The Circle of Eight (12 page)

The
pastor stepped forward, his hands held out wide to show he was no threat, but
his voice stern nevertheless.

“This is
a house of the Lord,” he said. “How dare you fire a weapon here!”

A shot
rang out and she heard a gasp, her view blocked, now all that was visible were
feet. Then the body of the pastor collapsed onto the floor, his head twisted
toward her, the look of horror on his face heartbreaking.

Why
is this happening?

Several
people cried out and she saw feet, fleeing moments before, rushing toward their
fallen leader, cries and wails echoing through the large building. The hands
pulling her legs let go and she looked to see Kurt stand, his teeth clenched,
jaw tight as he stepped over her and put himself squarely between her and her
abductor.

She watched
the man’s feet slowly make their way down the aisle, then looking over her
shoulder from the floor, she could see him standing in front of Kurt, his
weapon raised, the proud veteran not budging.

“Out of
my way old man, or you die.”

“If you
want them, you have to go through me.”

“Me
too,” said the other who was dragging her moments before. He stepped around
her, standing shoulder to shoulder with Kurt.

“And
me,” said another, his footsteps echoing up the next aisle.

“How
touching. Your war is
long
over. Go home and soak your tired bones in a
hot bath, otherwise those bones are going six feet under.”

Kurt
took a small step forward.

“Sonny,
we fought to protect the innocent and the weak. Our buddies died for a country
that was better than those we fought. If I walk away today, I betray not only
my country, but those men who died by my side, and my God who gave me the
strength to get through that hell. There’s no way I’m going to let you harm
this woman or her child.”

She
heard a hammer cock, and she cried out.

“No,
wait!” She grabbed Kurt’s pant leg, pulling at it. “No, I won’t have anyone die
because of me.” She tried to look at her abductor, to make eye contact with
him. “Just let them take my daughter. Whatever this is about, it can’t involve her.
She’s just a kid!”

She felt
Jenny squeeze on her leg, but remain silent as she lay on the floor at her
side.

The
sound of sirens and the squelch of tires on pavement distracted everyone, their
accoster rushing for the front doors to prevent anyone from leaving, slamming
shut the doors he had shot open only minutes before.

“Mommy?”

She
looked at Jenny and felt the world swim as her grip on Kurt’s pants loosened
and her head, held above the floor through sheer willpower, dropped with a
thud, the world a blurred mass of confusion as she passed out yet again.

Chesterfield County Airport, Richmond, Virginia

The Cessna Turbo Skylane JTA bounced to a landing, their pilot,
Charlie Wilson, a local “friend” of The Unit, guiding it expertly off the
runway and toward the private terminal. Thor waved from the tarmac, a grim
expression on his face. This wasn’t a reunion, this was business. Personal
business. One of the many unwritten rules in The Unit was ‘don’t mess with a
man’s family’. If Lacroix had killed Stucco, that would have been one thing.
But to kill his family, to kidnap and possibly kill Dawson’s family? That was
personal. The gloves were off, and this would be ended, one way or the other,
off the books.

Dawson
had every intention of killing Lacroix and whoever had planted the bombs and
even laid a finger on his sister and niece.

Charlie
brought the plane to a halt near Thor and dropped the engine down to idle, his
orders to immediately return in case any more of the team needed transport.
Dawson and Red climbed down from the plane, Thor walking forward, his hair
still gold, its luster a little dimmer than years ago.

“Good to
see you, BD, Red. I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said, shaking
both men’s hands then leading them toward a nearby black Ford Expedition. “I
got you the biggest engine I could find just in case you need pursuit
capability. Lots of cargo space, seats up to eight. She’s topped up with gas,
and I took the insurance option, so feel free to beat the shit out of her if
needed.” He tossed Dawson the keys, who flipped them to Red.

“You
drive; I’m going to be making phone calls.”

They
both climbed in the SUV, Red firing up the engine and Dawson rolling down his
window.

“One
more thing,” said Thor, leaning on the truck. “Just as you were landing I got
confirmation that Niner and Jimmy are with that Professor of yours now. They
were able to charter a jet—a little faster than your Cessna.”

“Thanks
for the update. We’ve got your number if we need anything else.”

“Don’t
hesitate to call.” He motioned to the rear seat with his chin. “I put together
a care package for you. Now go get your sister.”

Dawson’s
lips pursed and he nodded.

“Thanks.”
He turned to Red. “Let’s go.”

Red
peeled off the tarmac and toward the side road of the airfield as Dawson
punched the location of the crash where his sister and niece were last seen into
the GPS. It had been less than ninety minutes since the crash, his team
efficient to say the least. There had been no word from the Richmond police
since he had left, Detective Lewis merely saying he was on his way to the crash
site to check on Sylvia and Jenny.

“According
to this we’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” said Dawson, glancing at the
map on the navigation display.

“Really?”

“Stop.”

Red hit
the brakes and Dawson opened his door, stepping out onto the running board,
pushing himself to his feet as he looked about the airport. Red did the same.

“What’s
on your mind, BD?”

“I’m
thinking they were headed here.”

Thor
pulled up in his Honda Civic, his wife in the passenger seat.

“What’s
up, BD?”

“I think
they may have been on their way here,” he said. Dawson scanned the tarmac
filled with a mix of Cessna’s and other similarly sized airplanes—one stood
out.

A Bombardier
Learjet 45 XR.

“Any
idea who owns that?” asked Dawson.

Thor
took a look and shook his head.

“No, but
it’s not unusual to have them here. Want me to check it out?”

“Yeah.
Get the details to the guys. If it’s in any way connected to our situation, I
want that plane stopped, understood?”

“Consider
it done.”

Dawson
climbed back in the Expedition as did Red, and they were underway again, Red
flooring it, shaving a couple of minutes off the NAV computer’s estimate.

What
they saw when they arrived cleaved a hole in Dawson’s stomach.

St. Paul’s University, St. Paul, Maryland

Niner frowned, Jimmy bit his lip, neither saying anything. Professor
James Acton had the distinct impression that what they had just heard wasn’t
something they had wanted to hear.

And he
didn’t blame them.

“Who are
they, Doc?” asked Niner finally. “Who are we dealing with here?”

“They’re
known by many names. Most people that have heard of them have heard them
referred to as the Rosicrucians.”

“Rosicrucians?”
asked Jimmy. “Can’t say as I’ve ever heard of them.”

“Me
neither,” agreed Niner.

“Not
surprised. Little is known about them due to their founding being near the end
of the dark ages. It’s believed that they were founded around 1407 by a German
doctor named Christian Rosenkreuz. In German, Rosenkreuz roughly translates
into ‘rose cross’.”

“That
would seem to match this symbol,” said Niner, shaking the printout.

“Indeed,”
agreed Acton.

“So what
makes them so bad?”

“You’ve
heard of the Black Death?”

The two
soldiers nodded.

“Well,
at the time, Europe was just coming out of the Black Death. Nearly half their
population had been wiped out, and over the next fifty to a hundred years,
tremendous progress was made in science, medicine, personal freedoms, and in
overthrowing the almightiness of the Roman Catholic Church.

“Dr.
Rosenkreuz grew up during this era. The Rosicrucian’s own manifesto, Fama
Fraternitatis, gave his birth date as 1378, and said he lived to be
one-hundred-and-six years old, nearly unheard of in those days. It is said that
he travelled to the Middle East and beyond to study under the masters there, but
when he returned to Europe to spread his medical and scientific knowledge, he
found none of the aristocracy willing to learn from him. So instead, in 1407,
he gathered a group of men willing to listen, doctors who were sworn to uphold
his ideals, and remain bachelors until their death. And before their deaths,
they were required to find their own replacements, so the order could survive.
It was called the Rosicrucian Order or Brothers of the Rose Cross.”

“What
happened to them?” asked Jimmy, now sitting at one of the desks.

“They
practiced their craft, said to be some sort of mystical forgotten science, and
used it to try and advance mankind. They were willing to teach those who would
listen, but few did, and after several centuries they were rumored to be
alchemists and sages—so not very well respected. They released several
manifestos, written almost as parables, demanding change in Europe that were
widely spoken of, and taken quite seriously at the time by some. They believed
that through their science and teachings, they could advance mankind to a
higher level of being, closer to God, and through their ancient knowledge, create
a better world.”

“Sounds
like hocus pocus to me,” muttered Niner.

“Eventually
most tended to agree, and they seemed to have disappeared over the years, but
not before a set of beliefs attributed to them were made known. These beliefs
have been refined over the centuries to more accurately represent the modern
world, but their spirit remains the same. Who has refined these is unknown. It
was always thought it was people who had taken the Rosicrucian beliefs and
adopted them as their own, without any of the rumored ancient science the
beliefs were founded upon. But if what you have here is true, and I really do
mean
if
, then it would tend to suggest that the
real
Rosicrucian
Order still exists to this day.”

“Real?”
asked Jimmy.

“There
are a lot of wannabe’s, none genuine.”

Niner
leaned forward.

“How
were they dangerous? It sounds like they were just some whack-jobs spreading
mystical stories.”

Acton smiled.

“True.
Their beliefs were summed up in ten guidelines. One of which, and the most
important of which, is population control. This is thought to have come from
the times Dr. Rosenkreuz was raised in. After the Black Death came many
advancements for mankind, and it was an era of increased prosperity and
decreased misery. It could be likened to after World War Two. Think of the
fifties and how everybody has this nostalgia for it being one of the greatest
eras in history.

“The
same could be said for this period of rebuilding after the Black Death. Things
were better for those who were left, better than they had ever been. Were they
fantastic? Of course not, but that’s all relative. You can’t compare their
living conditions then to ours now. But after that horror, and the changes that
were brought about as a result of it, there was renewed optimism in Europe, and
this would have infected Rosenkreuz’ beliefs, and he would have wanted to
maintain that progress.

“And in
his mind, maintaining a smaller population rather than letting it get out of
control as it had in the past, would be a central pillar to any belief system.
Some who interpret their beliefs think that it wasn’t necessarily a specific
number of people, such as five hundred million, but rather a number that would
be in harmony with what the Earth could provide for naturally, without having
to rape the land. This number might indeed be five hundred million, or a
billion, or even more.

“One
thing is for certain, our current population level is not sustainable without
damaging the environment, which would mean it is too high for those who follow
the Rosicrucian beliefs.”

“Meaning
what?”

“Meaning
that if the Rosicrucian Order does exist today, it is their mandate to reduce
the population of the planet to a number that they believe is ecologically
sustainable.”

Chippenham Parkway, Richmond, Virginia

Dawson jumped from the SUV before Red had brought it to a complete
stop, running over to a gurney holding a body, the sheet draped over the
victim’s face. He pulled the sheet aside and sighed in relief when he saw a
man, his neck obviously broken by what looked like handcuffs or some other
metal chain.

Way
to go, Sis!

“What do
you think you’re doing?” asked a uniformed officer.

Dawson
turned to him, changing his body language to defer to the officer, his
shoulders slumping slightly, turning inward to make him seem shorter and less
of a physical threat, his arms at his side, his hands empty, and a worried
expression on his face—that part not needing any faking.

“Is
there a Detective Lewis here? He told me to meet him here, something about my
sister?”

The cop shook
his head.

“Naw, he
was
here but there’s something going on up the road. Shots fired so most
everybody redeployed.” He paused. “Was your sister in this vehicle?”

Dawson
shrugged.

“I don’t
see why. She’s a nurse. The detective didn’t say why he wanted to see me, just
that this was where he’d be. I don’t think it’s related.”