The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (8 page)

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled around the goo in my
mouth.

***

The briefing room was small enough that creature
comfort was at a minimum, forcing everyone gathered to sit shoulder
to shoulder. In front were a podium and flat screen monitor. Other
than that, the room was completely empty, except that by the time I
arrived, the rest of the team was already in their seats.

McDougal was at the podium checking his notes, while
the rest of the team was seated amongst the chairs, which were
arrayed three across and two deep, just enough for the team.
Santino, Wang, and Vincent were in the first row and Bordeaux and
Strauss were in the back, with an empty seat between them. Bordeaux
turned and smiled, patting the seat next to him. The rest of the
guys turned and tried not to laugh while Strauss sat, arms folded,
completely focused on the chair in front of her.

Making my way to my seat, McDougal did a double take
when he noticed my swollen eye and looked at me pathetically. I
tried to ignore his disapproving stare as I took my seat, and made
doubly sure I didn’t so much as glance at Strauss, deciding two
could play her little game.

McDougal cleared his throat and began his
briefing.

“Welcome to His Holiness’ Service. Hence forth, you
are now a part of the Swiss Guard, specifically the Pope’s
Praetorians as he likes to call us, and all allegiance to your
former commands have been transferred here. As you know, you have
come here in an effort to not only protect the Pope, but also to
help end any threat facing Christendom and its allies. Each of you
has brought unique combat experiences and skill sets, so get used
to teaching one another and learning from each other as well.

“All right, since most of you have already gotten a
chance to get to know each other, we’ll run through introductions
quickly. My name is Dillon McDougal, Major, Special Air Service.
I’ve been in His Majesty’s service for thirteen years, and have
commanded troops in Afghanistan, Iraq, North Korea, Russia, and
Iran.

“You all know Captain Vincent. He’s our liaison with
the Pope as well as our Chaplain. Prior to joining the military, he
studied political science and classical studies, speaks numerous
languages throughout Europe and the Middle East, and is literate in
ancient Greek and Latin as well.”

My interest perked up. I hadn’t been aware of
Vincent’s educational background. I’ll have to pick his brain later
about his knowledge of Ancient History.

“Next up is Lieutenant James Wang. Wang has served
with me for over five years in the SAS and is extremely proficient
in hand to hand as well as small arms combat. He’s also team
medic.

“Lieutenant John Santino was a member of America’s
1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, and has spent
considerable time with the Green Berets. He specializes in stealth
infiltration, reconnaissance, and believe it or not, is our
cultural expert, having spent years of service behind enemy lines
in Romania, Ukraine, Lebanon, and Brazil.”

There were a few mock gasps of surprise from the
audience in response to Santino’s status as “cultural expert”,
while Santino stood and offered an obnoxious wave and bow.

“Are you through, Lieutenant?” McDougal asked.

Santino merely smiled and I smiled with him. It was
easy to see why we had always gotten along so well. We were both
notorious jokesters. While Santino was more of a prankster and
standup comedian, I was just a smartass with a penchant for his
sense of humor.

McDougal continued his briefing, waving a hand
towards the large Frenchmen.

“Lieutenant Jeanne Bordeaux was a member of the
National Gendarmerie Intervention Group. He’s worked mainly in
Africa subverting terrorist activity before it reached Europe, and
played an integral part in planning Operation Raven Claw, stopping
the only major African offensive at Gibraltar in 2019. He’s our
demo man.

“Lieutenant Helena Van Strauss is our sniper. She’s
only been shooting in Germany’s KSK for a few months, but prior to
joining, won gold in multiple shooting events at the Olympics. In
the short time that she has served in the military, her kill count
is quite impressive, so gentlemen, please try not to end up in her
crosshairs.”

Santino tossed his head back and laughed, and I
shifted in my seat.

“Finally, our newest arrival is Lieutenant Jacob
Hunter. Formerly a U.S. Navy SEAL, Hunter is our water insertion
specialist. Our location on the Tiber River is ideal for covert
departures and arrivals back here to base. To do so, we’ll be
utilizing underground sewers that require us to swim out to a
tunnel system constructed by the Vatican and fed by the Tiber,
before continuing out to the Tyrrhenian Sea where a sub will pick
us up and take us where we need to go. Each of you has done at
least some water insertion training, but if you feel you need some
extra help, see Hunter after the briefing. He is also cross trained
in underwater explosives, Bordeaux you may want to get in touch
with him in regards to that. Finally, he is also a qualified
sniper. You’re quite the Renaissance man, Hunter. With that, swim
buddy assignments.”

My stomach churned, knowing exactly where this was
going.

“Our combat operations doctrine is that of two-man
elements working in tandem as a unit. Santino, you’re paired with
Vincent. Bordeaux, you’re with Wang, and I’ll tag along with you
two when we’re in the water. That leaves Strauss and Hunter.
Hunter, you’ll act as her spotter, and since she’s the least
experienced in the water, you two couldn’t have been a more perfect
match.”

This time it wasn’t just Santino who couldn’t help
himself, but the rest of the guys mimicked his laughter as well. I
even saw Vincent’s shoulders bobbing in silent amusement.

Grudgingly, I finally looked over at the one person
on the team I would soon have to become closest to. I saw her turn
and catch my eye with equally deliberate slowness.

I smiled, keeping it completely platonic.

Strauss let out a small sigh, resigning herself to
the situation – and me – and offered me the first sign of affection
since meeting me: a nod, and that was enough for me.

“All right lady and gentlemen. We’ve been granted
leave for seventy two hours starting now. I understand Lieutenant
Hunter has been in transit from the States for over a day, so go
get some sleep. The rest of you, hit the gym, or the range, but
don’t leave the base, not that it’s bloody likely you could find
your way out. In sixteen hours, we’ll start running through combat
and arms drills. You’re all professionals, so it shouldn’t be long
before we’re operating like a well-oiled machine. Dismissed.”

The Praetorians stood and saluted smartly before
filing out of the room.

I headed straight for the rack, having to ask
Vincent where it was first.

It had been a long and tiring day, full of
interesting surprises and developments. After finally finding my
bunk, I thought of my lovely new swim buddy as I kicked off my
boots and collapsed onto the bed. My final thoughts as my head hit
the pillow were of soft knuckles and piercing green eyes.

III

Preparation

Vatican Undergrounds, Rome

July, 2021 AD

I awoke after ten hours of uninterrupted sleep,
having dreamt of nothing but floating green eyes.

When I was a child, sleeping had been a tumultuous
affair. Even after nine hours of restful sleep, I still awoke every
morning drowsy and was fatigued throughout the day. Thankfully,
years of military service easily kicked that habit. As soon as my
head hit the pillow these days, I was out like a rock and rarely
remembered what I had dreamt about. I woke up well rested and ready
to handle whatever was thrown at me.

Glancing at the wall clock, I noticed it was only
six in the morning, but as for what day of the week it was, I had
no idea. After hours in transit, jet lag, more time zones than I
could count and sleep deprivation; I had no clue what week it was,
let alone what day. Pulling myself out of bed, I felt the calling
of a long, hot shower, a shave, and a fresh change of clothes.

I found the shower almost immediately, noticing it
was “male-only” and wondered where the ladies room was. I gave up
wondering as soon as the steaming water began to wonderfully scald
my face, and twenty minutes later, I felt fresh, rejuvenated, and
ready to start the day.

Before leaving, I synchronized my watch with the
wall clock and decided to head to the mess. On the way out, I
noticed four sleeping bodies in the racks and figured the last was
busy in the large multiplex outside. McDougal or Vincent could be
anywhere. I also noticed another dozen or so empty racks, and
immediately wondered if we shared a facility with the first
Praetorian team, and also wondered if we’d ever cross paths. It
seemed like I’d find out sooner or later, so I pushed it from my
mind and left the barracks. It wasn’t long before I wandered my way
into the large training facility and started my way towards the
food.

A few steps in, I heard the
crack, crack,
crack
sound of the same high powered rifle I had heard before.
A quick glance towards the shooting range revealed my lovely swim
buddy carefully firing down range once again. Five full magazines
stood in a neat row on the table next to her, awaiting their chance
to fire.

Girl was on a mission, or something.

I decided it was probably a good idea to ignore her
for the time being, as I understood the Zen-like peace snipers
experienced when shooting. I knew I hated it when someone disturbed
me while I was shooting, and considering her obvious temper, I made
sure to give her a wide berth as I passed by.

Instead, I followed my nose.

Not that there was an actual aroma wafting from the
cafeteria so early in the morning of course. In most modern
training facilities, at least the ones that housed the kind of
Special Forces units that required around the clock feeding due to
their erratic schedules, traditional cooks and cooking facilities
were no longer up to snuff. Instead, new technology was developed
that took orders, processed them, and finally, cooked the meals
before delivering them to a serving tray. They were quite
expensive, but the casual food consumer could hardly tell the
difference from a flesh and blood cook and an automatic food
processor.

I stepped up to the machine and punched up an order
of bacon, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, a bowl of cereal that looked
like fruit loops, and hot tea, and waited while the machine worked
its magic. A few minutes later, it dispensed a sectionalized tray
that held extremely generous portions of my selection. Armies were
run on their stomachs after all, as Napoleon’s disaster in Russia
had proved, so the machines were designed to serve more than double
of a normal serving, a detail I definitely approved of.

Even so, I called up an extra order of bacon.

Sitting with my back to the ever diligent Lieutenant
Van Strauss, I put spoon to mouth and dove into my breakfast. I ate
slowly, listening to the meticulous sounds of rifle discharges
behind me. I’d barely made it through my first serving of bacon
when the shooting abruptly stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I
noticed her gather her rifle and spent magazines and carry them to
the armory, emerging minutes later empty handed, undoing her tight
pony tail.

I watched as she continued to ignore me, making her
way to the automatic food dispenser. A few minutes later, tray in
hand, she turned and walked straight towards my table, seating
herself directly opposite me.

I put down my spoon, loaded with circular, fruity
goodness, folded my hands on the table, and waited. Unsurprisingly,
I found myself staring into those lovely green eyes, but managing
to keep my cool this time.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence. “We’ve got
to stop meeting like this. I’m beginning to think you actually like
me, what with the way you keep staring and all.”

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally
broke her gaze, shook her head, and spoke.

“To begin with,” she began apologetically enough, “I
would like to apologize for hitting you yesterday. I let my anger
get the best of me. I’m sorry.”

Her voice was just as lovely as her face, with a
crisp German accent behind it that made me think of my childhood
crush on Heidi Klum rather than say, Hitler. I was less than happy,
however, with the reminder of her punch. I touched my eye socket
and grimaced as the pressure caused a fair amount of pain.

“Yeah,” I said. “That one hurt more than just the
pride.”

Her mouth tightened slightly. “Again, I am sorry. As
I’m sure you’re well aware of by now, my… situation…” she sighed,
“well I had my reasons for what I did, but they were the wrong
ones. I shouldn’t have punched you.”

Reasons?

I decided to move on for the moment.

“I’m just glad Santino didn’t win the bet.”

“Why?” She asked curiously.

“Never mind,” I added, quickly glancing down at my
tray, trying to push the thought from my mind. “Look, I accept your
apology wholeheartedly and want to reassure you that I didn’t take
it personally. In fact, I’d like to apologize too. The way I acted
upon meeting you was totally inappropriate. It’s just something
that kinda happens.”

She cracked a small smile, the first legitimate one
I’d seen from her yet.

“You know,” she said, “on any other day, in any
other situation, under any other circumstance, I would have found
it rather cute.”

“Yeah,” I blushed, playing with my fruit loops, “I
get that a lot. Anyway, I’m glad we were able to push through this.
You’d be surprised how hard it is to not get along with someone as
attractive, intelligent, and deadly up to three thousand yards with
a sniper rifle as you are. How’d you manage such a
combination?”