Blood Relics (A James Acton Thriller, #12) by J Robert Kennedy Page A

hand on Albus’ shoulder, smiling. “It is because I am
one of them that I must leave. I believe so much in what they are trying to do,
that I have to leave so they aren’t stopped by those searching for me.” He let
go of both men and picked up his spear lying beside the stone that had been his
resting place.
    “You are
mistaken in what you say,” replied Albus, his hand covering Longinus’ grip on
the spear. “ We must leave. The four of us are deserters and the entire
Roman Army is looking for us.” Albus waved for the other two to join them. “We
will leave together and die together should it be necessary.”
    Longinus
nodded, joy filling his heart that his friends would be with him on the long
journey ahead.
    For he
could think of only one place to go.
    Home.
     
     
     
     

 
     

     
     
    Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris, France
Present Day, Day of the Paris assault
     
    “They don’t seem to be taking the threat seriously.”
    Reading
nodded as they strode down the center of the massive Notre-Dame Cathedral in
Paris. Its first stone laid in 1163, it was built over centuries, handcrafted
in stages resulting in a breathtaking combination of architecture and artistry
that Acton found himself never tiring of. He had been here several times
before, making it a point to try to see it every time he was in Paris, but
Laura had seen it on many occasions, Paris just a few hours by train from
London.
    He had
been fortunate enough to be shown the Treasury on his last visit and was eager
to see it again, the relics contained within breathtaking in their beauty and
opulence, not to mention their historical significance.
    Which
was why he was surprised to have only seen a single police officer outside and
none inside.
    “You’d
think with all the terrorist activity here lately they’d take a threat like
this more seriously,” observed Laura.
    Reading
grunted. “If this were terrorism, I have no doubt they would. But this isn’t
and they’ve got their hands full.”
    Just as
9/11 had changed American views overnight, so had the terrorist attacks in
Paris affected the psyche of the people of France. Heightened security had been
very evident on the streets of Paris as they made their way here, but Parisians
seemed to be trying to move on with their lives, thumbing their noses at those
who would have them cower in fear.
    Acton
knew Reading was right, the theft of Blood Relics wasn’t terrorism, but to him
any threat against archeological sites or artifacts was an act of
terrorism, an attack on history, on culture, on humanity’s past. The fact an
officer was outside at least suggested that the French weren’t completely
ignoring the threat, and the young man had indicated his boss was inside,
meaning at least two officers were assigned.
    His mind
drifted to the solidarity rally he and Laura had attended in Trafalgar Square
while packing up some of her personal effects from her apartment in London.
They had watched on the BBC the events of that horrible day unfold live for the
world to see, the heart wrenching terror in the eyes of Parisians as they heard
the news, terrified with the knowledge that the terrorists were still on the
loose, their massacre of twelve at the Charlie Hebdo offices only the beginning
of their plan.
    All
over cartoons.
    It was
disgusting. Ridiculous. Almost comical if it weren’t for the death toll. And an
illustration of how Islam was fundamentally incompatible with Western
democracies. He had listened to and read Imam after Imam condemn the attacks in
one sentence, then proclaim that though they believed in free speech, they felt
it should be illegal to satirize a religion.
    And what
was truly disturbing was a recent BBC poll showing almost 30% of British
Muslims felt the Charlie Hebdo attacks were justified.
    Why?
Because one group was so insecure in their beliefs that they couldn’t accept
them being challenged?
    How
many died because of Piss Christ?
    He felt
his chest tighten in anger