The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) Read online

  The Thirteenth Legion

  A James Acton Thriller

  by

  J. Robert Kennedy

  From the Back Cover

  FROM USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. ROBERT KENNEDY

  A TWO-THOUSAND-YEAR-OLD DESTINY IS ABOUT TO BE FULFILLED!

  USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy delivers another action-packed thriller in The Thirteenth Legion. After Interpol Agent Hugh Reading spots his missing partner in Berlin, it sets off a chain of events that could lead to the death of his best friends, and if the legends are true, the entire planet.

  A civil war has split the Triarii, a two-thousand-year-old organization descendant from the Roman Empire’s fabled Thirteenth Legion, a desperate battle underway to control the crystal skulls they have sworn to protect, one side relentless in their mission to unite the skulls to reveal their power, the other equally determined to protect mankind from the potential consequences.

  In true Kennedy style, this globe-spanning thriller provides all the action, humor, romance and heartbreak only he can deliver. Loyalties will be tested, blood will be shed, and friends will die, as archeology professors James Acton and Laura Palmer are once again pulled into the troubled history of a cult they had hoped had forgotten them, with only their wits and friends to rely upon.

  About the James Acton Thrillers

  "James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!"

  Though this book is part of the James Acton Thrillers series, it is written as a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without having read any of the previous installments.

  About J. Robert Kennedy

  USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over twenty-five international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series of which the first installment, The Protocol, has been on the bestseller lists since its release, including occupying the number one spot for three months. He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.

  "If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy."

  Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer

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  Get the J. Robert Kennedy Starter Library by joining The Insider's Club and be notified when new books are released!

  Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.

  Books by J. Robert Kennedy

  The James Acton Thrillers

  The Protocol

  Brass Monkey

  Broken Dove

  The Templar's Relic

  Flags of Sin

  The Arab Fall

  The Circle of Eight

  The Venice Code

  Pompeii's Ghosts

  Amazon Burning

  The Riddle

  Blood Relics

  Sins of the Titanic

  Saint Peter's Soldiers

  The Thirteenth Legion

  The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

  Rogue Operator

  Containment Failure

  Cold Warriors

  Death to America

  Black Widow

  The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers

  Payback

  Infidels

  The Lazarus Moment

  The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries

  Depraved Difference

  Tick Tock

  The Redeemer

  Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series

  The Turned

  Table of Contents

  The Novel

  Acknowledgements

  Get 5 Free eBooks!

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  For Paris.

  “A fanatic is a man who consciously over-compensates a secret doubt.”

  Aldous Huxley

  “And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha: Where they crucified him, and two other with him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst.”

  John 19:17-18, King James Version

  Preface

  The crystal skulls referred to herein are real and confirmed to be of unknown origin and unknown method of manufacture by top scientists at Hewlett-Packard.

  The Home Depot, Forest Plaza Shopping Center, Annapolis, Maryland

  “I don’t know why we don’t just pay someone to do this.”

  Professor James Acton grinned at his wife, Professor Laura Palmer, as he pushed the large cart containing several boxes of floating flooring along with a few bags of supplies. “You know me, I love working with my hands. Besides, installing a floating floor in the basement is something I’ve been meaning to do for years.”

  “You could hurt yourself!”

  Acton laughed. “You do realize how many bullets, grenades, knives and vehicles have been aimed in my direction, don’t you? If a rubber mallet is what finally takes me out, then so be it.” He winked at her. “Just don’t have it written on my tombstone.”

  “Here lies James Acton, beloved husband and son, finally bested by his basement.”

  Acton laughed, reaching over and squeezing the back of Laura’s neck. He leaned in and gave her a quick peck, noticing several beads of sweat on her forehead. “You okay?”

  She nodded, but suddenly appeared weak. “Just tired.” She placed a hand on the left side of her stomach where she had been shot in Paris. “It still acts up from time to time. It just drains me of energy.”

  Acton felt his chest tighten at his selfishness. It had been his idea to come here, and he had encouraged her to come along. Then he had travelled up and down almost every aisle of the massive store, wanting to get everything he would need in one stop. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice slightly subdued. “I should have come alone, this was too much walking.”

  Laura reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’m a big girl. I could have said no, or gone and waited in the car.” She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I just need to get home and lie down, I’ll be fine.”

  “Pain?”

  She shook her head. “No, just weak.”

  Acton looked down the long row of cars, their SUV near the end. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll get the car?”

  Laura gave him half a smile. “It takes almost as much effort to stand as it does to walk.”

  Acton nodded toward the cart. “Hop in, there’s room.”

  Laura laughed, wrapping herself around one of his arms for support, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t tempt me.”

  They continued down the row, Acton pulling out the fob and unlocking the doors. He positioned their cart behind the bumper then opened the passenger side door as tires squealed behind them. He glanced over his shoulder casually. “Asshole, he could kill someone driving like that in a parking lot.” Laura didn’t look, instead gripping his arm tighter.

  She’s definitely not well.

  The van was a sleek affair, a Mercedes emblem on the front grill suggesting some coin had been spent to purchase it, yet it was being driven as if it had been stolen. As it raced up the lane toward them, Acton stepped around Laura, redirecting her toward her door and away from the van.

  Brakes were hit hard, the Mercedes Sprinter shuddering to a stop as the side doors burst open, two men bursting out, covered head to toe in black, both aiming Berettas at them. Laura yelped, her cel
lphone flying from her hand as she threw her arms up.

  “Professors James Acton and Laura Palmer?” asked one of the men as he advanced toward Acton, Acton now pushing Laura behind him as they retreated, the cart forgotten.

  Acton said nothing.

  The man with the unanswered question extended his arm, placing the gun directly in Acton’s face. “You will answer the question.”

  Acton was quite certain the men already knew who they were. This wasn’t a random act, there other people who were passed. If they were here to kill them, then identifying themselves would only hasten their deaths. If they were here to kidnap them, then any form of delay, even a few seconds, might get cameras out and people calling police, police that just might happen to be in the area if they were lucky.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “That kind of talk gets people killed, Professor.”

  I guess they do know.

  “If you know who we are, then why are you asking?”

  Suddenly there was a clap of thunder from behind them and the man was shoved back toward the van, his arms and legs outstretched toward Acton, the other man frozen in place, his jaw dropping in shock.

  A second shot rang out, smearing him against the van as tires screeched to their left, a black SUV careening toward them. The driver of the van hit the gas, the vehicle jerking forward just as a third shot removed him from existence, his head now a red mist filling the cabin.

  The SUV came to a halt at an angle behind the van as Acton turned to grab Laura and make a break for it between the rows of vehicles.

  “Professor!”

  Acton spun toward the voice and his jaw dropped at the sight of his friend, Martin Chaney, reaching for them.

  “What—”

  Chaney cut him off.

  “Come with me if you want to live.”

  Golgotha, Judea

  April 7th, 30 AD

  The Ninth Hour

  “Sir, we found something you need to see!”

  Decanus Vitus wiped his brow, ignoring his underling’s excitement, instead staring up at the top of the hill, three solitary crosses standing in the darkness, the daylight gone, a storm like none he had experienced before on land engulfing them.

  The gods were angry.

  The wind carried the wails of their supporters, though from what he had heard, they were all there for him, the one who claimed he was the son of the Jewish god. It was ridiculous of course, these misguided Jews knowing no end to their arrogance in claiming there was only one god, and he had chosen them.

  If he’s all-powerful, then why are we the conquerors?

  Two soldiers ran down the hill, talking excitedly. “It wasn’t a trick! He can see!”

  “Impossible. I can’t believe it. I’ve never trusted Longinus. You know he only needs three more months before he earns his retirement. He’ll say anything to stay in.”

  Vitus reached out. “You two, come here!”

  The two men froze, their eyes widening in further terror as the skies raged upon the landscape. “Sir!”

  “Did you say Longinus can see?”

  They both nodded.

  Vitus looked up the hill again then shook his head. He flicked his wrist. “On with you.”

  The men executed two smart salutes before running down the path, away from whatever had just happened atop the hill. For a moment, he thought of ordering them back, he having just realized they were probably abandoning their posts.

  Though he didn’t blame them.

  It was terrifying.

  It was one thing to face an enemy made of men, another to face the gods. And they certainly seemed in a rage today.

  “Sir!”

  He finally turned his attention to the young soldier beside him. “What is it?”

  “You have to see this, please sir, come!”

  He frowned but followed the excited soldier. “What is it?”

  “I-I’m not sure, sir. When the earth shook, a large stone tumbled down the slope then split at the bottom. There’s something inside it. Something—” He shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe it.” He shuddered. “I don’t want to describe it.”

  “What in Hades does that mean?”

  The young soldier continued around the base of the hill, past others fleeing for the walls of Jerusalem and safety from the storm. “When I looked at it, I swear it looked back at me!”

  What is he talking about? Some sort of animal?

  The man skidded to a halt, his arm outstretched, pointing at a large boulder, a dark chasm wide enough to fit a man’s head, forming a jagged line down the center.

  “Where is this creature?”

  An old man, standing nearby, pointed at the center. “It is in there, but it is no creature.”

  Vitus stepped forward and peered in the crevice, seeing nothing. He stood back up. “You’re imagining—” A bolt of lightning lit the area and for a brief moment he saw something, something strange. A shiver raced up his spine as he stepped back.

  “You see it, don’t you!” exclaimed the soldier, standing a safe distance back.

  “Torch!”

  A torch was shoved in Vitus’ outstretched hand, its flame battling the wind and rain. He pulled his cloak over his head, creating a barrier between the elements and the crevice, the torch spurting to life as he jammed it inside.

  He gasped, his bowels nearly loosening as two red eyes peered back at him.

  What in the name of the gods is that?

  Salem, Virginia

  Present Day, One Day Earlier

  Madely stretched then yawned.

  “You know, sometimes I wonder why we’re here all the time.”

  His partner, Johnson, looked at him, stifling his own yawn. “Because it’s always been done this way?”

  “Right, but just because we’ve always done it this way, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. I mean, you and I have been on this detail for what, twenty damned years? Nothing has ever happened.”

  “Well, that’s not true. Remember London.”

  Madely nodded. “True, but ultimately that didn’t affect us. It was just a precaution that we took it into our safekeeping. In the end it went right back to her, and she knew who we were the whole damned time. Hell, she’s even invited us to do our shifts in the comfort of her living room.”

  “HQ would never go for that.”

  Madely chuckled. “No, but what they don’t know…”

  Johnson grinned. “I’m in if you’re in.”

  Madely smiled. “No, no, just wishful thinking.” He poured himself another cup of tea from a thermos the old lady had provided them and took a sip.

  Best damned tea I’ve ever had.

  He handed it to Johnson who filled his own cup. “Tea and cookies at the beginning of every shift is a nice perk that I bet no one else gets.”

  “True. I don’t know how many more days like this we’ll have. She’s an old lady.”

  Johnson frowned, nodding his head slowly as he glanced down the street at the humble home. “She’s been looking weaker.”

  “Yeah, I guess when you think about it, that’s why we’re here. If she dies, we have to get in there and retrieve it before anyone else does.”

  A car pulled up behind them, Madely adjusting his mirror. “Huh, they’re early.” He rolled down his window, turning toward their approaching relief. “Hey guys, you’re not due for another hour.” Suddenly a gun was pulled, pointed directly at his head. “Hey, wait a—”

  A shot fired to his right and he felt something wet hit his face. He spun to see Johnson’s lifeless body fall against the dash just as another shot thundered behind him.

  Friedrichstrasse, Berlin, Germany

  Martin Chaney stood under the awning of the Rossmann Drogeriemarkt, the Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, on an indefinite leave of absence after being shot in the deserts of Egypt, having no business here, his business actually just now emerging from the train station across the street.

  F
ormer Detective Chief Inspector Hugh Reading of Scotland Yard, now an Interpol agent.

  He sighed.

  He hadn’t seen Reading in over a year, a man he considered his best friend, at least his best friend outside of the Triarii. Though the Triarii was different. It was a brotherhood formed over two thousand years ago, something you were essentially born into, and by the time you were of age, so indoctrinated into, you could think of no other thing you would rather do.

  Though some did.

  He had never had any doubts about devoting his life to the Triarii, but life within it wasn’t like some cult. He had trained to be a doctor, yet after seeing so many lives wasted in the ER to crime, he had instead turned his attentions to law enforcement, working his way up through the ranks, a good chunk of his career spent working for the man now walking out the doors.

  I miss you, old friend.

  He stepped out, quickly crossing the street, searching for his friend’s shadow. He spotted him, about ten meters behind.

  Got you!

  He slowed, turning his back so they wouldn’t spot him, he not yet ready for his old partner to see him. The sometimes crusty old bastard walked by, oblivious to him being there, Chaney desperate to reach out and say hello.

  The shadow passed him and Chaney stepped back into the flow, his hand gripping the pistol in his overcoat pocket. He raised the weapon, took aim, then fired.

  There was a loud pop, the noise lost among the din of the busy street, the tiny dart embedding itself in his target’s back. The man reached for it, his shoulder blades squeezing together as he gasped in shock, then collapsed slowly to the ground, passing out within seconds.