Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (15 page)

“I’m
sorry, my friends, it would appear that getting shot does indeed take a lot out
of you.”

Laura
smiled and patted his foot under the covers. “Having been shot recently, I can attest
to that.”

Giasson
smiled then his face became serious.

“Remember,
trust no one. Whoever they are, they have killed six people, including four
police officers. They won’t hesitate to kill you should they think you’re a
threat.”

Acton
felt his body tense as Giasson’s words sank in. He felt Laura’s hand slide into
his, squeezing hard.

“Don’t
worry. We will.”

Rocca d'Angera Castle, Angera, Italy

“So, Karl, who is he?”

Hofmeister
leaned into the screen as their lead tech’s fingers flew over the keyboard, the
iPhone in a shielded box so it could no longer transmit its location, giving up
all its secrets as the contacts were pulled and cross referenced against the
law enforcement databases the Congress had access to.

“His
name is Professor James Acton. I requested his file for this morning’s mission.
It’s quite extensive.” Karl handed him a file folder. “He’s apparently very well
connected and his wife is extremely rich.”

“How
rich?”

“From
what I can tell, approaching half a billion Euros.”

Hofmeister
whistled as he flipped through the file, his eyes narrowing as he read the
little bit known about the professors, and their propensity for getting into
trouble. What never seemed clear was how they got out of it.

Karl
motioned toward the file. “He might not be the easy target you thought.”

Hofmeister
frowned, glaring at Karl. “You forget your place.”

Fear
flashed over Karl’s face as he paled. “Sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

Hofmeister
felt a rush of pleasure at the man’s obvious fear. It was something he’d never
tire of. “Of course you didn’t. You are not a fool.” He flipped the file shut.
“You’ve read this?”

“Yes, Obersturmbannführer.”

“Then
what are his vulnerabilities.”

“He has
a wife but no children. His parents are still alive and he is an only child.
There’s no intel on friends yet, but we’ll gather that from the contacts on his
phone.”

Hofmeister
pursed his lips as he thought of how best to apply leverage. The man was
married, but it could be a failing marriage for all he knew. Kidnap her and
Acton might simply rejoice. He had no children or siblings, and friends were
sometimes difficult to assess as to how willing you were to compromise your
ideals for them.

But
parents?

“Where
are the parents?”

“They’ve
recently moved to Germantown, Maryland.”

“Have a
team pick them up, immediately.”

“Yes, Obersturmbannführer!”

Ellsworth and Dorothy Acton Residence, Germantown, Maryland

“I can’t believe we’re watching this.”

Ellsworth
Acton stared at the television screen, shaking his head. He’d rather nothing on
than most of what was available today. Yet he found he couldn’t pull himself
away from the screen. It was strange, something he noticed even in public. If
there was a screen, everyone’s eyes were inevitably drawn to it. At a bar, a
restaurant, the airport, the barber. Everywhere there was a screen, even if you
couldn’t hear what was happening, your eyes were drawn to it.

It was a
sickness.

And now
his son had given him an eReader, yet another screen to stare at.

“No,
Dad, it’s an eReader, not a tablet. It’s a dedicated device with a special
display that doesn’t strain the eyes. You read it just like a book.”

He had
been skeptical but had given it a shot, unwilling to let good money go to
waste.

And had
become hooked.

His son
was right. It was just like reading a book, only better. He hated staring at
computer screens and trying to read anything for any reasonable amount of time.
But the eReader? It was fantastic.

He glanced
down at it, sitting in his lap, even it unable to compete with the insanity on
the screen.

“What
was that dear?”

He
looked over at his beloved Dorothy, sitting in her recliner to his right,
finally picking up on the fact he had said something. “I said I can’t believe
we’re watching this. This isn’t a talent show, this is America’s Got Too Much
Time On Its Hands.”

“Oh,
live a little, it’s fun. Some of these acts are amazing.”

“Right.
You’ve got a Canadian, a Brit and a German telling America who’s got talent.”

“Yeah,
that is a bit ironic, isn’t it?”

“To no
end.” He shook his head.

Dorothy
muted the television as a commercial started, still not embracing the full
power of the Digital Video Recorder. “It’s what the kids are watching today.”

“I fear
for my country.”

“It’s a
new generation.”

“That
will drive us into the ground.” He glanced over at Dorothy. “I shudder to think
what will happen when these kids become the leaders of our country.”

“They’ll
do fine. Look at Jim.”

“It’s
not Jim I’m worried about, it’s his students. When they get in the White House
in thirty years, we’re doomed.”

Dorothy
smiled, reaching over and patting his hand. “You have to think positively,
dear, you’ll be dead by then.”

Ellsworth
laughed, nodding his head. “If I’m lucky. Then it will be Jim who has to worry
about it.”

“But not
his kids.”

Ellsworth
immediately sensed the gloom sweep over his wife. He felt his own chest tighten
slightly. His son and his new wife had only recently learned they’d never be
able to have children, complications from a gunshot wound Laura had received
several months before. It had been devastating news. He couldn’t care less if
he had grandchildren, it was the pain in his son and daughter-in-law’s eyes that
had hurt. And it was the final straw for his wife, the house sold in Stowe and one
closer to their son, bought.

He
pointed at a lawn care commercial on the television, trying to change the
subject. “Lenny said yesterday he was going to shoot anyone who tried to
enforce the pesticide ban.”

“If he
ever followed through on these threats half the town would be dead.”

“He’s
right though. It’s junk science. I haven’t been able to find a single study
that shows proper use outdoors has harmed anyone. And now some jurisdictions
that have banned them are seeing asthma rates go through the roof, emergency
room visits are skyrocketing with respiratory problems, their cities look like
overrun weed farms, and their parks and sports fields are unusable.” He shook
his head, rage building in his stomach. “It’s bullshit like that that pisses me
off to no end. These environutbars get something in their head then run with it
to the exclusion of all else. How many people have died to save not a single
life lost to pesticides. If you want
me
to not use it, fine, but let me
hire a professional to spray my lawn.”

“Remember
what your doctor said, you need to watch your blood pressure.”

Ellsworth
growled. “Don’t get me started on him.”

The
doorbell rang and Dorothy jumped from her chair. “Thank God!”

He
grinned. “Saved by the bell?”

“Are you
expecting anyone?” she asked.

“If I
were, you’d know.”

“Ha ha.”

She
disappeared down the hallway and he heard the alarm chime then a cry. He leapt
from his chair, a little slower than he would have liked, and rushed toward the
hall. As he rounded the corner, he charged as two blonde men stepped into the
house, one with a black gloved hand pressed over his wife’s mouth, her head
pressed against the wall.

A rage
built within him as he surged forward, hatred in his eyes.

You
don’t touch my family!

A gun
appeared, pointed at his chest.

He kept
charging.

Then it
pointed at his wife.

He eased
up, coming to a stop only feet away.

“Get
your hands off my wife!”

The man
holding her stared at him. “Don’t be a hero, Mr. Acton. You’ll just get your
wife killed.” He removed the hand from Dorothy and Ellsworth reached out,
pulling her toward him.

“What do
you want?” he asked, glaring at the intruders.

“It’s
not
you
we want. It’s your son.”

Ambasciatori Palace Hotel, Rome, Italy

Acton lay on the bed, his eyes closed, as Reading worked his phone
in the other room, trying to find out anything he could on the castle Acton’s
phone had ended up in. Acton had decided the best approach right now was to let
the system do its job—and Reading and Giasson were that system—while he got
some rest. Laura lay beside him, gently snoring, exhausted from the ordeal, her
stamina still a work in progress.

Her
phone vibrated on the nightstand.

She
moaned.

“I’ll
get it, you sleep.”

“Who is
it?” mumbled Laura.

“Blocked
number.”

He swiped
his thumb over the display as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Hello?”

“Professor
James Acton?”

“Yes?”

“Professor
Acton, we have your parents, Ellsworth and Dorothy.”

Acton
leapt to his feet, yanking open the bedroom door and rushing into the living
area where Reading was. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the phone,
Reading immediately nodding and ending his call, dialing another number to
start a trace.

“What do
you mean? Are they okay?” he asked, not sure what to say, his mind racing with
dozens of horrible scenarios.

“If you
contact the police, they will die.”

He glanced
at Reading who was rolling his hand, indicating he needed more time. He decided
not to stop him.

“What
have you told the authorities about the theft?”

Laura
entered the room, her brow furled with curiosity. He shook his head, holding a
finger to his lips, silencing her unspoken question.

“Nothing.”

“I find
that hard to believe, Professor Acton. We found your phone. Clever. I assume
you have traced its location?”

He said
nothing, terrified the admission might seal his parents’ fate.

“Professor,
don’t make me hurt your mother. These are simple questions. Answer truthfully
and I won’t be forced to apply pressure.” There was a pause. “I will ask you
once again. Have you traced your phone’s location?”

Acton drew
in a slow breath, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

“So you
know where the portrait is.”

It was a
statement, not a question. Acton decided to try a different tact, it clear this
was of concern to the man. “I know where the
phone
was several hours
ago. I assume you could have continued to another location, leaving the phone
behind.”