The Circle of Eight by J Robert Kennedy Page A

The
Unit. Don’t pack anything, just get them safe, then we’ll go back and clear the
houses and pick up anything you may need.”
    “Do you
think he’s going to target all of us?” asked Niner. “I don’t have family on
base, but my folks are in California. This has me worried.”
    “Call
them. Call whoever you think this guy might target and get them to safety. I’ll
have the Colonel contact the locals and try to get security details assigned
for the time being. I’m guessing though only Stucco and I have anything to
worry about. Had, I guess.” Dawson paused as they all bowed their heads
for a moment. “I’m guessing we’re the targets, since we’re the witnesses,”
resumed Dawson. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry, so protect your loved ones.
I’m going to meet with the Colonel.”
    The team
split off into groups as Dawson strode toward his Mustang parked safely down
the road. To say he was angry would be putting it mildly. He was furious.
Enraged. If Lacroix were in front of him now, he’d tear his throat out and
watch him bleed to death while pissing in the hole he had made.
    They
needed closure on this, and the only closure he could see would be against the
books.
    Revenge.
    He
pulled his cellphone from his pocket as he climbed in the car and dialed his
sister’s place. It rang several times then her old style answering machine
picked up.
    “Sis,
it’s me, Burt. You there? Pick up if you are, it’s important”—he paused for a
few moments—“okay, well, as soon as you get this message, I want you to take George
and Jenny to the nearest police station, okay? Don’t stop to pack, just go.
Once you’re there, call me and let me know where. This is urgent, Sis, it’s
important. Please don’t ignore it. Love you.”
    He hung
up and prayed not only that she’d get the message and act on it, but that there
was no reason to, this insanity over.
     
     

 
     
    Köln, Germany
    1472 AD
     
    Dietrich stood in the shadows in front of Heike’s house, the rain
now hard and heavy. And cold. He shivered as he watched the door open
occasionally, the concerned look on her mother’s face obvious from the lantern
that hung outside, left to light her way home.
    He desperately wanted to step forward, into the light,
and tell them what had happened to his beloved Heike, to their precious
daughter, but he couldn’t. He feared any contact with them would put them at
risk. Instead, he remained hidden, and when the door closed once more, he
plodded down the hill, the cobblestone slippery, causing him to lose his footing
several times before he finally reached the bottom, his heart aching as he
passed the wall where she had met her fate, again when he passed where he had
caught his last glimpse of her, and one final time as he walked past his
childhood home, his parents long dead from a return of the plague ten years
ago.
    He had been an orphan, raised by the church, and had
shown great promise in Latin and the sciences, as taught in their limited
fashion by a paranoid religion. It was after his lessons one day, almost eight
years ago, that he was called into the Father’s rectory and introduced to an
imposing figure of a man with a gentle face.
    He listened to the opportunities that would be afforded
him, and with a nod and not a word spoken, had left hand-in-hand with the man,
not to see the church or the Father again for five years.
    And learned he had.
    The knowledge bestowed him was wondrous, and
frightening. The things that were possible he had had no concept of, and when
asked if he would like to learn more, he jumped at the opportunity.
    But the cost had been his soul.
    He had sworn to remain a bachelor, to devote himself to
the sciences, and to commit, for life, to The Order. Naively he had agreed, and
the rest was history. And now that he was a doctor, and understood what The
Order was, what the Circle of Eight were, and his future within that, and what
the consequences were, he was filled with a