The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

  ***

  A day and a thankfully quiet night later, the walls of Rome sprang into sight. Still a few miles out, I could see just how expansive the city really was, but its walls weren’t what intimidated me right now, it was the two tiny little dots I saw flanking the small gateway. If we couldn’t get through those guards, this mission would be scrubbed before it even began.

  Santino and I had opted out of our HK416 rifles, which were long, somewhat cumbersome, and very hard to conceal. Instead, Santino had borrowed Wang’s UMP, and I’d taken Helena’s P90. These were easily concealed beneath our baggy togas, and billowing travel cloaks, securely tied down to our backs with their slings. Additionally, we packed night vision goggles, plenty of Bordeaux’s C-4, a small but extensive medical kit put together by Wang, and enough ammo to take on a very small army. Most of this we kept hidden in locally made bags, which did well to conceal our gear, but weren’t designed like our own to make what we needed easily accessible.

  Hopefully, we wouldn’t let things get confusing, but as Santino and I well knew, shit happens, and very quickly in our line of work. We’d stage the rescue while Agrippina distracted Claudius, grabbing the kid, and moving toward the walls of Rome to lay down our demo. Then we’d get the hell out of Dodge.

  Easy.

  By the time we reached the gate, I was only slightly nervous. I figured if everything went according to plan, this should technically be the hardest part.

  I wasn’t really expecting everything to go as planned.

  Things never went as planned.

  Luckily, the Praetorians we’d interacted with during our time in Rome were few, and all in the Primigenia’s camp, so there would be very few people who could easily recognize us. Santino could probably pass for a Roman, due to his height and dark features, and while I’d be a bit more suspicious, my physical characteristics weren’t completely foreign in the Roman world. I’d also spent the past few weeks growing out my facial hair, so hopefully even the ladies who made time to watch me run wouldn’t immediately recognize me.

  The movement of traffic into the city was crowded and slow moving. The constant flow of traders, visitors, farmers, and other types of people made the road busy and bustling. My spirits were lifted when I observed that the guards seemed lackadaisical in their duty, and were just waving people through. When our turn came up, Agrippina flashed the guards a fantastic smile, and they wasted no time waving us through, unable to take their eyes off our female companion.

  Through the gates, we made our way to the Palatine at a leisurely, and hopefully inconspicuous pace. Reaching the base of the hill, I noticed Claudius had not sat idle during the winter, and had spent the time rebuilding the home Bordeaux had destroyed with just a few pounds of plastic explosive. We abandoned our horses in a nearby stable owned by Agrippina, just outside the pomerium, and backtracked a bit to finish the trip on foot. Once inside the gated complex, Agrippina issued some last minute advice.

  “My son is kept in a room near the back of the house, but you won’t be familiar with the layout. Follow the main hallway. His room will be the first on the right once the hall meets a cross hallway. There will be guards. Now, there is an exit near my son’s room. If you face his chamber, take the hallway to your left. The third door on your right leads to a small storage area. There is a doorway hidden behind a cabinet at the far end of the room. Claudius has installed many of these hidden exits in his home. His paranoia runs deep.”

  “Where will you be?” Santino asked.

  “Claudius’ room, where he may or may not be right now. I will head there to make sure he is not home. If he is, I will distract him while you retrieve my son. If he is not, I will join you as soon as I can.”

  As she spoke, I saw genuine pain and fear in her face, or at least as good as any impression I’d seen yet.

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “This will be a walk in the park.”

  “What does walking in parks have to do with anything?”

  I sighed. “Never mind.” These Romans needed to learn a few clichés.

  “We’ll get him,” Santino comforted.

  She nodded, before breaking away from us as we passed the threshold of the house.

  As opposed to the sparse elegance the house had exuded the last time I was here, Claudius’ new décor screamed crazed and opulent exuberance. The home was littered with statues, paintings and plants. It looked like an art museum had set up shop in a rain forest. The displays were random, and many were so obscene I had to look away.

  Santino and I quietly made our way down the hall, our boots echoing softly on the hard marble. While our disguises were an important part of the plan, we wore much of our combat gear beneath, save our vests. If we had to fight, we could ditch the outerwear, and be at near optimal fighting readiness in seconds.

  Following Agrippina’s directions, we made our way down the long, wide, main hallway. Along the way, we passed numerous rooms, and more artwork, the latter of which provided us some concealment as we kept moving. Santino, on point, started to slow as he approached the tee at the end of the hallway. If Agrippina’s directions were right, Nero’s room should just be around the corner. So far we hadn’t seen any guards, which did little to ease my nervousness, but when Santino stopped, knelt, and looked around the corner using a small mirror, he indicated he saw two of them.

  “You go first,” he whispered. “Take out the far one.”

  I moved into position along the opposite wall, ready to hurl myself down the adjacent hallway. Securing one of my feet against the wall behind me, I nodded to Santino.

  He held out three fingers, slowly counting them down to a clenched fist. When he did, I leapt into action. Using the wall as a springboard, I practically flew across our hallway, rounding the corner in as wide a turn as I could manage. Just as I caught sight of the guards, who were lazily resting their hands on the hilts of their swords, I fell into a roll, landing past the first guard, and right in front of the second. In one fluid motion I stepped up from the roll and swung my elbow upwards into the second guard’s jaw. I heard teeth shatter, and felt my elbow bruise. I ignored the pain and wrapped my arm around the man’s neck, and stepped behind him, placing him in an effective choke hold. Using his body as a shield, I turned to face the first guard while I choked the life from the man I held. My carefulness was unnecessary, however, as Santino used my distraction to simply walk up behind the first guard, and shove his knife upwards into the man’s brain through the bottom of his jaw.

  We dropped our fresh kills, opened the door into Nero’s room, and dragged them inside.

  “I thought they only did rolls in the movies,” Santino wondered, dragging his kill.

  “If you’re going to do anything,” I pointed out, “you might as well look good doing it.”

  He snickered. A few seconds later, we had the bodies in the room, and the door shut behind us. We only had one real test left, and that was making sure the boy didn’t freak out when he saw us. He was only a baby after all, and I knew as much about them as I did women, which didn’t inspire much confidence. I could only imagine Santino knew even less.

  Moving further into the room, we took up positions on either side of the small Roman style crib that rested against the far wall. We peeked over the edge to see a baby boy, sound asleep and wrapped in a miniature version of a Roman toga. The toga even had a little purple seam.

  “That him?” Santino whispered.

  “Yup,” I replied quietly. “There lies the soul of a man with the potential to kill untold thousands of men, women and children.”

  Santino regarded him closely. “Kinda cute, ain’t he?”

  “Yeah, a little bit.”

  The little guy did look kind of cute, especially with the mini toga on, but my mind refused to feel sympathetic toward him. Shuddering at the thought of what kind of man he could become, I bent down to pick him up, but just as I wrapped my hands around his s
mall body I had to back off because he started to cry.

  I looked at Santino. “I guess we probably should have thought this through, huh?”

  “Here. Let me try,” he offered, reaching into the crib. Picking the child up, Santino held him out in front of him, his elbows locked, keeping Nero as far away from his body as possible. The child didn’t cry though, and both baby and Santino looked at each other curiously. Apparently satisfied at what he was seeing, young Nero started gurgling and even cooed at Santino.

  “Aw,” I said, “I think you made a friend.”

  “Yah,” Santino said with a smile, cradling the child against his chest. “I guess I did.”

  Santino’s motherly glow quickly evaporated once he patted Nero on the back, enticing the small child to spit up all over his toga. Santino wrinkled his face in disgust as young Nero gurgled and giggled at his expense.

  I laughed with him. “Come on, mum. We need to get out of here.”

  Santino nodded and placed Nero in a small carrying cradle, little more than a piece of cloth wrapped and tied into a type of sling bag. The bag was in common use in ancient Rome as a baby carrier, and Agrippina had set it up for us before we arrived in the city.

  With the baby secured against Santino’s chest, we made for the exit. Since Santino was stuck playing babysitter, I took point this time, no need to place the child at any further risk. Back in the hall, we continued past the main hallway we had originally walked down, and counted three doors, entering the last one on the right. Finding the storage room, just as Agrippina had said, I located the cabinet and strained muscles to pull it aside.

  And there was the door, again, just as she said.

  Maybe she was on our side after all.

  Reaching for the handle I gave it a yank, but it didn’t budge. Frowning, I tried pushing against it, again with no effect. Frustrated, I threw my entire weight against it, but with no more success. I leaned closer to the door and analyzed the seam. I discovered that it had been cemented together, and no matter how hard I tried, the door wasn’t going to budge.

  I turned to face Santino. “We’re burned.”

  “Figures,” he replied, pulling out his knife.

  I didn’t waste any time replying. Instead, I moved toward the hallway we’d just come through, and gave it a quick glance. Still clear. Maybe the door was just another product of Claudius’ growing paranoia. Quickly abandoning the storage room, I led Santino back to the main hall. Another quick glance showed the immediate area to be clear, but with all the flora and fauna in the area, I couldn’t be sure. Knowing no other way out, I walked as calmly as I could down the hall.

  We were about half way down the hall when doors started to open up all around us.

  From the two rooms in front of us, a half dozen Praetorians emerged, and took up defensive positions to block our escape. From behind us, another door opened and only two Praetorians came out. The first of which was unlucky enough to walk into Santino’s knife, which he held in a reverse grip, and had thrust behind him through the man’s neck. The second man went down after I tore off my tunic, pulled out my Sig, and put a round through his skull. No more Praetorians came from behind us, so we stood side by side, in defensive positions facing our remaining attackers. It didn’t take long before I realized we had nowhere to retreat, so we held our ground, waiting for our foes to make the first move.

  The Praetorians didn’t budge though, at least not at first, appearing as if they were waiting for someone. Two minutes later, I realized who it was. Trailing behind another fifty or so Praetorians came Claudius, looking disheveled and unkempt, psychotic but alert, a devilish grin on his face.

  As he approached, his Praetorians opened a lane for him to travel through. He was accompanied by a senior centurion I didn’t know.

  He stepped out in front of his men, which was nice of him, because it gave me a clear shot at his head. His men tensed, but no one moved, while he opened his arms wide, and frowned.

  “Jacob Hunter,” he said. “Is this how you treat friends from wherever it is you come from? I thought we had become instant ones the day we met.”

  I didn’t dignify him with a response.

  “Jacob, Jacob, Jacob,” he taunted. “You pain me. First, you accept my invitation to come see me, but you don’t visit, and now I find that you have kidnapped my son. Tsk, tsk.” He waggled his finger at me. It was easy to see the man had lost all control over his faculties, and was quickly descending into a Jeffery Dahmer state of insanity, just as Caligula should have, perhaps proving Vincent’s theory.

  I was curious about one thing though. “What invitation?”

  “What invitation?’ Why, the one I sent you, of course. Didn’t you get the message? I had to make sure it was you who came to see me after all, and not one of your other…” he waved dismissively at Santino, “whatever they are.”

  “You don’t mean Agrippina?” I asked, confusion and anger swirling in my mind simultaneously.

  “Agrippina? Did I send her? I do not know. Did I? It seems I’ve forgotten. What does it matter? She’s served her purpose. What does matter is that you are here, and now, we can have some fun. Centurion, retrieve my son. When he’s safe, the rest of you take them. Alive. No exceptions. Even the other one.”

  The nameless centurion moved toward us.

  “Wait!” Santino called, carefully removing Nero from around his shoulder, and gently placing him on the floor.

  The movement hid his true intention. As he placed the child on the floor, I saw him move his right hand, the one holding his knife, across his body, resting it near the left side of his waist. As he stood, he flung his arm upwards, releasing the knife, sending it flying toward Claudius. The knife missed, imbedding itself in the chest of the centurion instead, who had been standing just to the side and in front of him. The man looked down at the hilt of the combat knife for the briefest of seconds, before his head lulled backwards and he collapsed.

  True anger brewing in Claudius’ eyes, he yelled, “Get them! Save my son first!”

  We retreated as soon as he started issuing orders, utilizing the few seconds the Praetorians needed to avoid trampling Nero to our advantage.

  “Move to the storage room!” I yelled at Santino. “Get the C-4 ready.”

  As we ran, I still had my pistol pointed in the general direction of the Praetorians, so I emptied my magazine into their formation, confirming at least four kills with the seven rounds I had remaining. Holstering my sidearm on the run, I pulled the P90 from my back, and pulled back the cocking lever, chambering a round.

  We reached the storage room in seconds. I posted myself at the door, while Santino moved toward the smaller escape door, fiddling with a brick of C-4. He’d need to shave the brick into a much smaller portion, or the concussive blast from the detonation might kill us. He’d need a few minutes.

  Seeing the first wave of Praetorians turning the corner, I unleashed a volley of gunfire in their direction. Helena’s gun was perfect for this kind of work. Its small size allowed me to move it around easily in the cramped area with one arm, and its fifty round magazine was larger than any other rifle’s we had, except Bordeaux’s SAW, which I really wished I had right now.

  For now, the P90 would do, and as I raked my fire left to right, mowing down man after man in a quick fluid motion, I started feeling like we might actually make it out of here. Each round struck a target in the narrow hall, and most men received more than just one wound. Claudius must have known this would happen, and yet he still sent these men to their graves. He really was nuts.

  Unwilling to blindly sacrifice themselves, the Praetorians pulled back.

  “How’s that C-4 coming?” I asked Santino, who was still using a smaller knife on the stuff.

  “I have no fucking clue how much of this I need so that it doesn’t kill us. What the fuck are these walls even made out of? Christ, I wish Bordeaux was here, and I never t
hought I’d be saying that about a Frenchy.”

  “Just hurry up,” I yelled, slapping a fresh magazine in place. “They’ve pulled back for now, but they’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t rush me,” he mumbled.

  I ignored him, peaking around the corner. So far it was still clear.

  “John…”

  “I know. I know. I got it. Stand back.”

  Pulling back from the door, I joined him in the corner. Overturning a table to block the force of the blast, we crouched behind it. I saw Praetorians tentatively peak around the door just as we knelt behind our cover. Thinking our impromptu defenses were meant to counter their attack, they rushed us, confident a mere table wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

  “Now!” I yelled, almost pleadingly to Santino.

  He didn’t hesitate, triggering the charges before I could even finish the word. Shielded by the table and our protective ear pieces, the small charge didn’t faze us much. The shock wave was just enough to knock us on our asses, but the rushing Praetorians took the full brunt of the blast. Those who rushed into the room sustained injuries from shrapnel and flying debris or died, while those in the hall were disoriented from the concussive blast. Even those still in the hall further back were stunned.

  One step ahead of me, Santino rounded the table and made for the door. Hot on his heels, I bounded over the table, and followed. I saw that Santino had used a bit too much explosive and instead of just blowing the door off its hinges, he took out a large chunk of the wall as well.

  Too interested in the wall, I didn’t see Santino go down in front of me. Just as he left the room, a large wooden cudgel hit him right in the forehead dropping him like a rock. Only partially prepared, I was able to roll underneath the second swing which came at me from the other side of the blown wall.

  Rolling to my feet, I shot my attacker, but was unable to shift my aim around to get the other man as well. His blow took me in the temple. My head swirling, I fell to my knees.

  Gathered around me were dozens of blurry figures in white togas. As I knelt there, facing the hole we had just made, I saw Claudius emerge. He walked straight up to me and back handed me across the face.

  “I am not stupid!” He said, mad with rage. “I may be many things these days, but lacking in foresight is not one of them. As a god, how could I? I knew you would use your explosive devices to try and escape, and I posted guards accordingly.”

  I barely understood a word he said, as the world darkened around me. Falling on my side, I struggled to keep my eyes open.

  The last thing I saw was a woman with light colored hair walk up to Claudius and kiss him intensely. I couldn’t recognize who she was, or even determine who she might have been. Instead, all I could do was look at her menacingly familiar smile, just before a Praetorian slammed the hilt of his sword into my head, and watch as the world cut to black.

  ***

  I woke to find myself suspended in the air. I had no idea how long I had been hanging like that, but I knew it wasn’t long. The only thing I felt so far was pain. Hunger or thirst hadn’t quite taken its hold on me yet. Craning my head to look around, the only things I saw were stars when another blow to my head knocked me out again.