Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (19 page)

She
pulled out the Blackberry and pressed the button to take the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi
Fang, it’s me, Dylan. Busy?”

Ambasciatori Palace Hotel, Rome, Italy

Acton stared at the phone sitting on the table. They had decided
that since he had no phone, his parents’ kidnappers had Laura’s number, and
Reading’s phone might be compromised if there was a leak in Giasson’s office,
they needed a new one. Reading had gone out and purchased a burner, and they
had used that phone to send a message to Kraft Dinner, they’re own code name
for Acton’s former student, Dylan Kane. His secret contact number wasn’t a
phone that would ring and his former student would answer, it was a phone
number connected to the web somehow that would contact Kane if a special coded
sequence was sent to it.

A coded
sequence unique to them.

Acton
wondered how many people had this method of communication open to them, but
given Kane’s job, he doubted it was many. It had proven useful to them on too
many occasions, and he hoped that it would prove useful once again.

But it
had been hours, and they had heard nothing.

Acton
sat back in frustration. “For all we know he’s in the middle of a desert
somewhere with no way of receiving our message.”

Reading
nodded, Laura in the bedroom sleeping. “Definitely possible. The way our luck
is sometimes, most likely.”

Acton
half-smiled. “One pessimist is enough, thank you very much.”

Reading
motioned toward the window, the impressive view of the ancient city
breathtaking. “You haven’t slept all night. You should try to get at least a
few hours.”

Acton
shook his head. “I can’t. Not with my parents out there somewhere.”

“You’re
not going to be much use to them if you’re dead on your feet.”

Acton
frowned. “You’re right, of course, but I know I’ll just lie there and disturb
Laura. I’ll crash hard at some point, but it’s not going to be now.”

Laura’s
familiar morning stretch groan had him turning in his chair to see his wife
stepping out of the bedroom, hands extending above her, eyes closed with a contented
smile. She gave Acton a kiss then dropped on the couch, curling her legs up
under her. “Any news?”

Acton
shook his head. “Nothing. We’re taking bets on what part of the world with zero
cellphone coverage he’s in.”

Laura
leaned over and took a sip from Acton’s coffee cup. “Eww. How old is this?”

Acton
shrugged. “I don’t know, when did you make the last pot?”

“Men!”
She rose and headed for the coffeemaker in the kitchenette. “You do realize his
system is satellite based.”

“Huh?”

“Dylan’s
comm system. It’s not cellular, so it must be satellite.”

“And how
would you know that?” asked Reading, turning in his chair, an eyebrow cocked.

“Easy.
Half the planet, and most of where he deals with, has no coverage. So his
system can’t be cellular, otherwise the CIA would never be able to communicate
with him. And he told us once the method he gave us piggybacks off their
system. So it has to be satellite.”

Reading
smiled, looking at Acton. “She’s a hell of a lot sharper than us.”

“I don’t
know what I’d do without her,” replied Acton, smiling in appreciation at his
wife.

The pot
going, she returned to her seat, giving him a peck. “You’d be dead, dear.” She
winked at Reading. “Or he’d have you in prison.”

Acton
laughed, Reading joining in as they were reminded of the events surrounding how
they all met.

Reading’s
new phone vibrated and Acton leapt at it.

“It’s a
text,” he said, bringing up the message. He immediately put a finger to his
mouth.

Room possibly bugged. If you rented hotel room before
theft, leave immediately. Don’t take anything except what you were wearing.
Leave all phones and electronics. Take cab to St. Peter’s Square. Exit north
gate. Green Fiat will be waiting. Good luck. DK.

He
handed the phone to Laura whose eyes bulged as she read it before handing it
over to Reading. Acton rose, emptying his pockets of anything he didn’t have on
him at all times, Laura heading for the bedroom to get dressed. Reading rose,
pointing at the new phone, Acton guessing he was asking if he should leave it
as well.

He nodded,
pointing at the pile of electronics on the table.

Kane
clearly thought there was a significant risk of electronic surveillance, and
the suggestion had him replaying the conversations that had taken place over
the course of the night.

We
talked about everything! Even Dylan!

Laura
stepped out of the bedroom and nodded. They headed out into the hallway, saying
nothing, the ride down in the elevator silent. Acton eyed everyone with
suspicion, from the staff to the tourists, every innocent glance triggering his
paranoia to the point he doubted whether or not they should trust the cab
hailed by the porter.

His
decision was made for him when Reading practically pushed him in. He slid over
to the driver side of the back seat and Laura pushed up against him, Reading
stuffing his large frame into the room remaining.

Acton
was about to give their destination when Laura beat him to it. “Vatican, St.
Peter’s Square, please.”

“Yes, signora.”

They
weren’t far from Vatican City and they were between rush hours so the traffic
was reasonable, at least by Rome standards. Acton paid the cabbie and they
headed into the walled city, past the Egyptian obelisk and around the Apostolic
Palace. Acton was keeping a brisk pace for the first few minutes until Laura
pulled on his arm.

“Slow
down a bit, you’re going to kill me.”

Acton
immediately stopped, looking at his wife whose chest was heaving slightly.
“Sorry, babe, are you okay?”

She
nodded. “Yes, just not ready for a power walk across the city.”

“Sorry.
I forgot.”

She
hooked her arm in his and started them forward at a more comfortable pace. “No
need to apologize, you’ve got other things on your mind.”

“It’s
not far. I have a feeling Dylan selected our pickup location based upon your
condition.”

“Wouldn’t
surprise me. That boy thinks of everything.”

Reading
grunted. “Probably wanted to force anyone following us to abandon their
vehicle.”

Acton
immediately glanced behind them, finding dozens of people walking in all
directions, some following their path.

Of
course they are. You’re on a path!

“Just
keep moving,” said Reading, apparently noticing his constant backward gaze.

Acton
frowned but looked ahead. “There it is.” The gate that Kane had sent them
toward was now in sight, the city street visible on the other side. As they
cleared the gates and reentered Italy, Reading elbowed Acton, his chin jutting
to the left.

Acton
smiled, their troubles forgotten if only for a brief moment.

A Jaguar
with what appeared to be at least a dozen parking tickets tucked under the
windshield wipers was being loaded onto the back of a tow truck.

“Fifty
quid says he abandoned it.”

Acton
laughed. “Or he parked it near the Vatican, hoping for a miracle.”

“There.”

They
both looked toward where Laura was pointing, a green car with a Fiat badge on
the back, idling at the curb. They approached and the front passenger door was
thrown open.

“Get in,
quickly!”

Acton
said nothing, hauling open the rear door, helping Laura inside then climbing in
himself as Reading slammed the front door shut. The driver launched them from
the curb the moment his ass hit the seat.

“Professor
Acton?”

Acton
nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m Mr.
Verde.” He handed a cellphone between the seats. “Here, someone wants to talk
to you.”

Approaching Albany, New York

Lee Fang peered out the window of the Cessna Citation CJ4 that had
been waiting for her. Kane had arranged everything, the package delivery, the
cellphone call, the car waiting downstairs for her, the private plane at the
airport.

He was
good.

Damned
good.

It reminded
her of the old days. Military precision. She missed it. She missed it all. She
had been stunned to receive a phone call from Kane, and even more so when he
had asked for her help. It was like a dream come true, her prayers, if she
believed in that sort of thing, answered.

Action!

It’s
what she had been craving for so long.

Purpose!

She had
been desperate to slay the idleness that had taken over so much of her life.
There was only so much exercise she could do without that in itself driving her
crazy. Yet now here she was, winging into an airport on a private plane to meet
up with a CIA agent who needed her help.

Maybe
they’ll give me a job.

She
doubted it. Her agreement with the Americans specifically stated no jobs with any
level of government, and she had specifically made them agree that they could
never force her to betray her country in order for them to continue to honor
the deal.

Her
country may think of her as a traitor, but she wasn’t.

The
men I named were the traitors.

Who was
guilty of what were semantics when it came to the Chinese government. They had
been embarrassed, they had been caught, and the fact they had let America
effectively flatten a major research facility buried in the side of a mountain,
without so much as a peep, meant they realized they were in the wrong, and were
just thankful that was the limit of the retaliation.

Nothing
had made the news, the Americans had said nothing of the Chinese involvement
publicly, and all was forgiven.

Or so it
would appear. She having zero access to any type of intel meant she was as in
the dark as any other citizen of her adopted country.

The
plane touched down with a chirp of the wheels, the pilot having said nothing to
her the entire trip, it clear he was not civilian by his demeanor.

It was
just as well, small talk never her strong suit.

She sat
quietly as the plane taxied off the runway, soon coming to a stop. The pilot
turned to her and pointed at a black SUV sitting nearby. “Keys are in the
ignition, details are on a phone on the passenger seat. Password is your birth
year.”

She
smiled.

Time
for some fun!

Outside St. Peter’s Square, Rome, Italy

Luca Abbadelli sat in his nondescript pale blue Alfa Romeo Giulietta,
watching his adversary change a flat tire, a tire Abbadelli had punctured only
a few minutes ago. It was essential that Acton and his entourage had time to
get away cleanly, and delaying their tail by ten minutes would almost guarantee
that.