Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (35 page)

Mercy Medical Center, Baltimore, Maryland

Kane sat in the corner of Ellsworth Acton’s hospital room, Fang
sitting kitty-corner to him, it Sherrie’s turn at the door. A computer on
Kane’s lap showed six dots superimposed over a map, each representing a member
of Bravo Team as they made their way to the castle.

He glanced
over at Fang, picking absentmindedly at the bottom of her shoe. Her face was
long, her eyes drooping. She seemed sad.

“Something
bothering you?”

She
looked up at him and shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

She
didn’t sound like it. He put the laptop on the seat beside him and leaned
forward. “Hey, you can talk to me. I’m probably one of the few people you
actually
can
talk to.”

She
looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

He drew
in a breath, frowning. He knew exactly what this was all about. “You miss
home.”

She
nodded. “I miss my family, my friends, my job.” She cast her eyes to the floor.
“My country.”

“I know
how you feel.”

She stared
at him. “How could you possibly know?”

He
smiled gently. “I have one friend who I barely see. I almost never get to see
my family, and when I do, I have to lie about what I do. My father has no
respect for my job and I think resents the fact that I left an honorable job in
the military to become my cover job. I spend eleven months of the year outside
of my country, living in alien cultures, sometimes in caves with none of the
things I grew up with, and I have almost no one I can share my troubles with.”
His smile expanded slightly. “So, you see, I
do
understand what you’re
going through. The only difference, and it’s a big one, is that I at least
do
get to see my one friend from time-to-time, my parents every once in a while,
and my country. That’s forever cut off for you.”

He
leaned forward, putting his hand on her arm. Her eyes darted down to look at
the contact and he began to draw away. She reached out with her other hand and
put it on top of his, stopping him.

She was
craving physical contact.

The
poor woman.

He
understood that need, that basic human desire to be touched. It didn’t have to
be anything sexual, just the touch of a caring hand could do wonders to heal
the wounded soul. He squeezed her arm and she smiled slightly, her eyes still
averted.

“I’ll
tell you what,” he said. “You need a friend. I think I should probably have a
second one. How about I start visiting you when I’m stateside? We can talk
about whatever you want, since I know your past. No tiptoeing around things.”

She
looked up at him, eyes slightly wider, a definite smile on her face. She
nodded. “I-I’d like that.”

“Good.
It’s settled. I have a second friend.”

She stared
down at the floor again, squeezing his hand. “And I have one.”

He took
her hand in both his and held it up to his lips, giving it a gentle, platonic
kiss.

“Sometimes
one is all you need.”

Rocca d'Angera Castle, Angera, Italy

Dawson shrugged off his backpack, placing it on the edge of the path
before sitting on a large rock. The others did the same, creating a circle,
everyone stretching and groaning as if they had been walking all morning. He
pulled out a bottle of water and some beef jerky. He took a swig and pulled on
the teriyaki flavored dried meat, handing the bag around, all the while eyeing
their surroundings as innocently as possible, the others doing the same, casual
banter about the weather and his upcoming wedding providing the background
noise should anyone be trying to listen in.

Niner
was sitting to his right, his back directly facing the wall and the two video
cameras with a view of the drainage ditch. A small computer in his lap was
being worked expertly as it reached out, detecting any signals then tapping
into them.

“Church
wedding?” asked Spock.

“Ha, I
can’t wait to get some photos of that with my wireless,” said Niner. “Both of
them.”

Dawson
nodded.

Both
cameras wireless, not hardwired.

“I
dunno. Maggie’s handling everything.”

Niner’s
head bobbed. “I should be able to help her when I get about ten seconds.”

“I told
her to tell me where and when to show up.”

Spock
handed the empty jerky bag to him. Dawson gave him a look and Spock shrugged.
“Hey, you brought it.”

“You
did,” agreed Niner as Atlas swatted a fly. “All I can say is when I’m taking
your photo, no sudden movements for about thirty seconds, okay? How about we
practice?”

They all
sat, slight movements only, Dawson mentally counting down the thirty seconds
Niner needed to record the tapped feeds. Once recorded, he’d loop them and they
should have a nice blind spot to work in, assuming no one decided to check on
them personally, or watched the video too closely.

“Okay,
you can move now,” said Niner. “The video is looping, but I don’t know how long
we can rely on that so let’s boogie.”

Dawson
pointed at the fence, Atlas and Spock leaping to their feet, cutters in hand,
as they made quick work of the chain link. Dawson activated his comm. “Control,
Zero-One. We’ve tapped the security feed and are going in, over.”

“Confirmed
Zero-One. Good luck, out.”

Dawson
trusted Leroux, Control for the mission, though he’d prefer Colonel Clancy.
That wasn’t an option since this wasn’t a sanctioned mission, so he’d have to
accept the fact that the people they were relying on might not have their back.
He trusted some
individuals
in the CIA, but not the organization. They
weren’t military, they didn’t subscribe to the idea of no man left behind. Not
because they didn’t value their personnel, but because usually that man or
woman was undercover, and admitting that they were an asset could compromise
other lives.

Atlas
bent back the fence and Dawson grabbed his pack, ducking through then sprinting
for the barred opening in the side of the castle, a tiny creek, if it could be
called that, running out the side, through a small culvert under the path and
off into the distance. The size of the opening suggested much greater volumes
than they were seeing today, and he had a feeling if it were raining, entering
through this hole might not be much of an option.

According
to the plans from World War II, this should take them about thirty feet inside
before they’d be at an access node in the top of the pipe. That would in turn
give them access to the catacombs under the castle.

Catacombs
that if they hadn’t changed too much, should provide them exactly what they
needed.

Niner
stepped back from the barred pipe. “I’ve overridden the security sensor. Blow
it.”

Atlas
nodded, slapping the small charge in place. They all stepped back and Atlas
counted off. “Fire in the hole.” He clicked the button and the tiny charge made
quick work of the lock, though it wasn’t as quiet as one would hope.

Dawson
activated his comm as Niner checked to confirm the override to the sensor was
still functioning. He gave a thumbs up.

“Control,
Zero-One. Any sign they heard that?”

“Negative,
Zero-One, you’re still clear.”

“Roger
that, making entry now, out.”

He urged
the others inside, on their knees, and within moments they were out of sight,
flashlights turned on. Niner closed the circular gate behind them, securing it
with a Ziptie, the locking mechanism no longer functioning to prevent it from
swinging open.

“Found
it!” hissed Jagger, who had point. “Looks like a metal plate.” Dawson waited
with the others as a Broco cutting torch cut through what was clearly a modern
addition, the original plans indicating it should be another grate that could
be easily blown. “Got it.”

Dawson
looked ahead to see Jagger lowering the hunk of metal, Spock helping him place
it quietly on the floor. Jagger stood, the upper half of his body disappearing,
then all of him as he pulled himself up.

“Clear.”

The rest
of the team quickly exited the cramped quarters, Dawson second from last,
breathing a sigh of relief as they found themselves in an ancient tunnel
junction, three corridors meeting where they now found themselves.

Exactly
as the plans indicated.

“Okay,
as planned. Remember, comms might be spotty or completely non-functional down
here. This is the rally point in ten. Let’s move out.”

Jagger
and Atlas headed left, Spock and Jimmy right, Dawson and Niner directly ahead.
The corridor was damp and narrow, the construction ancient, though it seemed
solid. Dawson had to move at a crouch, the shorter Niner merely dipping his
head slightly.

“They
sure were a lot shorter back when this was built.”

“We’d be
monsters on the battlefield,” agreed Dawson.

“Christ,
can you imagine Atlas?”

Dawson
chuckled. “Two thousand years ago he’d probably be a gladiator.”

“I could
see that. I’ve often wondered what I would have been if I were alive back
then.”

“Princess?”

Niner
punched him in the back. “Don’t you start.”

Dawson
held up his fist, freezing, their conversation ended. He had heard something
ahead. What, he wasn’t sure. It could have been their own echo, or something
else. A good commander would have these corridors patrolled, and he had a
feeling they were dealing with good commanders.

Footfalls.

He
jerked his thumb over his shoulder and he and Niner quietly fell back as the
footsteps approached, a conversation drifting toward them. Niner slapped him on
the back and he looked, Niner pointing to an alcove in the tunnel big enough to
fit him, Niner already backing into one on the opposite wall.

Dawson
wedged himself in as he clicked off his flashlight, pulling his knife, Niner
doing the same. He activated his comm, whispering an update. “This is Zero-One.
We’ve got activity here. Out.”

The
voices drew closer and Dawson immediately recognized the language.

German.

Which
made perfect sense of course, it matching what their intel had been telling
them. This castle was some sort of German enclave buried in northern Italy. The
question was what was its purpose, though if he were honest with himself, that
was irrelevant to the mission. They had to force these people to move their
operation. If they could make staying here untenable, then the leverage the doc
had over them would be gone, and these people would have no reason to harass
him any longer, unless they wanted revenge.

And he
had a feeling they didn’t.

You
don’t stay hidden for seventy years if you take your revenge on anyone who
slighted you.

These
people were maintaining a low profile. The operation in Rome had obviously been
a screw up, and if Acton hadn’t tossed his phone in the crate, the necessary
second operation would have been a complete success.

Low
profile.

If this
group truly was a remnant of the Nazis, then his plan, should it succeed,
should result in the doc being able to move on with his life without worrying
about these people.

A
flashlight beam cut through the darkness, casting a dull glow over everything
as the footsteps echoed loudly, the conversation about the woman one of them
had been paired with, continuing. It sounded like arranged marriages, or
arranged liaisons, were the norm here.

Interesting.
Might explain a few things.

He
controlled his breathing as the flashlight came into view, the beam it was
producing past his position now. A match flared, Niner lit up for a brief
moment.

Dawson
gripped his knife.

“Was
ist—”

Dawson
stepped out, plunging his knife into the first man’s side as his hand clamped
down over the guard’s mouth. He twisted the blade as Niner sliced his
opponent’s throat. Dawson continued to hold his writhing man until he finally
sighed his last breath.

He
looked at the two bodies, frowning. “Lovely. Let’s put them in these alcoves
and hope for the best.” Niner dropped his and helped Dawson lift the first man,
who he’d be copulating with tonight no longer a problem for him. They tucked
him into the alcove and stepped back, Dawson holding out both hands, willing
him not to fall out.

He
didn’t.

They
repeated the process with the other one and Dawson activated his comm. “Bravo
Team, Zero-One. We’ve taken out two guards. There may be others. Proceed with
caution, out.”

He glanced
at Niner.

“This is
going to complicate things.”