The Last Roman: Book One: Exile Page 4

  "Sending the young boy to the general was genius. The reserves arrived just as the line was going to break. They redeployed the second legion, and it was touch and go. Then our cavalry reappeared and outflanked the barbarians. They were pinned between the legions and the streams." He looked down, shaking his head. "It was a slaughter."

  Marcus nodded, the stench of the field still clinging to his nostrils.

  "So, who buried me?"

  "They didn't bury you, Marcus. They cremated you."

  "That's impossible."

  "I watched them light the pyre. The night of the battle, as both legions watched. You were a celebrated hero."

  "Then how did I end up in the ground? Is this the afterlife?"

  "No, no. That would mean I'm dead too." He grinned. "And I'm very much alive. I can't explain how. But perhaps I can explain why." He guided the horse around a slight bend in the road. "Back in Judea, you were the commander at a crucifixion."

  "I commanded many. More than I can count."

  "This one had a Galilean. One that you stabbed with a spear."

  Marcus pulled on the reins of his horse, and Nicodemus followed suit.

  "Yes." Marcus studied the older man.

  "Something happened to you that day."

  "I fainted."

  "Did you?" He shrugged. "Perhaps. But something changed. That Galilean was the Son of God."

  "That's what they said."

  "No, he is real. I'm living proof."

  "How is that?"

  "I was born blind, and that Galilean healed me when I was fifty years old."

  "You will forgive me if I'm skeptical of that."

  "Of course you would be." Nicodemus pulled a small dagger from his belt. "I abhor blood, but you need to be convinced."

  Before Marcus could reply, Nicodemus ran the blade across his palm.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Watch!" Nicodemus grimaced and held out his hand to Marcus.

  It was just deep enough to draw a steady flow of blood that dripped off the side of his palm. But within a minute, the bleeding had slowed. After another few breathless minutes, it had stopped.

  Marcus looked up at Nicodemus. "I don't understand."

  "We should keep moving." He urged his horse forward, Marcus beside him. "None of us understand. We've just come to accept it. And you must as well."

  "I wasn't healed."

  "No. You are different. But there is one other like you."

  "Who?"

  "A man named Thomas. He was at the crucifixion, and soon after, had a similar encounter to yours. He realized you were transformed as well. That is why he asked me to go with you…to be there when you came back."

  They passed through the shadows of a giant oak, Marcus doing his best to process his alternative world. They had just picked their way across a narrow stream when he broke the silence.

  "So, what now?"

  "We have to get you out of the empire."

  "What? My family?"

  "Them too."

  "Why?"

  "Caligula arrived the day after the battle. He was livid that the general did not wait for him. The emperor had him executed on the spot."

  "Quintus is dead?"

  "And all the tribunes," Nicodemus said. "Caligula ordered the battle wiped from history. That is why I said you were a hero."

  Marcus pulled up his steed again and turned to Nicodemus. "I wrote my wife about the battle."

  The blood drained from Nicodemus's face. "Where is she?"

  "She was coming to Lutetia."

  Nicodemus looked down the path and back at Marcus. Without a word, they both urged their horses forward, picking up the pace until they were galloping down the trail.

  They reached the outskirts of Lutetia a few hours after sundown. They slowed as they exited the forest, the path cutting across a small field. A long, wooden bridge spanned the dark river that separated them from the small town. As they approached the bridge, Nicodemus reined in his horse.

  "Stop!" he called to Marcus.

  "Why?" Marcus spun his horse around to face Nicodemus.

  "You can't go in there. You're dead."

  Marcus started to reply but then closed his mouth.

  "Someone will recognize you. I'll go." He handed Marcus his bag. "There is some food in here. Wait for me over there." He pointed to the tip of the island where a small grove of trees crept up to the river's edge.

  Nodding, Marcus watched him go, the soft pounding of horse hooves on the wooden planks echoing through the night. When Nicodemus had faded from sight, Marcus guided his horse to the trees. Once there, he tied his mount and took the bag to a large boulder overlooking the river. He sat on the rock and chewed on a dried piece of meat.

  An hour later, Marcus heard the familiar sound of hooves on planks. Unsure if it was Nicodemus, he walked back to the trees and looked out across the field. His hand fell to his side, only to realize he had no weapon.

  But no weapon would be needed. A rider and horse took shape in the darkness, and though there was no moonlight, Marcus could tell it was Nicodemus. He stepped from the trees, grabbing the reins of his horse.

  "So?"

  Marcus's heart sank when he saw the older man's expression. His response only confirmed what Marcus feared.

  "Gone. Two days ago."

  "Where?" Marcus's jaw clenched.

  "Massilia, they're to be sold to a slaver."

  Marcus fought the rage building inside him. He took a shallow breath and looked back toward Lutetia.

  "I'll go after them. I might get lucky and catch them before they reach the coast." He looked back up at Nicodemus. "But I need a sword. And gold."

  Nicodemus dismounted and untied a blanket from behind the saddle. He unfolded it, exposing a sword and scabbard within.

  "I hoped you wouldn't need this." He handed the sword to Marcus, along with a small pouch of coins. "And this is all I have."

  "Thank you." Marcus took the sword and wrapped the belt around his waist. He opened the pouch and poured a few coins out, which he handed back to Nicodemus. He then closed up the bag and tied it to his belt.

  "Go back to town. In my house will be my family papers. Bring them to Massilia. If needed, we can use them to secure more gold."

  Marcus disappeared into the trees, emerging soon after with a horse in tow. He vaulted onto his steed, and using both heels, urged the beast into a gallop.

  As he thundered past, Nicodemus whispered. "Godspeed."

  Marcus stood on the dock, fists clenched, and watched the galley fade into the sunset. He had missed them by an hour, maybe less.

  Looking around, he clutched the arm of a nearby dock worker. "Where is that ship going?"

  "Fuck you!"

  Marcus grabbed him by the throat, stifling his cry. He clawed at the Roman's grip but could not break it. The worker nodded frantically, willing to give up the destination. Marcus let him go, and he fell to his knees, rubbing his throat.

  "Sardinia," he gulped.

  "Where can I hire a boat?"

  The man pointed to a nearby building. Turning, Marcus watched several sailors enter a door beneath a small sign.

  "You can have that." Marcus nodded toward the winded horse and tossed the worker a gold coin. "I won't be needing it."

  As he made his way across the quay, he squinted to make out the faded letters on the sign.

  Hades Den. Appropriate.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

  —Friedrich Nietzsche

  Modern Day

  Paris

  Marcus watched Sam from the top level of the club, ignoring the strobe lights and thumping techno music. She stood near the bar, a drink in hand for show.

  Scanning the crowd, Marcus spotted Levi as he pulled two young women across the dance floor. He was in his late-thirties, with greasy bla
ck hair and cinnamon-colored skin. A hawk nose dominated his shallow face, set below a pair of menacing eyes. His six-foot frame was lean and sharp.

  Levi arrived at the bar and motioned for his tab. Sam set down her drink and turned toward the exit, bumping into Levi as she passed. He looked up as Sam placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to say something into his ear. Levi looked her up and down, then reached for her, but she was already walking away.

  Confident she had placed the bug, Marcus slipped through the crowd and down the narrow steps. He stepped into the crisp Paris night and took a deep breath to clear his smoke-filled lungs. Sam waited for him near the end of the line of people waiting to get in.

  "You got it?"

  Marcus frowned at the screen. "I think so."

  "Let me see." She took the phone from him. "You really need to get better at these things."

  "I know."

  "It's good, see?" She showed him the dot on the screen. "He'll be out soon."

  They started down the sidewalk, and when traffic allowed, crossed the street.

  "You see he had two girls?" Sam said.

  "Yeah, it's normal for him to escalate."

  "Should we just grab him now?"

  "We talked about this, Sam." Marcus stopped in front of a black sedan, leaning his arms on the roof as he looked over at her. "We need to know where he's staying."

  "Yeah, but I'm sure we could find that out…" Her voice trailed off when she realized Marcus was scowling at her.

  "We stick to the plan." He opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat.

  Sam shook her head, opened the passenger's side and got inside.

  She grabbed the iPad from the dash and opened up the tracking app. "Here he comes."

  Levi emerged with the girls in tow. He handed a slip to a valet, and soon, his red BMW pulled up to the curb. A few minutes later, they were speeding down the street.

  Marcus switched on the headlights and pulled onto the rain-soaked street. They drove along the empty boulevards, following the signal on the map. Now and then, they could see the taillights of the BMW as it moved through the darkness. They were entering a seedy part of Paris, full of abandoned warehouses and run-down tenements. Sam could see dark figures huddled in the shadows, the orange glow of a cigarette piercing the night.

  As the signal came to a stop, Marcus flicked off his lights and pulled the car to the curb. The BMW, brake lights reflecting off the shallow puddles, had stopped in front of a warehouse as it waited for the garage door to open. A few seconds later, the lights disappeared, and the car slipped inside. Sam handed Marcus a pair of infrared binoculars, and he scanned the four-story building. He located several warm signatures around the perimeter and a couple more behind the various windows.

  "Who owns this place?" Marcus scanned the surrounding buildings.

  "Hold on…I don't have the best signal. Why don't we have 5G?"

  "I don't even know what that is."

  "Never mind." She clicked through a series of documents. "It belongs to Lumex, Inc., kinda—it went into foreclosure six years ago. Gideon Bank holds the lien—but," she scanned the transaction history, "they never listed it for sale."

  "I'm sure Thomas owns both companies." Marcus set down the binoculars. "Time to go."

  "Yeah, we don't have all night."

  "What, you got a hot date?"

  "Tinder—"

  "Jesus!" Marcus grimaced at her, then inserted a miniature receiver into his ear and adjusted the microphone strapped around his neck. "Testing, testing—"

  "Got it." Sam had slipped on a pair of earbuds and was punching up more data on the iPad. "City records show this place has four levels. The bottom floor is shipping, docks, and ramps. The second and third floors are cold storage. The top is an office. A stairwell and freight elevator go up to all levels. There might be a stairwell to the roof. Should have fire escapes on all the floors."

  "Negative—" Marcus inspected the building again, this time using the night vision setting on the binoculars. "They're gone."

  "Well, that's not very safe…"

  "Call in the fire marshal; maybe we can ticket them into giving us what we want." Marcus leveled his glasses on the top floor windows. "Alright, looks like he's settling in. Are we ready to go?"

  "Yep, I downloaded the blueprints." Sam handed him an iPhone with a cable. "If you find his computer, connect this to the USB port. You know…the oblong connector?"

  "I know what a USB port is…"

  "Well, I can never tell…"

  "Sam."

  "That will get me remote access to his hard drive. The script will run after you plug it in. I'm sure it's encrypted, so a password would be helpful."

  "Got it."

  "Good…break a leg."

  "Not funny."

  "I know, last time was two legs," Sam said. "One is better."

  Marcus muttered something indiscernible beneath his breath as he stuck the phone into his jacket. Marcus switched off the dome light, popped the trunk, and exited the car. He lifted the lid and dropped a few items into his pockets before slipping into the shadow of the nearest building. Marcus could see his breath billowing out before him as his eyes adjusted to the night. He clung to the darkness and made his way down the empty street. At this hour, he was counting on the guards being less attentive.

  "Sam?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Watch the guards; I need to know if I'm spotted."

  "I think you'll know when they shoot at you."

  "Just watch."

  Marcus reached an alley where he stopped and studied the building next to the warehouse, across from him. Both buildings were the same height. He shoved his hands into his pockets, walked across the street and up a set of stone steps, kneeling in the doorway. The door was chained shut, but he could push it open just enough to squeeze inside.

  The windows were covered with plywood, but some moonlight slipped through. It was just enough to allow Marcus to move around without stumbling into the scattered debris. He reached the far wall and spotted a recess that looked like a stairwell. He started up the staircase, careful to avoid the gaping holes in the steps. The wood was spongy, but it held, and after three rickety flights, he reached the roof.

  A strong breeze met him as he emerged from the doorway and walked up to a low brick wall on the edge of the roof. He studied the opposite building and, satisfied it was deserted, opened his coat and produced a narrow metal cylinder connected to a bundle of cable. When engaged, four sharp spikes extended from the casing to form a grappling hook. He gathered the thin line into his left hand and swung the hook in a tight circle, launching it towards a short ventilation pipe just beyond the distant roofline. The fixture landed about two feet beyond the target, so Marcus moved to his left and pulled the cable until the hook wedged onto the pipe. He took up the slack, walked to a nearby fire escape ladder, and wrapped the wire around the metal frame, securing it in place. He lowered himself onto the wire and shimmied across the opening, pulling himself onto the roof.

  "I'm on top of the building, about to move in." Marcus knelt to catch his breath.

  "Gotcha, everything's quiet." After a brief pause, Sam said, "It's probably a trap."

  Marcus ignored her, moved to the square hut that held the staircase door, and tested the knob. It was locked. He knelt and took out his penlight, placing it in his mouth so he could inspect the knob. He used several tools from a small pouch, began working on the lock, and within a minute, he was putting the tools away and pulling a silenced pistol from his coat. He opened the door, stepped inside, and waited for his eyes to adjust before proceeding down the steps. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he could hear voices in the room ahead. He pulled out his phone and flicked through a building floor plan, stopping at the top floor. The door was in the room's corner, next to a door leading to the interior staircase.

  He reached down and twisted the handle, relieved to find it unlocked. He pulled the door open and slipped int
o the shadows of the corner.

  "More than you expected, huh, bitch?" He could hear the question, but the response was more of a moan. "I'm just disappointed your friend is no longer with us."

  Wow, that was fast. Marcus drove the thought from his mind and moved into the light, pausing for a moment to ensure the deadbolt on the main door was locked. After taking a couple of steps, he could see the entire room. The voices came from behind a row of fabric panels that segregated one part of the floor into what he assumed was a bedroom. A kitchen stood on his right, built along the outside wall. The middle of the room had a couple of sofas and a huge TV, its volume muted.

  A girl's body was sprawled across one sofa, strips of blood-splattered clothing clinging to her lifeless body. Marcus moved around the couch, keeping a wary eye on the bedroom opening. She was young, nineteen or twenty, with pale skin and long blonde hair. Her throat was sliced open from ear to ear, a look of terror frozen on her pretty face. Marcus reached down to close her eyelids and then walked over to the bedroom.

  It took up the entire end of the floor, with massive windows that dominated the wall. Underneath the windows lay a sprawling bed, at the foot of which stood Levi holding a long, curved knife. He was staring down at a girl, her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. She was covered in blood, but it did not look like she was bleeding.

  "Hello, Levi."

  "I said no—" Turning, the color drained from his face. Levi looked down at the naked girl and then dropped his weapon.

  "Now why did you do that?" Marcus circled him.

  "I don't know."

  "You never were that smart."

  Eyes squinting, Levi scanned the room, pausing on a pistol sitting on the nightstand.

  "You won't make it."

  Levi was fast, but Marcus was faster. The first slug tore into Levi's shoulder, knocking him away from the nightstand and onto the ground. He rolled to a stop, blood gushing from the wound. Undeterred, he sprang up and ran toward the weapon.

  The second slug shattered his kneecap. Levi crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. Marcus walked over to him, gun leveled.