The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) Read Online Free Page B

from the Rome she loved.
    She was
a good wife.
    And he
was certain she now worshipped this man Jesus.
    He
watched her leave then turned his attention to Junius, a loyal aide if there
ever was one. He was going to miss him, his successor Marcellus having
requested he remain for continuity.
    “Prefect,
I was wondering what you wanted to do with this?”
    Junius
held up the sculpture found so many years ago and Pilate felt a shiver radiate
up his spine and outward.
    Then his
jaw threatened to drop.
    He
pointed at the eyes staring back at him. “ That is the cause of all our
problems.”
    Junius’
eyes narrowed, puzzled. “Prefect?”
    “From
the day that damned thing graced these walls, things have gone badly for us.
Get that thing out of my sight!”
    “So
you’re not taking it with you?”
    “Absolutely
not! Let my replacement deal with the evil that this thing brings. I for one
will be happy when it is in my past and forgotten to time.” He sighed, giving
the sculpture one last look. “I swear it is staring into my soul, judging me in
some way I cannot understand, to some measure no man could possibly meet.” He
flicked his wrist, dismissing Junius. “Do with it as you please, but make
certain it never reaches Rome.”
     
     

 
     

     
     
    Grunewald, Berlin, Germany
Present Day
     
    Martin Chaney sat in a rather comfortable, high back chair, the
sumptuous leather, generously padded, wrapping itself around him. He closed his
eyes, it the first chance he had had all day to relax.
    “So what
happened?”
    He
opened his eyes, his joy killed by their Berlin contact, Dietrich, as he
entered the room, two tall glasses of beer in hand. He passed one to Chaney.
    “Thanks.”
He took a long drag, savoring the brew, Germans having mastered the formula
centuries ago. He rested the glass on the arm of the chair. “There was a second
tail that I missed.”
    “Who?”
    “Rodney
Underwood.”
    “Sheisse.”
Dietrich raised his glass slightly. “You are lucky. I have heard he has become
what you Brits might call a nutter.”
    Chaney
nodded, a frown creasing his face. He knew Rodney, had known him for years. He
was a good man and good friend, and to have him as an adversary was heart
wrenching.
    But
that’s what happens in a civil war.
    Friend
against friend.
    Brother
against brother.
    And he
considered Rodney both.
    The rift
that had existed in the Triarii for eight hundred years was finally coming to a
head, and there could be only one winner. In the end, either the crystal skulls
they had been entrusted with to protect would be united, or they would remain
separated, the fear of what might happen if they were brought together dividing
the ancient organization since the disaster in London in 1212, the Great Fire
levelling much of the city, three united skulls sitting in the epicenter, unscathed.
    “It’s
too bad, he’s a good man, but now that they’ve seen me, they know I’m trying to
make contact with Hugh, so they’ll keep an extremely close eye on him from now
on.”
    “You
knew that could happen.”
    Chaney
nodded, taking another drink. “I know, you plan for every contingency, but you
don’t necessarily expect it to actually happen. I never would have guessed that
they’d have two men on him. We thought their resources were spread pretty thin
what with their funding problems.”
    Dietrich
grunted. “Each side still has a lot of money.” He sighed then drained his glass.
“And when you think about it, how many people are they actually watching? You
didn’t—don’t—have a lot of friends outside of the organization.”
    Chaney
pursed his lips, doing a quick mental tally of the people he’d consider friends
outside of the Triarii, and he had to admit it was a pretty thin list. There
were many at the Yard that he thought of as work friends, though other than
Reading, rarely spent time with them outside of special occasions.
    And then
there were the professors.
    “So what
are you going to do