Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) (31 page)

Basilica of Sant’Agostino, Rome, Italy

Professor James Acton massaged the back of his neck, his single,
poorly angled hand a poor substitute for the real thing his wife was so expert
at giving.

God I
hope she’s okay.

But
praying to God might not be the proper thing to do right now considering the
work he was doing certainly wasn’t
His.
He was on a quest to ultimately
find the blood of Christ so that it could be used to save the life of a
murderer.

But
surely saving Laura’s life justifies this?

Carefully
examining document after document had left him with plenty of time for his mind
to wander during the downtime, and he had twisted his logic to justify his
actions, the sad fact of the matter truly being that he felt he needed to. He
didn’t truly believe that the blood of Christ could heal—it defied the science
he had relied upon his entire adult life.

But
then there was the Vault.

The
Vault had been terrifying, the things contained within it enough to shake the
beliefs of the faithful, and to thrust the greatest skeptic into the arms of
God.

It had
changed him.

It had
changed
them,
Laura too never quite the same.

But as
time marched on and the events of those days slowly faded into distant
memories, it was easy to forget what had been discovered. And it was moments,
like now, alone with his thoughts, that brought those memories back to the
fore, renewing his shaky faith.

And in
his mind, no matter what he did today, God would punish those responsible,
regardless of whether or not he succeeded in finding the Spear of Destiny and
the blood it was purported to be stained with.

“Any
luck?”

Acton
looked up to see Terrence and Jenny standing in the doorway, the room a bustle
of forgotten activity around him, half a dozen off-duty Swiss Guards quickly
reading through the Nazi manifests and bringing any that raised red flags to
Acton for evaluation.

It was
saving them days.

He
nodded, pointing at his computer screen. “Almost a dozen documents so far that
indicate changes to the original or ambiguities at least. I’ve been pulling the
originals but they’re so fragile they’ll need to be examined in a proper lab.”
He pointed at one scroll sitting beside him. “Especially this one.”

“Why
that one?” asked Jenny, leaning in for a closer look.

“It
refers to the body of a Christian martyr from the first century, originally
buried in Mantua, eventually interred here in the fifteenth century. It fits
the timeframe, and Longinus is considered a Christian martyr since he died for
his beliefs.”

“What’s
the name?”

“Tiberius.”

Kruger Residence, Outside Paris, France

Laura woke, her mouth dry, whatever drugs she was on causing some
dehydration. She opened her eyes to find curtains set up around her bed and the
lights overhead turned off, though the morning sunlight and the lights of the
lab were enough to almost overwhelm the thick white sheets. Reaching for her
glass of water next to her bed she felt her stitches stretch and she yelped in
pain, easing back to her lying position, not willing to risk making things
worse.

Thirst
she could live with, a torn open abdomen, not so much.

The
curtain moved aside and Dr. Heinrich greeted her with a smile, the sunlight
streaming in from behind almost silhouetting him like an angel.

Angel
of death, maybe.

“Good
morning!” he said, his ever cheerful self not having taken leave despite his
apparent continued failure in finding blood on any of the artifacts. She had to
admit he did seem like a genuinely nice man, though she wondered how anyone
could work for murderers.

Maybe
he’s a prisoner too?

“Good
morning,” she mumbled, her dry mouth making it difficult to talk.

Heinrich
laughed, stepping toward her bed and getting her glass of water, helping her
position the straw. She took several long sips, swishing it around her mouth to
loosen it up, then nodded. Heinrich returned the glass to the tray table then
moved her sheet aside. “Let’s see how the bandages are looking.”

She
looked down and the dressing looked clean, an improvement over yesterday when it
had shown thick blotches of dark red having soaked completely through.

Heinrich
nodded, satisfied. “We’ll change those in a few minutes, but it’s already
looking better.” He pressed on the wound gently and she winced. “How’s the
pain?”

“Still
there,” she gasped.

Stop
pushing, you sadist!

He
immediately lifted his hand. “That’s to be expected, it will take time, but I
want to start weaning you off the pain killers, they’re not good for you.
Besides, being aware of your pain helps prevent you from doing anything stupid
like trying to go to the bathroom by yourself.”

“Or
escaping.”

Heinrich
chuckled, patting her arm. “Now now, you shouldn’t be even
thinking
of
something like that. Not that I care, you being here or not makes no difference
to me, though I do enjoy the company. I’m more concerned with that wound
reopening before you could get yourself to a hospital. Or worse.”

“‘Worse’
meaning they’ll shoot me if I try to escape.”

Heinrich’s
face clouded over and he sat on the edge of her bed, lowering his voice. “It
wasn’t always this way. In fact, until a few months ago, this was a happy home
though with a heavy weight upon it. Herr Kruger, Dietrich’s father, took a
rapid turn for the worse triggering Dietrich to follow through on what I
thought was a passing fancy, this entire notion of the Blood of Christ being
used to heal his father. We had always hoped that medical science would progress
fast enough that a cure would be found, God knows he has the money to put
behind the research, but unfortunately time has run out.” He lowered his voice
further still. “I don’t think Herr Kruger will last the week.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that.”

She wasn’t.

Heinrich
seemed to sense it. “Herr Kruger,
senior,
is a good man. So is his son,
unfortunately his son loves his father so much he’s lost sight of the values
his father raised him to believe in, and now even his father has grown
desperate, compromising his own values.” He shook his head, sighing. “Do any of
us truly know what lengths we would go to if we were in the same position?”

“I know
I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Wouldn’t
you?” Heinrich raised his hand, cutting off her reply. “I know, I know,
you
wouldn’t. And neither would I. But then, if there was something out there that
could have saved my son from his cancer, and someone stood in my way…” He shook
his head. “I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

Laura
didn’t say anything as she wondered herself what she would do to save James, or
their future children. She would like to think she wouldn’t kill, but she
couldn’t be sure. Killing an innocent? Absolutely not, but killing someone
standing in the way of her saving someone she loved?

She too
didn’t know.

“You
lost a son?”

Heinrich
nodded, biting his lip.

“How old
was he?”

“Sixteen.”

She
reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what it would
be like to lose a child.”

Heinrich
sucked in a deep breath, the corners of his mouth turning down deeply.

“What’s
wrong?” asked Laura, her chest beginning to tighten in anticipation of
something horrible about to be said.

“I’ve
analyzed the scans I took from yesterday and I’m afraid I have some bad news
for you.”

Laura’s
hands gripped the sheets, tight.

“What?”

And when
she heard what it was her stomach flipped and her chest tightened, her heart
slamming into her ribcage as blood pounded in her ears, Heinrich’s words
growing distant as her entire future changed with a single sentence.

She
leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited.

Renner Residence, Feuerbach, Germany

Karl Renner looked at the security panel near his front door,
debating on whether or not to set it. He sighed, taking one last look back into
the living area of his large home, a home that held many fond memories for him,
though few recent. He and his ex-wife had designed the home themselves, it
custom-built almost five years ago.

They had
only lasted another three.

He ran
his hand along the chrome banister leading upstairs then gripped it tightly,
not wanting to let go, for it wasn’t just a home he was leaving, it was a life.

He was
about to disappear.

Forever.

The
authorities would be closing in soon and he needed to disappear fast. He was
heading to a private airport where he’d fly to the French Riviera then take a
boat to Morocco where passport checks were a little more lax. Forged identity
papers would get him to the Dominican and he’d live out his life in the sun,
possibly never to see his homeland again.

It was
heartbreaking.

But
necessary.

And with
the amount of money he had stashed away before this, and with the payday he was
about to receive, it was going to be a good life.

Just a
sedate one.

He held
in the Away button on the security panel, it chirping three times at him as the
indicator light changed to red. He stepped outside, locking the door behind
him, there still some hope deep down that it might all blow over and he’d be
able to return someday, someday hopefully soon, but it was
deep
down.

Face
it, you’ll never see this place again.

He
reached into his pocket for his key fob when his phone vibrated. Pulling it out
of his pocket instead, he checked the display to see a blocked number.

Maybe
it’s him again.

The
mastermind behind all his troubles had called as promised, agreeing to a payout
of another ten million euros, there little argument, little discussion at all
in fact.

It
must be nice to have ridiculous amounts of money.

He had
given his solemn promise there would be no further requests for payment, and
that he would be leaving the country immediately.

Only the
latter promise did he intend to absolutely keep.

He
tapped the button to take the call.

“Hello?”

“You
should have never betrayed us.”

Renner
froze, quickly scanning the street for hostiles as he stepped back toward the
door. A black SUV caught his eye.

“Good
bye, Herr Renner.”