The Circle of Eight (29 page)

How much other knowledge had been lost to history? How
many claims had been made over the years of rediscovered technology,
rediscovered methods or medicines? As an archeologist he could think of dozens
off the top of his head. But a magic cube? That he doubted just as he doubted
the power the Triarii claimed the crystal skulls possessed.

To him the Catalyst, as The Order called it, provided a
golden opportunity. To him it was bait, pure and simple. If they could possess
it, then use it against The Order, they just might be able to stop them from
whatever it was they were trying to accomplish.

They just had to get there first.

The seatbelt indicator chimed and a flight attendant who
spoke an impressive number of languages began to announce their descent into
Barcelona. Acton prepared himself as Laura and Reading continued to sleep. How
either of them could was beyond him.

He decided to let them rest for an extra few minutes,
now wishing he had been able to relax enough to do the same.

Looking at Laura, her head lolled to the side, facing
him, he felt an overwhelming rush of emotions as he recalled how he felt when
her death had been faked, at how close she had come to being raped repeatedly
then murdered, and how he had left her behind, convinced she
was
dead,
despite his hearing her cry out.

He still felt ashamed.

He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his
eyes dry. As he stuffed it back in his pocket he felt a hand on his arm. He
turned to look at Laura who had a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Sorry, just remembering.”

She sat up and took his arm in both hands, squeezing as
she leaned over and gave him a comforting kiss.

“It’s over. Forget about it.”

He nodded, placing his forehead against hers.

“It would be over if it weren’t for you two,” muttered
Reading, apparently not as asleep as Acton had presumed. “If it weren’t for you
two, I’d be in London, relaxing in front of the telly, watching Foyle’s War or
some other fine example of British television, while I devoured a bag of
crisps. But no! Here I am on some foolhardy journey to Spain, chasing down a
magic box, so you two don’t get yourselves killed.”

Laura reached over and squeezed their friend’s arm.

“And we appreciate it very much, don’t we James.”

“Absolutely!” he said, grinning. “We’d appreciate it
even more if he stopped bitching about it!”

Reading glared at him and Acton laughed, reaching over
Laura and giving the man a gentle punch in the shoulder as their plane touched
down.

“Into the thick of it again,” muttered Reading as the
plane turned onto the taxiway.

Acton kept the smile on his face as he peered out the
window, but deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder if Reading were right, and
that they shouldn’t be here. They had escaped the Rosicrucians once almost
through blind luck. With their precious Catalyst retrieved, they might very
well have forgotten about them, relegating them to history as they looked to
the future.

But if they interfered?

They’ll kill us for sure.

Sarrià, Barcelona, Spain

Carlos Mendoza eyeballed the house from the passenger seat,
double-checking the brass numbers on the gate against the address they had been
sent. It matched. His heart jumped in excitement. The honor he and his partner
Juan Delgado had been bestowed was incredible. It would cement their names in
the annals of The Order for eternity, and might even allow them to move up
within the organization, perhaps enough to be noticed by a Master looking for
an apprentice.

Becoming an apprentice was all he had ever thought of
when he had found out the true organizational structure of The Order. He was a
medical doctor with a thriving practice, as was Delgado. They had cofounded
their clinic six years ago almost immediately after medical school, their aim
to help the poor. The recession had hit Spain particularly hard, the country’s
foolish dalliance with green energy causing businesses to flee the high energy
prices, taking their precious jobs with them.

It had nearly bankrupted the country, and now with youth
unemployment approaching fifty percent, doctors willing to devote some of their
time for free to those without medical care were in high demand. They profited
while those around them suffered.

It was a conversation between them and a former medical
school friend that led them into The Order after several years of vetting,
vetting they hadn’t even known was occurring, their opinions being tested,
their beliefs challenged.

But eventually The Order’s existence had been revealed,
and when he heard about what they could offer, he jumped at it. It wasn’t until
recently he had caught wind of their secret agenda, and even that didn’t really
bother him as he saw the misery day in and day out at his clinic.

Population reduction executed quickly and in a
controlled manner.

Leaving the planet to return to the paradise it once
was.

It was a fantastic idea, if you were on the right side
of the equation, and being a member of The Order guaranteed that.

Especially after today.

Delgado pressed the buzzer at the front gate. A moment
later it was answered.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Police, we need to ask the homeowner some questions.”

“Come right up,” said the voice, a buzzer sounding as
the gates slowly opened.

Delgado pulled through and up the winding, treed drive
to the massive house. Mendoza looked up at it in awe.

“I really hope we don’t have to search it.”

They had been sent a picture of what they were looking
for. When they had been fully initiated into The Order they had been taught
the history and featured prominently was the Catalyst. Legend had it that the
Founder, Rosenkreuz himself, had stolen it from heathens in the Middle East,
but was never able to unlock its powers, despite having seen them demonstrated.
It was on his journey back to get the writings on the cube translated that it
had been lost to the Rhine River in Germany, half a millennia ago. The Order
had hunted for centuries for it, and the hunt continued to this day, unabated,
but with little hope that it could be found.

And now today, out of the blue, Mendoza received the
call, the excited call, that it had been found, and the search, with no leads
in over five hundred years, was now only ten years behind, and perhaps today,
if they were fortunate, they would possess what was lost to them due to revenge
by an apprentice over his master’s killing of a girl.

Mendoza had to admit the bachelor rule was trying at
times. It meant dating, not relationships, and if he liked someone, he’d have
to cut it off before true feelings developed. Sometimes he wondered if it was
worth it, but after going out with someone, someone he could see spending time
with, and the doubts began to creep in, he’d review the latest research on The
Order’s secure website, and realize it all
was
worth it.

Especially after the plan was executed.

And if he and Delgado retrieved the fabled Catalyst
today, they stood good chances of being leaders in the new world order that
would prevail. But they had to retrieve the item, with their instructions
followed to the letter. The Catalyst had been bought as part of a lot at an
auction in France almost a decade ago, its importance unknown to the purchaser.
To Mendoza it looked like an ornate cube, and if it weren’t for knowing it was
the Catalyst, he too would probably have paid it no more mind than any other
box. He might have even tossed it in the trash.

He shuddered at the thought.

What if they did do just that? Then it could very
well be lost forever.

Then again, knowing The Order, they’d probably track the
garbage truck to the dump, purchase the dump, then mine it until they found
what they were looking for.

For The Order would stop at nothing to retrieve the
Catalyst, and no one, including the current owners, were exempt, their death
warrants already issued, regardless of whether or not they still possessed the
item.

It was strange how the idea of letting billions die
affected him less than the thought of killing a handful of innocent people he
was about to meet.

Treat them like patients. Don’t form any attachments.
It’s just a job.

Delgado stopped in front of the large front doors where
a woman was standing, a young boy, perhaps eight, beside her, his head cocked
to the side as he took in the sight of the new arrivals.

“May I help you?” asked the woman, her expression
curious but in no way fearful.

Mendoza smiled, holding up his fake Cuerpo Nacional de
Policía ID.

“CNP, Ma’am. Are you Señora Ortega?”

She nodded.

“What is this about?”

Her expression had definitely changed, more concerned
now but still no fear. For what had she to fear from them? They were the
police, so he was certain she was perfectly content helping them. Any concern
might be that they were here about a loved one being hurt.

Mendoza held out the photograph, cropped, of the item
they had been instructed to retrieve.

“We’re looking for this item,” he said. “It was
purchased by your husband almost ten years ago at an estate auction in France.”

“He bought this?”

Mendoza nodded, already fearing they might be wasting
their time.

“You haven’t seen it?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“It was part of a lot. There would have been perhaps
another dozen pieces with it.”

She shrugged.

“Antiques were my husband’s interest, not mine. After he
died this household’s interest died with him.”

“So you don’t recognize the item.”

“I’m sorry, no.”

The boy tugged on her shirt and she bent down. He whispered
in his mother’s ear, then she stood upright with a smile on her face.

“Lalo says he has seen what you are looking for,” she
said, tousling the boy’s hair as he buried his shy face in her leg. “Follow me,
I’ll show you where.”

Mendoza looked at Delgado and could sense the struggle Delgado
was undergoing. It was the same one he was battling. The battle to hide their
elation. Could they about to be the first in The Order to see the Catalyst after
all these years? Could their names about to be remembered forever in the history
of The Order? Could the Catalyst have the rumored powers, be the source of the
Lazarus myths, eternal life through some ancient science forgotten to man?

His control cracked as he followed the woman and her son
inside, a smile breaking out. The boy looked over his shoulder at Mendoza and
his eyebrows narrowed. Mendoza immediately wiped the smile off his face,
instead turning his head away to look around the beautiful home filled with
antiques and artifacts from around the world, an eclectic collection whose very
diversity seemed to result in each piece fitting in with every other piece.

It was breathtaking.

They descended a set of stairs into the basement, the
air a welcoming cool, the boy now eager to get to their destination, running
ahead to a door at the end of a short hall. He opened the door and went inside,
holding it open for them. Mendoza followed the mother inside, Delgado behind
him, as the boy rounded a large, dusty desk, jumping in the high back leather
chair that sat behind it, a grin on his face.

“This was his father’s office,” said the mother. “I
haven’t been in here since he died. I apologize for the mess.”

“No need to apologize, ma’am,” said Mendoza. “So, little
man, where is it?”

The boy pointed behind them and as Mendoza turned a
smile spread across his face. On top of a bookshelf filled with tomes perhaps
as ancient as the relic they sought sat the Catalyst, one of five pieces spread
across the top, the dust thick, cobwebs stretching from it to the items around
it.

Mendoza looked at Delgado whose smile was even bigger than
his. Mendoza turned to the mother as he reached behind his back.

“Thank you so much, Señora Ortega, you have no idea how
important a day this is, and how your names shall be remembered throughout
history for the small part you played, and the sacrifice you made.”

“Sacrifice?”

His hand whipped from behind his back, his Beretta
gripped tightly, the safety flicked off. Her eyes bulged as she froze
momentarily then dove toward her son, screaming in horror as she realized what
was about to happen. Mendoza emptied his clip at the diving form, Delgado doing
the same.

It was over in seconds.

Her bloody, twitching body landed on the desk, her blood
mixing with the dust as the boy jumped on the body, trying to cover her, trying
to protect his mother from a resumption of the assault he had just witnessed. Mendoza
stepped over to the boy, looking him the eye as he raised his gun to the youngster's forehead.

“I truly am sorry for this.”

Entering the Vosges Mountains, Alsace Region, France

“These roads are starting to get bad,” commented Mickey as he pushed
forward through the snow, the convoy they were following mere taillights in the
distance. According to the GPS there were no roads for their targets to take,
so Mickey wasn’t worried about losing them, but he did press a little harder on
the accelerator each time they rounded a bend in the winding pass through the
mountains.

It was becoming quite evident this meeting Lacroix was
attending was somewhere very exclusive, very secluded. The towns ahead were few
and far between according to their GPS, and with the roads getting worse,
Mickey was beginning to wonder if the rest of the team would be able to make it
through.