Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) (20 page)

She
opened the email, quickly reading it, exhilaration and fear filling her as she
realized that Professor Palmer was alive but perhaps not for long unless they
could find the body of this Christian Saint named Longinus.

And he
needed her help.

She
immediately replied, letting him know she was heading for the university now
and would begin the research he needed.

She hit
send then the shower, her stomach in knots with the uncertainty of the task
ahead.

How
can we possibly find a man who died two thousand years ago?

Chris Leroux & Sherrie White Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church,
Virginia

Chris Leroux stretched with a satisfied groan, his arms above his
shoulders, one leg stretching far out followed by the other. He rolled over to
hug his girlfriend but found the bed empty.

He
frowned then heard the shower running.

He
jumped out of bed, sporting a morning wood that had to be put down. He heard
the faucet squeaking as Sherrie finished her shower. Opening the door, he
peered through the cloud of steam, his girlfriend loving super-hot showers.

He
preferred them to not leave first degree burns on his back.

The
steam poured out the door and into the hallway, quickly revealing the most
gorgeous girl he had ever set eyes on.

And
she’s all yours!

It was
still rather remarkable to him that this woman loved him, but he was slowly
realizing that she actually did. His recent revelation to her that he finally
felt he deserved her had gone over like gangbusters, and though his
self-consciousness and shyness were still well-entrenched personality traits,
he at least wasn’t constantly worrying that this girl he had always felt was
way out of his league was preparing to leave him anytime soon.

“Is that
for me?” she asked, nodding toward Mr. Happy.

He
grinned.

“Get
your laptop, you’ll have to rub that out yourself. I’m leaving in ten minutes.
Apparently I’ve got an op.”

He
sighed. Sherrie White was CIA, as was he, but she was on the operational side,
an actual Agent. He was an Analyst. Senior Analyst now, with a team of eight
reporting to him, something he was still getting used to. “How long will you be
gone?”

“Don’t
know yet but I was told to bring my go bag.”

“So at
least overnight.”

“Probably.”

She
tossed the towel at him then grabbed him down below, giving him a squeeze.
“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll
miss you too.”

“I
wasn’t talking to
you.
” She winked and laughed, swatting his flag pole,
leaving him wagging and frustrated. “Your phone’s vibrating!”

He
rushed to the bedroom, Sherrie handing him the already answered phone. “Hello?”

“Hey
buddy, it’s me.”

Leroux
grinned as he immediately recognized the voice of his best friend, probably his
only real friend, Dylan Kane. They were old high school buddies that had went
their separate ways but found themselves later in life working at the CIA in
very different capacities. “Hey, how are you?”

He
wasn’t sure how secure the line was so he avoided using his friend’s name or
asking any specifics whenever he called. More often than not Kane had a habit
of just appearing in their apartment.

He never
minded.

“I feel
like shit. Some sort of food poisoning I think.”

“Let’s
hope that’s all it is.”

“Well, I
have pissed off the Russians a few times, so polonium is a definite
possibility!” Kane laughed then groaned. “Quick call, I’m going to be hitting
the head in sixty seconds to test the plumbing here again. I sent you an
encrypted email that I need you to read right away. See what you can do, okay?”

“Sure,”
replied Leroux, flipping open his laptop and logging in with the facial
recognition software. “Just give me two seconds.” He opened up his secure
email, entering another password and a thumb scan. He clicked on the email from
Kane, quickly reading it. “Them again?” He had been involved before in helping
these two professors, he usually Kane’s go-to-guy when there was off-the-books
trouble.

Kane
laughed. “Yeah, those two were doomed to find each other. I’ve got a buddy
who’s going to provide support on the ground, details are in the email. I need
a data guy. Can you help?”

“Should
be able to.” He didn’t mind helping, it was just that his boss, Director Leif
Morrison, seemed to always know exactly what he was up to. Which he supposed
wasn’t a surprise considering he was the Chief of Clandestine Operations. “Can
I get it cleared?”

Kane
moaned in what sounded like excruciating pain. “If you have to.” The words
sounded forced, the pain clearly getting worse.

“You
should see a doctor.”

“It’ll
pass. Literally and figuratively.”

“Still…”

“Gotta
go. Keep me posted on what happens, I’m just not going to be able to get hands-on
with this one.” He grunted. “Oh shit, gotta go.”

The call
ended and Leroux tossed his phone on the bed beside his laptop, concern for his
friend apparently etched on his face.

“What’s
wrong?”

He
looked up at Sherrie who was fully dressed, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Dylan’s sick. Food poisoning. He wants me to help out with those two
professors.”

“Acton
and Palmer?”

He
nodded. “Yeah, apparently Palmer was shot in Paris and kidnapped.”

“Holy
crap! Do they know who did it?”

Leroux
shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. I’ll know more once I start digging.”

Sherrie
leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips that turned into a lingering kiss.
“Mmm, I’m going to miss you,” she finally said, her eyes closed, her forehead
pressed against his. “Love you.”

“Love
you too. Be careful.”

“Always
am.” She looked at her watch. “I’m going to be late. Gotta go!”

She
hurried from the bedroom and he heard the alarm system chime as the door to
their apartment opened then closed. Turning his attention back to his laptop he
began firing off data requests to the Langley databases, the results of which
would be waiting for him when he got back to work.

On a whim,
he pulled up the morning intel briefing and as he read bullet after bullet that
seemed to involve the two professors, his eyebrows slowly migrated up his
forehead.

What
have they gotten themselves into?

Hotel Astor Saint Honore, Paris, France

Acton looked up from his laptop as Reading entered from one of the
suite’s two bedrooms, freshly showered. He motioned toward Acton’s computer.

“Any
news?”

Acton
nodded. “I’ve got the first chunk of research from Mai.”

“Let me
guess, there’s no map with an arrow pointing to a spot marked X?”

Acton
chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, stretching with a groan. “Nope. If we
believe the legends, he fled Jerusalem a few days after the crucifixion, got
himself baptized along with a few other soldiers that fled with him, then went
north to modern day Turkey where he lived for fifteen years before finally
being found and beheaded.”

Reading
pushed the sheers aside, looking at the Paris skyline. “So, I suppose we’re not
looking for his head. Where’d his body go then?”

“Well,
the head went to Jerusalem where the Roman Prefect Pilate had it sent to the senior
rabbi who had demanded these men be killed. The rabbi then tossed it on a dung
heap where it was retrieved by an old lady who claimed to have seen a vision of
Longinus telling her he would take care of her recently deceased son and told
her where the head was. It was then reunited with his body in Cappadocia.”

“Modern
day Turkey.”

“Yes.”

“I sense
a ‘but’.”

“I’ll
make an archeologist out of you yet.”

“Not
bloody likely.” Reading sat down at the table, across from Acton.

Acton
smiled, happy to have his mind occupied with something other than worry. He had
a mission, a task that needed to be completed with the most precious of rewards
at the end.

And the
most heinous punishment should he fail.

Despite
the scant evidence of where the man might be buried, he had to keep a positive
attitude. He had discovered unbelievable things in his years as an archeologist
and this would just be one more to add to his list of achievements.

There
was no way he could accept failure.

He
pointed at the notes he had made on his screen. “There’re numerous reports that
his body was moved after his death which makes perfect sense. The Romans and
the Jewish leadership in Jerusalem were persecuting the new Christians
vigorously so Longinus’ followers would most likely have hid his body, and with
most soldiers being from Italia—”

“Modern
day Italy?”

“Very
good.”

“Who needs
a doctorate and twenty years of experience?”

“Apparently
not you.
As
I was saying, with most soldiers being from Italia, it’s
very plausible that he was moved there by his companions since Christianity had
barely reached the homeland. In Italia they most likely wouldn’t be actively
hunted.”

“So he’s
not in Turkey.”

“Unlikely.”

“Good. I
doubt we’d get the necessary clearances to go gallivanting around there
especially with what’s going on in Syria.”

“True.
So if we assume he was moved from there, the question is where.”

“Italy’s
a big place.”

“Indeed.
But there’re clues. The oldest stories have him being taken to Mantua, an
ancient island city in Italia—Italy—and buried there. Why, we’re not sure, but
a Christian following did develop in the area ahead of much of the rest of
Italia, which suggests followers of the new religion travelled there for a
specific purpose. That there was an early Christian presence there has been
proven, just not why. The stories that Longinus was moved there would certainly
provide a reason for this early toehold.”

“But…”

“But
history, legend, folklore, whatever you want to call it, suggests he was moved
yet again.”

“Of
course he was. Where?”

“Anywhere
from Rome to Sardinia to Greece.”

“Lovely.”

“But!”

“Ooh, a
good but?”

“Possibly.
He apparently turned up in the Basilica of Sant’Agostino in the fourteenth or
fifteenth century, but the records of him actually being there have been lost.”

“But
could possibly be found?”

Acton
threw his hands up with a sigh. “I’ve started with less.”

“Where’s
this basilica?”

“Rome.”

There
was a knock on the door, startling Acton, his nerves still keeping him on edge.

Reading
rose. “I’ll go.” He strode to the door quietly, evidently feeling an abundance
of caution was necessary, making Acton feel a little better about his own
anxiety. Reading peered through the peephole and stepped back, smiling. “Help’s
arrived.”

He
pulled open the door and Acton jumped up in excitement as Command Sergeant
Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson and Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung entered the room,
dropping heavy duffel bags in the entrance as Reading closed the door behind
them.

“Am I
ever glad to see you guys!”

Acton
pumped their hands, ushering them toward the comfortable chairs the two-bedroom
suite offered. “Good to see you too, Professor, I just wish it was under better
circumstances,” replied Dawson as the two men, obviously tired, dropped into
the well-padded seats.

“Thirsty?”

They
both nodded and Acton headed for the fully stocked fridge in the kitchenette,
pitching them each an ice cold bottle of water.