The Circle of Eight by J Robert Kennedy Page B

on the floor at her
side.
    The
sound of sirens and the squelch of tires on pavement distracted everyone, their
accoster rushing for the front doors to prevent anyone from leaving, slamming
shut the doors he had shot open only minutes before.
    “Mommy?”
    She
looked at Jenny and felt the world swim as her grip on Kurt’s pants loosened
and her head, held above the floor through sheer willpower, dropped with a
thud, the world a blurred mass of confusion as she passed out yet again.
     

 
     
    Chesterfield County Airport, Richmond, Virginia
     
    The Cessna Turbo Skylane JTA bounced to a landing, their pilot,
Charlie Wilson, a local “friend” of The Unit, guiding it expertly off the
runway and toward the private terminal. Thor waved from the tarmac, a grim
expression on his face. This wasn’t a reunion, this was business. Personal
business. One of the many unwritten rules in The Unit was ‘don’t mess with a
man’s family’. If Lacroix had killed Stucco, that would have been one thing.
But to kill his family, to kidnap and possibly kill Dawson’s family? That was
personal. The gloves were off, and this would be ended, one way or the other,
off the books.
    Dawson
had every intention of killing Lacroix and whoever had planted the bombs and
even laid a finger on his sister and niece.
    Charlie
brought the plane to a halt near Thor and dropped the engine down to idle, his
orders to immediately return in case any more of the team needed transport.
Dawson and Red climbed down from the plane, Thor walking forward, his hair
still gold, its luster a little dimmer than years ago.
    “Good to
see you, BD, Red. I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said, shaking
both men’s hands then leading them toward a nearby black Ford Expedition. “I
got you the biggest engine I could find just in case you need pursuit
capability. Lots of cargo space, seats up to eight. She’s topped up with gas,
and I took the insurance option, so feel free to beat the shit out of her if
needed.” He tossed Dawson the keys, who flipped them to Red.
    “You
drive; I’m going to be making phone calls.”
    They
both climbed in the SUV, Red firing up the engine and Dawson rolling down his
window.
    “One
more thing,” said Thor, leaning on the truck. “Just as you were landing I got
confirmation that Niner and Jimmy are with that Professor of yours now. They
were able to charter a jet—a little faster than your Cessna.”
    “Thanks
for the update. We’ve got your number if we need anything else.”
    “Don’t
hesitate to call.” He motioned to the rear seat with his chin. “I put together
a care package for you. Now go get your sister.”
    Dawson’s
lips pursed and he nodded.
    “Thanks.”
He turned to Red. “Let’s go.”
    Red
peeled off the tarmac and toward the side road of the airfield as Dawson
punched the location of the crash where his sister and niece were last seen into
the GPS. It had been less than ninety minutes since the crash, his team
efficient to say the least. There had been no word from the Richmond police
since he had left, Detective Lewis merely saying he was on his way to the crash
site to check on Sylvia and Jenny.
    “According
to this we’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” said Dawson, glancing at the
map on the navigation display.
    “Really?”
    “Stop.”
    Red hit
the brakes and Dawson opened his door, stepping out onto the running board,
pushing himself to his feet as he looked about the airport. Red did the same.
    “What’s
on your mind, BD?”
    “I’m
thinking they were headed here.”
    Thor
pulled up in his Honda Civic, his wife in the passenger seat.
    “What’s
up, BD?”
    “I think
they may have been on their way here,” he said. Dawson scanned the tarmac
filled with a mix of Cessna’s and other similarly sized airplanes—one stood
out.
    A Bombardier
Learjet 45 XR.
    “Any
idea who owns that?” asked Dawson.
    Thor
took a look and shook his head.
    “No, but
it’s not unusual to