Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (33 page)

“His
son.”

“Right.
A dynasty.”

Niner
shook his head. “That usually means zealots.”

Spock
sighed. “Which usually means a fanatical willingness to die for one’s cause.”

Dawson
frowned. “Lovely, that’s all we need.”

Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

Giasson sat upright in his bed. He had sent Marie-Claude and the
children to the neighbor’s, just in case something went terribly wrong. Both
groups he was dealing with were capable of killing, and what he was about to do
could backfire horribly.

The
doorbell rang.

Chief
Inspector Riva rose from his chair at the foot of the bed. “That must be him.
Ready?”

Giasson
nodded.

Riva
went swiftly to the front door, opening it, the alarm panel in the bedroom
chirping.

“Oh,
hello, Chief Inspector, I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Giasson
could barely hear his friend of many years, but enough carried for him to
follow what was being said.

“There’s
been a break in the case. The Inspector General wanted to bring you up to date
since he’s out of commission for a few days and you’ll be taking over.”

“Of
course, of course!”

Mario
swung his legs from his bed, pushing himself to his feet, his shoulder
protesting slightly, though not much. He straightened himself and forced a
smile on his face as the footsteps echoed through the halls and into the
bedroom.

His
second-in-command, Gerard Boileau, appeared in the doorway, his face
immediately one of surprise and concern, this the first time he had seen
Giasson since the shooting.

“Sir!
How are you feeling?” He stepped forward and shook Giasson’s hand. “I took a
moment to say a prayer for you last night. All of us did.” He looked at his
boss, then the shoulder. “Should you be up?”

Giasson
smiled. “I appreciate that.” He stepped forward and tore open Boileau’s shirt.
The man jumped back, shocked, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped.

“What
the hell is this?”

Giasson
jabbed a finger at the man’s chest, the discoloration obvious, the shape
circular with four segments that jutted out, it obvious to him it was the scars
from the Keepers’ tattoo being removed with a laser. “Explain that.”

Boileau
flushed, grabbing both sides of his shirt as he began to button it up. “A
youthful indiscretion. I had it removed before I took the job with you.”

“What
was it?”

“A
cross. I was very religious. I
am
very religious. I thought I was going
into the seminary but much to my mother’s disappointment, I liked girls too
much.”

Giasson held
out his hand and Riva handed him the photo of one of the victims. “It wouldn’t
happen to match this.”

Boileau’s
eyes narrowed as he leaned in to examine the photo. “Only in that it was a
cross.”

“Interesting.”
Riva handed him the photo of the grandfather. He held it up. “And your
grandfather?”

Boileau
paled noticeably.

Giasson
shook the photo in front of Boileau’s face. “We know it was you. We want to
know why you did it, and who they are?”

Boileau
took a step back, looking about the room. Riva’s hand was resting on his gun.
He tapped the grip. Boileau’s shoulders collapsed and he dropped into a chair,
grabbing his head as he stared at the floor. He looked up at Giasson. “I’m
sorry, Mario, I never thought I’d have to betray you, but they insisted.”

“You
could have said no.”

Boileau
shook his head. “No, I swore an oath to them long before I ever met you.”

“The
Keepers of the One Truth.”

Boileau
nodded.

“And
what do they want with the portrait?”

“Nothing.”
Boileau sat up, his eyes wide as if he were desperate to be believed. “The
portrait was put under our protection during the Second World War. We thought
it had been returned in 1998, but it turns out one of our members, the older
victim, switched it out with a forgery that had been made as a decoy. He was
dying of cancer so we assume was handing it off to a protégé he could trust.”

“Why would
he hide it from your organization?”

Boileau
shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t been made aware of everything. I just know
that when they were killed, I received an emergency communique.”

“Where
you betrayed me. I was shot!”

Boileau
shook his head emphatically. “No, that wasn’t my fault. You have no idea how
sorry I am for that, but nobody was supposed to get hurt. In fact, I don’t
think any Keeper knew what was going to happen. You see, we had no plan for
this. No one knew the portrait existed until that day.”

“Somebody
obviously had different plans.”

Boileau
nodded, his eyes returning to his shoes. “I know. All I did was tell my contact
where the portrait was going to be taken, and when. That’s all I know.
Remember, there was some doubt as to whether or not it was even real, and if it
were, then why would we care? We thought we had returned it years ago. If that
wasn’t the case, then it didn’t matter if you had it, since it meant it would
eventually end up in the proper hands and we’d be done with it.” He looked back
up at Giasson. “Sir, Mario, we had
no
reason to try and steal it back!”

Giasson
sat on the bed, his energy spent. What Boileau was saying made sense. Too much
sense. So much sense it seemed to him that there was no way the Keepers were
responsible for the theft and murders at the university.

But
Boileau was clearly the source of the leak.

Which
meant only one thing.

“You’ve
got a mole within the Keepers.”

Boileau’s
eyes popped wide, his jaw dropping. “It—it would appear so.”

Giasson drew
in a breath, squaring his shoulders as he tried to appear as intimidating as he
could from his seated position. “I want a meeting.”

Boileau’s
eyes narrowed. “With who?”

“Your
leader.”

Boileau
paled by several shades. “I—I don’t think that’s possible.”

Giasson’s
head dipped as he glared at Boileau.

“Tell
him I insist.”

Hotel Dei Tigli, Angera, Italy

Mr. Verde’s phone was sitting on the coffee table in the much
smaller hotel room than Acton had become accustomed to since meeting Laura, it
on speaker, Kane providing them with an update. Several duffel bags of supplies
had been in the room facing the castle when they arrived, Acton continually
impressed with how efficient Kane and his people were.

Sometimes
it
is
like the movies.

Reading
was already setting up a camera in the window with a view of the road that led
up to the castle and Laura was in one of the other rooms, getting some much-needed
rest.

“Bravo
Team is on the ground and on route. They should be there any minute. Do you see
the black Dacia Duster across the street?”

Verde
went to the window. “Yes.”

“That’s
yours, keys should be on the counter.”

Acton
stepped over to the counter and picked them up, shaking them so Kane could
hear. “Got them. Can you get word to Mario so he’s not worried about us?”

“Already
done. One of our people delivered a message this morning to him after he tried
to call Laura’s phone.”

“What
did you tell him?”

“That
you are secure and will be in touch.”

“He’s
not going to believe that. Not with what’s going on.”

“It will
have to do.”

Acton
exchanged a glance with Reading, who didn’t look pleased.

“Is
he
secure?” asked Reading.

“Yes,
there’s several state police at his residence.”

Acton
frowned. “We don’t know if we can trust them.”

“He
requested them, so he must feel confident.”

Acton’s
eyes narrowed, Reading turning away from the camera, staring at the phone.
“That’s odd.”

Acton
nodded in agreement. “I wonder if he’s figured something out.”

Verde
interrupted. “Are those your guys?”

Reading
stepped over to the window, Verde pointing at the street below. Reading nodded.
“Looks like three of Bravo Team just got here.”

“Okay,
guys, you’re in good hands. I’ll let you go. Keep me posted.”

Acton
leaned toward the phone. “Will do, Dylan. Thanks for everything.”

There
was a knock at the door as the call ended, and Acton opened it, smiling broadly
as Dawson, Niner and Jimmy entered the room. Handshakes were exchanged and
introductions made, most using an alias it seemed.

Yet it
didn’t matter.

The
cavalry had arrived, and for the first time since this had all began, Acton
felt hopeful they might actually succeed in ending this.

“I
thought six of you were coming,” said Acton as everyone tried to find a place
to sit in the cramped room.

“I sent
Atlas, Spock and Jagger to recon the perimeter. They’re playing tourist.”

Niner
grinned. “I picked up some pretty things for them to wear at the airport gift
shop.”

Jimmy
chuckled. “I still can’t believe Atlas agreed to wear that hat.”

Acton
grinned. “Can’t wait to see it.”

“No
need, Doc.” Niner reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a boater hat,
tossing it over, the colors of the Italian flag proudly encircling the top.
“Got one for you.”

Acton
shook his head then tossed it on the table with a grin. “I’d pay good money to
see Atlas in that.”

Niner
held up his phone, showing a picture of the big man in the hat, appearing none
too pleased. “I’ll be charging five bucks a copy when the mission is over.”

“Put me
down for one,” said Jimmy.

There
was a knock at the door, gentle, and Acton knew immediately it was Laura. Verde
opened the door and let her in, her smile brightening the room, everyone
getting to their feet.

“I
thought I heard a ruckus.”

Dawson
smiled, extending a hand. “Hey, Professor, how are you?”

Laura
pushed it away and gave him a hug. “I think enough bullets have flown past both
of us that we can be a little less formal.” Dawson awkwardly returned the hug
and she moved to Jimmy, he a little more comfortable.

Niner
jumped to his feet, arms outstretched, an Ed Grimley pose awaiting her. “Lay it
on me, Doc!”

Laura
laughed, giving Niner a hug, it returned enthusiastically. He glanced over at
Acton and winked. “Never ever let her go, Doc, or I’m calling.”

Laura
leaned back and slapped him on the chest. “You’re too much.” She took a seat
and everyone else got comfortable. “So where do we stand?”

“Well,
first, you need to know one thing about BD.”

Laura
looked at Niner. “What?”

Dawson
smacked his forehead.

“He’s
engaged!”

Laura cried
out in delight, jumping to her feet and giving the big man another hug, this
time with a kiss on the cheek. “Maggie must be excited!”

Dawson
smiled awkwardly, it clear to Acton that Niner and Jimmy were thrilled with
their comrade’s discomfort, and equally happy
for
him. Laura returned to
her seat and Dawson held up a hand, his head bobbing, his eyes closed. “Okay,
okay, we’ve got a job to do.” He opened his eyes, the boisterous Niner
silenced. “In talking with Dylan I get the impression you and I are on the same
page. Talk to me.”

Acton
jerked a thumb at the castle out the window. “It seems to me we need to
eliminate the leverage we have over them.”

“The
fact you know where they are.”

“Exactly.
And short of erasing our memories, we need to make it so that we
don’t
know where they are.”

“By
forcing them to move.”

“We
are
on the same page.”

Dawson
smiled. “Great minds think alike.”