The Circle of Eight (31 page)

Blood covered the porch, drag marks where a body had
been pulled inside ending at the closed door.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Reading as he stepped out of the
car. “We have to check it out, there may be injured.”

“Agreed,” said Acton as he joined Reading, Laura right
behind them. “Just remember we don’t have any weapons.” Reading grunted in
acknowledgement, then pushed the front door open, tentatively poking his head
inside.

“We’ve got a body,” he said quietly, opening the door
all the way, then stopping to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”

He stepped inside, Acton and Laura following, tip toeing
through the front hall and past the body of what appeared to be a maid.

“Do you think they’re still here?” whispered Laura.

Reading shook his head.

“No, the only cars outside were in the garage. These
guys wouldn’t park there, they’d be out front.”

“Maybe they didn’t take the car through the gates?”

“Then why were they opened? There’s a side gate for
pedestrians.”

Laura flashed a look at Acton.

“I guess that’s why he’s the detective and we’re not.”

Acton flashed her a grin, catching something in a
reflection. He turned into a room and found another body, this time a man.

“Looks like a gardener,” he said.

“This is going to take too long,” said Reading. “We can
safely assume that they have been here, are probably gone, and they got what
they were looking for. We’re just looking to see if anyone is alive that needs
help. I’ll start upstairs, you two finish this floor then check to see if there
might be someone in the basement.”

Acton and Laura spread out, taking a room at a time as
Reading trotted up the stairs to the upper level. No more bodies were found,
and as they were about to head to the basement, Reading returned.

“Anything?” asked Acton.

“Nil.”

“Where’s the family?” asked Laura. “We’ve only found
staff.”

“Maybe they’re out?”

“Could be, but there are two vehicles in the garage and
no more spaces,” replied Laura.

“Look who’s the detective now,” smiled Reading as they
descended into the basement. They didn’t find anything until they reached a
door at the end of the hall. Reading entered first and gasped, holding out his
hand, blocking the others. “You don’t want to see this.”

Acton shook his head.

“We’ve come too far to stop now.”

He stepped inside and nearly cried out at the horror.
What looked like a mother was lying across a desk, her body riddled with
bullets, and a small boy, no more than ten, was draped over her, as if to
protect his mother, he too shot.

By a single bullet to the forehead.

He spun to stop Laura from entering the room but it was
too late. She cried out and turned her body away from the sight, covering her
eyes with her hand in a useless effort to block what she had already seen.
Acton turned away, wrapping his arms around his fiancée as he looked about the
room, avoiding the bodies.

“It must have been here,” he said. “This is the family.
The family must have taken them to where the Catalyst was, then they killed
them.”

Laura pointed to a bookshelf opposite the desk.

“It looks like something is missing on top.”

Acton looked and saw four artifacts across the top, a
gap between the third and fourth that looked like it might have held something.
He grabbed a chair and stepped up so he could see the dust covered top of the
bookshelf. There was a clear square shape in the fourth spot, the perfectly
clean area leaving little doubt the Catalyst had been here.

He stepped down and nodded to the others.

“They definitely have it.”

“What now?” asked Laura.

“Well, if I had just found a long lost relic that my
Master and my Order had been looking hundreds of years for…”

“I’d make a phone call,” finished Laura.

Reading speed dialed their mini ops center, putting the
phone on speaker as Atlas immediately answered.

“This is Reading. We’re here and everyone’s dead. We’ve
confirmed they found and have the artifact. Is there a way for you to tell if a
phone call was made from here?”

“I can do better than that,” said Atlas. “We just
tracked it down now and I was waiting for your call. The
Master’s
phone was
just called from Barcelona. We have the number and are tracking them now.”

Reading motioned for Acton and Laura to follow him as he
stepped out of the office, rushing down the hallway and up the basement stairs
as Atlas continued to talk, much of it lost to Acton as Reading held the phone
out in front of him. It wasn’t until they climbed into the car and Reading
handed the phone over that he was privy to the rest of the conversation.

“I’ll need you to contact the local authorities and tell
them there’ve been multiple murders here.”

“Will do.”

Reading pointed at the GPS in the dash.

“Okay, feed me those coordinates,” he said as Acton
selected the appropriate menu and typed in the relayed coordinates. The GPS
programmed a route and displayed the result.

“Looks like they’re only ten minutes ahead of us,” said
Acton.

“It appears they’ve been stopped there for over thirty
minutes,” replied Atlas. “Probably either to eat or to admire their prize.”

“Okay, we’re on our way to those coordinates. We’ll call
you to get new ones in case they’ve left.”

“Roger that, out.”

The call ended as Reading pulled through the gates,
leaving the horror scene behind. Acton looked back at Laura who gazed out the
window, her eyes glassed over.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her head turned slowly, nodding.

“Just thinking of the mother and her boy.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek and Acton reached
back, taking her hand and squeezing. He didn’t bother saying anything, he knew
words of comfort weren’t possible. There was nothing positive to take from the
situation. Instead they drove in silence as they all paid homage to the
massacre victims they had left behind.

The silence was finally broken by Reading.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Call Atlas and see if
he’s got an update for us.”

Acton nodded and dialed, Atlas answering right away.

“We’re almost there, any updates?”

“They left not even two minutes ago. I’ve got your
position on my screen. Turn left at the next intersection,” he said.

Acton put the phone on speaker.

“Turn left at the next intersection,” he repeated.

Reading turned, just making the light, and accelerated.

“They’ve just left the city. They don’t seem to be in
any hurry on the highway, so you should be able to catch up to them no
problem.”

“And what do we do if we catch up to them?” asked Acton
to no one in particular. “We have no weapons.”

Atlas’ voice came through the speaker.

“Just catch up to them in case they smarten up and turn
their phone off. I’ve got a Spec Ops Command buddy of ours heading your way.”

“Spanish Special Forces?” asked Reading.

“Yup. He’s got a few gifts for you. He’s coming from the
north so you’ll intercept each other in about twenty minutes. Stand by to
receive instructions.”

The line went dead and Acton looked at Laura then
Reading.

“Is the fact that we’ll be armed better?”

Laura frowned, but said nothing.

Reading however had no problem expressing his opinion.

“Of course not. It means we’re obligated to fight if it
becomes necessary to do so.”

“So
not
better.”

Schloss Rosen, Riquewihrweiler, France

It was a lavish if not exciting gathering. The finest of wine,
spirits and champagne flowed, the hors d’oeuvres were to die for, and Lacroix
knew the dinner that awaited would be exquisite, The Order sparing no expense
at these quarterly gatherings of The Circle. The gathering was small, intimate,
with just seven of the eight members in attendance, Numbers Two through Eight
each being absent once every seven meetings so the eight were never together in
the same place at once. The missing member would always be on another
continent, far away from any natural disaster that might befall the others.

It was a security protocol implemented centuries before
when the entire Circle had almost been captured by a local prince hell bent on
their demise. It had resulted in The Circle moving its base to this very
castle, now named Schloss Rosen, or the Rose Castle, where they had continued
for centuries until modern travel and communications allowed them to move
farther apart.

He had been to dozens of these gatherings. To call them
enjoyable would be to insult parties that actually were enjoyable. Informative
might be a better word. It was one thing to deliver news over the Internet,
quite another to do it in person, which meant sometimes a member might hold
back some tidbit that he knew would fascinate the others and make him the
center of attention at least until the next tidbit was revealed.

But tonight all mouths were wagging over the Catalyst.
Nothing would be able to top the news he had brought them, and with the phone
call he had just received, he was about to cement his name in the history of
The Order.

Lacroix rounded the corner and entered the room, having
left only moments before to take the call. The entire room, including servants,
all members of The Order, turned to face him. It was customary to leave the
hoods of the robes up, but tonight he meant to make a statement, wanting
everyone to recognize his face as the words were spoken.

He flipped his hood down to his shoulders as a smile
spread across his face and he opened his arms wide.

“Brothers, I have news.”

He left the words to dance their way through the room,
the small group seeming to move closer to him without their feet moving, their
bodies leaning forward in anticipation.

“I am proud to announce that we have the Catalyst!”

Cheers erupted as they surged toward him, all his past
transgressions immediately forgotten and forgiven as hugs and pats on the back
were exchanged, even the wait staff hugging each other, then some rushing off
to return moments later with a tray of champagne flutes filled to celebrate.

Number One took Lacroix by both shoulders, looking him
in the face for the first time. The man looked even younger than the last time
he had a glance.

“You shall go down in history, Number Eight.”

Lacroix almost found himself choking up. For the first
time since joining The Circle he actually felt a part of it, the gathering
suddenly making sense. This was a brotherhood, these men were supposed to be
his extended family, his brothers, their vow of bachelorhood preventing any
other type of family.

Finally, after decades, he found he had a family, one
that was now embracing him, welcoming him back into the fold after years of
embarrassment, his penance complete, his contribution strengthening the
brotherhood beyond anything it had known since its origins.

A staff member entered the room and approached Number
One, who let go of Lacroix and turned to the man.

“What is it?”

“A message from the village, Master. We have a problem.”

Niner and Mickey’s Chalet, Riquewihrweiler, France

Niner sat perched on a chair, a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes
as he surveyed the castle below, their chalet offering them a perfect view of
the magnificently restored structure. Even from here he could see there was a
party of sorts going on, a grand ballroom at the back well lit, floor to
ceiling glass extending from one end to the other, rising two full stories
above the ground, definitely a new feature, any castle designed for defense
never leaving an opening like that.

Not to mention the lack of glass when it was probably
built.

He lowered the binoculars to rest his eyes for a few
moments. Mickey had a fire going in the fireplace which was already taking the
edge off the frozen solid room. He was bundled up with everything he had brought,
it still ice cold by the window, his breath prominently displayed every time he
exhaled.

“Looks lightly guarded at the back, mostly forward defenses,”
said Niner, raising the glasses again. “When the guys get here it should be
pretty easy to take the rear and use those windows to get our targets.”

“Foolish set up if you ask me.”

Niner nodded.

“Clearly they’re not expecting uninvited guests.”

“Arrogance once again.”

“Well, it is France after all, not the Middle East.”

“True.” Mickey threw another log on the now roaring fire
then stood up, stretching. “Speaking of, did you notice how there’s an awful
lot of Germans around here?”

Niner shrugged.

“Sure, they like to visit every few decades or so. Helps
the French practice waving those big white flags.”

Mickey chuckled.

“No, I’m serious. At the airport, the guy’s name was
Heinrich. The woman spoke with a German accent. At the hotel, it was a
Gasthaus, which is clearly German. The guy on the phone was speaking German,
and they both had German accents.”

“We’re close to Germany. Probably just ancestral.”

Mickey nodded as he walked toward the front door.

“Could be, just a little odd that the French haven’t
made their presence known a little more and let this tiny enclave of
Deutschland continue. If I were…” Mickey’s voice trailed off and Niner looked
over his shoulder. “What the hell is that?”

Niner stood up and joined Mickey at the door.

“What?”

“Take a look.”

Niner looked through the small frosted window in the
door. Outside he could see the snow continuing to fall, albeit much gentler
than before, their SUV parked out front, and walking up the road from the
village below, dozens upon dozens of people armed with shotguns and rifles,
their flashlights leading the way.