The Circle of Eight Read Online Free PDF Page A

grabbed a bottle of water.
Chugging half of it down, his phone buzzed.
    Stucco?
    He would
have figured the young husband would be well into some post-op nookie by now,
not calling his “boss”.
    “Hey,
Stucco, what’s up?”
    “BD! You
gotta help me!”
    Dawson
tossed his bottle in the sink, rushing for the door, the panic in his friend’s
voice obvious.
    “What is
it?”
    “I don’t
know what to do! My wife, my kid, oh my God, BD! I think it’s him. It has to
be. It has to be that bastard Lacroix!”
    “What is
it? What’s wrong?”
    “You
gotta help me, BD!”
    There
was a scream in the background that sounded like a woman’s.
    “Oh no!”
    The line
went dead.
    Dawson
raced toward the parking lot, speed dialing Red, his trusted friend and second
in command.
    Red’s
groggy voice answered. “Hey, BD, can’t a man sleep after an op?”
    “Something’s
wrong at Stucco’s. Just got a weird call from him and heard Sheila scream. Get
a team together, meet me there, and let the Colonel know what’s going on. I’m
on my way now.”
    “Consider
it done,” came the alert reply.
    Dawson
jumped in his 1964½ poppy red Mustang convertible and started it up, gunning it
toward the married quarters and his friend.
     
     

 
     
    Köln, Germany
    1472 AD
     
    Dietrich held Heike’s hand, their fingers intertwined as they pushed
their way up the steep road to her father’s house, perched on the hillside with
a spectacular view of the Rhine river below. It was dark now, a little light
provided by the mostly blocked out stars and a half moon, as well as the candle
and firelight from inside the homes spilling out the cracks in the shuttered
windows, lending a sheen to the quickly dampening cobblestones.
    Another sound behind them and Dietrich turned. His heart
raced up his throat as he saw a dark robed figure following them.
    He urged Heike forward.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    “Nothing. Let’s just get you inside before it starts to
rain.”
    She thankfully picked up her pace without further
question, and he could tell by the tightening of her grip on his hand that she
too was now frightened. More footsteps behind them and he broke out into a run
without looking. As they passed each alleyway he would look down it and see
another robed figure stepping out, and looking ahead he could see between each
house a figure coming into view. Before they could reach the top of the hill a
line of darkly robed figures blocked their way on all sides except their left, where
a waist high wall protected pedestrians from the roaring river fifty feet
below.
    As they closed in upon them, Dietrich pulled the only
weapon he had, a dagger, and moved toward the only wall without members of The
Order blocking their way. He looked over the side at the river below, and knew
it was too treacherous to attempt a jump. The rocks below, mostly hidden, the
rushing water breaking upon their concealed stubbornness, seemed to glow a
warning of their presence in the faint light.
    The robed figures closed in on them as he held Heike
behind him, his dagger held out in a useless threat, his arm trembling so much
the blade threatened to clatter to the ground.
    None of the approaching figures had any weapons
displayed, but he knew they would be armed. They always were when robed. For
they were The Order, of that he had no doubt.
    He did the only thing he could think of.
    “Master, if you are here, please listen. I told her it
was over. We had one last kiss and I was bringing her home. Please, let her go,
she has done nothing wrong.”
    The Order were shoulder to shoulder now, forming a
semi-circle of impenetrable human flesh, there now being nowhere to go but over
the wall at their backs.
    The figures parted and a lone figure stepped through,
the ranks closing behind him as he stepped forward, stopping only inches from
Dietrich’s outstretched dagger.
    A hand reached forward, and he recognized it as his
master’s immediately, a deep scar on the