The Circle of Eight (8 page)

George
had had to lead her out of the dealership before she started throwing things.

“Argh! That
stupid car!
”

She
opened the fridge and pulled out the casserole she had prepared the night
before during a few minutes of lucidity.

“Sis,
it’s me, Burt. You there? Pick up if you are, it’s important.”

Sylvia
paused.
Burt? He never calls during the day.
Her thoughts immediately
went to her mom and dad.
Something’s happened!

“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 you are. This is urgent, Sis, it’s
important. Please don’t ignore it. Love you.”

The
casserole was forgotten in her hand. Sylvia simply stood, frozen, as she
repeated the message in her head. Her brother wasn’t a practical joker, not in
his business. She knew he was army, in logistics, but with the amount of times
she had called him where he wasn’t home for extended periods, and the fact he
was stationed at Fort Bragg, she had put two and two together years ago.

He was
Delta Force.

She had
confronted him on it once and he had denied it.

“I
wish!” was his response.

Yeah,
right!

She knew
from the look he had given her when she pushed him that she was right, and when
she mentioned it to her husband that night, he had told her to back off.

“The less
we know the better. It’s for his protection, and ours.”

She put
the casserole down on the counter, left the kitchen and went into George’s
study. She pulled a hinged painting from the wall, keyed in the security code
of the safe, and removed a Glock 22 then loaded a clip, stuffing
another in her pocket.

Her
hands shaking, she headed for the stairs, for the first time noticing that Jenny
wasn’t making any noise, which was rare for her.

Please,
Lord, let her be okay. Please let this be Burt just being paranoid.

But she
knew the truth. Burt had
never
called her with something like this
during his entire career, never even said a word about being careful. This was
an out-and-out warning, and as she climbed each step, wincing with each creak
of the wood, the gun grasped in front of her, ready to blow away anything that
came around the corner, she realized she had to calm down. Her heart was
slamming so hard and so fast that she couldn’t keep her hands steady, and could
barely focus.

And if Jenny
were to come around the corner, she’d blow her away by accident, she was so
wired.

She
dropped her hands, the gun now at her side, slightly behind her in the hopes
her brain would have the time to recognize her daughter before she could raise
the weapon to shoot.

The
final step.

She
looked to her right, down the hallway toward Jenny’s room but saw nothing. Her
door was closed, which was unusual. The rule was the door stayed open. She
heard a whimper to her left and spun.

Then
nearly vomited.

A man in
a black suit was standing in the hallway, Jenny beside him, her face red, tears
streaking her cheeks, the man’s hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her back
as she tried to run to her mother.

“Mrs.
Dawson. Let me tell you why I’m here. Your brother—”

She
didn’t care. She raised the weapon, single handed, took a quick bead on his
chest, the laser sighting making it dead easy as the red dot bounced on the
man’s crisp white shirt, her hands still shaking.

She
didn’t see his eyes bulge as she squeezed the trigger twice. He fell backward,
two fresh red stains rapidly expanding from his chest as he hit the floor, his
hand letting go of Jenny, the little girl racing toward her mother the moment
the hand gripping her had fallen away.

“Mommy,
look out!” she cried before she reached her.

Sylvia
spun around, squeezing off round after round before even seeing her target,
another suit coming out of Jenny’s room. Her last shot caught the man in the
shoulder, sending him spinning to the floor.

Picking
up Jenny, she raced down the stairs, grabbed her purse off the console table
and rushed out the door toward her car. She pulled the fob out of her purse,
unlocked the doors, and pushed Jenny into the backseat, slamming the door
behind her.

She
climbed in the driver’s seat, jamming the keys in the ignition and started the
car as she closed the door. She began to back out when Jenny’s face blocked the
rearview mirror.

“But,
Mommy, you forgot to strap me in!”

“Do it
yourself please, you know how. We need to get out of here now,” she replied,
trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

“But,
Mommy!”

“Jenny,
just do it!” she yelled, immediately regretting it as Jenny began to bawl. Her
head disappeared as she climbed over to the booster seat, Sylvia revving the
engine and backing out of the driveway, cranking the wheel to the left, then
putting it in drive and flooring it, praying her tires would hold out. She
checked her rearview mirror and could see Jenny buckling herself into her seat,
still sniffling.

“That’s
good, baby. Just as good as Mommy or Daddy could do!”

Her
voice was shaking, but Jenny didn’t seem to notice, instead beaming in pride at
her successful attempt. As Sheila’s eyes shifted from Jenny to the road ahead,
she saw something in the rearview mirror.

The man
she had shot stumbling toward a black SUV parked on the road, its passenger
door already open.

God
please help us!

The Unit, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

Dawson gave his Godson Bryson Belme a hug, then pushed him toward
the other children who were now playing outside, the families safely moved onto
the base, a squad of military police surrounding the area for additional
security. He turned to Bryson’s father, and Dawson’s best friend, Mike “Red”
Belme.

“He
seems to be handling it well.”

“He’s
got no idea what’s going on. Shirley on the other hand is a mess, but is hiding
it well.”

“She’s a
brave woman. She’ll be fine.”

Dawson’s
phone rang and he grabbed it, looking at the call display.

His
heart leapt as he took the call.

“Sis,
are you okay?”

“No! Oh
God no! There were two men in the house, they had Jenny! Oh God, you’ve gotta
help us!”

“Where
are you?” asked Dawson as he motioned for Red to follow him.

“I shot
one of them! Oh God, I don’t know how you do it! I shot one of them! I killed
him! And I shot the other one too but he didn’t die.”

“Are you
out of the house?” asked Dawson as he sprinted toward the Op Center. Red pulled
his pass out and ran ahead of Dawson, clearing a path for them, occasionally
none too gently.

“Yes!
We’re in my car, but they’re following us!”

Red slid
his card through the security scanner and the door beeped, Red pulling it open. Dawson ran inside, followed by his friend.

“Trace
this call!” yelled Red, pointing at Dawson’s phone, shouting the number to the
room of techs manning terminals. The Ops Center Chief, Sarah Michaels, pointed
to one of the techs.

“You
take it.” She turned to Red and Dawson. “We’re in the middle of an op, Alpha
Team. What do you need?”

“Do you
know where the nearest police station is?” Dawson asked his sister.

“Yeah,
yeah, I think so. I’m not sure.”

“Okay,
head there now, but leave this call connected, okay?”

“Yes. Oh
God, Burt, what have you done? Why are they after us?”

“Don’t
worry about that now, just let me do my job.” He turned to Michaels. “I need
this call traced, then geo tracked so we can get her to a police station. My
sister is being chased by the same people responsible for Stucco’s death.”

Michaels
nodded, pressing a button on the control panel in front of her.

“This is
the Ops Center Chief. Send in the secondary team, I need more resources.” She
pressed another button. “Colonel Clancy to the Ops Center.”

She
turned to Dawson and pointed to the tech she had assigned.

“He will
assist you. Anything you need.”

Dawson
nodded in appreciation as he and Red took up positions over either shoulder of
the tech. On the screen they could see a map rapidly drilling down until it
reached street level, a red dot indicating his sister’s car.

“Put up
the nearest police stations.”

A flurry
of keystrokes, and several police stations, all several miles away, appeared.

“Map the
closest based on current traffic.”

More
keystrokes then a blue line appeared and a set of instructions appeared on the
side of the screen.

“Sis,
you still there?”

“Yes!
Yes Goddammit! Where the hell would I have gone?”

He knew
telling her to calm down would set her off even more, so he chose to ignore it.

“Take
your next right at the intersection, okay? If you have to go through the red or
take the sidewalk, you do it. Just make sure you don’t get hit by any oncoming
traffic, okay?”

“Okay.”
There was a pause. “Oh God, they found us!”

There
was a crashing sound and the call went dead.

Hull Street, Richmond, Virginia

Sylvia Dawson-Biggs screamed as the SUV slammed into the back of her
car, throwing her body back into her seat, then forward, the only thing saving
her from slamming into the steering wheel her seatbelt. Jenny was screaming,
but she didn’t have time to comfort her as she looked in the rearview mirror to
see doors open on either side of the dark black vehicle, it huge compared to
her Mercedes C300.

Two men
were now approaching, one on either side. A small group of onlookers had
gathered on the sidewalk, lookie-loos who delighted in other’s misery. She
looked for the phone. It had flown out of her hand and was nowhere to be seen.
She grabbed her purse and felt the gun inside as there was a tap at the window.
An ID was being shown to her.

FBI?
Were these the same people from earlier? Was it the same vehicle?

“Thank
God!” she exclaimed, deciding it couldn’t be, pushing the button to roll down
her window. “You’ve got to help me. Two men tried to kill me and my daughter
earlier.”

“We’re
aware of what happened, ma’am.”

“Did my
brother send you?”

“Yes he
did, ma’am. If you’ll come with us, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Of
course, yes, of course!” she cried, joy and relief spreading through her as the
adrenaline high she had been on began to slowly subside. Her happiness seemed
to extend to Jenny who smiled at her and handed over the phone Sylvia had
dropped in the crash.

It rang.

She
answered it as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“Hello?”

“Sis,
are you okay.”

“Oh
thank God, yes. It was the FBI. They’re here now!”

“What
was the FBI?”

“That
hit us from behind,” she replied, then paused. “You know, you sent them.”

“Sis,
listen to me very carefully. Is the car still running?”

“Yes.”

“Then I
want you to put the phone down, put the car in gear, and get the hell out of
there. Take the sidewalk if you have to!”

“Why?”
she asked, her voice quavering as her fear began to build again.

“Because
I didn’t send any FBI to help you, and FBI don’t ram the vehicles of the people
they’re trying to help.”

The
phone dropped from her ear and between the seats. She reached for the gearshift
when she felt a hand on her left shoulder. She yelped, reached over for her
purse and pulled the gun as the man on the passenger side pulled his. She
raised the weapon, the loop of her purse draped over the barrel, and squeezed
the trigger. The man flew backward, a new hole in his stomach as those gathered
screamed, rushing in every direction but hers.

The hand
on her shoulder slid up to her neck and squeezed. She swung the gun around but
he grabbed the barrel, deflecting the weapon, his grip too strong for her to
break. She let go of the gun and put the car in gear, hammering on the gas. The
grip on her neck broke and several shots were fired, her rear windshield
bursting as the glass was taken out.

A car in
front of her blocked her way and she cranked the steering wheel to the right,
hopped the curb, and raced down the sidewalk just as her brother had told her
to do, all the while laying on the horn, pedestrians scrambling to get out of
the way. She burst onto the road again and turned right, rushing toward the
police station she knew was only two blocks away.

The
phone rang but she couldn’t reach it. Remembering the Bluetooth in the car, she
hit the button on her steering wheel.

“Hello?”

“Sis,
what’s going on?”

“I shot
another one, Burt. The other one got my gun. I did like you said and drove on
the sidewalk. I don’t see them anymore!”

“Okay.
Just keep driving straight and you’ll be at the police station. We’ve already
called ahead. They’re expecting you. Just stop in front of the station, get out
of your car, and go inside, okay?”

“Okay, I
see it. I see it!” she cried, the police station parking lot coming into view
as she caught a green light on the final intersection. She screeched into the
parking lot then hammered on her brakes as her ABS brought her to a shuddering
halt. Turning off the vehicle, she jumped out of the car.

“Help
us! Please help us!” she screamed as she opened the back door, unbuckling Jenny
and pulling her into her arms. She rounded the back of her car and rushed
toward the steps as several officers ran toward her.