The Arab Fall (A James Acton Thriller, Book #6) (James Acton Thrillers) by J. Robert Kennedy
Authors: J. Robert Kennedy
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their revered
counterparts long enough for memories to forget the months long labors of three
brothers in the night, and if fortunate, long enough for their duties to have
been inherited by the next generation of The Brotherhood.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack
Reading ignored the now organized activity about him, and instead
scanned the horizon for the telltale signs of their observers, but could see
nothing. He walked over to one of the guards providing security for the new
site, his sunglass covered eyes slowly casing the area.
Or
providing cover while he stared at the female students’ arses.
Who
knew?
It was
one of the reasons he always had a suspect remove their sunglasses before
interrogation. The key were the eyes. You could tell if they were lying,
scared, hiding something.
Or
completely psychotic.
Those
were the ones who sent a chill up your spine. The calm ones, the collected
ones, the ones whose eyes revealed nothing, who could look at a hacked up
corpse as if it were a Christmas dinner.
I
miss it.
It had
been a tough choice to go Interpol, a choice more or less forced on him due to
the incident with the Triarii and the inquiries that had occurred later. He was
too high profile after that, and knew he’d be hounded by his colleagues and by
witnesses, victims and suspects if they recognized him from the newscasts.
Then the
offer had come out of nowhere.
And
after twenty-four long hours of procrastination, he had decided to take it. He
had to admit to himself that certain aspects he enjoyed. The intel he had on
hand was incredible, knowing what was going on around the world, that the
average citizen had no clue of, was at once exhilarating as it was terrifying.
It also allowed him the flexibility to travel almost anywhere in the world, and
on occasion, help out his friends Jim and Laura, who seemed to be magnets for
trouble.
Which
was why the flashes on the horizon had concerned him so much. He knew they were
a foreshadowing of things to come if this pair’s history was any indication.
But what it might mean, who it might be, and what they might do, were
mysteries.
“Any
word?” he asked the man.
“They’re
on their way back. ETA two minutes.”
“Did
they find anything?”
“There
was some chatter. The colonel said he’d fill you in when he returned.”
Reading
nodded, knowing there was no point in pressing the former soldier. He’d obey
his chain of command, and about the only people who could perhaps convince him
otherwise were twenty feet below them, playing in the sand.
That’s
not fair.
He
mentally slapped himself for insulting his friends’ profession as he returned
to the hole. As he watched the pulley system erected by the students in no
time, and the organized effort that was a credit to their teacher, he realized
that these were professionals, doing a serious job, in a deliberate way. There
was a process, there were rules. He could respect that. And though they weren’t
out saving lives as part of their job—that part was merely coincidental—they
were teaching kids, something he could respect, and with the character these
two had displayed over the couple of years he had known them, he couldn’t
imagine two other people he’d want more to mold the hearts and minds of his own
son.
These
are good people.
And he
knew he was lucky to have them in his life. After a near lifetime of seeing the
dark side of society, socializing with fellow cops who only saw that side as
well, they were a welcome relief despite their penchant for getting into
trouble.
Reading
looked over as a jeep pulled up. Former Lieutenant Colonel Leather was
everything his name implied. Well-worn but tough. He exited the jeep and strode
over to Reading.
“Sir,
are the professors available?”
“Negative,
they’re in the pit right now. Is it urgent?”
“It’s
got potential, hard to say.” Leather looked
counterparts long enough for memories to forget the months long labors of three
brothers in the night, and if fortunate, long enough for their duties to have
been inherited by the next generation of The Brotherhood.
Nubian Desert, Egypt, University College London Dig Site
Two Days Before the Liberty Island Attack
Reading ignored the now organized activity about him, and instead
scanned the horizon for the telltale signs of their observers, but could see
nothing. He walked over to one of the guards providing security for the new
site, his sunglass covered eyes slowly casing the area.
Or
providing cover while he stared at the female students’ arses.
Who
knew?
It was
one of the reasons he always had a suspect remove their sunglasses before
interrogation. The key were the eyes. You could tell if they were lying,
scared, hiding something.
Or
completely psychotic.
Those
were the ones who sent a chill up your spine. The calm ones, the collected
ones, the ones whose eyes revealed nothing, who could look at a hacked up
corpse as if it were a Christmas dinner.
I
miss it.
It had
been a tough choice to go Interpol, a choice more or less forced on him due to
the incident with the Triarii and the inquiries that had occurred later. He was
too high profile after that, and knew he’d be hounded by his colleagues and by
witnesses, victims and suspects if they recognized him from the newscasts.
Then the
offer had come out of nowhere.
And
after twenty-four long hours of procrastination, he had decided to take it. He
had to admit to himself that certain aspects he enjoyed. The intel he had on
hand was incredible, knowing what was going on around the world, that the
average citizen had no clue of, was at once exhilarating as it was terrifying.
It also allowed him the flexibility to travel almost anywhere in the world, and
on occasion, help out his friends Jim and Laura, who seemed to be magnets for
trouble.
Which
was why the flashes on the horizon had concerned him so much. He knew they were
a foreshadowing of things to come if this pair’s history was any indication.
But what it might mean, who it might be, and what they might do, were
mysteries.
“Any
word?” he asked the man.
“They’re
on their way back. ETA two minutes.”
“Did
they find anything?”
“There
was some chatter. The colonel said he’d fill you in when he returned.”
Reading
nodded, knowing there was no point in pressing the former soldier. He’d obey
his chain of command, and about the only people who could perhaps convince him
otherwise were twenty feet below them, playing in the sand.
That’s
not fair.
He
mentally slapped himself for insulting his friends’ profession as he returned
to the hole. As he watched the pulley system erected by the students in no
time, and the organized effort that was a credit to their teacher, he realized
that these were professionals, doing a serious job, in a deliberate way. There
was a process, there were rules. He could respect that. And though they weren’t
out saving lives as part of their job—that part was merely coincidental—they
were teaching kids, something he could respect, and with the character these
two had displayed over the couple of years he had known them, he couldn’t
imagine two other people he’d want more to mold the hearts and minds of his own
son.
These
are good people.
And he
knew he was lucky to have them in his life. After a near lifetime of seeing the
dark side of society, socializing with fellow cops who only saw that side as
well, they were a welcome relief despite their penchant for getting into
trouble.
Reading
looked over as a jeep pulled up. Former Lieutenant Colonel Leather was
everything his name implied. Well-worn but tough. He exited the jeep and strode
over to Reading.
“Sir,
are the professors available?”
“Negative,
they’re in the pit right now. Is it urgent?”
“It’s
got potential, hard to say.” Leather looked
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