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

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Sandra pulled up to the stop sign at the end of the street, coming to a complete stop and looking in all directions, despite there almost never being any traffic here. She carefully made a right hand turn, Milton’s nails digging into his palms as he tried to bite his tongue.

  He failed.

  “Hon, please, just forget the traffic laws for now. We need to get to the police station quickly.”

  Sandra began to shake, both hands gripping the steering wheel, the van barely moving forward. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous.”

  Milton took a breath and tried to sound as calm and sympathetic as possible. “I know you are, hon, so am I, but you’ve got to accelerate.”

  “I-I can’t seem to press any harder, I’m t-too terrified.”

  He reached over and put his hand on the wheel. “Just take a deep breath and close your eyes.”

  “But I’m driving!”

  “I know, I’ll steer. Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and press down with your right foot a little harder.”

  “O-okay.” She closed her eyes then immediately opened them. She glanced at him, then nodded, closing her eyes again as she inhaled slowly.

  And they began to accelerate, Milton keeping them straight.

  “Okay, that’s great. Now open your eyes.”

  She did and adjusted their trajectory slightly, but kept their now reasonable speed. She checked her rearview mirror. “Is that them?”

  He glanced in his mirror. “Yes.”

  “Then they are following us.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. They could be just heading in the same direction.”

  They rolled up to another stop sign, this time Sandra checking in both directions but continuing through, accelerating immediately.

  “You’re doing great, hon. Just keep doing that, we’ll be there in no time.”

  She lifted a finger from the steering wheel, pointing ahead. “He’s in a hurry.”

  Milton’s heart leapt into his throat as a large SUV raced toward them then cut across their lane, shuddering to a halt as all four doors were thrown open. Sandra slammed on her brakes and screamed as four men leapt out, weapons raised. Milton reached for a wailing Niskha but was jerked back by his seatbelt as the men rushed toward them.

  Then straight by.

  He turned to watch them and gunfire erupted causing Sandra to scream again, Niskha crying out in fear along with her mother. All four tires of the vehicle behind them were flattened, the engine block filled with lead, those inside hauled out and thrown to the ground. Milton’s heart nearly stopped as he saw the men were armed, their weapons kicked away.

  They were following us.

  One of the new arrivals turned, walking back toward their van. He knocked on the window and Milton pressed the button, lowering it. The man leaned over and smiled.

  And Milton breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing him as one of the Delta Operators that Acton had so much involvement with.

  “Dean Milton, ma’am, Dylan Kane sent us. Sorry we’re late.”

  Approaching Rome, Italy

  “Change of plans,” said Kane’s voice over the speaker. “The doc is heading north to the castle.”

  Dawson frowned. “That doesn’t sound smart.”

  “Nope, but he’s determined to take action himself.”

  Niner shook his head. “That’s just the type of thing that’s going to get him killed.”

  “Well, in his defense he did think his parents were dead when he left and that they were going after his friends. Red has the Miltons secured. Can you think of anyone else they might go after?”

  Dawson pursed his lips, thinking. He knew the professors’ files, but couldn’t think of anyone close besides his students. “Students are about all I can think of.”

  “Nothing we can really do about them, there’s too many. They were definitely watching Milton though, which makes me wonder how they were able to put together a file on Acton so quickly.”

  Dawson’s head bobbed. “Me too. They seem to know everything about him. Parents, friends. You think they’ve been watching them for a while?”

  “We’ve got no evidence of that, though the Assembly definitely has been.”

  “Perhaps they’re working together?”

  “Anything’s possible, but they seem to have gone to ground since we named a few of them. I’d be surprised if they’d risk our current state of détente.”

  Niner huffed. “The doc has pissed off a lot of people over the years. Maybe it’s finally caught up to him.”

  Kane laughed. “He has that, hasn’t he? He doesn’t have the luxury of anonymity like we do. Makes for a dangerous life.”

  Niner grinned. “Lucky he’s a nice guy and we’re willing to interrupt our time off.”

  Atlas leaned forward. “Karma, baby, karma. If he was an asshole he’d probably be dead by now.”

  Dawson had to agree. If the man were a prick, none of them would probably be here by now. Fortunately, he was anything but. And his desire to take action was completely understandable, if unwise. “So what’s the new plan?”

  “Have your pilot divert north. I’ve already got your supplies rolling in a charter so they’ll be there when you arrive. Hopefully you’ll be able to get ahead of the professor. One of my guys is driving them.”

  “And then?”

  “Do whatever is necessary to end the threat.”

  Niner elbowed Jimmy. “Sounds like my typical weekend.”

  “What, ending the threat of disappointed girlfriends?”

  “Hey, they’ve all been satisfied customers until they met my friends.”

  “You mean until they met real men,” rumbled Atlas.

  “Ouch.”

  Jimmy laughed. “You kind of walked into that one.”

  Niner gripped his chest, feigning tears. “It’s just, well, I never though a friend would ever say something so hurtful.”

  Atlas rose, extending his arms. “Little lady need a hug?”

  Kane laughed over the speaker. “Sometimes I miss working with a team.”

  Dawson shook his head as Niner’s fist darted for Atlas’ balls.

  “If you were here you wouldn’t.”

  Northbound E80, Italy

  Reading turned back in his seat, looking at Acton and Laura, Mr. Verde driving. “Now that we know your parents are safe, what’s the plan?”

  Acton frowned. He’d been thinking about that. The phone call he had received had been a massive relief, though the news his father had suffered a heart attack was still worrisome. But they were alive and safe. Now he was worried about his best friend and his family. He hadn’t heard anything since he had phoned him, so he probably hadn’t reached the police station yet.

  He checked his watch.

  But they should be there by now.

  He looked at Reading. “Sit tight for now, gather intel?”

  Reading nodded. “Good thinking.” He motioned toward Laura’s laptop. “You found a hotel that’s right across the street from the entrance?”

  She nodded, spinning it around. “Already reserved three rooms, but only one has a view of the road.”

  “One’s enough,” said Reading. “We’ll start photographing who goes in and out, grab license plates, and I’ll run everything through Interpol. If we’re lucky, there might be some outstanding warrants on one or more of them, and we just call in the authorities.”

  Laura snapped her laptop shut. “But what if the leak is with the Italians? Wouldn’t they just warn them?”

  Reading drew in a slow breath, frowning. “They might, but at this point, we don’t have much choice.”

  Acton pursed his lips, shaking his head. Reading was right. They didn’t have a lot of options beyond the Delta team going in and stirring up shit. But they were six guys facing a couple of hundred. Now that his parents were safe, he could never ask them to face those odds. “Precision guided bomb dropped from a Raptor might be better.”

  Reading grinned. “
We could always ask.”

  Verde’s phone rang and he took the call, Acton instinctively watching the road, hating it when people used their cellphones while driving. Verde handed it back to Acton. “For you.”

  “Hello?”

  “We’re safe!”

  Acton breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his best friend’s voice, his eyes closing as the last major stress lifted from his shoulders. “Thank God! I was starting to get worried.”

  “Yeah, some of the Delta guys somehow got here in time.”

  “Really?” Acton said a silent prayer of thanks to the men they owed so much to, then mouthed who it was to the others, Laura clasping both hands to her chest in relief.

  “Yeah, apparently Kane had a feeling we might be a target if your parents were rescued so he asked BD to send some men. They were almost here when the specific threat was made.”

  Acton put an arm around Laura, squeezing her against him. “Lucky he was thinking ahead.”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m so sorry about your parents.”

  Acton suddenly realized his friend hadn’t heard the news. “They’re alive! I just got a call a few minutes ago.”

  “Thank God! What happened?”

  “Some sort of explosion, but they’re okay. My dad had a heart attack but Dylan got his heart going again. They’re all going to be fine.”

  “That’s great news, Jim. What’s going to happen now?”

  “We’re heading to Angera in northern Italy to try and put an end to this, once and for all.”

  “Be careful.”

  Acton smiled. “Aren’t I always?”

  “Hi, my name is Greg Milton, and you are?”

  Acton’s smile turned into a grin. “Ha ha. So you know me too well.” He became serious. “If we don’t remove the leverage problem, this will never end.”

  “But your parents are safe. So are we.”

  “That’s not the leverage I’m talking about.”

  Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

  Mario sipped on a coffee, adrenaline no longer enough to keep him awake, his attempts at rest merely tortured excuses. He had to know who had betrayed him. As he cycled through the photos of his staff, of those involved in the two incidents so far, and of everyone involved in the kidnapping of the Pope several years ago, he realized there was no way to know.

  The Keepers had a way into the Vatican that had been cut off, though that was only the one he knew about. There could be others. In fact, nothing stopped them from merely taking a job there. The Vatican employed thousands. Who knew how many might be Keepers inside the massive walls? The organization was apparently created by St. Peter himself to protect the Church from outside dangers. They had targeted the new Pope because he was Triarii, but what could they possibly want with a painting by da Vinci? How could it possibly be a threat to the Church?

  He looked again at the vacation photo of his second-in-command, Gerard Boileau, the discoloration on his chest in the same location as the tattoos found on the two victims of the Vatican shooting and the other Keepers’ bodies they had found after the rescue of the Pope.

  Could it be him? A man I have trusted for years?

  He sighed, reaching for his phone.

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Northbound E80, Italy

  “Goodbye, Dad, you take it easy.”

  “Your mother isn’t letting me lift a finger, so there’s no worry about that. I feel fine, just weak, but they said that’s normal. Don’t worry about me, just take care of yourself and that wife of yours.”

  “You know I will. Can you put Dylan back on?”

  “Sure thing.”

  There was some rustling from the speaker, the conversation now routed through the car’s Bluetooth.

  “Hiya, Doc.”

  “Hey Dylan, are they secure?”

  “Yup. I won’t be leaving their side and I’ve got two trained people with me. They’re perfectly safe and so are the Miltons.”

  “Thank you, Dylan. I don’t know what I would have done if they had been killed. And thank you—” He paused, his voice cracking, tears filling his eyes as he drew in a deep breath, struggling to regain control. Laura squeezed his arm and he looked at her, nodding. “Thank you for saving my Dad’s life.”

  “Nothin’ doing, Doc. You can stop worrying. Now, we’ve got the two who were following Greg in custody, but they’re not talking, and outside of dropping them in Guantanamo, we’re probably not going to get anything out of them legally.”

  “Have you checked their chests?”

  “Huh?”

  “Check if they have a tattoo of a cross on their chest. If they do, then they’re part of the Keepers of the One Truth, if they don’t, then they probably aren’t.”

  “Just a second, I’m sending a text.” There was some noise then Kane returned. “No tattoos.”

  Acton nodded, not expecting there to be. “I’ve been thinking about how they knew so much about me. The Keepers would have had a few years to gather intel on me after our first encounter. Two of their members were killed with the portrait, then it was stolen by this other group. Could they be working together?”

  “Doesn’t sound like it to me,” replied Kane. “If they were, then they’d just hand it over. Why kill them?”

  “Maybe they aren’t working together, but there’s a mole inside the Keepers.”

  “Now that’s possible. Your thieves manage to infiltrate the Keepers, then when the portrait they’re after surfaces, the mole lets them know, and then there’s a takedown that goes bad. That same mole could have provided your Führer lovers any intel they had gathered on you.”

  Acton’s head nodded slowly, his mind racing with the possibilities. It was all conjecture. Pure conjecture. These two organizations were clearly working at cross-purposes. One wouldn’t kill the other if they were cooperating. And for the thieves to know where and when the drawing was going to be at the Vatican, they must have an inside source.

  He caught his breath as his mind caught up with something Kane had said. “I want you to stop interrogating the prisoners.”

  “Why?”

  “The reason we got into this is because we found out something we weren’t supposed to. Our entire goal here is to end this. We have no idea who these people are or how big their organization is. Even if we had everyone in the castle arrested, there could be dozens or hundreds more around the world.”

  Reading nodded. “True.”

  “The only thing we know about them is where they are. If we can nullify that piece of knowledge, then our leverage over them ends.”

  “And so does the threat,” said Kane. “That’s smart thinking, Doc, you’d make a good spy.”

  “Ha! I’ll leave that to the youngsters.”

  “More than happy to oblige. Now, BD and the crew are going to meet you when you arrive. I understand you’ve got some hotel rooms arranged with a good view?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. They’ll set up surveillance there and come up with a game plan.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Okay, just one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Laura, take his cellphone away, just in case he gets tempted to stuff it down the pants of one of them when they try to run away.”

  Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

  “I have the files you asked for, my friend. But why the urgency?”

  Giasson said nothing as Chief Inspector Riva entered his bedroom, a tired Marie-Claude closing the door behind her as she left to prepare more coffee.

  You’ll have to make it up to her when you’re better.

  “Show me your chest.”

  “Huh?”

  “Unbutton your shirt. Now.”

  Riva frowned. “Fine.” He unbuttoned about halfway, pulling the shirt open, revealing a hairy chest and a good starter set of man boobs. “Satisfied?”

  Giasson nodded, motioning for him to button up. “
I am. I’m sorry, but someone betrayed us, though I don’t think it was you.”

  Riva gave him a look, clearly offended. “I can’t believe after everything we’ve been through that you could think it was me.”

  Giasson sighed, raising a hand. “I know, I know. But I’m going to trust you now, so please take that as assurance I no longer have doubts.”

  Riva pursed his lips, raising his chin slightly. “But you still do.”

  Giasson smiled. “You know me too well.”

  Riva slapped his knee, laughing. “We both do!” He held up a file. “So now that you are trusting me, I assume you think it’s him?”

  “I pray it isn’t but I fear it could be. What can you tell me?”

  Riva flipped open the file, scanning it with his finger as he gave the highlights. “He has a completely clean record, of course. He’s Swiss by birth, but his mother was Italian. His father left his mother when he was young, but young Gerard seemed to keep out of trouble. His father had no record, nor does his mother. There’s nothing of interest on his paternal grandparents, but his maternal grandfather is a little more interesting. He was a devout member of the National Fascist Party, rabid apparently. After the liberation, he was hung by a meat hook in the market square in Bologna. That’s when the family moved to Switzerland.”

  Giasson’s head was bobbing through the entire summary, his lips pursed. “Interesting, but we can hardly condemn a man for the actions of his grandfather.”

  “No.” Riva’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, why did you want to see my chest?”

  “I was looking for a tattoo.”

  “What, like the one on the two victims?”

  Giasson nodded.

  “Hold on!” Riva flipped through the file and pulled out an old black and white photo, holding it up. “This is a photo of his grandfather after he was executed.” He rose and gave Giasson the photo. “Tell me what you see.”

  Giasson took the photo and examined the grisly scene.

  Then gasped.

  For the bare chested man, hung like a piece of meat, had a large tattoo that matched those of the victims.