Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Riva nodded. “I agree. And it was no coincidence, at least I don’t think it was. They should have called Tumicelli—I think you’ve met him”—Giasson nodded—“but his car had been vandalized the night before and he was still at home dealing with that.”

  “So you were kept away.” Giasson frowned. “Why do you think they’d want that?”

  “I know every man under my command and picked four of my best to be there that I knew I could trust. If I had arrived and found two more men who I didn’t recognize, I would have aborted the entire operation.” Riva shook his head. “Like I said, I picked the four men, sent them there with no idea why they were going except to provide security. I have no idea how anyone could have found out.” He frowned, his eyes looking away, drifting to the floor. “I hate to say this, my friend, but I think the leak could be at your end.”

  Giasson drew in a slow breath, fearing Riva may actually be right.

  And the very idea sickened him.

  Maggie Harris Residence, Lake in the Pines Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina

  Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson made sure his fiancée’s legs were clear then shut the passenger door of his prized 1964½ Mustang convertible in original Poppy Red. He ran a finger along the hood as he rounded the front of the car, not a blemish revealed to his delicate touch.

  He loved that car almost as much as he loved Maggie Harris.

  Though he’d never tell her that.

  She’d probably take it the wrong way.

  The car had been his father’s, left to him after the man died, and he had babied it like any other man who loved cars would. His father had rarely taken the car out, instead trying to preserve the engine, and Dawson knew it was one of the man’s great regrets.

  There had been only one stipulation in the will.

  Drive it. Enjoy it.

  So he did. He had put almost as many miles on it in the past few years as his father had in forty, though he was never tempted to go on any truly long trips with it. Yes, he’d drive it, but he also wanted to enjoy it, and the constant worry of some idiot doing something stupid on the interstate kept him tooling around town, enjoying the wind in his hair.

  He looked at Maggie as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Top up or down?”

  “Down. I haven’t felt the sun in ages.”

  He smiled.

  Definite progress.

  His beautiful fiancée had been shot in Paris not long ago, a head wound that had left her near death. She had made a full recovery from the wound’s perspective, it was her hair that was the stumbling block. They had been forced to shave half her head, and she had been left with a severe scar. His best friend’s wife had clipped the remaining hair much shorter and maintained it that way as the shaved side started to grow back. It was only this week that Maggie had been able to look in the mirror and agree that the terrible days of mismatched hemispheres was over.

  It would be years before her long locks returned completely, but at a casual glance, you’d never know she had been shot, her hair now long enough to cover the scar tissue.

  Which meant she was public ready.

  Everyone in the Unit was dying to see her, dying to see them together. The news of the engagement had spread like wildfire, as he had expected it to, and everyone was eager to congratulate them, though they also knew what she was going through so had respected their privacy.

  But the Unit was tight.

  Incredibly tight.

  As members of America’s elite Delta Force, officially the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, they were like family. Their jobs were classified, even their families didn’t know what they did, except for their wives. Parents, siblings, girlfriends—all out of the loop.

  And should one of them fall, it was never in combat.

  Not officially.

  He loved his job, loved it more than anything until recently. It wasn’t until he had fully committed to Maggie that he realized he would be willing to give up his career if she asked him to, he loving her so much.

  But one of the reasons he loved her is because she would never ask him to. Being his boss’ personal assistant, she knew from the get-go what his job was and what she was getting herself into. She had an advantage none of the other girlfriends had. When an operator met someone, and decided to get married, his future wife would be read in, sworn to secrecy.

  And more than a few ran.

  Though most didn’t. Military wives were a different breed. You didn’t marry a serving member if you wanted the simple life in one spot for the rest of your life. You were marrying into a family that spread across the country and around the world, never knowing where you might be posted next. You either loved it or hated it, but you could never be surprised by it.

  The wives of the Unit were phenomenal, all supportive of each other when their husbands were deployed, and every one of them from his team, Bravo Team, had stepped up to the plate to take care of Maggie during her recovery.

  And they were both eager to thank them all, publicly.

  So when he had called his best friend and second-in-command, Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme, to tell him that Maggie was ready for a public appearance, the word had gone out and a barbeque behind the Unit was organized that very day, everyone to a man apparently confirming their attendance.

  He couldn’t wait.

  The comradery of the Unit was one of the greatest things about military life. Everyone who served had their own Unit. A group of men and women that knew what they were going through, that worked hard, every day, at each other’s side. People you knew had your back, that you trusted like no other.

  And a combat vet’s Unit was quite often tighter than family.

  The bond forged under fire was something no civilian could truly appreciate, and thanks to people like the men under his command, most civilians would never be forced to experience it.

  It was a privilege reserved for the proud few who volunteered to protect the way of life they loved so dear, loved enough to be willing to die to preserve it.

  As they drove through the main gate at Fort Bragg, clearing the heightened security that seemed always to be in place, he held Maggie’s hand, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on them, the gentle breeze ruffling his outrageous Hawaiian shirt that had been closet bound for so long.

  Life was getting back to normal. Sure, tomorrow—even tonight—he might be called away to some hellhole, but right here, right now, this was bliss. Driving with the only girl he had ever loved to meet the best friends a guy could ever have, to eat good old American barbequed food followed by a game of softball with the families, was his idea of a perfect day.

  He pulled into the parking lot, smiling, giving a double-honk of the horn to announce their arrival.

  “Everyone’s already here,” said Maggie, drawing in a loud breath.

  He looked at her, taking her hand. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  She turned to him and smiled, giving a curt nod. “Absolutely.”

  He grinned and climbed out, rushing around to open her door and help her.

  “Hey, you two, long time no see!”

  Dawson smiled at his best friend Red, as he and his wife Shirley walked over, everyone else crowding around. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged, congratulations offered, the whirlwind of activity he could see quickly tiring Maggie. He steered her through the crowd and placed her in a lawn chair, pointing at a beech umbrella lying across a picnic table.

  Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James grabbed it and tossed it over, Dawson catching it easily and jamming it into the ground behind Maggie.

  “Ice tea?”

  She nodded.

  Shirley came over with a glass and Dawson took it, handing the ice-cold beverage to his fiancée. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m perfect, thanks.”

  “You’ve got a keeper, there,” said Shirley.

  “Yup, he’s going to ma
ke one hell of a wife,” laughed Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung, one of the funniest men Dawson knew, and probably the best sniper on the team, though in Delta that didn’t mean much. If Niner was a 10, everyone else was a 9.5. The others joined in the good-natured ribbing, as he had fully expected.

  They were family, after all.

  “So, BD, will you be wearing white?” asked Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman.

  Dawson laughed, taking a beer handed to him by Niner. “No, but I’m looking forward to seeing you guys in your bridesmaid’s dresses.” He checked out Niner’s legs. “You’re going to look absolutely fabulous.”

  Niner did a dainty curtsy. “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

  Atlas put an arm over Niner, the massive man making Niner seem like a plaything. “You remember our deal. If we’re both single when we’re forty, you can be my wife.”

  Niner wriggled his way free. “No, the deal was you’re my wife.”

  Spock cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head down. “Umm, wouldn’t that be like a Chihuahua trying to hump a Great Dane?”

  Dawson spit his beer, Maggie giggling. “Ugh, that’s one hell of a visual.”

  Sergeant Jerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson walked over, lighter fluid in hand. “Grill Master Sergeant, care to do the honors?”

  Dawson grinned, taking the special Unit blend probably illegal anywhere outside of Texas. He soaked the coals, already prepared by one of the men, then struck a match.

  “Fire in the hole!”

  He tossed the match on the barbeque and a mini explosion tore skyward, a roar from those gathered as the barbecue was officially underway. The show over, the kids were back on the baseball diamond, tossing balls and Frisbees as the adults mingled, beer flowing, hamburger patties being readied.

  Dawson winked at Maggie, talking to Shirley and Sergeant Zack “Wings” Hauser’s wife Robyn. She flashed him a smile, she clearly enjoying herself. He was immensely proud of her. What she had been through had been harrowing, yet the bravery she had shown in fighting back, in regaining her health without losing her spirit, was inspiring.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, expertly tossing patties onto the grill. Glancing at the call display, he frowned, it a blocked number.

  He swiped his thumb.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  Dawson immediately recognized Dylan Kane’s voice. Kane had been a member of Bravo Team before joining the CIA, and had helped them out on more than one occasion, his own team able to return the favor from time to time.

  He was a friend.

  A trusted friend.

  But also a friend he almost never heard from unless something was wrong.

  “What up?”

  “I’ve got a situation and need your help.”

  Dawson shook his head, a slight smile breaking out that quickly disappeared when he turned and saw Maggie laughing.

  I think your vacation just ended.

  “I’ve got three days until I have to report back.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t take any longer.”

  Uh oh. This could be serious.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The doc’s parents have been kidnapped.”

  Dawson froze, hamburger patty balanced on a spatula. Professor James Acton was one of the few civilians he actually trusted with his life, and one of the few he would drop almost anything to help out. Their introduction had been ignominious, his team having been given false intel indicating Acton was the head of a terrorist domestic cell, and that he and his followers were on the President’s Termination List.

  It had turned out to be all lies.

  And had cost too many innocent lives.

  Not a man involved in those infamous events had ever been able to live down the regret of those days, the shame at what they had done, or the anger at having been used. He had sworn he’d kill the man responsible, but someone had beaten him to it.

  Which was probably a good thing, he liking life on this side of the prison bars.

  But Acton had been an innocent victim, and over the years he and his men had been given numerous opportunities to help Acton and his now wife, Laura Palmer, and these two exceptional human beings had become friends, even returning the favor on more than one occasion, Laura Palmer incredibly rich, her open wallet saving his men only just recently.

  And if Acton’s parents had been kidnapped, and Kane was involved, then something big was going on.

  “Do we know who did it?”

  “We’re not sure, but it all seems to link back to some group holed up in a castle.”

  Dawson’s eyes narrowed, starting to wonder if Kane was pulling a gag on him. He glanced at Niner, but the man wasn’t looking in his direction. If there were someone in the Unit who would be in on a gag, it would be him.

  “Castle?”

  “I sense your doubt. Trust me, I’m serious.”

  “Where?”

  “Northern Italy.”

  “Jesus. What do you need?”

  “A team to infiltrate it.”

  Dawson frowned, motioning for Spock to take over the grill. “Why not the locals?”

  “It was an inside job. You remember Inspector General Giasson?”

  “Head of Vatican security? Yeah. He’s involved?”

  “Yeah. Apparently four people were killed on Vatican soil and one of them had a da Vinci painting or something. They called the professors in to authenticate it, and a team hit the university dressed as police officers. They killed four police and shot Giasson.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Apparently just a flesh wound.”

  “How do you know about the castle?”

  Kane chuckled. “Well, you know our doc. He slipped his cellphone into the crate then traced it.”

  Dawson shook his head, chuckling. “That bastard’s crazy.”

  “Monster balls, that’s for sure.”

  “So I’m guessing they discovered the phone and took his parents as leverage?”

  “That’s the working theory.”

  “Okay, so somebody talked and Giasson doesn’t know who, hence the need for an outside team.”

  “Exactly. We need to infiltrate that castle to find out where Acton’s parents are being held.”

  Dawson nodded. “Okay, let me talk to the Colonel, make sure it’s okay with him that I leave the country.”

  Kane laughed. “Oh, that’s been done. He said he didn’t give a shit what you did on your vacation. He just doesn’t want to see it on the news.”

  Dawson chuckled, it exactly what he would expect Colonel Clancy to say. Clancy was a soldier’s soldier. He always had the back of his men, even when the brass wanted them hung out to dry. He was probably the only officer he had encountered that he trusted completely.

  He was a good man.

  “Okay, send me all the intel and I’ll look it over.”

  “Already done. It’s on your secure account. Laura’s given us access to funds and I’ve arranged a private jet for you, it’s ready when you are. You’ll be met in Rome by one of my contacts.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Negative, I think his parents are still stateside, so I’ll be working this end.”

  Dawson nodded. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.”

  He ended the call and waved Red over.

  “What’s up, BD?”

  “We’ve got a situation.”

  Red’s eyebrows rose and he stole a quick glance back at the festivities. “What?”

  “That was Dylan. The doc’s parents have been kidnapped. We’re needed in Italy.”

  Red shook his head, a smile breaking out. “Those two are the unluckiest bastards I have ever met.”

  “True. Canvas the guys, see who’s willing to go on a volunteer mission. I’m going to go review the intel and figure out what we’ll need.”

  “Will do.”

  Red jogged back to the group as Dawson headed over to Maggie’s
perch, kneeling down beside her. “Something’s come up.”

  “What?”

  “Professor Acton’s parents have been kidnapped.”

  Her eyes widened and she gasped, her hand darting to her chest. “Oh my God, that’s terrible! Are they okay?”

  “We don’t know yet, but they’ve asked for our help.”

  “Then give it to them.”

  His love for her just ticked up another notch. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  She smiled. “Bullshit. You’re itching to go help, I can see it in your face.”

  He grinned. “You know me too well.”

  She pulled his head to hers and gave him a kiss.

  “Now go do what you do best.”

  CIA Safe House, Rome, Italy

  “Your help should be arriving by the morning.”

  “Who?”

  “Friends. You’ll know them when you see them.”

  Acton grinned at the others, the phone on speaker. Kane hadn’t said who he was sending, though if they were friends, and he’d recognize them, it had to be Bravo Team. The first time he had met these proud warriors they had done everything they could to kill him.

  Until the end, when Dawson had let them live, realizing his orders had been illegal.

  And over the years, they had become friends of a sort.

  Definitely men he no longer feared, knew he could trust, and knew always had his back.

  Kane had requested Laura free up some money to help with the operation, and she had, a special account already set up for these situations being unlocked with a phone call.

  Kane could now fund whatever he needed to help save Acton’s parents.

  “I think I know who you mean,” said Acton, putting an arm around Laura.

  “I thought you might. They’ll infiltrate the castle and get the intel on where your parents might be.”

  Acton sighed. “If only I hadn’t planted that cellphone.” Laura pressed herself into him.

  “It was pretty ballsy.”

  “I wasn’t really thinking.”

  Kane laughed. “No, Doc, you were definitely thinking. You were thinking that some painting was more valuable than your life.”

  Acton frowned, a wave of guilt sweeping through him. “You’re right. I was stupid. My parents should be safe in their home, instead, because I put some artifact ahead of their safety, they may die.”