition, and to this point, none of the teams had seen any hostiles, nor encountered any of the sentry guns that had him so concerned. If they could actually gain entry here, they might be able to avoid them all together, if they did exist.

  But things never seemed to go according to plan.

  Not when the Triarii were involved.

  Niner turned. “Definitely leads somewhere.”

  “Sensors?”

  “Yup, but I’ve bypassed them, no problem.” Niner leaned over slightly, nodding toward Atlas. “But we do have another problem.”

  Dawson’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”

  “Well, my sexy ass is going to fit in this no problem, but there’s no way my brotha’s big boned figure is getting in here.”

  Atlas crawled over from his covering position and peered at the narrow opening. “Umm, as much as I hate to agree with this scrawny excuse for a man, I think he’s right.”

  Dawson frowned. “Okay, we’re a man short.”

  “Greenhorn!”

  Atlas turned toward the challenge, Dawson ignoring it, he recognizing Leather’s voice. “Tenderfoot!” responded the big man as he resumed his covering position.

  Leather and one of his men joined them. “Charges set.”

  Dawson nodded. “Were they cables like Langley suspected?”

  “Affirmative. Plus some piping. Hopefully they’re power lines otherwise your diversion is just going to be a loud bang.”

  Dawson pointed toward the opening as Niner removed the grate with a cringe, no alarms sounding anywhere, though a silent one could still be flashing on someone’s panel inside. “We’re a man short.” He jerked his thumb at Atlas. “My friend here is carrying some winter weight.”

  “Hey, four percent body fat,” rumbled Atlas in protest.

  “And my Uncle Charlie is the other ninety-six,” interjected Niner.

  Dawson chuckled. “Care to join our act?”

  Leather smiled. “Absolutely.”

  Dawson turned to Atlas. “Okay, you take the Colonel’s position in Sniper Team Two. Keep your eyes and ears open, this could turn into a Charlie-Foxtrot quickly.”

  “Roger that.”

  Leather handed the detonator over to Atlas. “You best hang onto this.” Atlas took the small device and tucked it into a pocket, Velcroing it shut.

  Dawson activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One, anything on our mission parameters, over?”

  “Zero-One, Control. Negative. It’s going up the chain quietly. Nobody wants to admit this is going on. Right now, we’ve designated this as a CIA op with classified operators. No one knows who you are. That should protect you, but right now I can’t give you the all clear to use deadly force unless it’s absolutely necessary. Remember, you’re on a foreign ally’s soil.”

  “Understood, Control.” Dawson and Leather exchanged knowing glances, both having been in positions like this before, he was sure. Somebody was covering their ass back home, which he had to admit he understood. After all, they were off the books, and they were dealing with
a cult of skull worshippers that were so secret, even among the intel community, that few knew they existed, and fewer still knew that the late president had not only been killed by one of the Triarii, but had been a member of this breakaway sect known as the Deniers.

  In fact, it was a miracle they were getting the support they were, considering the situation. If it were him making the decisions, without a personal connection to the professors, he would have probably washed his hands of the entire matter.

  But it wasn’t him making the big picture decisions, he was making the more important ones on the ground.

  “And the experiment?”

  “No word on that. Exercise your discretion. Bottom line, Zero-One, is that you and your team aren’t there, we don’t know who you are, and you’re free to do whatever you feel is necessary as this isn’t a sanctioned op, and if something goes wrong, your government will deny any and all knowledge of you.”

  “What else is new?” muttered Niner.

  “My completely off the record advice is to do whatever is necessary to complete your mission without risking your own lives. These are not the Triarii you dealt with in the past. We’ve confirmed the reports we received from Agent Reading. There were nine attacks across the globe in the past week, most with deaths, not including the kidnapping of the professors. Nobody put them together before, but once we knew what to look for, we did. If this is indeed the Deniers, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  Dawson let a burst of air out. “Roger that, Control. I’m making a command decision. Enjoy the show. Zero-One, out.”

  Their mission was the professors, not the experiment, not world politics, not treaties between nations. Langley had confirmed what he already knew. Their opponent was determined and willing to use deadly force, and he wasn’t about to tiptoe around them, putting the men under his command at risk.

  He activated his comm, broadcasting to the entire team.

  “Bravo Team, Zero-One. Use of deadly force is authorized.”