The Circle of Eight (23 page)

He strained harder, getting his wrists in the game,
feeling the bite as the chair splintered some more then finally, suddenly, the
bottom ripped free and fell to the floor followed by several of the spindles,
including the one his hands were bound around. Shaking himself back and forth,
he managed to rid himself of the rest of the chair and finally stand up
straight.

And the first thing he wanted to do was sit down.

Instead, he pressed his back against the wall and caught
his breath. He looked about the room and still could see nothing, the black he
had been engulfed in taking on a distinctly red color with white spots, probably
from his exertion.

And still no sounds beyond his beating heart.

Surely they would be coming now if I were being
watched.

Now he needed to free his hands. With it being zip ties,
it should be dead easy. He bent forward, sticking his butt out and lifting his
arms behind his back as high as he could manage. Then, swinging his hips
forward, then back, he dropped his arms as hard as he could to smack his wrists
against his buttocks as his hips surged back.

The zip tie snapped with an agonizing scrape of his
wrists, the training he had done with Laura’s ex-SAS men always done with taped
wrists.

But it was a small price to pay to be freed of his bonds.

He gingerly touched his left wrist with his other hand
and winced, immediately regretting it. Next problem.

Prioritization.

Should he try to find a weapon in this room, which meant
he needed light, or should he try to get out of this room, and find a weapon or
some means of escape beyond the room?

If there were a light switch, it would most likely be by
the door he would need to escape through regardless, so he gingerly made his
way across the room to where he thought the door was. He found the wall with
his outstretched hands, then began feeling up and down the wall from head to
waist height, searching for the door and any switches as he moved to the right.

On the down stroke his left hand hit something and he
paused. He moved his hand back up and knew immediately it was a switch. He
closed his eyes and pushed it up.

The back of his eyelids turned bright red and he slowly
opened his eyes, blinking them rapidly to try and adjust as he turned around,
quickly scanning the room for any secret observers.

All he found was a lone bulb hanging from the ceiling, a
broken chair, a knocked over lamp that had been shining in his face earlier,
the bulb now broken and useless, scrape marks from where his beloved’s body had
been dragged out in her chair, and nothing else beyond a barred window.

He strode across to the blacked-out window and tested
the bars to no avail. He could poke a spindle through and break the glass, but
it would do him no good. He was certain yelling for help would only bring the
guards. Stepping under the light, he examined his wrists. They were in bad
shape. He yanked at his sleeve, tearing it off then ripping it in two pieces,
each of which he then carefully wrapped around his wounds.

He grabbed two spindles from the floor for weapons,
turned out the light, and tried the door.

It opened.

He stepped into a dimly lit hallway, and waited for his
eyes to adjust. He was at the end of a hallway, it stretching out before him
with doors about every twenty feet alternating on the left and right.

Time to explore.

Geneva Cointrin Airport, Geneva, Switzerland

Interpol Special Agent Hugh Reading cleared customs rapidly with his
passport and police ID, Switzerland not being part of the European Union but
still one of the founding members of Interpol. He hadn’t bothered to go back to
his office; he had immediately gone to his flat then the airport, calling in his requests and
having them sent to his phone. It was now the morning after he had received the
call, and his only communication with Sergeant Major Dawson had been through
text messages.

I’m coming there, arrival 6:35am.

And the response.

Ok.

He had quickly found out about the arrest, but there was
some confusion. The police raid showed four arrests, but they could only find
two in the system. What had happened to the other two, a man and a woman, they
didn’t know. They assumed they were just lost in the paperwork, occupying a
holding cell somewhere. The other two, whom Reading assumed were Delta Force
members, were listed as John Doe’s, refusing to give their names or any other
personal information.

Reading had wrangled an interview with them, claiming
they matched the descriptions of two men he was after.

They didn’t worry him. They’d figure a way out of it
eventually. What worried him was that his friends were missing, and no one knew
where they were. He didn’t believe for a second they were lost in the system.
If those two were in Geneva with the Delta team, then they were involved in
something, and it wasn’t taste testing chocolate samples.

They’re in trouble.

He briskly walked through the terminal and out the
doors. He was about to get in the line for the cabs when he was bumped into. He
felt a hand do a poor lift from his inside jacket pocket and was about to
confront the man when he heard a whispered, “A gift for you.” Reading resisted
looking after the man, the voice familiar enough to know he had just been
handed something by a Bravo Team member. The urge to check what was in his
pocket was overwhelming, but he resisted, instead dragging his suitcase to the
lineup for the cabs, and minutes later he was on his way to his hotel.

With the airport safely behind him, he reached into his
pocket and pulled out a small envelope. Inside was a note and a tiny item that
almost looked like a pill.  He unfolded the note.

Give this to either of them.

Reading stuffed everything back in the envelope then
into his pocket as he wondered what the pill could be.
It must be some sort
of tracking device. But why would they need that? They’re going to break them
out! And now you’re involved.
The situation was ridiculous. He couldn’t
help two American soldiers break out of prison. He’d lose his job and probably
go to prison if he were ever caught. But then again, it might be the only way
to find James and Laura. They still hadn’t been found in the system, which
meant they weren’t
in
the system. They had either escaped, which was
unlikely, or they were taken by some other party. And if he didn’t help the
Delta Force get their men back, they probably wouldn’t help him find the
professors.

Then again they had proven to be quite fair and
reasonable since the events in London. Almost as if they wanted to make up for
what had happened.

It wasn’t long before he was at his hotel and checked
in. A quick toilet and he was on his way to Bourg-de-Four Police Station. A
flash of credentials and he was cleared to an interrogation room where he found
a familiar face sitting, waiting for him, the other not so familiar. In fact,
he couldn‘t be certain he had met the other, but there was no doubt it was
Jimmy who was giving him a surly face.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I assume you speak English?”

Jimmy and the other nodded, still not making eye
contact, their arms crossed, their legs extended far out, their butts pushed
away from the back of their chairs.

A typical casual, ‘I don’t give a shit’ pose.

“I’m Special Agent Reading, Interpol,” he said, taking a
seat across the table from them. “I have a few questions for you.”

No response, except Jimmy leaned forward, putting his
cuffed hands on the table not a foot from where Reading’s hands were.

He ignored them, instead pulling out a pad from his
briefcase, and a pen from his pocket, the cap very loose, the “pill” inside the
top. He pulled the cap off the pen, letting the pill spill into the palm of his
hand, out of sight of the cameras. He gripped it in his left hand as he picked
up the pen with his right.

He looked at Jimmy.

“And your name is?”

Silence.

“Look, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Still only silence.

Very well, the hard way.

He leaned forward quickly and grabbed Jimmy’s hands,
yanking them. Jimmy fell forward, his head smacking the table as Reading pushed
the pill into the man’s hand. Jimmy’s fist closed over the device and Reading
let go of the hands, leaning back in his chair as Jimmy recovered, rubbing his
chin then licking his lips as if searching for blood. Reading saw the pill go
into his mouth.

“What did you do that for?”

“To get your attention.”

“Well you got it, and that’s all you’re getting. Save
your questions for when our lawyer gets here.”

Jimmy stood up, as did the other man.

“Guard! Take us back to our cell!” yelled Jimmy.

A moment later the door opened and they were led out,
followed by Reading who yelled after them, “This isn’t over!”

He went to the front desk to retrieve his belongings.

“Any luck?” asked the old officer at the desk.

“Nil. As expected I guess. But now that you’ve got them,
I’ll have them put under surveillance. They’ll slip up at some point.”

Reading stuffed the last of his personal items in his
pockets, then gave the officer a final nod. He left, a cab already waiting for
him, and returned to his hotel room, his mind filled with thoughts of his
friends and what they could possibly have gotten themselves into now. As he
entered he paused.

Something’s not right.

Suddenly a head poked out from behind the wall of the L
shaped room and Reading jumped, nearly filling his trousers.

“Good morning, Special Agent.”

Reading shook his head then kicked the shoes off his
aching feet.

“Good morning, Sergeant Major.”

Unknown Location

James Acton reached for the handle in front of him, his ear still
pressed against the door. And still he heard nothing. He gripped the knob and
twisted, but it didn’t budge. It was locked.
Shit!
He couldn’t risk
kicking it open—that would certainly bring everyone down on him. He had
searched the only other room that had been unlocked and found nothing beyond an
extensive wine cellar. There was nothing he could use as a real weapon and he knew
he had to escape. Avenging Laura was of course at the top of his agenda, but in
order to do that, he needed manpower and firepower, and that lay in Geneva. If
he could escape from wherever he was, he could bring the Bravo Team back here
and remove those responsible from existence for his beloved Laura’s death.

They were going to die, even if he didn’t get any help
from the Delta team.

At the end of the hallway he had found a set of stairs
leading up, at the top of which was this locked door. He examined the lock and
decided lock picking would be on the agenda the next time he received training
from Laura’s security team, but for now, beyond fiddling with hairpins he
didn’t have, or jimmying it with a credit card he didn’t have, he was stuck.

Time to try the locked rooms.

Forcing those doors hopefully wouldn’t make enough noise
to attract any attention. He was about to turn and descend the stairs when he
heard voices. He pressed his ear to the door and could distinctly hear
footsteps and whispering.

And they sounded like they were coming directly toward
him.

He rushed down the steps and into the hallway just as he
heard the door above being unlocked. His heart pounding, he scrambled down the
hall and opened the door to the one room he had found unlocked, the wine
cellar, as footsteps echoed on the stairs. He closed the door behind him, then
pressed his back against it.

Two voices vibrated through the door as they passed. A
key hit a lock and he heard a door open, the voices disappearing as it was then
closed. He pulled open the wine cellar door, stepped out into the hallway,
closed the door then ran as quietly as he could to the end of the hall. The
door at the top was closed, but there was a chance they hadn’t locked it. He
took the steps two at a time, reaching the door and grabbing the knob. He
twisted, and it turned, his heart slamming repeatedly against his ribcage as
his adrenaline rush almost overwhelmed him.

He pushed the door open slightly and peeked out through
the sliver. He could see what looked like a large foyer with a double staircase
leading to a second floor, several suits of armor from the middle ages standing
guard in the corners, but nobody in sight.

A door closed below and he jumped. He stepped into the
foyer then closed the door behind him as gently as he could. Looking around for
a place to hide, he could see nothing, donning a suit of armor in comedy movie
style the only thing occurring to him. It unfortunately took more than the ten
seconds he figured he had, and knights back then were far too short to be
wearing armor that would accommodate him.

He moved along the wall, away from the basement door,
but toward what appeared to be the front door. As he got a better angle he
noticed the front entrance had closets recessed on either side. The door behind
him opened and he darted into the nearest closet, pushing himself behind the
coats that filled it.

The two sets of footsteps faded away, the whispered voices
seeming to have never stopped, but were quickly replaced by another set
approaching rapidly, with purpose. It was an older man talking to an underling,
Acton could recognize the tone from anywhere. He pushed deeper into the corner,
the view now blocked.

The footsteps stopped in front of the very closet he was
hiding in.

“I trust you’ll have an enjoyable trip, Master.”

It must be one of The Circle with their apprentice!