The Thirteenth Legion (A James Acton Thriller, #15) (James Acton Thrillers) by J Robert Kennedy Page A

leaders didn’t smarten up.
    And it
wasn’t corporate greed behind it.
    That was
just a symptom.
    Society
had changed from trying to build something better, to trying to get its share
of what had been built.
    Reading
pulled his laptop out of the pouch of the seat in front of him as they reached
altitude, putting his hand on the top of the seat, pushing gently so the person
in front of him couldn’t lean back. The man poked his head around to see what
was going on, though not before Reading removed his hand. The man sat back
down, trying again, Reading’s hand already blocking the seat.
    The
man’s head whipped around again, Reading opening his laptop.
    “Are you
pushing on my seat?”
    “No
mate, I guess it’s just not working. Mine isn’t either, but I don’t believe in
making the person behind me uncomfortable for an eight-hour flight. Do you?”
    The man
glared at him but said nothing, returning to his seat.
    He
didn’t try again.
    The
mother sitting at the window grinned at him, leaning closer. “I wish I had the
courage to do that. For the life of me I don’t understand why they allow these
things to recline, not with the tiny amount of space they now give you.”
    Reading motioned
toward his knees, his left one pressed against the seat back. “Sometimes it’s
necessity, not bravery.”
    She
smiled, her daughter suddenly occupying her lap, peering out the window at the
lights below. Reading turned his attention to the latest reports on the
kidnapping. The FBI was treating it as a kidnap for ransom since Jim and Laura
were wealthy. He didn’t bother mentioning that it was probably a breakaway sect
of a two-thousand-year-old cult descendant from the Roman Empire behind it
because they thought once again the Actons might be able to help with a missing
crystal skull.
    It just
didn’t sound believable.
    He
snapped the laptop shut, returning it to the pouch, then popped his shoes off,
the trick to comfortable air travel given to him by probably the best friend he
had left in the world.
    A friend
he was worried sick about.
     
     

 
     

     
     
    Domus Tiberiana, Rome
July 21, 64 AD
     
    Flavus stood at a respectful distance, his stance straight and
respectful, his eyes fixed on a distant point and not at any of those present.
    For
staring at the emperor could be dangerous.
    His legate,
Quintus Caesennius Catius, had selected him to join him when summoned by the emperor,
the palace a place he had never been, nor imagined he ever would. He was young,
ambitious, though too close to a commoner ever to hope to gain any real rank.
He was a Roman citizen, which counted for a lot, yet as in any empire, there
were the rich and there were the poor. His service would guarantee he’d end up
somewhere just above the bottom, though if he could rise far enough in rank,
his share of any bounty his legion may earn would increase, affording him a
more luxurious retirement.
    In
twenty-five years.
    His best
friend, Valerius, had promised him a position when he himself had the power to
do so. Valerius would be a force to be reckoned with, he of a more noble
station, especially with Pliny having taken him under his wing.
    It’s
all about the connections.
    Yet as
he watched the proceedings in front of him, he took some satisfaction in
knowing his friend had yet to visit the palace, and had yet to be in the presence
of the emperor.
    “Follow
me.”
    Flavus
followed the emperor and Legate Catius into another room, Flavus battling to
keep his eyes under control at the sight. Dozens of seers surrounded what
appeared to be a skull carved of glass, all on their knees praying to various
gods for forgiveness and protection.
    “It is
this that is responsible for the fire.”
    How
in the name of gods did this piece of glass cause these horrendous fires?
    Catius had
more tact. “I don’t understand.”
    “Since
its arrival it has spoken to me,” explained Emperor Nero, Flavus clamping his
jaw shut, battling a shiver that rushed up