“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 towards 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 small 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 down 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 began pulling 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 towards 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 toga, pulled out my P220, 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 to, 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 Domer state of insanity, just as Caligula should have, 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 towards 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 towards 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 towards 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.