Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (25 page)

Yes,
Delta was on its way, but they were hours out, and Kane was doing everything he
could back home. The problem was he couldn’t see any of it, all he could
picture was the most gruesome images of his parents being tortured for
something he had impulsively done.

He
wanted to be doing something. He wanted to kick the shit out of whoever had
taken them, tear the throat out of the man who seemed to be the ringleader.

Yet he
couldn’t be the leader.

The
leader wouldn’t go on the heist, not in an organization that big. And he was
assuming it was big if they were able to kidnap his parents half a world away
so quickly. It meant they had people probably across the globe, able to project
their will on command.

Christ,
they’re like the Triarii.

He
shivered at the thought of the ancient organization obsessed with the crystal
skulls. It had been his accidental discovery of a skull that had led to the
events that pulled them all together several years ago, Bravo Team trying to
kill him due to false intel, he fleeing to find Laura, the world’s foremost
expert on the skulls, and Reading trying to arrest him because he thought he
had committed a murder.

All
because of the Triarii, an apparently benevolent order that had split, resulting
in a civil war, for lack of a better term.

Air
burst from his lips and he sat down, grabbing the laptop to review the intel
Kane had sent.

“They
wouldn’t be there.”

Reading
looked up at him. “Who?”

“My
parents.”

“No.”

“We need
leverage over them.”

Laura
shifted in her seat. “What do you mean?”

“Well,
they obviously want the portrait. What if we stole it back?”

Reading’s
eyebrows rose. “Umm, Kane’s report suggests possibly two hundred people facing
us. It would be suicide.”

Laura
leaned over and took his hand. “Sweetheart, BD and the guys will be here by the
morning. Let’s just get some sleep and let them deal with it, okay?”

“No, I
can’t.” Acton leapt to his feet. “It’s my parents.” He spun toward the CIA
agent who was reading a local paper in the far corner of the room. “Can you get
me a weapon?”

He
shrugged. “Sure. But I won’t.”

“Why
not?”

“I have
my orders and they’re to keep you here.”

“So
we’re prisoners?”

“Of
course not, you’re free to die at any time.”

Acton
frowned. “Funny.”

Verde
shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

Acton
dropped back into his chair, frustrated. Laura rose and stepped behind him,
kneading his shoulders. “They’ll be okay. As long as we follow their demands.”

Acton
closed his eyes, her ministrations feeling wonderful. “Yeah, but how do we know
what their demands are? We don’t have our phones anymore, so we have no way of
knowing if they’re calling.”

“Not
true.” Acton looked at Verde. “Your phones have been cloned and all calls are
being routed through Langley. They’ll know if anyone calls.”

Acton
shook his head.

“Yeah,
but they can’t answer.”

Rocca d'Angera Castle, Angera, Italy

“What do you mean you don’t think they’re in the hotel room?”

Obersturmbannführer
Hofmeister glared at his tech, Karl. He had been roused from the first sleep
he’d managed to get in days, caffeine and uppers keeping him going until he had
finally crashed. The report from Rome had been that the Actons and their friend
had returned to the hotel room by the time their operative had returned, their
excursion apparently a prearranged meeting with a contact of Giasson’s, at
least according to the overheard conversation upon their return.

It
seemed plausible. They would all know they were most likely being followed,
their phones being tracked. It didn’t necessarily mean they had contacted the
authorities. He knew from his contacts in the United States that the
authorities were involved there thanks to a neighbor of Acton’s parents. He
wasn’t about to kill them over actions Acton had no control over. If he did,
then he’d lose the leverage he had over the man.

Though
if what Karl had just said were true, it changed everything. He dropped into a
chair, exhausted.

“Well,
our man lost them at the Vatican when they got into another car, so it was
clearly planned. Then he had a flat tire, which I think is too big a
coincidence, so that delayed his return to the hotel. By the time he got there,
they were already back, which meant their ride essentially just picked them up
and drove them back.”

“You
woke me for that?” Hofmeister leapt to his feet, heading for the door. “I know
all that.” He grabbed his throbbing forehead. “Please, for your sake, tell me
you have more.”

Karl gulped.
“Well, our bug suggests they went to sleep immediately, and they’re all still
asleep. I mean, nobody has even got up to go to the bathroom. So I checked
Professor Palmer’s phone and found it had never left the hotel room, even when
they left.”

“So?
They knew we were probably tracking it.”

“Yes,
but, sir, if your parents were kidnapped, and you were waiting for a phone call
from the kidnappers, would you ever let that phone out of your sight?”

Hofmeister
frowned, pursed his lips, then nodded.

“Have our
man check the room.”

Near Acton Residence, Germantown, Maryland

Kane turned to face the back seat as Fang climbed in. He had
forgotten how beautiful she was, in a minimalist sort of way. He had a serious
thing for Asian women, and she was a prime specimen, the thought of making a
move on her exhilarating, especially knowing she’d have a better than most
chance of actually killing him.

Focus,
Barney!

“You
made good time.”

Fang
shrugged. “I drove efficiently.”

Sherrie
extended her hand. “Hi Fang, not sure if you remember me. Sherrie White.”

Fang
shook the hand. “Yes, I remember. How are you?”

“Good,
you?”

Fang
shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

Kane
looked at her, detecting a note of melancholy in her voice.

I’ll
have to talk to her when this is all over.

“Okay,
here’s the situation. We’ve got three possibles so far and little time.” He
handed the tablet back to Fang so she could see the images of the SUVs that met
the narrowed criteria. “We’ll each take one, but surveillance only. You look,
assess, then we make a best guess. Do
not
attempt contact, understood?”

Sherrie
nodded. “Yup.”

Fang
nodded, handing back the tablet.

Kane
pointed at the first vehicle. “I’ll take number one, Sherrie number two, and
Fang, you take the third. Your two are close to each other, mine’s about half
an hour in the opposite direction.” His fingers worked the display, sending the
data to each of their phones. Sherrie looked at hers.

“This
looks like a corporate vehicle.”

Kane
nodded. “Yeah, the guy was probably here on business. The other two are
personal so we’re probably rolling up on houses.” He looked from Sherrie to
Fang. “Good luck, ladies, and be careful. We don’t know who we’re dealing
with.”

“You
don’t think it’s the Assembly?”

“The
what?”

Kane glanced
at Fang, Sherrie’s eyes widening slightly at her faux pas. “You didn’t hear
that, and no, I’m confident it’s not.” He could tell from Fang’s expression
that her curiosity had been piqued. Whose wouldn’t be? He’d have to make sure
he talked to her later to make certain she didn’t try to seek out more
information, otherwise she might add herself to the Assembly’s hit list.

And she
had no leverage over them.

Outside the Ambasciatori Palace Hotel, Rome, Italy

Joachim Freitag’s eyes bulged. “Yes, sir, I’ll check right away.” He
ended the call and climbed out of his car, rushing across the street and into
the luxury hotel, it far nicer than anything he had ever been fortunate enough
to stay in. He had grown up in the castle, he a direct descendent of one of the
founding fathers. Life was good there though sparse, a loyal subject of the
future Reich expected to live a rather Spartan existence, luxuries merely a
waste. He had noted, however, that those limitations didn’t seem to be forced
upon the officers.

But he
was merely a foot soldier, like his father before him. Like his grandfather had
explained to him before he died, not everyone could be officers. Officers
needed reliable soldiers under their command to actually carry out the orders,
and the Fourth Reich would need millions of them, millions that would be
provided by the research they were conducting, and the new recruits who would
flock to their cause when the world hit its low point.

Just
like the Third Reich did in Germany during the Great Depression, the Fourth
would arise from the ashes of today’s chaotic world.

With a
little help.

The
elevator chimed, the doors opening on one of the top floors, everything a large
suite here. He had read the files on his subjects and noted that apparently the
woman was extremely rich. As he walked through the opulent hallway, it made him
wonder what life must be like never having to lift a finger, never having to
answer to anyone.

He
frowned at the thought.

Germans
are not indulgent.

At least
not the foot soldiers.

He put
an ear to their door and heard nothing. Knocking gently, he continued to
listen, and still heard nothing.

Harder
this time.

Nothing.

The
sound of dishes rattling at the end of the hall caught his attention just in
time and he bent over, pretending to pick something up, then began walking past
the hotel employee with a room service cart. Nods were exchanged then Freitag spun
around, pistol whipping the man.

He
crumpled to the floor.

Freitag
grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him toward a utility closet,
unlocking the door with the man’s pass. He pulled off the employee’s jacket and
put it on, yanking at it, the front refusing to stretch enough to button.

How
small is this guy?

It
didn’t matter. He left the room, grabbed the cart and quickly pushed it to the
Actons’ door, knocking loudly. “Room service!”

As expected,
there was no answer. He swiped the pass and the light went green, the lock
clicking. He pushed open the door with his gun hand and listened. Gentle
snoring, nothing more. He stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind him
then searched the wall for the light switch.

He
flicked it on.

Light immediately
bathed the room, and he found no one.

His eyes
narrowed.

The
cop should be on the couch.

He
stepped farther inside, the bedroom doors both closed, two cellphones sitting
on the table.