The Resurrection Tablet - A James Acton Thriller Book #34 Read online

  Laura sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’m still thinking in terms of what is possible on a commercial flight. Next time, I call. Thanks.” She ended the call and Reading laid into her immediately.

  “You’re still going to Istanbul? Are you daft?”

  “I have to find James.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  She shook her head. “No, Cameron will be there with his team. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “Just like Jim was supposed to be.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to meet them until the hotel. Nobody thought anything could go wrong until the dig site. This was supposed to be possible fundamentalists attacking the site, not a conspiracy by a well-organized cult.”

  Reading sighed, slamming his head against the back of his chair. “I wish I could go with you.” He moved to get up. “In fact—”

  “You’ll do no such thing! Sit your ass back in that chair and accept your situation. As much as it pains me to say it, you and I both know that you’ll just be a liability.”

  Reading sat back down and turned his face away. Her heart ached and she rose, taking a knee beside him them squeezing his hand. “I’m useless.”

  Her eyes filled with tears at the proud man’s admission. “You’re not useless. You saved us all, and now you’re paying a temporary price. You’ll be back to your old self in no time. Unfortunately, with the frequency James and I get in trouble, it just means you’ll have to sit out a few of our mishaps.”

  He faced her, his eyes red. “You two should just stay put for a couple of months. Enjoy your new home and let the world sort out its own problems.”

  She shrugged. “Where would be the fun in that?” She kissed his hand then rose, returning to her seat. “I do have an idea, however.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your body may not be able to help, but your mind can.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Help out an old man.”

  “If we’re battling the Keepers, and they’re that well-connected in Istanbul, then we’re going to need help.”

  “Dylan and his friends?”

  “Oh, I’m definitely contacting them, but sometimes help a little closer to home is preferable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking we get Tommy and Mai over here and we set up a little operations center of our own.”

  Reading smiled broadly. “Brilliant.”

  14 |

  Unknown Location

  “Is he awake?”

  “Yes. He’s just faking being asleep.”

  Acton suppressed the frown at his captors’ discovery. He had been listening for several minutes to a whispered conversation between two men. He could barely hear them and had given up when he realized it was all in Italian, though the last two sentences were spoken in English, likely for his benefit. The subterfuge, however, had given him the opportunity to clear the fog that clouded his mind, and assess his situation. He could feel the bindings holding his feet and hands to the chair he sat in, and other than a slight feeling of nausea, probably from whatever gas they had used on him, he felt fine.

  The question was, who were they? The Italian had thrown him off, but as he thought about it, he could come to only one conclusion, and it was a terrifying one. It had to be the Keepers of the One Truth. They were a cult, for lack of a better word, that claimed to have been founded by St. Peter himself, to protect the Church from anything that might bring it harm.

  And he had killed several of its members.

  He opened his eyes then blinked several times to allow them to focus. Two men stood in front of him, neither of whom he recognized. He took a gamble. “What do the Keepers of the One Truth want with me today?”

  The reaction was what he had hoped for. Surprise. It meant they were who he suspected, and they hadn’t expected him to know. It meant that he could play this to his advantage, and perhaps convince him that others knew as well. It might just get him out of this alive.

  “A good guess, Professor Acton,” said the man whose voice he recognized as the one in charge, at least of the two in this room. “I suspect your deductive reasoning skills brought you to that conclusion, considering we didn’t become involved until you were already in the air.”

  “That may be so, however, before I left, your organization was one of the ones we were concerned about getting involved. Trust me when I say that if anything happens to me, my friends will know who to come after.”

  The man chuckled. “I’ve heard about you, Professor, and the stories certainly weren’t exaggerated. It’s a wonder you can walk with balls so big.”

  Acton grinned. “It’s a struggle, but I manage.”

  The man batted a hand. “You’re not here so we can hurt you. You’re here because we need your help.”

  Acton hid his surprise. “Oh?”

  “You are here because of the tablet.”

  “I think it’s safe to admit that.”

  “And you of course know what it says, since you provided the translation.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you must be aware that this blasphemy cannot be allowed to stand.”

  Acton regarded the man, choosing his words carefully. “It’s only blasphemous if it’s not the truth.”

  The other man gasped and opened his mouth to say something when the leader cut him off with a raised hand. “Do you believe it’s the truth?”

  “There’s no way to know for certain without investigating.”

  “And that’s exactly what we want you to do.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I assume you intend to visit the location indicated on the tablet?”

  “I would like to, however it appears to be in Syria. Not an easy country to get into at the moment.”

  “We’ll get you in.”

  Acton regarded the man. “You’ll get me in, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe to be there.”

  “That’s not our concern. We’ll get you in, you find the location indicated, then we’ll prove this tablet is a fake, and all will return to normal.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “It is!” cried the other. “If it isn’t, it means it is all a lie, and I refuse to believe that!”

  The leader calmed the man. “We know it to be fake, but we must have proof, otherwise it could trigger a holy war. Think about it, a tablet that makes such an outlandish claim is discovered by a Muslim on Muslim territory? Christians the world over will be outraged, and when their faith is challenged by those who have none, or by those who want to stir up trouble like the fundamentalists, there will be violence on the streets. Thousands if not millions could die in the end. Do you really want that to happen?”

  Acton frowned. The man was right, and it was already something they had considered. This was a dangerous situation, exactly why he had wanted Leather here.

  Next time he meets you at the airport, no matter how safe you think the country is.

  “No, I don’t think any of us want that.”

  “Good. Then you’ll cooperate?”

  “If I say yes, then what happens?”

  “We let you go.”

  “Then what stops me from just getting back on an airplane and washing my hands of this entire situation.”

  “Because we’ll kill your wife in a most horrendous way.”

  Acton bristled. If anyone was capable, and had proven a willingness to kill, it was the Keepers. He couldn’t risk it, and besides, all they were asking him to do was what he would have done regardless. He sighed. “Very well, we have a deal.”

  15 |

  Hierapolis AD 1068

  The Emir of Aleppo, Rashid al-Dawla Mahmud, pressed against the wall then peered out the window at the sight below. It was both terrifying and heartbreaking. The Romans were inside the mighty walls of Hierapolis and were in the process of sacking the city. He had failed to defend her, yet he would have his revenge, and was convinced his enemy’s victory would be short-lived.

  He had an army of almost 20,000 amassing to the south.

  These infidels and their Christian nonsense would ultimately lose, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to destroy their faith, and he had the means.

  And it was why he had let them win.

  The grand Roman Army might very well have won in the end, however he had ordered the weakening of the main gate, allowing the Romans to batter their way through far quicker than they might have otherwise. It was all part of a calculated plan he had hatched once he received word the Romans were again on the move.

  A brilliant plan, if he did say so himself.

  “Sir, we must leave now if we are to make it to the tunnel in time.”

  Mahmud glanced over his shoulder at his most trusted advisor, Jalal. The man stood in the doorway as calm as he had ever seen him, as if the fact the Romans were piling dirt around the walls to raise ramps high enough to gain entry was of no consequence. He was remarkable, and on many occasions his level head had kept Mahmud from rash decisions.

  And if Jalal said it was time, then it was.

  “Where is the tablet?”

  Jalal gestured toward the inner office. “On your desk, as instructed.”

  Mahmud headed for the door. “Good. It is essential they find this little piece of history we have for them.” He entered his office and stood behind his desk, running his hand over the tablet, the Hebrew writing etched into its surface incomprehensible to him. Yet he knew the words, and the effect they would have on these Christians who would dare shed the blood of Allah’s soldiers.

  But in the heat of war, soldiers could do stupid things, and a Hebrew tablet could be destroyed, which was why, beside it, sat a Latin translation, and another note for Romanus himself, written in large print.

  “Emperor Romanus, today, you may take my city, but I destroy your faith.”

  16 |

  Kane/Lee Residence, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia Present Day

  CIA Operations Officer Dylan Kane woke to a stabbing pain in his wrist. His CIA customized TAG Heuer watch was designed to give him an increasingly stronger electrical shock to gain his attention, and when he was asleep, it could get to ridiculous proportions, especially if he had been drinking.

  Last night had gotten a little out of hand. It was just the usual group, himself, his girlfriend Lee Fang, his best friend Chris Leroux, and Leroux’s girlfriend Sherrie White. It had been a while since the four of them had been able to get together, enjoy a nice meal, and tie one on without being interrupted by their jobs, three of the four employed by the CIA.

  Now, with his head pounding and his stomach churning, he would have preferred the interruption to have happened last night, before the festivities kicked into high gear.

  He rolled out of bed before pressing the button to end the torture, a lesson he had learned long ago. When in this state, he would too often press the button then fall back to sleep, only to be woken later with an even more powerful shock. He stretched then reached for his pre-positioned water bottle, draining half of it. He pressed the coded sequence around the watch face then frowned at the message projected on the crystal.

  It was a message from Laura Palmer through his private communications network. She was the wife of his former archaeology professor from college. He respected them both tremendously, despite being a pain in his ass far too often. Yet they never contacted him unless it was absolutely necessary, and it was usually something he or his contacts could help with.

  As much as he’d like to go back to sleep, he couldn’t ignore it.

  He logged into his secure messenger on his phone then frowned as he read the message. Acton was missing, possibly kidnapped in Istanbul by some Italian-based cult. Normally blame could be assigned quite easily, but Istanbul should be safe for a mild-mannered professor. As he continued to read the message, his frown deepened.

  Okay, perhaps not so innocent.

  The tablet was certainly a red flag. It could attract all manner of crazies, though apparently Leather’s team was on the ground, only delayed in a manner that couldn’t be coincidence. And why would they meet at the hotel and not the airport? That had to be Acton’s idea, not Leather’s.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Kane glanced over his shoulder at the smolderingly hot former Chinese Special Forces operative he now shared a life with. “It looks like Jim Acton has been kidnapped in Istanbul.”

  “Again?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think he’s been kidnapped there before, but who knows.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll get the gang on it, see if they can pull some footage. If he was kidnapped like Laura says, then we might be able to get a plate, perhaps track the vehicle.”

  “Well, good luck with that.” Fang rolled back over and was asleep within seconds. She was tiny, and her tolerance for alcohol couldn’t possibly match the gifted Sherrie, whom his love had attempted to match drink for drink.

  Kane sent a message to Leroux, not expecting a response.

  You up?

  It went unanswered as he headed into the bathroom, sending an acknowledgment to Laura.

  Message received. Will contact you when I find out something.

  He received an immediate reply.

  Thank you so much. Let me know of any funding requirements.

  Acknowledged.

  He stared at himself in the mirror, buck naked, and debated taking a quick shower. If this turned into something, it might be the last chance to freshen up, though if it did become something, he doubted he’d be directly involved on the ground. Not only was it nine or ten hours to Istanbul, even with Laura’s connections it would take a couple of hours to get a flight. Half a day was an eternity in a kidnapping. It would be Leroux’s team that would handle things.

  Assuming their boss approved.

  He stared at his phone for a moment before sending a message to Leif Morrison, the CIA’s National Clandestine Service chief.

  You up?

  The reply was almost immediate.

  I shouldn’t be.

  Kane grinned.

  Professor Acton has been kidnapped in Istanbul. Permission to activate Leroux’s team?

  There was a long pause that had him turning on the shower.

  Granted. Observation only. No ground assets.

  Kane smiled as he stepped into the shower.

  Understood. Nighty-night.

  17 |

  Leroux/White Residence, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia

  “Wakey-wakey.”

  CIA Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux bolted upright in bed, searching for the source of his wakeup call, but finding nothing. It took him a moment to remember he was wearing an eye mask, but someone else in bed was far more coordinated.

  “Don’t shoot, it’s me.”

  It was Kane’s voice, but even in his post-drinking stupor, he distinctly remembered his friend going back to his apartment when they were done. After all, they lived in the same building so couch-crashing wasn’t necessary. Leroux ripped off his eye mask to see Kane standing at the foot of the bed, his hands up, while Leroux’s girlfriend, CIA Operations Officer Sherrie White, pointed her gun squarely at him.

  She lowered it. “My God, Dylan. Do you have a death wish?”

  Kane shrugged as he lowered his hands. “I didn’t think you were packing in bed.” He grinned. “That’s his job.”

  Leroux groaned as he rolled out of bed. “What the hell are you doing here at”—he glanced at the alarm clock—“four in the morning.”

  “We’ve got an op.”

  “What? We all clocked off. They shouldn’t be calling us. We’re all probably still drunk.”

  “That may be, but there’s trouble in academia, and we’ve been called in.”

  Sherrie cursed. “Are you effing kidding me! What the hell did those two do now?”

  Kane laughed. “It’s just Jim. He’s apparently been kidnapped in Istanbul, and the Chief has given us permission to get involved. Intel only, no ground assets.”

  Leroux’s stomach churned and he raced for the bathroom, hurling last night’s festivities into the toilet. He hated getting sick, and usually prided himself on rarely losing the battle. But this was just too soon, and the prospect of heading into the office to run an op was literally sickening. He rejoined the others. “I can’t. I’m in no condition.”

  “Neither am I, which is why I’m handing it off to you.”

  Leroux gave his friend a look. “Sometimes you’re an asshole.”

  Kane grinned. “That’s the spirit! Look, we need an op center, and operatives can’t run one of those. We need a pro, and that’s you.”

  “Bullshit. I’m wasted.”

  Sherrie agreed. “He is. He just said ‘wayshted.’ Why don’t you call Sonya? That poor girl has no social life. She’d probably jump at the opportunity to cover for you until you sober up.”

  It was a good idea. An excellent idea, though it was taking advantage of her social situation, or lack thereof. Not to mention the fact she was carrying a torch for him and would never refuse any request, even if she desperately wanted to.

  “Fine, I’ll call her. But next time, don’t volunteer me for anything.”

  “I make no promises,” said Kane.

  Leroux stared at his friend. “Wait a minute, how did you get in.”

  Kane held up his keys. “You gave me a spare, remember?”

  “I want it back.”

  Kane shook his head. “Do you really think a door lock can keep me out?”

  Sherrie tapped her Glock. “No, but next time I’m shooting first, then seeing who it is.”

  18 |

  Tong Residence Falls Church, Virginia

  CIA Senior Analyst Sonya Tong rolled over and grabbed her phone as it demanded her attention. She had it in Sleep Mode, so it had to be important—the only numbers she had programmed to let through at this hour were the most important people in her life, and those were few. Fewer still if you eliminated those who would never call at this hour.