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

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Niner glanced at Spock. “Do you think they heard that?”

  Spock grinned. “Ya think?”

  Niner yanked him to his feet. “Is that mouth of yours still working? Seems to be stuck on repeat.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “I guess it is.” He lowered his voice. “We’ll talk later.”

  Dawson pointed to the door. “Check it out.”

  Niner nodded and he and Spock rushed to the only exit as Dawson called for a comm check, the sniper teams outside reporting in. Niner peered through the small window to see an empty hallway lined with plain doors.

  “Team Two, standby to detonate.”

  “Roger that, Zero-One,” replied Atlas.

  Niner frowned as half a dozen armed men turned the corner at the end of the hallway. “We’ve got company. Six hostiles, armed.”

  Using hand signals, Dawson ordered them to spread out. “Let’s try to take them alive, we need intel.”

  “Roger that,” said Niner as he took cover behind what appeared to be a large battery of some sort.

  I wonder how this reacts to gunfire.

  The door burst open and the six men poured in, fanning out.

  “Halt!” shouted Dawson, popping up from behind his cover, his MP5 aimed directly at the new arrivals, the others doing the same. “Drop your weapons!”

  The men hesitated.

  Then one of them didn’t.

  The battle didn’t last long, from the moment the first hostile fired, four MP5s opened up on them. Niner picked off the two in his arc within seconds, the others doing the same, it only taking two short bursts from each operator to eliminate the six hostiles.

  Unfortunately though, eliminate indeed appeared to be the end result.

  Niner emerged from behind the battery, weapon still aimed at the hostiles, when one suddenly gasped, beginning to writhe in agony. Spock and Leather checked for vitals on the others, headshakes indicating their status as Dawson knelt beside the one survivor.

  “Where are the professors?”

  The man stared up at him, his eyes filled with pain, his expression suggesting he wanted it to end, even if it meant his death.

  But he said nothing.

  Dawson leaned in, grabbing the man by the jacket and hauling him up so their faces were nearly touching. “I’ll ask one last time before I tear this place apart looking for them. Any goddamned experiment you nutbars have going on here will be destroyed.”

  The man’s eyes flared in panic, his pain momentarily forgotten. “N-no, you can’t!”

  “I will. Now where the hell are they?”

  “Down the…”

  The man’s voice drifted off, his eyes fluttering as his head fell backward, the last spark of life gone, his suffering, and their source of intel, done.

  “Well, I’m guessing he didn’t mean down the rabbit hole,” said Niner, watching the hallway.

  “Might as well have,” muttered Dawson as he laid the man gently back on the floor.

  “Well, I guess we know whether or not they’ll shoot first,” said Spock as he took up position with Niner.

  Dawson nodded, activating his comm. “Zero-One to all teams. Weapons free, repeat, weapons free. Just watch for our professors, over.”

  Control Center, Denier Installation, Iceland

  “Advance another ten millimeters.”

  “Belay that!” snapped Chaney, eyeing the security monitors that had just shown the death of six of his men. Six good men, six brothers. “Twenty.”

  Dr. Melissa Cooper, the scientist running the experiment, spun toward him. “Excuse me?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Why are we changing the parameters of the experiment?”

  Chaney pointed at the monitors without looking. “Because we have hostile forces on the premises! We may not get another chance at this.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!”

  Cooper flinched, startled at the uncharacteristic outburst. “Yes, sir. Advance another twenty millimeters.”

  Chaney turned toward the readouts, his heart hammering as he glanced at the security monitors, the Delta team no longer contained to the mechanical room. And with their cooling plant now out of commission, he began to wonder whether the safety protocols they had in place were actually functioning should something go wrong.

  But it didn’t matter. They would proceed no matter what. They had to know. They had to know if the skulls truly were powerful, truly held the key to mankind’s future. He had waited years for this, his entire life in fact, his own father a Denier. He had never dreamed he would actually become the head of the group. When much of the leadership had been killed by Delta not only in London but the West Bank as well, it had been decided a younger face was needed, one who the council would never suspect.

  And no one would have ever expected him.

  It had been a proud, terrifying moment for him when informed of the decision, he not even aware the leadership that remained was considering him. The shadow council still existed, safely ensconced somewhere else, though he was the Proconsul.

  His word was final.

  And he would use that power to make certain nothing interfered with their plans. Before this night was out, the world would know the power of the skulls, even if he had to die doing it. The time had come for their secrets to be revealed, for their power to be unleashed.

  He had trained to be a doctor, then switched his focus to law enforcement. But today he was a pioneer, an explorer, a descendent of the Thirteenth Legion, about to change the face of the world. Not a man or woman in this complex had any doubts that they were about to harness an incredible power source that would change the human species forever.

  A free, unlimited power source of incredible proportions, would end man’s reliance on all other forms of electricity, and with the expected abundance, would power the world for eternity, allowing man to focus on the future, of bettering the lives of those living in all corners of the planet, and eventually, moving toward the stars.

  And eventually, discovering the origin of the skulls.

  It was his belief that aliens had brought the skulls to Earth eons ago, in the hopes they would challenge whatever intelligent species arose to question their origin and attempt to tap their power, a power that would give the species the ability to leave this lonely rock and venture out into space to discover their benefactors.

  This wasn’t magic.

  This was technology.

  Handed them by the gods.

  And he, Martin Chaney, was about to reach out and touch them, to see their power in all its glory.

  The gauge spiked, passing the red line for a brief moment, then settled down, again higher than before.

  A hum resonated through the room.

  “What’s that?” asked Cooper, searching about for the source.

  “Didn’t your scientists report a hum when the skulls were placed together in 1212?”

  Chaney spun toward Acton, he and Laura still held at gunpoint near the door. He said nothing, though the man was right. There had been a hum. He placed his hand on the console and felt a slight vibration. He turned to Cooper. “Do we know the source of the vibration?”

  Cooper shook her head. “Negative.”

  “Didn’t that hum precede a massive explosion that levelled half of London?”

  Chaney ignored Acton.

  “Martin, please, you have to stop this, it’s over!” cried Laura.

  He turned toward her, pointing at the displays. “We’re siphoning off the power easily, there’s no risk at this point. London happened because there was nowhere for the power to go. Here there is. Now please, keep quiet and let us do our jobs!”

  He turned to Cooper.

  “Another twenty millimeters.”

  The needles spiked again before settling.

  And the hum grew.

  Outside the Denier Installation, Iceland

  Atlas pulled away from his binoculars as bright lights sud
denly bathed the entire area, the secret they were there apparently out.

  “We’ve got activity.”

  Atlas looked toward where Moore was pointing, immediately spotting the new arrivals. “Welcome to the party, boys.” He activated his comm. “Zero-One, Zero-Seven. We’ve got hostiles visible.” He peered through his binoculars. “Two, make that four, no six and counting. Looks like they’re trying to find us, over.”

  Dawson’s reply was quick. “Anyone heading for the cables?”

  Atlas watched the group for a moment. “Affirmative, two of them.”

  “Roger that. Do not detonate until they reach the charges. I want as many of them outside as possible. It will make our job inside easier.”

  Atlas rolled his eyes at Moore. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Don’t say I never do anything for you. Zero-One, out.”

  Atlas reached for his pocket, a vibration having him thinking for a moment that his phone was ringing.

  But it was everywhere.

  “Do you feel that?”

  Moore nodded. “If you mean the vibration, yeah. Started a couple of minutes ago.”

  Atlas looked over at the bright lights of the opened lab and a pit formed in his stomach.

  Could these whackos actually be right?

  Londinium, Britannia, Roman Empire

  December 16th, 75 AD

  Flavus sat beside the bed of the old man who had been with them for years now. He had become part of the family, part of the brotherhood that was the Thirteenth Legion. An odd fellow, a man of few words, he held a wisdom about him that Flavus had come to rely upon over the years. Though his counsel was rare, sometimes merely a smile or a nod, it was welcome, more so since Flavus had made the decision to plan for the future.

  Atticus had found a wife and already had his first son, several of the others now with families. He too had just married with his first child on the way. A decision had been made not to inform the wives of their true purpose, and it would be up to the men to pass the legacy of the Triarii down to their sons when they were of age. The skull would remain a secret known only to those who bore the mark.

  The old man held out his hand, the small tattoo on the inside of his left wrist revealed as his sleeve slipped higher, a tattoo he had been proud to receive a year ago, after a symbol had been chosen for what would one day be more than just the few that had survived. All now bore the symbol, a symbol that represented who they once were.

  The third and final line of the legion.

  Two straight lines, representing the first and second lines of troops in a legion entering battle, the first the most inexperienced, the second, more experienced, ready should the first falter.

  And a third, slightly curved line, the Triarii, the most experienced, seasoned troops, standing behind the first two lines of defense, ready to slaughter any who would make it through, any who would harm Rome.

  Rome.

  He closed his eyes, trying to picture it. It had been so long that now it was difficult. The bustling streets, the towering monuments. Word had arrived that Emperor Vespasian had begun a mighty coliseum in the center of the city, a monument that would certainly stand as a testament to the grandeur that was the Roman Empire.

  An empire they all still served.

  In secret.

  He clasped the old man’s hand in both of his. “How are you feeling?”

  The old man smiled up at him. “I’m dying.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  The smile broadened, the room beginning to fill with the others, word sent that the end was near. “It is time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “For you to know the truth.”

  Flavus sucked in a quick breath, excitement surging through his body. He had known Ananias had secrets, secrets he refused to divulge. The man seemed to know something about the skull that no one else did. Flavus had asked him on innumerable occasions to share what he knew, the old man always refusing.

  Could today finally be the day the truth was revealed?

  “And what is the truth, old friend?”

  Everyone gathered closer, saying nothing.

  “I, and those of my kind, have been the keepers of the skulls for longer than you could possibly imagine.”

  Skulls?

  His eyebrows rose slightly at the word, though he saved his questions, not wanting to interrupt what he hoped would be a steady flow of information now that the dam had finally been broken.

  “I have been waiting to pass the torch, to hand the duty entrusted to me so long ago, to a new generation who would safeguard the skulls and continue our mission.” He squeezed Flavus’ hand. “It took me a long time to find the right people, but I die knowing I have. The task demanded of you by your emperor is more important than you could possibly imagine, and your responsibility extends beyond that of the Roman Empire, for it is merely a blip in what will be a long history for mankind.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Flavus. “You said ‘skulls’. Are there others?”

  The old man nodded. “Yes. Thirteen in total.”

  Everyone gasped, including Flavus. “Thirteen?”

  “Yes. Thirteen that have over the years spread out across the land to the farthest reaches.”

  Flavus shook his head, still wrapping his head around the idea.

  Thirteen?

  One had been trouble enough, but thirteen sounded like a nightmare. With just the one causing so much trouble in the brief time he had been around it, from the fire in Rome to the restless Gauls and storms at sea, it could explain why much of the world outside the borders of the empire was so barbaric and troubled. If they too were being influenced by the evil contained within these cursed objects, there might be no hope for them unless they were found and destroyed.

  “Are they the source of the evil that dominates so much of our world?”

  This elicited a chuckle. “They are no more evil than the chair you sit in, or the child that plays outside this very door. But men will do evil things to possess them and harness their power.”

  “Power?”

  “These are very special things, as I and the others like me have come to learn, and they do indeed have a power within them.”

  Flavus’ eyes narrowed. “You refer to others. Who are they?”

  Ananias shook his head. “They are no more. I am the last.”

  “Then who were they?”

  “They were the ones chosen by those who preceded us. Just as I am choosing you. It has been a long journey, but I saw honor and sacrifice that day in Judea, and I decided it was time to reveal the skull I guarded to a soldier I knew had honor within his heart. It has been a journey of decades to see what would come of that fateful day when the Christian martyr died, but I knew, in the end, that men of good conscience would come, and you have.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing labored.

  “What is this power you speak of?” pressed Flavus, fearing the old man may not be long for this world, and he needing to know the complete truth before Elysium claimed the tired soul that lay beside him.

  “It is a power you are not ready for. But one day mankind will be, and when he is, the truth will be revealed, the power will be unleashed, and the dawn of a new age for the species will begin.”

  Flavus glanced at the others, excited and confused mutterings rounding the room. “I don’t understand.”

  Ananias smiled, patting his hand. “You’re not meant to.”

  Flavus felt his chest tighten in frustration, it replaced with concern when a coughing fit overtook Ananias.

  “I need to see it, just one last time,” he gasped.

  Flavus turned to Atticus. “Bring it.” Atticus nodded, leaving with several of the others to retrieve the skull kept in another room of Flavus’ home. Flavus turned to Ananias, the old man having lived with him for years now. “What are we to do?”

  “Protect it, seek out the others and protect them, but never bring them together until you know you are
ready.”

  “Why?”

  “The results could be disastrous.”

  “In what way?”

  “In ways you cannot possibly understand. But in time, your descendants will.”

  Ananias smiled as Atticus entered the room carrying the chest, aided by another. It was placed on a nearby table and Flavus rose, unlocking it with a key held around his chest, lifting the lid, the original box revealed inside. He opened it, a shiver rushing up his spine as the skull grinned up at him. Removing it from the case, he returned to Ananias’ bedside and the old man smiled, a shiver passing through his body as he reached up and placed a hand on the smooth cranium.

  “Thank you.” Ananias stared into the eyes of the skull, a tear forming. “Good bye, my old friend.” His eyes closed and his breathing slowed, Flavus bowing his head along with the others. Suddenly Ananias gasped. “Wait!”

  Flavus’ heart slammed, startled. “Yes, what is it, my friend?”

  “The skulls. They must not be hidden away. They must be allowed to continue their journey, to have their effect on man, to prepare them for the time when the secrets can be revealed.” His hand left the skull and instead cupped around Flavus’ cheek. “Promise me you will carry on.”

  Flavus held a hand against the old man’s. “You have my word as a soldier, and as Legate of the Thirteenth Legion.”

  Ananias’ eyes closed, a smile on his face. “My time has come. Yours is just beginning.”

  And with a gasp, he drew his last breath, the hand slipping from Flavus’ cheek to rest on the skull that had meant so much to him.

  Off the coast from the Denier Installation, Iceland

  Present Day

  Proconsul Kennedy stood at the prow of the boat, the cold of the North Atlantic going unnoticed as he peered through the binoculars at the bright lights in the distance, their drone having failed for some reason.

  He sighed.

  He had always wanted the position of proconsul he now occupied, since he was a teenager and had learned the truth from his father, a member of the Triarii and the council member responsible for the British Museum skull. He had been ambitious, always done well in school and graduated from Oxford top of his class. A career in politics had given him the political and business connections he had felt would aid the Triarii in the future, and then he had made his bid to replace his father upon his retirement.