The Protocol (A James Acton Thriller, Book #1)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked one of the constables who was running away from the shooting.

  “We’re under attack! We have to get to the weapons vault!” He continued down the hallway with Reading in pursuit. They descended a flight of stairs and rounded a corner. As they neared the vault, some of their colleagues passed them with weapons in hand as they ran to the fight at the front of the building. Reading and the constable arrived as Chaney was loading his weapon.

  “Hello, guv! I was just coming to get you. Any idea what’s going on?”

  “No, just that the main entrance is apparently under attack.”

  “Sounds like a diversion to me,” said Chaney.

  “Me, too,” agreed Reading. “There’s only one person here that I can think of who would attract this kind of attention.”

  Chaney nodded. “Professor Palmer.”

  Reading loaded the weapon he had been given and was still putting on his body armor as he followed Chaney out the door and up the stairs. He grabbed two armed constables along the way. “You two, come with us.” The men fell in behind them.

  Dawson chuckled to himself as he watched Smitty trying to nurse his now tender balls. Should’a worn a cup! He wasn’t about to underestimate this lady. He approached her from around the table. She tried to kick him, but he caught her leg, leaned in and pistol-whipped her on the side of her head. She went limp, out cold. He put her over his shoulder and headed toward the door, Smitty limping behind him.

  Reading and Chaney burst through the door that led to the interrogation rooms. As they ran toward the room the professor was being held in, they saw two men exit, one carrying what looked like a body over his shoulder.

  “Stop!” yelled Reading.

  The man without the body whipped around and opened fire, spraying bullets along the wall, the impacts approaching their position. Reading raised his weapon and shot. The man collapsed, a tiny hole in the front of his head, a much larger one in the back. The second man turned around and shifted the body to use as a shield. It was the professor.

  “Let her go!” ordered Reading.

  No response. The man continued toward the other end of the hallway. Reading raised his weapon again and shot the man in the shoulder. He dropped the gun he was holding, then the professor. Reading and Chaney, followed by the two constables, rushed him and brought him down to the floor. Chaney picked up the professor and tried to revive her.

  Dawson grunted in pain as they searched him for weapons. Any time now guys! Suddenly a burst of gunfire erupted over his head. One of the constables fell to the floor. The other started returning fire, but was soon cut down. Dawson looked down the hall and saw two of his men running toward them, rushing their position with a steady stream of gunfire. He elbowed the guy who had shot him out of the way and retreated along the hallway, hugging the wall so his men had a clean field of fire.

  Reading winced at the sudden pain in his nose. Momentarily disoriented, he didn’t know who had grabbed him by the shoulder and was now dragging him to his feet. When he regained his senses, he saw it was Chaney who had pulled him up and was now running toward the other end of the hallway with the professor in a fireman’s hold, all the while shooting behind him. Reading glanced at the two dead constables at his feet then ran after Chaney. Bullets sprayed all around him. He kept crouching and firing blindly behind him, hoping their aim would be as bad as his if they had to keep finding cover. Just as he reached the end of the hallway he felt something like a two-by-four slam into his back. He flew forward and hit the ground, the wind completely knocked out of him.

  Dawson retrieved his weapon and grabbed Smitty’s body.

  “You two, go after them and get the target.” He made his way toward the exit dragging the body of his fallen comrade toward the SUV. As he went through the inner doors he saw that his two men from the main entrance had redeployed to cover both doors when he had fallen under attack.

  “Take him,” he said to Spock, now guarding the inner door. Spock’s eyes widened, but he grabbed the body, hoisted it over his shoulder, and double-timed it back to the SUV.

  Again, Reading felt someone grab him.

  “Get up, guv!” It was Chaney. “Your vest caught it, you’ll be okay.” Chaney looked down the hallway and saw two of the attackers running toward him. “Get up, guv! They’re coming!” He raised his weapon and fired a few rounds down the hallway. The men dropped, then rose again, spraying rounds over his head.

  Reading slowly crawled through the doorway and Chaney closed it behind them. Bullets hit the metal door, small dents appearing as some of them nearly made it through. Chaney headed toward the rear emergency exit with the professor still over his shoulder. Reading started to follow then realized where they were headed.

  “Where are you going?” He pointed down another hall that would lead to where there were more armed police. “This way!”

  “No, sir, we have to go this way!” yelled Chaney, still heading rapidly toward the exit. Reading chased him down the hallway. As they reached the exit he heard the door behind them burst open as the two attackers reached it. He burst through the exit and saw a black van with its side door open, idling. Chaney handed the professor over to two men in the back of the van, then climbed in after her. He turned around and reached out his hand. “Sir, you have to come with us!”

  Reading looked at him bewildered. “What the hell is going on?”

  “There’s no time, sir, you have to come with us or they’ll kill you!” Reading still didn’t move and in desperation Chaney ripped off his watch and turned his wrist inside out, showing it to Reading. “We can protect her, sir!”

  Reading’s jaw dropped. His underling had the same tattoo as the dead bodies in the morgue. He made a split second decision to trust his long time subordinate and dove in the van just as the door behind him burst open. The van sped off with a hail of gunfire hitting its reinforced skin and bullet resistant glass. Chaney reached out and slid the side door closed as they rounded the corner. He sat back on the floor and looked at Reading.

  “Welcome to the Triarii, sir!” He took one of the guns from another man in the van and pointed it at him. “Sorry, sir.” He fired before Reading could say a word.

  Jasper and Lambert sat in Reading’s office with only a faint light coming from the hallway as gunfire and explosions sounded in the distance.

  “Screw this!” Jasper got up and headed to the door. Lambert followed his boss as they made their way toward the action. Not knowing where they were going, they tagged along with several heavily armed men who didn’t seem lost. They soon found themselves in the main reception area of New Scotland Yard.

  All of the windows were shattered and the interior walls and ceilings were scarred with bullet holes. Amazingly no one appeared injured. The few armed police officers were providing cover fire as civilians tried to escape deeper into the building. Bullets from the attackers continued to spray over their heads.

  “Who’s attacking?” Lambert asked a nearby constable.

  “I have no bloody idea!” he yelled as he popped up from behind the desk he was using as cover and fired off a few rounds. He ducked back down and looked at Lambert. “Get the hell out of here, mate, I’ll cover you!”

  Lambert shook his head and squatted beside him. “I’m U.S. State Department. Do you have a spare weapon?” The man nodded and tossed him a Glock. Lambert, poking his head up, took a look. He could see several of the attackers hiding behind concrete flower boxes as they popped up and took fire. Turning to Jasper, who was crouched behind a half-wall nearby, he yelled over the noise. “Looks like gang-bangers, boss!”

  Jasper nodded as he leaned over to take a shot from around the wall, a nearby constable having supplied him with a weapon. The high-beams from the attackers’ vehicle shone at the entrance, preventing those inside from seeing most of their enemy. Jasper fired two quick rounds, taking out the lights and plunging the room into darkness save a couple of emergency lights on a far wall
.

  “That’s more like it!” The constable beside Lambert rose again and let loose a burst of gunfire that hit one of the attackers outside. “That’ll bloody teach ya!”

  Dawson was still covering the inner door when he saw his two men coming back empty-handed. Shit, Control’s not going to be happy. He radioed Red.

  “Bravo Two, Bravo One. Abort the operation, I say again, abort.” When his men reached him they all exited the building. “What happened?”

  “Someone else was here and evacuated the subject,” said Jimmy. “They were well equipped and trained.” They exited the rear door, now covered by the original two team members, and loaded themselves into their SUV.

  At the front of the building, Red’s team jumped in their vehicle and peeled out of the parking lot, their task of creating a non-lethal diversion by throwing some flash grenades and spraying the façade of the building with automatic weapons fire accomplished.

  With New Scotland Yard now in chaos, they easily made their escape.

  And then it was over.

  Inside the main entrance of New Scotland Yard the gunfire stopped, then they heard the tires of a vehicle squealing outside. A few tentative moments of caution then officers inside started to emerge.

  Jasper looked at Lambert to make sure he was okay. “What the hell just happened?”

  Lambert shrugged.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’s related to our professor.”

  Triarii Headquarters, London, England

  Laura slowly woke to an unbelievable pain in the side of her head. She tried to sit up but a hand on her chest gently pressed her down. She opened her eyes then snapped them shut again, the brightness momentarily blinding her. Blinking a few times, her vision began to clear, revealing a shape leaning over her. She blinked one last time and the shape became James, looking down at her with a smile on his face.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She reached up and hugged him with both arms as hard as she could. Her head throbbed, but she held on. For some reason she felt tremendous relief at seeing him. He hugged her back. It felt so comfortable she lost herself for a moment in the embrace. Then she heard a knock at the door. She let go of James as the door opened.

  “Hello, Professors, I was just….” Chaney ducked his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “Much better, thank you.” Laura slowly sat up in the bed and swung her legs over the edge. “Where am I?”

  “You are at the Triarii Headquarters in London,” said Chaney. “I can’t tell you any more except that we are currently evacuating this facility.”

  “Evacuating, why?” asked Acton.

  “It’s been compromised,” replied Chaney. “You both will be evacuated with us, however we need you to tell us where you’ve hidden the skull you found.”

  Acton shook his head. “No way, that’s our only piece of insurance. I’m not sure whether or not I trust you, yet.”

  Chaney nodded. “I see. Let me put it this way. If those who have been trying to kill you get their hands on it, they will have three skulls, enough to cause significant damage.”

  “So you believe,” interjected Acton.

  “Yes, so we believe. But are you willing to take that chance? You know who your opponent is. He’s proven that he will stop at nothing to find you and take the skull. Obviously they’ve made the connection between you and Professor Palmer.”

  Acton turned to Laura and searched her eyes for a clue on what to do.

  She stared back at him and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  He turned back to Chaney. “Let us think about it.”

  “Very well. I’ve got to look in on my old boss. Something tells me he’s going to be narked!” Chaney smiled and closed the door behind him.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Acton, turning to Laura. “Should we give them the skull?”

  Laura shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, however something tells me there’s more going on here than I know about. What did that security guard tell you?”

  Acton laughed. “Good thing you’re sitting down, you’re going to love this.”

  Reading lay on a bed, staring at the ceiling. I’m alive! That’s good. Now why? His body armor had been removed and placed on a table near the door. His suit jacket hung on the back of a chair. He rubbed his leg where he had been hit and found the tiny hole the dart had made. Chaney hadn’t tried to kill him, but he had still shot him.

  He was pissed.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come!” The door opened and Chaney poked his head in.

  “Is it safe for me to come in?” asked Chaney with a smile.

  Reading growled. “You better have a goddamned good explanation for this!”

  Chaney laughed. “I do, guv, and…” he pushed the door open and wheeled in a cart, “…I have tea!”

  Reading couldn’t help but laugh. They had been together for years and he knew his underling, whom he considered a friend, knew him all too well.

  Reading shook his head. “Sure, butter me up.” He took the proffered cup of tea and sipped. He hadn’t had any since Heathrow. Too long.

  Chaney took a cup and sat in the chair. “Well, guv, I believe it’s time you were let in on a few things.”

  He told Reading about the Triarii and the events of the past few days. Reading’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. Bollocks! But then, here he was, sitting in a room, having been shot by his longtime colleague with a tranquilizer, who was a confessed member of some type of cult, who had seven members executed by men who later attacked New Scotland Yard.

  Okay, maybe not bollocks.

  “And I think that’s it,” finished Chaney. “Oh, and we have Professor Acton.”

  “Acton is here?”

  “Yes, in the next room with Professor Palmer.”

  Reading stood up and straightened his tie. He put his jacket on and turned to Chaney. “I think it’s time I finally met our American guest.”

  RAF Lakenheath, USAF 48th Fighter Wing

  Control Actual was mad. Actually, irate would be more accurate. Dawson had just informed him one of his men was dead, two were wounded, including himself, and the mission had failed.

  “You’re the most goddamned highly trained special ops in the world and you couldn’t take a civilian away from a bunch of unarmed police?”

  “With all due respect, sir, we were instructed to not use lethal force. If we could have, then we would simply have shot the opposition and taken the target,” said Dawson. “Besides, we know who has her and where.”

  “Yes, we do,” agreed Control. “I think it’s time to take them out, once and for all. Do you have the resources for an assault on their location?”

  “My men can handle it. Assuming we can use lethal force.”

  “Yes, no limitations,” replied Control. “I want these terrorists out of our way and the DARPA package retrieved. And try to capture any of their leadership alive, if possible, for interrogation.”

  “Yes, sir. Bravo One, out.” He sat back in his chair and stretched the arm that had taken a round. His body armor had caught most of it, so it was barely a flesh wound. It would leave a scar but wouldn’t leave him out of the fight.

  Red entered.

  “Back to work?”

  “Yeah, and you’re not going to believe where,” replied Dawson. “Any luck with your contacts?”

  “The feelers are out, but nothing yet. Should hear back soon,” said Red. “It is the middle of the night.”

  Dawson grunted. “Some rack time would be nice.” He stood and headed for the door. “Unfortunately, it’s time to get ourselves in deeper.”

  Triarii Headquarters, London

  Acton watched as Laura processed what he had just told her about the 2000-year-old organization whose sole aim was to protect humanity from destroying themselves by hiding dangerous objects in plain sight. It sounded crazy, yet the day’s events had prove
n someone other than the Triarii also believed it was true.

  “So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. So far they’ve done everything they said they would. They haven’t hurt us, they rescued you. They’ve used non-lethal force. I think we can trust them.”

  “I’m beginning to believe so as well.”

  “Besides, the only way they’ll stop pursuing us is if they know we don’t have the skull,” said Acton. “I’m thinking we should give it to the Triarii and make it known that we’ve done so, then maybe we can live out our lives without being constantly afraid.”

  Laura nodded. “That makes sense.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in!”

  The door opened, bringing Chaney and another man into the room.

  “Well, well, well,” said the man, looking at Acton. “At last we finally meet.”

  Acton looked back at Reading, a little leery. “And you are?”

  “Detective Chief Inspector Reading, Scotland Yard,” he replied. “And you are Professor James Acton, St. Paul’s University of Maryland, wanted for questioning in regards to the torture and death of one Serge Savard, seven men who apparently stole nothing from the British Museum, the deaths of six police officers who were blown up trying to apprehend the killers of the apparent non-thieves, the armed assault of New Scotland Yard, and the attempted kidnapping of one Professor Palmer. You’ve had quite the day, Professor Acton. Enjoying England?”

  Acton smiled. “Haven’t seen much of it, what with having to continually duck my head.”

  Reading didn’t seem amused. “You know I have two State Department Agents in my office looking for you?”

  “Really?” Acton flashed back to his friend Greg who had told him State Department agents had come to his office before he died. “Are you sure they’re State Department and not part of this”—he motioned with his hands—“whole thing?”

  “I had them checked out and they seem legitimate,” said Chaney. “They have no connection with us, of course, and seem to be just two agents trying to find out what happened in Peru.”