Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (71 page)

I was more than lucky.

Her brother, on the other hand, hasn’t been quite so pleasing, but things were at least starting to look up on that front.  Boys always were slower learners.  I would know.

“How about…” Helena started, leading Penelope on, who watched her mother with apt interest now, “… we go pick up your brother and then get some… pizza?!”

“What about daddy?”  She asked, my little champion.

“Daddy forgot to pick up your brother.  What do you think we should do?”

Penelope snapped her head around and stared at me with an evil expression that was so cute I couldn’t care.  “No pizza for you!”

I rolled my eyes.  “You’re not letting her watch
Seinfeld
again, are you?”

Helena smirked.  “I can’t believe I missed out on it when it was new.  It’s amazing how it’s still funny
and
relevant.”

I chuckled and rose to my feet so that I could give Penelope a kiss on the cheek before giving Helena a slightly longer one on the lips, suffering through my daughter making a grossed-out hacking sound with her throat.  I pulled away and smiled at Helena and then at Penelope, and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“If you
promise
to save me some pizza, I
promise
to play in the snow
all
weekend long.  I swear.”

Helena and Penelope looked at each other, silently considering my offer, when Helena finally gave her an approving nod.  Penelope smiled and turned to me, offering me the same kind of nod only far more exaggerated.

“Okay, but only because you promised.”

“Because I promised,” I said, leaning in to give her another kiss on the forehead.  “Now get going ladies.  But make sure your mother drives safely; we both know how crazy she can get on the road.”

“It’s fun!”  Penelope exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes internally this time, not letting my annoyance show in front of our daughter.

It wasn’t to say that Helena was suddenly a thrill seeker, but she also seemed to be missing something in her life.  Whether it was the way she drove our small SUV like it was Formula 1 race car or how she often went to a shooting range to pop off a few rounds in order to relax, but it was clear that she was a bit restless.  She didn’t seem agitated or annoyed at our life, far from it, in fact, but I could tell she was missing something and she scratched that itch whenever and however she could.

“Just be careful, okay?  They’re predicting another two inches of snowfall tonight.”

“I’ll be careful, Jacob,” Helena assured but then her voice grew grave.  “Just don’t be here until midnight, all right?  Eight thirty, and then you get your butt home.”

Penelope snickered at what I assumed must have been the word
butt
and I nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helena smiled at me and kissed me again quickly before she turned with Penelope to leave.  I gave my daughter’s hair a quick tussle as they left and she stuck her tongue out at me over Helena’s shoulder as they retreated through the darkened hallway of the classics department.  I leaned against my doorframe and crossed my arms, smiling as I watched them depart.

Helena may not feel completely fulfilled in life, but I certainly was.  I wouldn’t turn in a single thing to gain back
anything
from our old lives.  When I heard other parents complaining about the loss of their freedom or their time because of their kids, I had to often suppress a violent urge to punch them.  Even after everything we’d gone through as a society, as a world, people were still wrapped up in their own little worlds, and I honestly resented them for it.  If any of them had even an
inkling
of what my life had been like before parenthood they would have shit thems…

Movement in the corner of my eye alerted me to danger.

I may have been out of the game for years, but that time away hadn’t diminished my danger sense.  It may have enhanced it, in fact.  My mind was rife with paranoia.  Whenever I saw an old bearded man, quite common on a college campus, I couldn’t help but think of Merlin.  But while I hadn’t seen a beard just now, I knew these halls should have been mostly deserted at this hour and on this last day of finals week.  Nor did I expect anyone to be loitering in the hallway while my wife and child were visiting only to make his move just after they had left.

I threw myself into action, reaching around the doorframe with my left hand and yanking the interloper by the collar.  Tugging him toward me I spun him around and threw him against the door of my office, and thrust my other forearm just below his Adam’s apple, pushing him upward.  I planted my feet in a staggered stance to better hold him there for questi…

“Professor Hunter!”  A youthful voice cried out.  “What are you…”

But I dropped him before he could finish, recognizing his voice immediately.  It was one of my students, Adrian, who always seemed to be lurking around during office hours.  He was a sophomore and an aspiring classics major, and he was as sharp as a Ginsu knife.  He’d latched onto me within the first few weeks of the semester, and I hadn’t minded.  I’d always wanted a protégé and it seemed like he might be my first.

The kid
had
enrolled in every single class I was teaching next semester.

I stumbled back a few steps and fell into my chair, placing my head in my palm.  Looking up at my young student, I removed my hand and waved it at him wearily.  “Sorry, Adrian,” I said.  “It’s been a long week and I didn’t think anyone was still here.”

He looked at me with wide eyes, but he didn’t seem scared or upset at all.  “Are you kidding, professor?  It’s not everyday someone gets thrown into a chokehold by a Navy SE…”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he cut himself off.

The last thing I’d wanted to do was promote the fact that I’d once been in the Navy, let alone a member of the world’s foremost special operations team.  It was bad enough that half the faculty had immediately ostracized me and outright distrusted me when they’d learned of my past, although it was even worse that the other half had turned into something akin to hero-worshipers and were constantly dropping not-so-subtle inquiries about my past.

But of course
everyone
loved Helena.  She was still working on her PhD at another nearby university up north, where I’d attained mine as well, but had taken some time off recently to raise Vincent – although she was gearing up start work on her dissertation come the New Year.  She came around my office quite regularly, and both faculty and students alike had come to know her as well, and it wasn’t exactly difficult to guess why just about everyone liked her. She was far more mysterious than I was; a beautiful, German mother who had also been an elite solider at one point.  How rare.  And of course there was the fact that I wasn’t exactly a socialite and often came off as a know-it-all at times, whereas Helena was as lovely in speech as she was in person.

But like the faculty, a small minority of students weren’t too fond of the rumors surrounding me either, and I could only do so much to hide who I’d been.  I only had a smattering of memorabilia from my time with the Teams hiding in my office, but a few of my more observant students had probably found one bit or another, Adrian, I was sure, among them.  Then there were also the times I had my shirt sleeves rolled up and had forgotten to let them down again prior to a class or before office hours, revealing the pair of nasty scars I had on my left arm, along with the dozens of others I’d accumulated on both as well.  The limp was also a bit of a giveaway.

Rumors had abounded, but I had to admit it felt pretty rewarding that some people were in awe of what I’d done.  I may not have been proud of my time in Rome, but as a Navy SEAL, I’d been more than proud.

“Sorry, Professor Hunter,” Adrian said sheepishly.  “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, Adrian,” I said calmly.  “I just don’t want my past distracting you and the other students from what we’re here to learn.  So if you could keep this between us, I’d appreciate it.  Not that I can bribe you with a better grade, or anything, since you aced your exam.”

“I did?”  He asked, his face brightening.

I shouldn’t have told him but I couldn’t help it.

Rookie mistake.

“Sure did,” I assured.  “Top mark for the class, shared with only two others so far.  Good job.”

“Thanks, professor.”

He stood there beaming with pride and happiness, having completely forgotten what it was he’d come to speak to me about.  I smiled and clasped my hands together against my chin as I looked at him.  “So what can I do for you, Adrian?”

He jumped and looked nervous again.  “Oh, sorry.  I… I saw your wife coming in earlier as I was finishing up my work in the office.  She looked rushed and I thought you’d be leaving quickly and might forget to check your mail box.”  He held out a small, boxed package for me to take, which I did.  “This was in there so I brought it over, but when I heard you with your family, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I turned the box over in my hand and tried to find a return address, but failed.  The box was no bigger than a Rubik’s Cube and didn’t seem to contain anything but air.  I held it up questioningly.  “Who brought it in?”

“I didn’t see,” Adrian answered.  “It was in your box before I arrived.  I think it came through the mail though.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, turning it over in my hand.  “Well, thanks, Adrian.  Why don’t you take off?  Don’t you have a long trip back to Chicago tomorrow?”

He sighed, clearly unhappy with the situation.  “Yep.  An eleven hour drive.  At least the snow only seems to be hitting the East Coast.  Ohio, Indiana, and most of Pennsylvania are clear.”

I gave him a smile.  “Lucky us.”

He returned it.  “Sorry, Professor,” he said as he threw me a wave.  “Have a good break.  See you next year.”

“You too,” I said, waving back at him although my attention never wavered from the box.

When he was gone, I turned it over in my hands a few times, wondering what it could possibly be.  My first thought was that it was some kind of bio-bomb, an anthrax laced box perhaps, but those days were long gone.  I couldn’t think of any enemies I may have accumulated out in the field and terrorist activity wasn’t exactly heating up the news these days.

I shrugged, realizing there was only one way to find out, and pulled out my spring assisted knife from my pocket, flicked it open, and cut the box open.  I closed the knife, returned it, and set the box on my glass table.  Opening it carefully, I peeked inside, finding nothing more than a USB thumb drive encased in clear bubble wrap.  Curious, I reached in, extracted it, and freed it from its bubbly cocoon so that I could stare at it.

There was nothing else in the box, and nothing written on the thumb drive.  I couldn’t imagine who had sent it, although it didn’t take a genius to figure that it was probably some kind of prank ready to be played on me by Santino.  Probably a computer virus.

Sighing, I reached into a desk drawer and retrieved my USB adaptor.  Computers these days had moved on from USB drives so I had nowhere to insert it on my glass desk, but, luckily, continued innovation in its pursuit to drive technology into the future had been kind enough to develop converters so that old farts like me who still had information on old thumb drives could still access the information.

Plugging the thumb drive into the small, box shaped adaptor, I simple set it down atop my glass-top and waited for it to make a connection with the convertor.  It was pretty impressive technology, needing only a conductive surface to touch in order to access the information stored in the USB device.

Almost immediately, a single prompt displayed itself on my wall mounted screen, indicating that an automated video file was attempting to play itself, and was asking if I wished to proceed.  I tapped the glass indicating that I did, but then a secondary warning flashed, indicating the file may be corrupt or harmful to my computer.

I growled.

Innovation my ass.

I tapped the glass again repeatedly.

Finally, the warnings were gone and a video started to play. 

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, as all I could see was a generic still frame of a random beach that was obviously a green screen projected image.  I squinted at the screen, wondering what the hell Santino had planned for this little devious project of his, when a man suddenly appeared on the screen wearing a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat.

He also had a long, grey beard.

I flung myself backward in my chair as though doing so would somehow protect me from my computer screen, which was completely innocuous in of itself.  I didn’t go very far, however, as my chair impacted a low bookshelf that bisected my room and acted as a shelf for a few of my plants, one of which fell to the ground at the impact.  But I didn’t spare it a single glance, my eyes unable to look away from the man on my screen that stood in front of a fake beach.

Merlin.

“
Aloha
, Jacob,” he said through my speakers, so crystal clear that he sounded like he was in the room with me.  “I hope you’re not receiving this message at a bad time.”