Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (10 page)

“And you
must be Professor Acton,” said the woman, pure southern drawl giving away her
country of origin. “A pleasure,” she said, reaching out for Acton’s hand. “I’m
Tiffany Reese, United Nations. This is Reginald Wangari from the International
Monetary Fund.”

Introductions
finished, Acton asked the obvious question. “Why are you here?”

“Is
there someplace more private we can speak?” asked Reese, motioning toward the
gathering throng of armed students.

Laura
nodded. “Follow me,” she said, then turning to the students and her ex-SAS head
of security Leather, said, “False alarm, everybody go back to whatever it was
you were doing.”

They
walked to the main tent in silence then stepped inside, the cool air reminding
Acton that he was going commando. Laura pointed to the table. “Please have a
seat,” she said. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”

“Water,
please,” said Reese quickly, her thin white blouse already sticking to her
body.

“I’ll
second that,” said Wangari as he pulled at his shirt. “This is nice. Air
conditioning in the desert! If my grandparents had this, they may have never
left Kenya!” He laughed as he took the bottle from Laura, twisting off the cap
and downing half it.

“Excuse
me for a minute,” said Acton. “You caught me in the shower.”

“Oh,
don’t put on more clothes on my account!” laughed Reese, batting her hand at
Acton. “I’d die to have a pair of shorts and a t-shirt right now. Instead they
grabbed both of us out of a meeting in Dubai and had us on a plane in minutes.
Can you believe they made us leave our luggage behind?”

Acton
stepped behind a privacy screen with his suitcase and quickly dressed as the
conversation continued on the other side.

“What
could be so urgent?” asked Laura.

“There’s
been a discovery. Archeological in fact, which is why we’re here,” replied
Reese.

“A
discovery of monumental importance,” added Wangari. “Something that could
destabilize the entire region if word were to get out.”

Acton’s
eyes narrowed as he slipped on a pair of underwear.
An archeological find
that could destabilize a region?
“What did you find?” he asked from behind
the partition.

“I’ll
wait until you’re decent,” said Reese. “You have to see it to believe it.”

“Where
was it found?” asked Laura.

“In
Eritrea, along the Tekezé River,” answered Reese. “By a goat herder, no less.”

Acton
finished dressing, opting to forgo his boots for expediency’s sake. He stepped
out from behind the partition and took an empty seat beside Laura.

“Now,
how about we see what you found?” he suggested.

Reese
nodded and Wangari placed his briefcase on the table, snapping open the catches
with a loud double-click. He opened the top and reached inside, removing a
small bundle, carefully wrapped in cloth. He placed it on the table with a
gentle thud.

Acton
looked at Laura, curiosity etched on both their faces. “What is it?” she asked.

Reese
motioned toward it. “Open it.”

“Let me
get my tools,” said Acton, beginning to rise.

Reese
waved her hand. “There’s no need. It’s not fragile and it’s been in dozens of
hands by now.”

Acton
frowned, and noticed Laura doing the same.

How
are we supposed to examine a find that has been handled so poorly?

He sat
back down and reached for the bundle, pulling it gently toward them. Flipping it
over he found the edge of the cloth, and carefully unwrapped the item, which
felt to be about a pound in heft, and when he caught the first glint of the
surface, he heard Laura gasp before he had the chance.

“It’s
gold!” she said as he revealed the full bar in all its glory. About the size of
a small candy bar, the dense metal made it deceivingly heavy for its size.
Flipping it over again revealed markings that had both of them leaning forward.

“This
was minted during Vespasian’s rule,” said Acton, pointing at the writing. He
looked at their guests. “You found this in Eritrea?”

“Yes.”

Acton
shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a curiosity, obviously, but I fail
to see how this could impact the balance of power in the region, or why it
merited a visit from the UN and the IMF.”

Wangari
smiled then jabbed his finger at the bar of gold now sitting untouched on the
table. “What if I told you there was more where that came from?”

“I’d say
it belongs in a museum, and ask the same questions.”

Wangari
grinned. “I knew I’d like you,” he laughed. “Your file doesn’t do you justice.
Look,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, “enough dancing. Full
disclosure. What if I told you they found an ancient ship buried in the sand,
and it contained tens of thousands of these bars worth over one billion
dollars?”

Acton’s
chest tightened and his eyebrows raced up his forehead. “I’d say you better get
it some place safe before every criminal in the world tries to get their hands
on it.”

“If the
find is authenticated, we intend to do exactly that,” replied Reese.

“So why
are you here?” asked Laura. “I fail to see how this involves us.”

“We are
here, Professors, because you are the closest experts to where the hoard was
found, and about the only two in the region that the permanent members of the
UN Security Council could agree on to send.”

“Send?”
asked Acton, red flags suddenly springing to attention.

“Yes,
send
,”
said Reese. “We need the two of you to come with us to Eritrea and confirm the
find, and if it proves genuine, extract it, prepare it for delivery, then see
it safely out of the country.”

Acton
looked at Laura, his eyes wide in shock, then at the two suits. “Are you
kidding?”

Reese
suddenly became serious, any trace of her Southern hospitality erased. “I never
kid when it comes to lives, Professor Acton.”

Acton
shook his head slowly. “Can we at least think about it?”

Wangari
smiled, spreading his hands out as he stood up. “Of course! Please, talk about
it among yourselves. We’ll wait outside. But”—he tapped his watch—“we leave in
ten minutes.”

“
If
we agree,” added Acton.

Wangari
smiled again with a nod. “Of course, Professor Acton, of course. You are of
course free to choose, but I am confident you will come to the correct
decision.”

“And
should you not,” said Reese, holding the flap of the tent open, “we will be…”
Her voice drifted off, then she smiled, again all pleasant. “Well, never mind
that. I’m certain you’ll come to the right decision.”

And
Acton was certain he heard in her tone two important, unspoken words.

Or
else.

Market Road, Pompeii, Roman Empire
August 24
^th
, 79 AD

Avita huddled under a blanket, her three young children surrounding
her, the boys on either side, her daughter in her lap. All had their heads
under the blanket to keep the ash out, which made their slow, arduous journey
all the more terrifying, her imagination filling in the blanks of the horrors
she heard on the other side of the thin canvas of the wagon.

The
wagon suddenly came to a stop, Labeo cursing from the front, the incredibly
brave and loyal servant refusing to be relieved, instead remaining at the reins
the entire time. Avita lowered the blanket to see what was happening and almost
immediately regretted it, her imagination not doing the devastation justice.

The
entire area before them had a dull orange glow that seemed to pulse with an
energy all its own. Sunlight was nowhere to be seen and she wasn’t even certain
what time it was. Leaning forward the night sky was a rippling mass of black
clouds, strange flashes that looked almost like lightning streaking across, yet
no rain fell. Houses all around them burned, at least those that had the
misfortune of being thatched or topped with wood. Others had collapsed inward,
the weight of the falling ash proving too much, and her mind flashed back to
her own home and the collapse of the south wing just as they were leaving.

It had
leant a feeling of permanence in their flight, a warning to never come back, to
leave Pompeii be, to allow its victims to rest in the peace their final moments
denied them.

“Let us
in!” cried a man’s voice. “Please, my wife can barely walk, she’s pregnant!”

“Off
with you!” yelled Labeo. “Out of the way or I’ll run you down!”

“No,
please! Have mercy on us!”

Avita
crawled forward and looked down at the source of anguish so close and saw a man
she didn’t recognize, his tear streaked face blackened from the ash, his hair
now an unnatural gray, his wife, on the street, clinging to his leg, her head
on her chest in exhaustion.

Upon
seeing Avita, the man immediately turned his attention to her. “My lady,
please, have mercy! At least take my wife!”

“No!”
cried his wife, “I won’t leave you!”

Avita
looked at Labeo who shook his head slightly, and she knew he was right. If they
took them, then when would it stop? Their tiny caravan was already barely
moving along the coastal road, it clogged with broken carts abandoned by their
owners and people, many dead or dying, ash almost as high as the top of the
wheels.

But part
of being Roman was to be compassionate to other citizens when in need—or at
least that was the way she was raised. And if this wasn’t a time of need, she
didn’t know what was.

“Let
them come up, then make haste,” she said, Labeo frowning for a brief moment
then nodding. The elation in the desperate man’s eyes was evident and it
momentarily warmed Avita’s heart as he helped push his wife up into the
carriage. The man followed and Labeo immediately flicked the reins, their
procession moving forward once again as the two new passengers situated
themselves in the now cramped quarters.

Avita
handed them a flask of water as the children eyed the new arrivals with
curiosity, especially the swollen stomach of the wife. The woman looked at her
and forced a smile on her weak face.

“Thank
you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering then shutting as her head collapsed on
her husband’s chest. He kissed the top of her head then drank some more water,
pouring some on his hands then wiping his face free of the ash. He had a
hacking cough that slowly subsided as he drank more water, then suddenly he
grabbed his stomach and spun around, sticking his head out the canvas and vomiting,
his shoulders heaving with each wretch, the horrible sounds almost like
strangled screams, loud enough to wake his wife who turned to tend to him.

Avita
held her children tight, the sounds terrifying them all, it so close and within
sight that it brought a dose of reality to their until now sheltered exposure
to the disaster. After several minutes the man turned back, wiping a black
grime off his chin as if he had vomited the very ash that surrounded them.

“Back
under the blankets,” she ordered, covering her children’s heads and putting her
own mouth and nose under the covering. The man took several more drinks then
seemed to relax, his cough gone and his breathing returning to normal. “I’m
Avita,” she said, finally realizing introductions had never been made.

“I’m
Flora,” replied the young woman who motioned toward her husband. “This is
Seneca.”

The man
nodded, handing the water to his wife. “Thank you again for taking us. You
wouldn’t believe how bad it is out there,” he said, his voice raspy but gaining
strength.

“It’s
unlike anything I could have ever imagined,” agreed Avita. “It is as if the
gods have abandoned us.”

Flora
shivered in fright, snuggling closer to her husband. “I fear how far this hell
has spread.” She lowered her voice, leaning forward. “People are desperate out
there. I fear if we don’t get out soon, we never will.”

Avita
glanced ahead but could see nothing, the canvas cover supplemented with
blankets that hung over the normally open front.

“Labeo,
how goes it?” she called.

 A head
poked between the blankets, covered in black, streaks around the eyes and mouth
where he had tried to wipe them clean. “Not well, my lady. This ash continued
to deepen and the horses are having a hard time of it. I have lost sight of the
second carriage—I fear they may have broken an axle.”

“We must
stop for them!” cried Avita, her head emerging from under her blanket.

“No, my
lady. There is no time nor can we take the increased load, it is too hard on
the horses. Even with the extra two they are struggling. If we do not escape
the city soon, we never will. The others can follow on foot.”

“But—”

Labeo
cut her off, rather impudently she thought if the situation weren’t so dire.
“My lady, please, think of the children. My lord was very clear in his orders.
I am to stop at nothing to save you.”