“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.
“Blast!” yelled Reading, putting the car in reverse and flooring it. The car whined backward as the men rushed after them. Reading hit the brakes, shifted to first and surged toward them, cranking the wheel at the last second, sending the back end sliding toward their pursuers, the satisfying thumps of bodies discovering the futile physics of human versus automobile heard several times. Reading pulled away, around the sculpture in the center of the driveway, skirting it in the opposite direction of which he had come, then turned onto the laneway.
Within moments they were roaring down the road, nobody in pursuit.
James stuck a hand between the front seats and grabbed Laura’s hand, squeezing it tight, then turned to their friend as he expertly executed their escape.
“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Acton.
“I could ask the same bloody thing!”
“We were kidnapped, thank you very much.”
“And I was called in by the Bravo Team to help two of their men escape arrest by the Swiss police, and then find out you two have been kidnapped by forces unknown!” He shook his head as he made a turn. “I’m liable to lose my blasted post for this!”
“Border’s coming up!” announced Laura, sighing in relief as she realized their ordeal was essentially over. Then a thought popped in her mind. “Where are we? Do we need passports?”
“No, you’re in San Marino. It’s an open border,” replied Reading as he slowed down, driving through the ancient city gates that marked the border, and into Italy.
“Where to now?” asked James.
“Back to your universities if you know what’s good for you,” growled Reading.
James shook his head. “These people need to be stopped.”
“Bloody hell,” muttered Reading. “You two don’t know when to stop!” He glanced in the rearview mirror at Laura. “Surely you aren’t going along with this as well.”
“Absolutely. These people are dangerous. Billions of lives could be at stake if they were to succeed.”
“Bloody hell!” cried Reading, hammering on the brakes and bringing the car to a stop at the side of the road. “Why don’t you two tell me what the blazes is going on?”
And for the next ten minutes they explained everything they knew, Reading interrupting from time to time with his own questions or curses.
“Bottom line is we don’t know what their plan is or what they’re capable of, but if they’re willing to kill over people just seeing a file folder with a symbol on it, it must be bad,” summed up James. “So are you in?”
Reading scowled at James then put the car back in gear, spinning the tires on the gravel shoulder and bursting back onto the pavement.
“If I’m not, you two will get yourselves killed, or worse, in a damned coma like Martin.”
“How’s he doing?” asked Laura, reaching forward and squeezing her friend’s shoulder.
“No change.” Reading’s eyes glassed over. “I’m not optimistic.”
The phone vibrated in Laura’s pocket and she jumped, pulling it out. The call display simply said, ‘M’. She held it up for the others to see.
“M as in Martin Lacroix?” suggested Reading.
James shook his head.
“No, M as in Master.”
Route des Acacias, Geneva, Switzerland
“Equipment check,” ordered Dawson as he tapped his body armor and checked his weapon, traffic at a standstill, the two police vehicles still directly in front of him. The light turned green and the first vehicle began to move forward, advancing into the intersection. The brake lights on the second vehicle went out as it moved too.
Suddenly the squeal of tires erupted ahead and Dawson watched as Red’s BMW rental whipped through the intersection and impaled itself at almost forty miles per hour into the driver’s side door.
“Let’s go!” yelled Dawson as three doors of the SUV flew open and his team advanced. Dawson ran up the driver’s side of the rear paddy wagon. The door opened and Dawson reached in, placing the Taser directly against the man’s neck, stunning him as Spock did the same on the other side. Zip ties to the wrists, through the steering wheel, and his man was out of commission. Pounding could be heard from the rear of the vehicle as the occupants worked the glued door.
The driver of the lead vehicle had made the mistake of opening his door, giving Niner clear access to nail him with the Taser then train his weapon on the passenger. Dawson loaded a probe on his Taser as he ran up to the door, juicing him. Niner began to zip tie the two men as Dawson reached into the BMW, the engine steaming and Red still sitting behind the steering wheel, pushing the airbags back.
“You okay?” asked Dawson, undoing the seatbelt.
“Yeah. Safety systems are a bit better than on most things I get to crash.”
Red climbed up onto the seat then stepped over to the passenger side and out onto the pavement. He waved off Dawson, who immediately returned to the rear of the first vehicle. He pounded twice.
“Anybody in there?” he asked, winking at Spock whose MP5K was trained on the door, along with Mickey who had been let out nearby to avoid risking him in the accident.
“Just two shaken and stirred men who enjoy long walks and cuddling by the firelight,” came Jimmy’s voice through the metal doors.
“And your company?”
“Visions of sugar plums dancing through their heads.”
“Stand back, we’re blowing the doors.”
Spock placed the charge then prepped the trigger as they all stood to either side of the vehicle.
“Fire in the hole!” yelled Spock, who then pressed the detonator.
There was a small e
xplosion and the doors flew open, the sound Dawson was certain deafening on the inside of the tin can. Spock and Mickey jumped inside, pulling the slightly disoriented pair out as sirens could be heard fast approaching in the distance.
“Let’s go!” yelled Dawson, “we’re about to have company!”
He rushed back to their SUV, jumping in the driver’s seat and putting the vehicle in gear as the rest of the team climbed in. With the last door shut, he pulled around the three vehicles just as the rear doors flew open, one of the trapped officers inside sailing out feet first, almost as if he had been used as a human battering ram by the others inside.
Must have been the rookie.
Dawson rounded the smoking BMW and turned right, flooring it, dodging back and forth through the traffic as he put distance between them and the attack.
“Anybody hurt?” he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Heads shook in response.
“My ears are ringing,” said Red, “and I’ll be stiff in the morning, but I’ll live.”
“And our friendly Swiss hosts? Did any get killed?”
A round of “Negatives” had him breathing easy. The operation had gone exactly according to plan, everyone was intact on both sides, and now they just had to make their getaway clean.
“Wings, report.”
Wings’ voice squawked over the comm.
“You’ve got half a dozen squad cars behind you, about three klicks back, plus four more headed right for you on the other side. You need to reach the next intersection before them or you’ll be blocked, over.”
“Roger that,” said Dawson, flooring it. He could see the intersection in the distance, and beyond that, the flashing lights of the police. “Atlas, find us an alternate rendezvous, over.”
“Take a right at this intersection,” said Atlas over the comm. “Straight for two miles then there’s a large parking lot at a stadium that has nothing going on there today. Should be lots of space for Wings to land, over.”
“Wings, scout ahead and make sure.”
“No need, I can see it from here, lots of space, but you’re not going to be first, over.”
The Circle of Eight (A James Acton Thriller, Book #7) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 20
