Servius brought Caesar’s mind back to the present. “If you won’t be needing anything else, General, I will take my leave.”
Caesar’s head twitched up. He waved a dismissive hand. “Of course, old friend. Go join the men. You’ve done well.”
Servius snapped to attention for a moment before giving a quick nod and disappearing through the curtains. When he was gone, Caesar’s eyes returned to the little bronze box. He had already decided he would keep the truth about the Eye of Zeus to himself. He hadn’t lied to his friend; the device could be used to navigate the seas, and he would certainly use that to his advantage in the naval battles to come. However, Caesar knew the real power behind the relic, and he did not intend to let anyone else obtain that information.
He ran his fingers along the outside of the metal case and shifted one of the levers. The gears inside moved a little, rearranging the symbols and how they lined up with those on the exterior edge. Caesar took a step back from the relic and admired it. “An absolutely brilliant creation,” he whispered to himself. “To think I have the power of a god at my fingertips.”
The ship would reach the main harbor in less than two days. Once the mechanism arrived in Rome, there would be no one on Earth who could stop him.
Chapter 1
Sean knew there was trouble as soon as he saw the four men in the black suits and matching black ties. Guys dressed like that rarely showed up to bring good news. Usually, they brought trouble with them. Sean let go of the blind he’d been peeking through and pulled away from the window.
He had heard the black Denali drive into the parking lot of his little surf shop and thought nothing of it, merely glancing out the window as he went through some of his financial figures. His attention was roused when the four men with look-alike government haircuts closed the doors of their SUV.
A quick look at the front of the vehicle revealed no government-issue plates, which meant they were either some kind of secret operational group or they weren’t with the government at all. Sean reached under the cash register and grabbed the Springfield .40-caliber XD he always kept nearby. During the years he’d worked for the Axis Special Operations unit, Ruger had been his weapon of choice. During a previous course of events that had resulted in preventing a global virus outbreak, he’d found a liking for the new gun and made the switch. Something about the balance and weight of the Croatian-made piece felt almost natural in his hand.
Sean took a step away from the counter toward the rear of the store. He had thought that after retiring from the International Archaeological Agency these kinds of situations would stop arising. When he’d attended the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, Sean had never really expected his life to go the way it had. When he graduated from college, Sean found himself working as a covert agent for Axis, a new branch of the federal government. He was part of the initial group of only twelve agents who met all the rigorous standards. Axis was designed to remain extremely small, thus retaining control of all facets of the operation with discretion and relative ease. While administration of the agency had been fairly smooth, being a field agent was anything but.
Sean felt like the few years he’d worked for Axis had probably taken a decade off his life in terms of the stress it caused. He’d been shot several times, and shot at many more. Some agents had been captured and tortured; something he was thankful to have avoided, but the possibility was always there.
When Sean’s longtime friend, Tommy Schultz, had offered him a new life working for his archaeological agency, he’d taken it without reservations. Sean rested easy, knowing he’d served his country well and was ready to take on a new lifestyle; one he hoped didn’t involve international intrigue.
However, that hadn’t been the case. There’d been many more incidents involving guns, power-hungry criminals, and hired assassins. Sean didn’t want to spend his thirties running from bullets and hiding from people who wanted him dead, so he told Tommy he was walking away from it.
Until now, retirement had been good to him. He had made enough money over the years to live comfortably for the rest of his life, without having to worry about an income. His cabin in the mountains of southern Tennessee was nearly finished, and his kayak and paddleboard shop had been doing well enough to support itself.
The little shop in Destin, Florida overlooked white sandy beaches leading down to the Gulf of Mexico’s clear, bluish water. Sean hadn’t bought the place to make money. He’d always enjoyed sea kayaking and had an interest in paddleboarding too. Now, he rented and sold to both tourists and locals, spending his early mornings and late afternoons out amid the waves.
He’d trimmed his shaggy blond hair, preferring to keep it shorter while residing in the hotter area of the country, and his skin had taken on a light bronze color over the top of his usual freckles.
The back door to the shop beckoned out of the corner of his eye as Sean watched the suited men approach the front entrance. He wondered if it would make a difference if he ran out the back. Whoever they were would find him eventually. It wasn’t like he was trying to live off the grid. Sean simply hoped to avoid harrowing circumstances.
He gripped the gun tightly, keeping it low behind the counter so the men wouldn’t be able to see it when they entered.
A little bell rang from the front of the store as the first, a tall, lean black man opened the door and walked in. The other three followed and immediately began assessing their surroundings. One went to the far corner in the back, the other two spread out accordingly to cover each point of escape. The first went directly to where Sean stood behind the register. His fingers tensed slightly, but he relied on old experience and training to keep his nerves calm.
The dark-skinned man stopped a few feet from the counter. His head turned one way, then the other, taking a second scan of the room for possible danger. When he was satisfied there wouldn’t be a problem, he spoke in a flat, American tone. Sean couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Maryland’s Eastern Shore. “You won’t be needing that weapon, Mr. Wyatt,” the man said coolly.
Sean raised a suspicious eyebrow. He wondered how the guy knew about the gun, but he also wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t need it. He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess that depends on why you gentlemen are here. If’ you’re interested in renting a kayak or a paddleboard, I’d say you’re right.”
The man snorted, almost derisively. “I heard you liked to be a funny man sometimes. No, we are not here to take one of your boats out on the Gulf, Mr. Wyatt. I am agent Gerald Yarbrough of the United States Secret Service. We are here by order of the president. He requests your presence immediately.”
Sean’s curiosity deepened. The president? What could he possibly want? Sean had met the president once, at a gala in Washington, D.C. He’d gone at Emily’s request, despite a strong objection to the whole thing. He doubted the president would remember the occasion, and it certainly had nothing to do with his personal guards showing up in Destin on a Tuesday afternoon in the spring.
“I’m sorry, would it be too much trouble to ask for some identification?” he asked.
The Secret Service agent’s face never flinched, and he remained perfectly still.
Sean continued his request. “It’s just that you came in here with your Denali that, I might add, definitely looks like something our government workers would drive. However, I noticed there aren’t any plates on the front. So again, I’m just going to need to see some ID.” He emphasized his point by slowly raising his hand that held the gun, placing the weapon on the glass countertop. His fingers still wrapped around the grip and trigger. “If you know anything about my past, you’ll understand why I’m a bit skeptical of anyone who shows up and tells me they work for the government.”