Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (17 page)

“Fascinating,”
said his mother, taking a sip of her orange juice. “It must feel so good to
catch these people.”

“It
does. Especially the bad ones. Sometimes they’re just desperate people, but I
don’t deal with the little guys.” His watch sent an electrical pulse into this
wrist, discretely signaling a message from his employer. He ignored it. “Those
are quite often the hard luck cases. I usually deal with the multimillion
dollar policies. These people sometimes are desperate, but they never face the
gutter.” He wiped the corners of his mouth. “Excuse me, I need to use the
bathroom.”

He stood
up, dropping his napkin on his chair, then headed for the bathroom. Entering a
coded sequence into his watch by pressing the edges in a certain order, a
message scrolled.

He
cursed.

He
couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to visit his folks, his real
job having him gallivanting all over the world, though like his cover career,
this one demanded he drop everything at a moment’s notice. He headed back to
the table and sat down. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave soon. Emergency
at work.”

His
father grunted his displeasure. “Emergency? In the insurance business?”

Kane
shrugged as he shoveled each delicious mouthful of his mother’s breakfast into
his face, not sure when he’d get to enjoy it again. “Well, Dad, we don’t
schedule natural disasters or criminal activity.”

“What is
it this time, dear?” asked his mother as she leaned over and dropped another
load of eggs and bacon on his plate. He grinned through filled cheeks.

“Oh,
nothing serious.”

“Then it
can wait.” His father’s voice was gruff as usual when it came to him running
off. He wasn’t really mad, at least he hoped he wasn’t. Kane was sure the man
was just disappointed his son had to run off, especially for a job he didn’t
respect. “It’s not like you’re out there saving the world, you’re trying to
save some multibillion dollar company from paying out money on a policy some
poor SOB paid into his entire life.”

Kane
felt his chest tighten at the words, it truly hurtful that his father
disrespected his line of work so much that he’d say things like that. It wasn’t
the first time, though he had never been so blunt before. He just wished he
could tell him the truth about what he did.

He’d
be so proud.

His
mother swatted his father, noticing the gloom clouding her son’s face. “Take it
easy on him, dear, what he does is important. If everybody was allowed to cheat
the insurance company, just imagine how high our premiums would be. Dylan does
an important job. Not everybody can be James Bond, saving the world.”

Kane
smiled.

If
only you knew.

“Thanks,
Mom.”

He
cleared his plate then rose, giving his parents and aunt hugs.

“I’ll
try to get back soon.”

“We know
you will, dear.”

Kane
left the home he had grown up in, his heart heavy as it always was. He missed
his folks, especially knowing he might never see them again, his line of work
not the safest in the career aptitude test.

He
started the engine of his rental and pulled out of the driveway, waving to his
folks who were standing on the porch, his father appearing particularly sad.

I
knew he was just disappointed.

As he
pulled out of sight, he hoped that someday he’d be able to reveal what he truly
did for a living, and see the pride in his father’s eyes he so desperately
craved.

He
turned toward the airport, a plane already waiting for him.

Time
to save the world.

He
chuckled as he switched from Dylan Kane, Shaw’s of London Insurance
Investigator, to Dylan Kane, CIA Special Agent.

I
guess it was James Bond’s night off.

Ambasciatori Palace Hotel, Rome, Italy

“It’s all my fault.”

Acton
sat on the couch in the living area of the two-bedroom suite, Laura perched
behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders, trying to ease his tension.

It
wasn’t working.

“It’s
not your fault, dear, you know that.”

Acton
patted his wife’s hand and leaned back into her, ending the massage and giving
her hands a rest. “If I had left well enough alone and not put that damned
phone in with the portrait, none of this would be happening.”

“And if
criminals hadn’t murdered six people and stolen it, none of this would be
happening either.” Reading placed his phone down on the table between them.
“It’s not
your
fault, it’s theirs.” He pointed at the phone. “They
traced the call.”

“Let me
guess, the castle?”

Reading
nodded. “They don’t seem to be concerned that we know where they are.”

“They
don’t need to be. They have my parents.” Acton shook his head. “And it sounds
like they intend to keep them.”

“How
long?” asked Laura.

“I got
the distinct impression he was talking weeks or months, maybe even longer. I
think he intends to keep them to keep me silent.”

Laura laid
her chin on his shoulder, squeezing him around the chest. “I’m so sorry.” She
extricated herself, sitting beside him. “I think we need to involve the police,
FBI, someone.”

Acton
shook his head. “We can’t. We don’t know who we can trust, and if we tell the
wrong person, and they find out, they could—” He stopped himself, not trusting
the words to come out whole as he felt the overwhelming urge to cry. He leaned
forward, his elbows on his knees, his head drooping low as he battled for
control. “He said…he’d send them to me…one body…part…at a…time.”

The
tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the carpet, though he
controlled the sobs, determined not to let these bastards get control of his
emotions. He had to remain strong, clearheaded, if his parents had any chance.
Laura held him tightly from the side, her hand gently stroking his back, as
Reading said nothing, the man uncomfortable with displays of emotions.

Acton
wiped his cheeks dry and sat up. “Sorry, I guess I needed that.”

“Never
apologize for being human,” said Reading.

Guess
he’s getting soft in his old age.

Laura
turned to face him, bending her leg up under her on the couch. “So what are we
going to do?”

Acton
looked at her then Reading.

“We need
outside help.”

Laura
smiled slightly. “A little Kraft Dinner?”

He
nodded.

“I don’t
think we have a choice.”

Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

Leroux sat in a chair at the back of the Operations Center, his team
working their magic as he orchestrated their moves. Police reports had
confirmed that Professor James Acton’s parents were missing, there signs they
had left the house abruptly, their television still on, an evening snack half
eaten.

Not to
mention the reports that a neighbor had seen them getting into a black SUV with
two men they didn’t recognize, and apparently not dressed like they normally
would to go out.

Apparently
an overly observant neighbor.

He liked
the anonymity of living in an apartment. He barely knew any of his neighbors
beyond nodding to them or saying good morning or evening. Few even bothered
with that, some turning the opposite direction, his security detail essentially
creating a shield around him, both physical and social.

And he
had no problem with that.

They
liked Sherrie though, especially the guys. They never seemed to avoid her, and
a few even expressed surprise when they’d be talking to her at the mailboxes
and he’d arrive, she giving him a kiss.

At first
he had felt jealousy at it, then pride.

Yeah,
asshole, she’s mine. Suck it!

He was a
loner, a chronic loner, with one real friend—Dylan Kane, a high school buddy he
had helped tutor. Kane was the jock, cool, every girl wanted him, every guy
wanted to be him. But rather than be an asshole like so many of the other
jocks, Kane had been a true friend, sticking up for him over the short time
they knew each other, and never ashamed to admit to that friendship. They had
lost track of each other when Kane had left for college, but a chance encounter
in the cafeteria at Langley had rekindled the friendship, Leroux shocked to
learn Kane was an agent.

A secret
he had kept to this day, it the secret Sherrie had been tasked to test him
with.

His
passing had meant his boss, Leif Morrison, had invited him into his inner
circle of agents and analysts he trusted.

It was a
small circle and the rewards were few beyond respect.

Which
was really all he had ever wanted. He had received none in high school except
from Kane, and his adult life, until he had met Sherrie, had been one of long
hours hunched over a keyboard. Few dates, almost no second dates, no
girlfriends to speak of, and no friends.

When
the pizza guy is the highlight of your Friday night, you know you’ve got a
problem.

But
Sherrie had changed all that. Passing the test had meant he had been given more
responsibility, the tougher assignments and eventually a team—something he had
been horrified at when he was first informed. His painfully shy and awkward
ways did not lend themselves to a leadership role, but with Sherrie’s help and
Morrison’s confidence and encouragement, he had proven himself up to the task,
even the analysts twice his age respecting him.

He
actually felt pride in himself now, something he had never felt before.

I
love my life.

And it
could be a much shorter life if the Assembly had decided it was time to
eliminate the thorns in their side.

A large
array of flat screens that arced around the front of the room showed various
traffic cameras along with private security cameras in the area of the
abduction, license plate recognition software grabbing the plates and comparing
them to the DMV registries for vehicle type, anything that matched the
description of a dark colored SUV flagged for review by a human.

His team
was good, his team was efficient. He had no doubt they’d narrow down the
thousands of vehicles to just a few, but eventually they’d need a more hands on
approach.

A buzzer
sounded and the door opened, National Clandestine Service Chief Leif Morrison
entering. Leroux leapt to his feet. “Sir.”

Morrison
waved him off. “Sit, Chris, it’s not the army.”

“Sorry,
sir.” Leroux remained standing as Morrison came up beside him.

“Status?”

“We’re
hitting every camera in the area, narrowing the list of possibles down, but
we’re going to need some boots on the ground to run down leads.”

“The FBI
is already taking over the case. If you find anything, send it their way, but
we need to figure out if this has anything to do with the Assembly.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“The FBI
has no idea who or what they are, and the détente we have with the Assembly
means we need to keep it that way.”

“That
limits the possibilities of whose boots are available.”

“It
does.”

Leroux
smiled. “Anyone in mind?”

Morrison
nodded. “Oh, I’ve already got someone on the way.”