“I have some bad news for you.”
Lacroix looked at him, the smile on his opponent’s face a little too satisfied for his liking. What possible news could have this man so happy, so self-satisfied?
“There is nothing you could tell me that could possibly matter to me. I know I am to die, and I have accepted my fate. My name will go down in history as one of the greatest masters to ever serve The Order. The Order has always been, The Order will always be. It is your destiny, should you survive, to praise us and our brilliance when we release our knowledge to the world. It is the betterment of mankind that drives us, and there is nothing you or your pathetic team can do to stop us.”
“You don’t have the Catalyst.”
Lacroix froze, a surge of fear and doubt propping him up.
“What? I don’t believe you.”
“Your two operatives were intercepted outside of Barcelona. We killed them. Your precious Catalyst is gone. You will never see it. Your Order will never see it. It is once again lost to history, never to be found by your kind.”
The words were spat out, each sentence jabbing at him as his confidence waned, as his future faded, and as his name, moments ago to be engraved into the permanent history of The Order and the world, now turning to mere dust, blown away by the sands of time.
He was to be forgotten to history, his name a whisper of embarrassment, his example used as a screening criteria to make sure others like him never joined The Circle.
Tears welled in his eyes, then the sense of satisfaction he could see in his opponent’s backstopped his will, a rage slowly building.
“We survived half a millennia without it, we will continue on,” he sneered. “There is nothing you can do to stop us.”
“What are your plans? What is it you are trying to accomplish?”
“I will never tell. I don’t care what you do to me. You can’t stop it, it’s too late.” Lacroix stood as erect as his sore body would allow him. He squared his shoulders and looked at the faces surrounding him, finally settling on his nemesis, Dawson. “You might as well kill me.”
Dawson looked directly in his eyes then raised his weapon, pushing it against Lacroix’s forehead.
“Very well.”
Lacroix never heard the shot.
“Ready the vehicle, we’re on our way out, one wounded, over.”
Dawson’s status caused the hair on Spock’s arms to stand up as he exchanged glances with Wings, both concerned over the casualty report. He fired up the vehicle and pulled around to the front of the castle as the doors burst open and the rest of the team rushed out and down the steps, Mickey and Jimmy carrying Niner by the shoulders. Wings jumped into the back, pushing open doors as everyone piled into the rows of seats.
Gunfire rattled in the darkness and Dawson, now in the passenger seat, motioned for Spock to move.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before they discover our surprise!”
Spock floored it and spun around the crushed fountain and down the winding drive toward the gates at the bottom as more gunfire erupted from behind them, Spock watching in the rearview mirror as more guards poured out the entrance.
“Everyone get on the passenger side!” he yelled as he hammered on the brakes, the slippery drive providing little traction as they slid through the metal gates, the ABS vibrating to no avail as the team jumped to the right, grabbing onto anything they could to redistribute the weight. The two sets of wrought iron gates burst apart in the center, the mass of metal flung to the sides as Spock fishtailed through and out onto the road at far too high a speed. He was already cranking the wheel to the right before he even hit the gates, jamming the brakes into the floor as he forced the vehicle into a sideway skid toward the precipice on the other side.
The SUV was now perpendicular, aimed up the road toward the village, still sliding toward the guardrail as it suddenly regained traction and began to climb, gravity killing much of its speed as his tires spun up the hill, the wheel still cranked to the right as he continued to try and turn the skid so the rear end would hit the guardrail as gently as possible.
“This isn’t going to work!”
The rear quarter smacked the guardrail, too hard. There was a jerk from the rear end then the truck slipped, and a series of “whoahs!” erupted from the back as everyone realized what was happening. “Everyone out!” yelled Spock as he continued to apply gas, the vehicle no longer moving forward, it instead starting to slip backward, its rear driver side tire over the edge.
Dawson jumped out the passenger side as the rear doors opened, the men climbing out as quickly as they could, Niner still needing to be helped. A crunching sound had them all spinning as the guardrail gave way. Spock felt his other front tire slip over the edge, the vehicle beginning to tip. He turned to Dawson, their eyes meeting, and for the first time that he could remember, he was certain he was going to die.
“Tell my family—”
Dawson leapt forward, his left hand extended, and Spock reached for it on instinct alone, not even registering what was happening. He felt the iron grip of his friend wrap around his wrist as the SUV tipped some more, dragging Dawson farther into the vehicle, his feet now off the ground. Spock could feel Dawson tugging on his arm and Spock reached over with his left hand and grabbed hold of the dash, twisting himself so his feet were on his door, now at a 45 degree angle. He could hear shouting from the other side, then Dawson suddenly jerking as someone pulled on his legs.
The SUV slipped some more, then tipped over the edge, Spock staring at Dawson.
“Let me go or we both die!” he yelled, not wanting to be responsible for his friend’s death. He let go of Dawson’s wrist. “Please BD!”
Dawson’s face was red, veins popping, as he reached forward with his other hand and grabbed hold of Spock’s free hand.
“No more die!” he grunted, and Spock knew there was no reasoning with him. He wrapped his fingers around Dawson’s wrist again as the SUV slipped away. The passenger side door dragged along their bodies, tearing at Spock’s left arm and breaking the grip he had. He felt his body continue to fall, Dawson right with him, then suddenly jerk to a halt. He looked up, dangling by one hand to see Dawson holding onto him, Wings hanging onto Dawson’s belt, completely over the cliff edge, and two pairs of hands holding his legs, their saviors out of sight.
“Grab my hand!” yelled Dawson.
Spock flung his left side up, Dawson catching the hand, and they both crawled their fingers to each other’s wrists and grabbed on.
“Let’s go!” yelled Jagger from out of sight. “Pull together now!” There was a tug, and they all moved up several inches. Another tug, another few inches. Spock could feel his grip loosening.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on!” he yelled, his arm sore from where the truck door had hit it.
“I’ve got Wings’ belt!” yelled Jagger. “Spock, can you climb?”
“I think so.” He looked at Dawson. “Swing me up.”
Dawson nodded and they swung to Spock’s right, then to the left, and back. As the momentum picked up Spock let go of Dawson with his right hand on the upswing, reaching up and grabbing a fist full of ass, his hand then slipping down and hooking onto the belt, his fingers bent inward like claws.
“Got it!” he grunted. He immediately reached up and grabbed onto Wings’ left arm with his free hand, Dawson letting go then clasping both hands under Spock’s foot.
Spock straightened his leg, pushing against Dawson’s hands and shot up half a body length, grabbing onto Wings’ belt, letting go of Dawson. His left arm screamed in protest, but there was no way he was quitting now. If he did all three of them were liable to go over the edge, and like Dawson had said, Stucco was enough.
No more die!
Spock looked to the left and right, then spotted a small foothold in the rock. He shifted his body weight to the right, extending his boot, and planting it on the several square inches of rock, relieving much of his body weight fr
om the human chain.
“Can anyone reach my hand?” he yelled. “I’m to your left!”
A hand suddenly appeared directly above him, then the face of Niner, the only man not involved in the rescue. Spock let go of Wings’ belt in a leap of faith, his hand darting up toward Niner’s outstretched arm. He missed the catch, but Niner’s reflexes proved true and he felt a strong grip wrap around his wrist. He let go of Wings and reached up, holding onto Niner’s arm as he winced, his leg still probably in agony.
“Okay, let’s pull!” yelled Wings as the lighter load was quickly yanked up the side of the cliff. Another set of hands quickly appeared and Spock grabbed on with his left hand, and moments later he too was over the lip, lying beside a gasping Niner, the rest of the team prone or sitting on the ice cold pavement.
Gunfire up the road toward the village had them all turning toward the sound.
“Now what?”
“It must be the professors,” said Dawson jumping to his feet, grabbing Spock by the hand and helping him to his feet. Spock grabbed Dawson by both shoulders.
“Thanks, BD.”
“Anytime. Next time I drive,” he said with a wink. Shots rang out from the drive leading to the castle as several guards slid and stumbled their way toward them. Spock grabbed his weapon and fired off several rounds as did Dawson and Red. Their targets dropped. “Let’s blow this thing and help the professors,” ordered Dawson.
Red pulled the detonator from a pouch and flipped the guard up to reveal the switch.
“Fire in the hole!” he yelled, then flicked the switch.
There was a rumble as a series of explosions ripped around three sides of the massive structure. Flames blasted out the sides, dust and debris showering the mountainside in every direction, little of it reaching their position due to the front not having been rigged.
“That was kind of anticlimactic,” said Niner, now on his feet. “I was expecting something bigger.”
Red shrugged his shoulders.
“They don’t build ’em like they used to.”
“Look!” yelled Jagger, pointing toward the castle as the right side number four wall, barely visible from this angle, suddenly collapsed down several feet, then fell outward, pancaking the vehicles parked along the side. The rear wall followed, collapsing inward, triggering secondary explosions, the rest of the structure teetering on the brink, then finally giving in, the remaining walls collapsing inward, more explosions erupting as the fuel that powered and heated the castle erupted along with what appeared to be several weapons caches. The blast lit the night sky, a ball of fire and black smoke lighting the side of the mountain for several seconds, then collapsing back down as the remains continued to glow and pop as rounds of ammunition succumbed to the heat.
“Is that better?” asked Red looking at Niner.
“Much. I’m a dying man, you know, if I’m going out, I want it to be with a bang like that, not that whimper you initially delivered.”
“Dying eh?” muttered Red as he grabbed Niner by the arm and draped it over his shoulder, Jimmy doing the same on the other side. “We should be so lucky.”
“When my leg is back to a hundred percent, I’m kicking your ass,” he said as they all began to climb the hill toward the village ahead.
“I’ll pencil you in for around Valentine’s Day, but only if you wear those pants.”
“I said kick your ass, not kiss your ass.”
“Ohhh, that makes more sense.”
Dawson turned.
“Let’s pick up the pace. You two stick with Niner, we’ll go on ahead.”
Spock and the others began a tactical run up the hill, prepping their gear as Niner’s wisecracks faded into the distance.
Hands grabbed at them, tore at their clothes, their hair, anything they could grab. The guns seemed to have been forgotten, their intention either now to tear them apart, or capture them for interrogation. Acton punched at the one closest to him, catching the man on the nose, then pushed himself between the seats into the back, draping himself over Laura and Reading as she struggled with her own set of attackers.
Suddenly a terrific explosion ripped through the night causing everyone to pause, even their attackers. Acton looked through the window to see all eyes looking down the blocked road toward the castle. The night sky flickered and flashed, then a massive fireball shot up into the air, their attackers now completely withdrawn from the vehicle.
The explosion collapsed, the night sky dark once again, but silence reigned. Then a voice sliced through the shock and awe of their attackers, something yelled in German that Acton took a moment to translate.
They’re all dead!
And with those few words, the crowd slowly receded into the darkness, the carts blocking the roads removed, the wounded carried away, leaving an eerie silence almost as terrifying as the rage of the attack, the only sounds the slamming of doors and shutters as a village, sustained by The Order for centuries, mourned its passing, wondering what an uncertain future would bring.
Pioneer Cemetery, Boise, Idaho
Three Days Later
The ceremony for Stucco and his family was moving, the gathering large, the pomp and circumstance impressive. It was a worthy funeral, even if the cause of death was a lie. Acton had shook his head in disbelief when he had heard about the cover up. Even he was angry, and he barely knew Stucco. But they were soldiers, their missions top secret, and this heinous, barbaric act would remain a secret to all but those involved.
As they walked toward the cars, the Bravo Team along with Acton and Laura congregated along the car lined street, Niner in crutches, many of the others showing some wear and tear from their ordeal. But the unit was back together, back on duty, and ready to serve. The sight of Niner had him thinking of their friend Reading who had survived and was recovering quite quickly. Acton had spoken to him this morning and he seemed in good spirits.
“Do you think it’s over?” asked Acton to the group in general.
Dawson shrugged.
“We know one of The Circle survived. Let’s hope that’s enough to stop them, or at least delay them.”
Acton frowned, not very confident.
“Stop, I doubt. Delay, possibly. But delay for how long, and delay what? We still don’t know what their plan is.”
“And perhaps we never will.”
“Until it’s too late,” muttered Laura.
“Let’s hope you’re wrong, Professor, otherwise all of this was for nothing.”
Unknown Location
Exactly one week after the Schloss Rosen attack
The last beep sounded, indicating the final member had connected to the meeting. It was a somber event, but also an event of renewal, and Number One, the new Number One, welcomed those logged in.
“Welcome apprentices,” he said, deepening his younger voice, those gathered having no idea who he was, or how he normally sounded. He needed to command the respect of the others, especially with so many deaths. They would learn to respect him in time, as he himself earned their respect, but for now, an iron grip must be maintained.
“I am now Number One. The Circle is complete, The Order continues, undeterred. Those who would try to take us down, have failed, as have all others in the past, for The Order is eternal, and The Circle is unbreakable. Rejoice now, apprentices, for today you are masters, masters in the greatest organization to have ever existed.”
He sucked in a breath as he looked at the agenda in front of him.
“Now to business.” He looked at each of the robed faces on his screen. “Number Seven, please bring us up to date on the progress your late master was able to make in our plan.”
A robed head lifted, revealing nothing but the chin of the new master.
“Much progress has been made, the plans well laid. Recent events will not impact rollout of the new strains to the Third World. We anticipate adoption throughout the developing world within less than ten years, at which point we can trigger the plan.”
/> “Excellent,” smiled Number One, content that it would be he that would be in power to oversee The Order’s greatest triumph.
And he at the head of the new world order that would prevail.
Costa Brava, Spain
Sophia dug at the sand with her red plastic shovel, certain she had found some sort of buried pirate’s treasure. The box didn’t seem that big, but she could only see one corner. She continued to dig, then abandoned the shovel, scraping at the sand with just her fingers. Soon a second corner was revealed, then a third. Within minutes she had enough of the treasure chest showing to see, much to her disappointment, that it indeed was small.
But still big enough to hold plenty of gold that might help her family. She knew they were poor, her daddy having lost his job, her mommy as well, and all she ever wanted to do was help them.
This could be the key.
With a final effort she yanked it from the sand, then brushed it off. It was a perfect square with strange symbols written all over it, but no obvious way to gain access. She searched for an opening but couldn’t find any.
Daddy will know how!
She jumped up and ran toward home, only a few minutes from the beach. She found her daddy in his study. He looked up.
“What have you got there?”
She shrugged.
“Treasure chest?”
Her father smiled, getting up from his chair and taking the curious box to the backyard, spraying it clean with the hose. He handed it back to her after trying to find a way to open it with no success.
“Perhaps you will have better luck,” he said. “Now why don’t you put that in your room, and perhaps someday you will solve the puzzle.”
She hugged him then ran to her room, jumping onto her bed as she began to struggle with the box, pulling at it, pushing at it, and finally hitting it with everything she could think of.
And nothing happened.
After fifteen minutes of failure she lost interest and tossed the cube in her box of toys in the closet, running back to the beach to see if she could find some seashells to glue to her find.
The Circle of Eight (A James Acton Thriller, Book #7) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 27
