The Circle of Eight (26 page)

Mike “Red” Belme’s Residence, West Luzon Drive, Fort Bragg, North
Carolina

Atlas grabbed the ringing phone off the table in front of him. At
the moment it was just him and Donald “Sweets” Peters, Marco’s replacement
after he had been killed during the Triarii business, manning their temporary
Ops Center, Casey getting some rack time so they could be manned 24/7. Since
the arrest of Jimmy and Jagger things had been tense as they tried to gather
intel. Several of their “go to” guys had hacked the Swiss police system and as
far as they could tell there had been an anonymous tip phoned in on men with
weapons, and somehow the two professors had been “lost”. There was no record of
them arriving at the police station, or being booked. And camera footage
confirmed this. Internal reports had no explanation, but Atlas had no doubt
they were taken by the Rosicrucians.

The question was why.

The professors had nothing to do with the incident in
Geneva, and their abduction suggested anyone getting involved was now forfeit,
there was some other reason the Rosicrucians wanted them specifically, or the
Rosicrucians didn’t know who they had.

“Speak,” his voice boomed.

“Hello, umm, this is Dean Gregory Milton. I was put
through to this number so I’m not sure if I have the right person.”

Atlas’ eyebrows narrowed. He knew the name from
somewhere, and it didn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out it had to do with
one of the two professors since this man had identified himself as a Dean.

“Let’s assume they got it right,” said Atlas. “What can
I do for you?”

“I’m hesitant to speak over the phone, however I just
received several emergency texts from the fiancée of one of my professors—”

“Professor Palmer?”

“Yes! Good, so I am talking to the right person, thank
God! It sounds like they’ve been kidnapped.”

“They have. Do you have any information for me?”

“I have the phone number from where the texts were sent.
With it maybe you’ll be able to trace where they were sent from?”

Atlas put the phone on speaker so Sweets could hear.

“You’re on speaker, sir. Please relay the information to
my colleague.”

Milton quickly provided the phone number, along with the
time of the texts then the actual contents. There was nothing really
earthshattering, the intel merely confirming their hypothesis. But the phone
number could prove invaluable in rescuing the professors, and finding where
Lacroix might be at this moment.

“Got it,” said Sweets between chews of a trademark
chocolate bar, his sweet tooth already legendary in The Unit. “The phone was in
San Marino and as far as I can tell, is still pinging off the same tower.”

“Relay the coordinates to BD,” ordered Atlas. “Sir,
thank you for the information. We’ll take it from here and have the professors
contact you when we have them.”

“Thank you very much.”

Atlas ended the call and listened while Sweets passed
the intel on to BD, their rescue op still underway.

“Good work,” came Dawson’s voice through the comm.
“Relay the intel to Special Agent Reading. He’s on his way there now.”

“Will do, BD. Oh, and word just came down from above on
Stucco.”

“The usual?”

“Yup.”

“How’s Casey taking it?”

“As good as can be expected. He’s getting some rack time
now. They’re calling it a natural gas explosion—”

“Of course they are.”

“—so the families will never know what really happened.
I think that has Casey pissed.”

“He’s not alone.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’ll be back for the memorial service, but first we
need to do a little house cleaning here.”

Red’s voice suddenly cut in.

“Bravo Two here, ready to proceed with phase two, over.”

Sweets looked at Atlas with a smile on his face.

“Good hunting, Sergeant Major.”

On route to Federico Fellini International Airport, Rimini, Italy

Martin Lacroix sat back in the plush leather of his Maybach 62. He
pressed the button to recline as his chilled scotch on the rocks clinked in the
crystal glass, prepared by his chauffeur just before he climbed in.

This is the life.

Sometimes he forgot how fortunate he was. He had come
from nothing, an orphan, and had clawed his way through school despite the best
efforts of those around him who would have him give up and join their lives of
pathetic existence. He worked part time jobs, saved and scrimped where he
could, secretly saving for his future, all the while studying every waking free
moment so he could do well in school, knowing it was the key to a future better
than he faced.

And all the hard work had paid off. Scholarships and
accolades followed his hard work, and he went to university, then medical
school, and became a doctor, soon heading into the research field.

Which was where his late master had found him.

Many conversations over many years had led his master to
invite him into The Order, and once inside, he realized how little he truly
knew, and how much he wanted to learn it all, to take advantage of it all.

And the only sacrifice was love.

He never understood why. Perhaps it was pillow talk The
Order wanted to minimize, perhaps it was to honor the Founder, who had been a
bachelor his entire life. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t bother him, he
preferred the life of a bachelor.

It brought him some of his greatest pleasures, and most
of his problems.

He regretted most of his transgressions. In fact, if he
had to admit it, he regretted them all, especially when his victims had to die.
There was no reason for Maria Esposito to have to die. If he hadn’t been
arrested, he would have called his man and money would have been offered that
very morning. Instead he had rotted for so long before he even got his phone
call, that the girl had already been interviewed by the police and met with
prosecutors. At that point she had to die, and die quickly, to prevent the
charges from moving forward.

Such a pretty girl.

From what his alcohol impaired mind could remember.

As to the others, there was nothing he could do about
that. He had known from the moment that first man had burst through the door
that people were going to die, and die violently. The Order demanded it. Their
secrets were absolute, the anonymity of The Order never to be risked. He had
bought into it initially, his embarrassment and anger over what had happened to
him all-consuming, but his decision to have markers left behind so those dying
or discovering their loved ones dead would know it was
he
who was
responsible, was foolhardy at best.

He was heading for the quarterly meeting of The Circle,
and he had a sneaking suspicion it might be his last. He had been an embarrassment,
a problem, and now he had allowed one of The Circle to be identified by others,
if they were smart enough to put two and two together. The only thing that
could save him would be finding the Catalyst, and right now he had every single
resource available to him scouring the world to find out what happened to this
one forgotten item of a massive collection, auctioned off piece by piece to the
highest bidder.

They had never been closer, and through his sins, they
might actually find that which had been lost centuries earlier over the love of
a woman.

Perhaps that’s why?

It was as good an explanation as any for why The Circle
was so adamant that they all be bachelors, and all be men. Traditions were
hard to break, and attempts in the past to let women in had proven
unsuccessful, but he had no doubt they eventually would be. There were simply
too many female researchers doing cutting edge work now. A few decades ago it
was easy to ignore women since they were rarely given the chance, but now
things were different. The one way The Order did recognize this was through
funding. The Order didn’t care what sex was doing the research if it might be
of interest to them. It just meant that if the research were being performed by
a woman, it was more likely her male assistant would be offered membership than
she.

Women in The Order!

He shuddered at the thought. There was enough sexual
tension in the world. The last thing he needed was to have the temptation of
women at the quarterly meeting.

Women in The Circle!

That he could never see.

Then again, he never thought he’d see the Catalyst.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his apprentice, eager
for news.

Unknown Location

Laura Palmer hid behind several bushes as she regained her bearings.
She had seen James head into the vineyard, seeming to use a shed in the
backyard as a blind.

And it had worked.

Which meant using the same plan again seemed reasonable.
She drew the knife she had taken off her would be rapist and began to rise when
she heard footsteps. She dropped back down on her haunches, but knew if they
were at all observant, she would be seen. She needed a plan and fast.

The footsteps were coming from the backyard, and there
were voices, which suggested at least two. If there were more, she probably
didn’t stand a chance, but two, along with surprise, she just might.

She jumped to her feet and covered the distance between
her hiding place and the corner of the house just as the first person, covered
head to toe in the same dark brown robe she had seen on her attacker, rounded
the corner. A second followed immediately behind him.

She lunged forward, burying her knife in the first man’s
stomach, withdrawing as quickly as she could, not concerned with killing him,
merely with taking him out of the fight. She plunged forward again, but the
second man was ready for her, stepping aside and striking down with the edge of
his opened hand on her forearm.

She yelped, dropping the knife as his other fist swung
at her head. She ducked and thrust an uppercut at his chin, connecting, but not
with the force she had hoped, still exhausted from her ordeal. She saw
something move from the corner of her eye, but she ignored it, realizing if it
was another attacker, she needed to disable this one before he arrived.

A punch landed on her left breast, leaving her wincing
as she took several steps back. The man pulled a dagger from his robes and she
gulped, realizing this could be the end. She made a stand, digging her right
foot into the ground behind her, her fists raised. The man lunged forward and
she blocked with her left hand, swinging it outward and catching the man’s
right arm, flinging it into the wall.

The knife scraped on the brick, momentarily getting
entangled in the vines winding their way skyward.

She pressed the momentary advantage, snap kicking at his
groin, instead catching his upper thigh as the man twisted to protect himself.
Her leg still in the air, she leaned back and kicked again, this time at his
head.

She connected.

His chin was tossed back with a grunt. She reached
forward with her right hand, grabbing him by the wrist and digging her
mid-length nails into the soft underbelly of his inner wrist.

He cried out and dropped the knife, she raising her knee
and connecting with the family jewels. The man doubled over and she was about
to drop an elbow on his head when the figure from earlier suddenly rushed
forward. She spun to face him then she ducked, tears filling her eyes as the
man whom she loved like no other swung a shovel, catching her assailant square
in the face.

He crumpled to the ground.

“James!” she cried, careful to keep her voice low.

He dropped the shovel and grabbed her, pulling her into
his arms as he showered her with kisses.

“Oh God, you’re alive, thank God you’re alive! I thought
you were dead, I was sure you were dead! If I ever thought there was a chance,
I never would have left. I’m so sorry!”

She hugged him back, hard, as if she hadn’t seen him in
months. It was a reunion she thought would never happen. It was obvious the
intent of these people was to have them killed, but it was their own rules that
had set her free. Bachelors only, no relationships, only carnal one-night
stands permitted.

Meaning a horny young man was sent to kill a woman who
could never complain or report to the authorities that he had raped her.

Send a sexually fulfilled man, perhaps she’d have been
dead the moment he walked through the door.

The phone in her pocket vibrated and she jumped,
breaking the embrace. She pulled it out and showed it to James.

“Where’d you get that?”

“From the man who tried to kill me in the bedroom
upstairs.”

“Oh my God, that was you!” James looked crestfallen. “I
thought I imagined hearing you. I’m so ashamed!” he cried, his voice cracking.

She squeezed his cheek as she swiped the screen to
access what appeared to be a text message.

She smiled, showing it to James.

If you two are done, I will be in the front yard with
a car in thirty seconds. Hugh.

“How does he know we’re here?” asked James.

“I sent Greg some texts.”

“But—”

She put a finger over his lips.

“Why don’t we ask him?” she said with a smile and a
wink. She turned and ran toward the front of the house, James following her. As
she rounded the corner she saw a blue Renault driving up the laneway at a
casual pace. It rounded the circle, stopping in front of them as they stepped
out from the bushes. James jumped in the front seat, Laura in the back, as
Reading hit the gas, pulling away just as the front door burst open, half a
dozen dark robed figures rushing into the driveway, blocking their escape.