Dawson stared at the smoldering complex then at Acton. “They’re not going to want that secret getting out. Did you just survive one problem to worry about another?”
“No. Besides us, no one knows it was faked. If the Triarii go in there, they’ll think Chaney’s crew died because the experiment succeeded but they weren’t able to control it. It’s the Great Fire of London all over again.”
Dawson pointed to the first chopper as it landed. “Let’s get you two home. There’s a lot of people worried about you.” Dawson turned when Acton reached out and grabbed him.
“BD, I never got a chance to thank you.” Acton extended his hand. “Again.”
Dawson smiled, shaking his hand. “I think we’re going to start charging for the service.”
Laura hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You just name your price.”
Niner bounded toward them. “I see kisses are being handed out!”
Acton grabbed him and planted a wet one on his cheek then shoved him away. “Good for you?”
Atlas and Spock roared as Niner wiped his cheek dry. “I get no respect.”
“Aww, poor baby. Come here.” Laura reached out and pulled his head closer, planting a gentle, tip of the lips kiss on the pouting operator. She gently pushed him away. “All better?”
Niner threw his arms in the air, fists pumping. “Oh yeah!” He jabbed a finger at Atlas. “That’s what you can enjoy when you’re single.”
Atlas smiled at him. “Enjoy it while you can, little man, you and me got a date in the ring when we get back.”
Acton laughed. “What did he do this time?”
“Talked about his mama’s hips, and his sister’s hips,” replied Spock.
Acton winced. “Really, Niner? And I thought you were an intelligent man.”
Niner shrugged. “So did I. Apparently I was wrong.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Umm, so Laura, if I needed to make a quick getaway, could I borrow one of your jets?”
Laura laughed. “For you, Niner, anything.”
Niner winked at Acton. “Watch her, Doc, I think there might be love here.”
Acton laughed. “I’m thinking it’s more a pity thing.”
“Oooh, burned by the Doc!” laughed Spock, punching Niner in the shoulder. “Let’s get you to safety before the lovely lady’s husband wants to join Atlas in the ring.”
Spock led Niner away, Leather approaching.
“Good to see you two are okay, mum.”
Laura smiled at him. “And your men?”
“A few are singed, but they’ll be okay.”
“If they need anything, you just let me know.”
Leather smiled. “I’ll send you the bill.”
Laura laughed. “You do that!” She gave him a hug. “Thank you, Cameron. You and your men have always been there for us, and I appreciate it immensely.”
“Just doing our job, mum.” Leather nodded at them both then rejoined his men as they boarded the second chopper.
Dawson helped Laura and Acton into the first chopper, the other Bravo Team members following, Dawson the last boot off the ground.
“Take us over the facility!” shouted Dawson to the pilot, the man nodding then banking toward the smoking debris. Acton leaned against the window, staring down at the devastation below, and gasped.
It was a crater.
A near perfect crater, radiating out from the center of where the skulls had been.
Preserving the illusion that the skulls truly did have power, a power Acton now had no doubt was purely myth. He looked at his wife and thought of how she must be feeling now, then remembered her words when they had first met and she had described what sculptors using ancient methods would have had to go through just to polish the surface.
It would have taken over three hundred years to complete.
He closed his eyes as they banked back toward Reykjavik and sighed.
If no one knew how to make them today, then who did make them?
And why?
Denier Installation, Iceland
Proconsul Kennedy leapt to the shore and rushed through the obstacle course that was the rock-strewn landscape. The flames were mere flickers now, the smoke continuing though blowing gently inland. As the others swarmed around him, all eager to see the aftermath of the disaster, he found himself slowing, his heart heavy with the thought of what he was about to find.
They’d be dead.
Of that, he had no doubt. No one could survive this, though someone had. They had spotted two choppers landing briefly then leaving, obviously having picked someone up. He hoped it was the professors and their friends. They were innocent in all this and didn’t deserve to die for the beliefs of the Triarii.
He would know shortly, a simple phone call when they returned to London would be enough, though the first phone call would be to give notice to the new tenants at their Fleet Street headquarters.
The Triarii would be coming home.
He reached the edge of what turned out to be a large crater and gasped. It was easily a hundred feet across, and almost perfectly circular, it as if a meteor had just hit.
In the center was the wreckage of what must have been the lab, shattered and melted terminals and displays evident.
He gagged.
And bodies.
Charred, blackened bodies, some strewn about, some just parts tossed about, torn away by the explosion, but the majority clustered in the center of the facility, as if they had been huddled together to comfort each other in the end.
They must have known something was going wrong and there was nothing they could do about it.
His eyes burned as he pictured these people, these people who were still Triarii, despite betraying the organization. They all believed. They were all descendants of the original Thirteenth Legion.
They were all family.
Family had died here today, it a horrible thing that would be mourned when the time was right.
But for now, they had a job to do.
A duty.
“Sir!”
Kennedy looked down in the pit, Simmons waving up at him. “What is it?”
“The skulls, sir! You have to see this!”
Kennedy stumbled down the edge, his arms out to his sides as he tried to keep his balance. “Are they okay?” he asked as he rushed up to where Simmons and several others stood, tearing away at some sort of orb. He peered inside and gasped.
All thirteen skulls were together, unharmed.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
And shivered.
“It’s a miracle!” cried Simmons.
Kennedy looked around him, the perspective entirely different from inside the crater. Everything around them was broken concrete, twisted metal and melted glass and plastic, save this one spot.
“Just like London.”
It was almost exactly as described in the ancient texts. The skulls had been found at the center of a blast zone, untouched.
Just as today.
May the gods be praised.
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering those who had been lost, then opened them. “Get them into the boat, now. And keep them as far apart as possible. We have irrefutable proof that they are indeed powerful. I want footage of everything before you touch them though. Let’s document this so there can never again be any doubt.”
“Yes, sir!”
The team scrambled, phones out taking HD video of everything as he stepped back and stared at the charred remains of Chaney and the others who had joined him. He placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head, speaking to no one but the spirits of the departed.
“Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. We will protect the skulls as we always have, once again united in our beliefs, knowing that we are not yet ready for their gift to be revealed.” He looked up at the remains, focusing on one with an arm around another beside it, getting a sense that this darkened mass was a man he once considered his prize pupil. “I promise you, Martin,
that in time we will discover the truth.”
He smiled.
“After all, you were right. It has been our mission all along.”
Easton Airport, Easton, Maryland
Laura climbed down the steps of the Gulf V and onto the tarmac at the private terminal, Acton holding her hand before they both rushed toward their friends. Reading stood, shaking his head at them as if he were their father; Milton and Sandra just seemed extremely relieved to see them.
Acton gave Milton a thumping hug as Laura gave Reading a long one, he almost a father figure to her.
“Glad to see you guys are safe,” said Milton. “We’ve been worried sick.”
“We’re so sorry for that,” said Laura as she gave Milton a hug, Acton and Reading exchanging a hearty handshake, he knowing the man hated hugs from other men.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, there happiness yet gloom in the man’s eyes.
Reading grunted. “I’ll survive. Just happy you two are okay.” He looked toward the plane. “They’re not with you?”
Acton shook his head. “No, they took a separate flight. Can’t be seen coming in with us.”
Reading nodded then shivered. “Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here.”
Acton shrugged. “I was just in Iceland. Ice-land.”
“Show off.”
They entered the toasty warm terminal and Acton smiled, Laura rushing forward as they spotted an old friend.
“Fang!” cried Laura, grabbing the startled woman in a hug. “How are you?”
The shocked Chinese woman bowed her way out of the embrace, her cheeks flushed. “I am well. I’m happy to see that both of you are okay.”
“We are. I understand in part thanks to you.”
A rapid headshake of disagreement. “No no no! I merely acted as liaison.”
“Well, you played your part, and you protected our friends. For that we thank you,” said Acton, bowing. Fang gratefully returned the familiar gesture, bowing deeply.
She motioned toward a nearby doorway. “I have arranged a private lounge for you to rest in while the final arrangements are made for your return home.”
“Thank you, Fang.” Laura stepped through the door, Acton and the others following. Laura hadn’t seen Fang since her near rape in Africa, Fang having a far worse experience than his wife. She never spoke of it, and he could only imagine what the poor Chinese soldier had gone through. He had seen a lot of death over the past few years, though he’d be hard-pressed to find a group of bastards that had deserved to die more than those that had kidnapped those poor women.
He shook away the memory, this a happy time. Sitting beside Laura, he draped an arm over her shoulders as the others sat down across from them, Fang hanging by the door, still providing security. He debated inviting her over, but knew that would just make her more uncomfortable.
“I received a phone call a short while ago.”
Acton felt his chest tighten at Reading’s words. “From who?”
“The Proconsul of the Triarii.”
Acton closed his eyes for a moment as he heard Laura inhale quickly. He looked at Reading. “And what did he have to say?”
“He expressed his relief that you were both safe.”
Acton grunted. “Whatever. And the skulls?”
“He said they were recovered, unharmed.”
“How the hell did they manage that?” asked Milton. “I thought there was a massive explosion that destroyed everything?”
Acton crossed his legs. “Niner said it was probably a shaped charge, designed to focus the blast wave away from the skulls. It would make it look like the source of the explosion was the skulls themselves, and leave them untouched. Get it wrong though, and there’d be nothing but dust.”
“Unless they truly are magic,” murmured Laura.
Acton smiled at his wife. “You still believe, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they don’t have the powers the Triarii thought they had, but we still don’t know who made them or how. And then there’s the shivering.”
Milton grunted. “Probably just a planted subconscious suggestion. They asked you about it, didn’t they?”
Reading, Acton and Laura all replied at once. “Yes.”
“So the idea was planted in your head. Then you remembered experiencing that same thing, even though it might never have happened. Then, from that point on, you were programmed to shiver every time you saw the skulls because you thought you had the first time, and there was some significance to it.”
Acton’s head bobbed slowly as he considered his friend’s words. “You know, you could be right. I can’t honestly say whether or not I shivered when I first saw them. I think I did, but you could be right.” He shrugged. “What the hell, I’ll never see the damned things again, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Laura raised a finger. “Umm, actually, we might.”
Acton groaned, letting his head drop back on the couch. “Why?”
“Well, one of the skulls belongs to the Smithsonian. It was stolen by the Deniers over a decade ago, remember?”
Acton’s eyes closed as he let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “I remember.”
“So, I’m guessing the Triarii are going to return it.”
Acton lifted his head. “With my luck, you’re probably right.”
“And since I now work at the Smithsonian…”
Acton looked at Sandra. “Do you know a good divorce lawyer?”
She grinned at him and Laura pinched his leg.
“Oww!” he cried, laughing as he gave her a hug. “Would you consider finding another job?”
She elbowed him.
Acton stared up at the heaven’s, wagging a finger. “What do you have against me?” He gave Laura a squeeze. “Well, I guess there’s no way to keep a girl and her skulls apart, and thanks to Martin, perhaps one day you’ll figure out where they actually came from.”
“Clever bastard,” muttered Reading, shaking his head. “He thought of everything, right down to the end.”
Acton agreed. “He believed it would work, but knew it might not, though not for the reasons you and I would think. He planned for the possibility that mankind wasn’t yet ready to receive the secrets of the skulls, but rather than risk a failure that might cause the Triarii to lose faith, he created a failsafe that would preserve the mystery.”
“Well, it appears to have worked,” said Reading. “That nutter on the phone sounded just as enamored with the skulls as he ever did. More so probably. He spouted off about continuing their work, returning the skulls to their rightful owners and carrying on as if nothing had happened, promising that one day Martin’s sacrifice would pay off, the secrets of the skulls revealed to all.” He made a spooky sound while waving his fingers in the air.
Acton got the distinct impression Reading didn’t believe.
He smiled at his friend. “Well, as long as they leave us out of it. I’ve had my fill of crystal skulls.”
“Hear! Hear!” Milton raised an imaginary glass. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“I’d drink to that if there was a Scotch about,” agreed Reading.
Sandra cast some gloom on the situation. “Can we be sure they truly are out of our lives, though?”
Acton shrugged. “No, I guess not, but the Deniers are dead, the Triarii, for the first time in history, have all thirteen skulls, and they believe in their power more now than ever before. There should be no reason we ever have to deal with them again.” He glanced over at Reading who had just let a deep sigh escape. “You okay buddy?”
“Just thinking of Martin.”
Laura rose, walking over to Reading and sitting on the arm of his chair, giving him a hug. “You poor dear.”
Acton leaned forward. “Listen, Hugh, you should know that Martin died for something he truly believed in, and that he was surrounded by his friends.”
Reading nodded, his eyes glistening.
“But not his
best friend.”
Epilogue
Niner climbed in the ring, the muscled Atlas in the far corner. He smacked his gloves together as a large crowd surrounded them, cash exchanged as bets were laid.
“You ready for an ass whoopin’?” he asked, showing off some fancy footwork à la Rocky 3.
“I am,” rumbled Atlas. “Your ass. My whoopin’.”
The bell rang, Jimmy clicking the stopwatch. “So, what rules are we playing by? Marquess of Queensberry?”
Atlas smacked his gloves together, channeling Mr. T’s eye of the tiger. “No rules. I beat you until you can’t even picture my mama’s hips.”
Niner jerked a glove over his shoulder. “You mean these hips?”
Spock yanked on a rope and a long banner unfurled, a picture of Atlas’ mom and sister, hips jutting out, suddenly on display.
Atlas froze. “What the—?” His gloves dropped. “How the hell—?”
“I called them up and they sent the pictures. Spock—”
“Leave me out of this!”
“—had the banner made.” Niner stared at their handiwork. “They are nice hips.”
Atlas began to laugh, the rest of the crowd joining in once they knew it was safe to do so. He shook his head and walked over toward Niner. “I don’t know why, but I can never stay mad at you.”
He embraced Niner, Niner returning it, slapping the big man’s back with his gloves, breathing a sigh of relief, when suddenly he was scooped up off the floor, raised feet first over Atlas’ head, then vertical suplexed onto the mat.
Atlas regained his feet and pointed at Niner. “Nobody talks about my mama’s hips.”
Niner weakly raised a hand. “Never again,” he groaned, the hand dropping to the mat.
And the Triarii were true to their word, following Ananias’ instructions not to hide the skulls away. In Saudi Arabia, a skull was returned to Faisal’s family, in Nepal, the Crystal Oracle was delivered to the Lama, in Paris, Henri delivered a skull to his museum, recommitting himself to a life with the Triarii after watching the footage of the crater, and as others were returned around the world, in Hope Trailer Park, New Mexico, Leroy arrived home to find his safe opened once again, his precious skull returned.
The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 23
