The Circle of Eight (9 page)

“What’s
wrong, ma’am?” asked one in uniform.

“Some
men tried to kill us!”

“Are you
Mrs. Dawson-Biggs?” asked a man rushing down the steps.

She
nodded.

“Let’s
get you inside right away,” he said as he took her by the arm and led her and Jenny
up the stairs. Within minutes they were deep within the building, sitting
inside a stark white room, a mirror across one of the walls. She had a bottle
of water, Jenny a chocolate bar and her own bottle, happily humming as she
nibbled at her treat.

Nobody
had spoken to them since they had been put in the room about fifteen minutes
ago, and she was getting frustrated.

If
only I had my phone!

There
was a knock on the door then it opened quickly, the man who had brought them
inside, a Detective Lewis, entering, followed by two men in dark suits. Her
heart immediately slammed into her chest at the sight of them. She didn’t
recognize them, but couldn’t be positive they weren’t the ones who had attacked
her earlier. She quickly ran through the events in her head. She knew she had
put several holes in the first one, and he was definitely dead. The second had
a bullet hole in his shoulder, and neither of these men appeared wounded. She
shot one in the stomach at the crash site, so there was no way he was one of
them. And then there was the one who had taken her gun. She had never seen his
face.

“Sorry
for keeping you waiting, Mrs. Dawson-Biggs. But I had to make a few phone calls
to get things cleared up.”

“Who are
they?” she asked, motioning for Jenny to come over to her side of the table.

The
detective frowned, his face grim.

“I’m
afraid, ma’am, that I have some bad news. The men you shot, two of whom you
killed, were FBI.”

She felt
herself gag, her mouth filling with bile as her stomach flipped.
It can’t be!

“But
they were in my house, they had my daughter!”

“Ma’am,
I’m Special Agent Nelson Harcourt”—he flashed his ID—“FBI. My men were
searching your house as there was an incident involving your brother. We were
there to take you into protective custody. According to my man who survived,
you shot one of our agents without provocation, and without giving him a chance
to identify himself.”

“This
can’t be happening!” she cried, the room starting to swim as she put her arm
around Jenny. “I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!”

“Ma’am,
we then pursued you, stopped your vehicle, and identified ourselves, yet you
then proceeded to shoot and kill another one of my agents.” The man stepped
forward. “Ma’am, can you please stand up?”

She
rose, trembling, Jenny clinging to her leg.

“Sylvia
Dawson-Biggs, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of two federal
agents, and the attempted murder of two others. You have the right to remain
silent…”

The rest
simply became words among the fog of her misery. She had shot innocent FBI
agents, men just doing their jobs. Her jaw clenched as she realized why.

“Burt!”
she muttered. It had been his message that had caused this. His message that
had caused her to panic, to get the gun, to shoot the strange men.

“Burt!”
she cried as she was led out of the room, Jenny holding her pant leg. Dozens of
faces, none with any detail, stared at them, voices murmured, the doors opened,
sunlight glared down on them as they descended the steps and were helped into
the back of a black SUV.

As the
door closed, her mind suddenly cleared.

“Wait!”
she yelled as the door slammed shut, her eyes pleading with the detective who
turned and took the steps two at a time.

The FBI
agents climbed in the front seats and the vehicle pulled away. She didn’t know
where she was going, but she knew who she wasn’t going with.

FBI
agents.

Her
brother’s voice echoed in her head.

I
didn’t send any FBI to help you!

Operations Center, The Unit, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

“Report!” barked Colonel Thomas Clancy as he burst into the Op
Center, pencil clenched in his teeth. Red turned to explain as Dawson continued
to try his sister’s phone, the screen showing the phone stationary.

“Sir,
Sergeant Major Dawson received a call from his sister. She and her daughter
were being pursued by men posing as FBI agents. She shot several of her
attackers and escaped. GPS in her phone has her at the police station, but we
haven’t heard anything since.”

“The
phone’s moving!” announced the tech.

Clancy
motioned toward a large screen on the right.

“Put it
up there.”

The
screen flashed and suddenly they were all looking at the map of Richmond,
Virginia, a red dot slowly moving away from the police station.

“Why
would she leave?” asked Dawson, more to himself than anyone else.

“She
wouldn’t,” said Clancy. “She’d call you first.” He turned to the tech. “Can you
get us eyes on target?”

The man
shook his head.

“No
birds are in that area right now. I need authorization to access traffic
cameras—”

“Do it.”

“Accessing
traffic cameras,” said the tech, his fingers flying over the keyboard. Moments
later they had a shot of an intersection. “She should be coming through here
any moment.”

“What
kind of car are we looking for?” asked Clancy.

“Silver
Mercedes. C300 I think. Unless she’s got a new car.”

“I
pulled her registration. She’s still driving a 2008 Silver Mercedes C300.
License plate—”

“There
it is,” said Dawson, pointing at a tow truck that had just entered the frame,
the silver Mercedes hanging off the back of it. He punched the table,
straightening up and spinning around as he tried to cool his jets. “We’ve been
tracking a damned empty car for the past fifteen minutes!”

Another
tech spoke up.

“Sergeant
Major Dawson, I finally have Detective Lewis on the line.”

Dawson
grabbed the phone.

“Detective
Lewis? This is Sergeant Major Dawson. Do you have her?”

“We did,
Sergeant Major, but we had to hand her over to the FBI.”

“You did
what?”

Dawson
could feel the rage build inside at the stupidity of what he had just heard.

“I had
no choice. They had the proper credentials, claimed they had been at her house
at your request when she shot and killed one of them. I’m afraid Sergeant Major
that they arrested her for murder not even five minutes ago.”

“Murder!”
Dawson sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “Detective, I can
assure you those men were not FBI. They were imposters.”

“I can
assure
you
, Sergeant Major, that they were. I checked their credentials
myself.”

“Detective
Lewis, you said those men were at my sister’s house at my request?”

“Yes.”

“Well I
never contacted the FBI. I didn’t even contact
you
until after my sister
was attacked.”

There
was a pause, and Dawson could only pray it was because something was finally
getting through to the detective.

“Oh
shit.”

“When
did she leave?” asked Dawson.

“Maybe
five minutes,” replied a more subdued and less dismissive Lewis.

“Details.”

“Front
steps of the building. There was a black SUV there. She and her daughter left
with the two agents.”

Dawson
turned to the tech.

“Front
steps, black SUV, about five minutes ago. Can you pull footage?”

“Not
from any police cameras without hacking the system. What direction did they
head?”

“Detective,
what direction did they leave in?”

“East.
I’m going to put an APB out on the vehicle and I’ll get back to you.”

“There!”

The tech
was pointing at the screen. It was the same intersection they had been
watching, the time code rolled back. A large black SUV passed through the
intersection.

“Sergeants,
please come with me.”

Dawson
looked at the Colonel.

“Yes,
sir.” He turned to the tech. “Find out where that vehicle went.”

He and
Red followed the Colonel out of the Ops Center then to his office in silence.
Dawson’s mind was racing and suddenly realized that Sylvia’s husband George
didn’t even know what was going on. And that he didn’t even have his
brother-in-law’s number.

They entered
the Colonel’s office, Red closing the door as Clancy sat down behind his desk,
tossing his chewed pencil where the humidor used to be. He motioned to the
seats.

“Report.”

Dawson
let out the breath he had been holding.

“This
morning just after our meeting Stucco called me and said he needed help.”
Dawson then gave the Colonel a full rundown on what had happened. “After the
residence was destroyed, we found a secondary device attached to a piece of
paper stuck to a telephone pole. It had a symbol on it that was the same symbol
I saw in Lacroix’s hotel room in Geneva.”

“So it
definitely ties back to him.”

“Most
likely. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Well,
how’s this for coincidence,” said Clancy, leaning forward and opening a file on
his desk. “We just received word that your hotel night manager is dead. Stepped
in front of a bus.”

Dawson’s
eyes closed as he shook his head, images of the happy young girl pushed away
and replaced by the severely beaten girl he had seen lying in the hallway.

“And
that’s not all.”

“What
the hell else could go wrong?” asked Red. “They killed Stucco and his family!
They’ve kidnapped BD’s sister and niece!”

“They
slaughtered Inspector Laviolette’s family.”

Dawson
gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white.

“They
need to pay.”

“Who is
they?” asked Clancy.

“This
isn’t one man. And this isn’t about a rape. This is about anyone who might have
seen what was on that table.”

“The
files with the symbol embossed on them?”

Dawson
nodded.

“Unfortunately
the State Department has made it crystal clear they don’t want us involved in
this case, so there’s nothing Delta can do,” said Clancy.

Dawson
was about to protest, when Clancy held up a finger.

“But, I
think you and your team are due for some vacation. You’re not scheduled for any
op, so I suggest you all go somewhere nice. I hear Switzerland is beautiful
this time of year.”

Dawson
shot to his feet.

“That
sounds like a fantastic idea, sir.”

“And if
you happen to need anything for training purposes, or should you decide to go
hunting, you know how to equip yourselves.”

“Thank
you, sir,” said Red as he headed for the door. “Some light reading for the
flight might be good. Perhaps intel on Lacroix, case files. I’m an eclectic
reader, so the more the better.”

Clancy
stood and headed for his door, pointing at the folders on his desk.

“Can you
shred those for me on the way out?”

“Yes,
sir,” said Dawson as he waited for the Colonel to leave, then with a smile at
Red, he grabbed the stack of folders. “Let’s get back to Ops.”

Red put
his hand out. “Let me put those in my car. You don’t want to be seen carrying
them around.”

Dawson
nodded, handing the files over, then headed for Ops. Swiping his pass, he
entered the secure room and joined the tech who had been working his sister’s
abduction.

“Any
progress?”

“I’m
afraid so, sir. And you’re not going to like it.”

Hull Street Road, Richmond, Virginia

Sylvia Dawson-Biggs stroked her daughter’s hair, her hands
thankfully cuffed in front of her for the drive. She still didn’t know where
they were going, except that it appeared they were leaving town. She knew once
they were on the highway there was no way they’d be able to escape. She had to
get them to stop somehow.

“Mommy,
I need to pee.”

Oh
God bless you!

“Can we
pull over somewhere?” she asked.

“No.”

“She has
bladder problems. If we don’t stop soon, she’ll pee all over herself.”

Jenny
was about to protest this grave insult when Sylvia put a finger over her mouth
and prayed she’d figure it out.

“Shit!”
muttered the driver.

“Language!
I’ve got a kid here!”

“Not for
long, lady.”

The
reply cut to the quick, the sudden realization that this wasn’t a kidnapping at
all hitting her. At the house they were going to kill her, but she had got the
drop on them. At the car accident, it was too public. They couldn’t do it at
the police station obviously, so now they were taking them somewhere to finish
the job.

Bile
filled her mouth and she knew she didn’t have time for games. She had to get
her and Jenny away. She started to look around the back of the SUV, looking for
anything that could be used as a weapon.

Nothing.

She
looked at her hands. Useless. She was in shape but not enough to take on two
men, especially in handcuffs.

Handcuffs!

She
looked at the passenger, his eyes on the road ahead as were the driver’s. They
were turning onto the highway now, and there was no time to waste. She raised
her hands, pushing forward, and dropped her cuffed wrists in front of the
passenger’s neck then pulled back fast and hard before he could get his own
hands in the way. She pushed her knees into the back of the seat as she pulled
with her back muscles, far stronger than her arms.

The man
gasped, choking for breath as his hands tried to pry at the chain linking the
handcuffs, but it was no use. The headrest was raised, and her arms were skinny
enough to fit in the gap meaning there was no room for him to grasp.