Callsign: Deep Blue (Tom Duncan) (Chess Team, #7)

They were at Keasling’s place in Virginia, enjoying another Chess Team barbeque—something that was turning into a regular event. A few team members were absent, but Jack Sigler, callsign: King, the leader of the field team was here. Knight and Bishop were also present, comparing notes on their recent missions in China and Iran, respectively. General Keasling was working the grill like a master chef of the macabre, ensuring that the burgers and hot dogs would be coated in a shell of black. Anna Beck and Matt Carrack were here along with Lewis Aleman and a few of the other support members of the team that hadn’t been with him when Gen Y attacked the base.

Duncan, Carrack and Beck had contacted Keasling on the satellite phone in the tank. The General had made some moves to send some good men to assist with the cleanup. The base was searched from end to end, and the few living salamanders left in the base were exterminated. The eggs were destroyed—even the one in Damien’s backpack, which he’d left in the hangar. And on Duncan’s orders—anything that smelled remotely like a computer component that came from Manifold’s time in the facility was destroyed. They’d already downloaded the sum total of manifold’s data from when they had originally captured the base. He didn’t want any more back doors or remote monitoring to occur in the future.

Now a few weeks later, Duncan eased back in his lawn chair and watched Sigler examine the chessboard on the table between them. Duncan’s pawn was a step away from reaching the 8th rank, which would allow him to promote that piece to a queen, which he’d had to sacrifice earlier in the game. The problem for Sigler was that Duncan’s knight had just put him into check.

“We’re going to need to discuss the Brainstorm situation.” King said, referring his latest solo outing in Arizona.

“Let’s finish the game and eat first. Then on to business,” Duncan looked down at the board. He had King just where he wanted the man. He pointed at the board and said, “It’s a shitty situation son, but you’ve got no move other than to step out of check. You’ve been playing sloppy, Jack. No way my pawn should have gotten that close.”

Sigler, in his customary black Elvis t-shirt and jeans, leaned forward and took a swig from his bottle of Sam Adams, before moving his king out of check. He placed the bottle back on the table by the pieces of Duncan’s he’d captured, and leaned back in his chair, letting his arms fall to his sides, as if in defeat.

Duncan leaned forward in his chair and moved his pawn to the 8th rank. Beck and Carrack stepped over to watch the game. “I’ll take a queen, I do believe.”

Sigler reached under his chair and produced a black lacquered wooden box. “I think I have a better piece for you.” He leaned forward and handed Duncan the box.

“What’s this?”

Sigler just smiled.

Duncan opened the box. Inside, nestled in a velvet-lined cutout was a small black wooden chessman. But it was unlike any chess piece Duncan had ever seen. It stood as tall as the king piece on the set they were playing with, but its head was hand carved to look like an eagle’s head in flight. The tip of the beak was even pointed and sharp to the touch. The whole thing had been hand carved, yet it was perfect in every detail. Duncan looked up and saw the smile on Sigler’s face. Keasling had stepped over with Aleman too. Bishop stood nearby with his normal solemn look, but Knight had a large grin on his face. They were all in on it.

“Thought you’d take all damn day to get that pawn to the back rank,” Sigler said. The admission that King had been throwing the game made Duncan laugh.

“Voluntarily throwing away your position as the president of the United States to lend them the support they need means a lot to them, Tom.” Keasling said.

Sigler grinned from ear to ear. “Plus, we figured that with you taking a more active role in things now, you needed your own symbol. It’s good to have you as a part of the team.”

Tom Duncan, callsign: Deep Blue, looked at the chess piece in his hand and felt a warmth in his throat. It was one of the best presents he had ever received, and as president, he had received gifts on a nearly daily basis. Most of them were status items or things designed to impress. But this small piece of wood wasn’t meant to impress. It was eternal gratitude, inclusion, loyalty and trust all wrapped up into one tiny symbol.

He looked up at everyone and smiled warmly. “It’s good to be a part of the team.”





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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

JEREMY ROBINSON is the author of numerous novels including PULSE, INSTINCT, and THRESHOLD the first three books in his exciting Jack Sigler series, which is also the focus of and expanding series of co-authored novellas deemed the Chesspocalypse. Robinson also known as the #1 Amazon.com horror writer, Jeremy Bishop, author of THE SENTINEL and the controversial novel, TORMENT. His novels have been translated into ten languages. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and three children.

Visit him on the web at JeremyRobinsonOnline.com

Kane Gilmour has visited over 40 countries around the world. When he hasn’t been pounding he keys until his fingers bleed, he has been rock climbing in Arizona, mountain biking in the Midwest, exploring ancient cities in Sri Lanka, hiking in the mountains of Western China, ice-climbing in Scotland, and exploring abandoned buildings in Eastern India. His first action/adventure thriller, RESURRECT, is available now. He currently lives in Vermont with his wife and son.