Callsign: King (Jack Sigler) (Chesspocalypse #1)

He knows. King realized. He went in the cave to rescue Felice; he had to have seen what it did to the others. “It’s not superstition. You know what she’s talking about. You saw what it did to her. They found something in there; some kind of pathogen.”


Moses turned to one of the gunmen and said something in their shared language. Then he addressed King and Felice again. “My friends would like to see what you have discovered. Perhaps you can show us this evil you speak of.”

# # #

King’s hands were bound behind his back. He realized as the knots were cinched tight that he’d probably missed several opportunities to overpower his captors. Moses’ betrayal had caught him completely off guard, but rather than berate himself for his failures, he instead determined to be ready when the next chance presented itself. The four gunmen were not professional soldiers—he could tell that much just by watching their behavior—and while that didn’t necessarily make them any less dangerous, it would give him an advantage when he made his move. Lacking military discipline and reflexes sharpened by training and combat, they would hesitate, perhaps only for a fraction of a second, and that would be all the time he needed. For the moment, however, he did not resist. He needed them to believe that their control was absolute.

Using the powerful electric lanterns from their supplies, the party moved back into the cave. Moses and the four gunmen exchanged a few words in their common tongue, and King used the opportunity to reassure Felice. “Everything is going to be all right,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. “If something happens, just get down and cover up.”

She looked back at him, her eyes full of fear and not as much hope as he would have liked, and nodded slowly.

In the diffuse light from the lanterns, everything looked different. King was awed by the number of elephant skeletons stacked up in the cavern. All African elephants, male and female alike, grew tusks, so the amount of ivory contained in the chamber was beyond comprehension; probably more than the sum total of all that had been harvested from hunting in recorded history. King didn’t know much about the current state of the ivory market; was there even a demand for it anymore?

That might be something to use as leverage against Moses, but King suspected the young idealist was beyond reason. As long as there were guns pointed at him, reasoning with Moses and the others wasn’t high on King’s list of priorities.

After about half an hour of marveling over the sheer scope of the ivory trove, during which time King and Felice were constantly guarded by two gunmen, the group moved back up the passage to the surface. The Ethiopians had not ventured beyond the outer perimeter, and King got the distinct impression that Moses was purposely avoiding the path that led to the shrine of tusks.

King noticed a change in the demeanor of the four armed revolutionaries. They seemed emboldened by their newfound wealth, louder and more aggressive. King also saw a growing look of dismay on Moses's face.

“Problem with your new friends?”

Moses glared back at him angrily. “They are trying to decide whether to hold you and Felice for ransom, or simply execute you.”

“Yeah? What’s your vote?”

“This isn’t what I wanted. There wasn’t supposed to be any violence.”

King laughed humorlessly. “You thought maybe you could free Africa from foreign domination by asking politely?”

Moses winced as if the comment had been a physical blow. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You need to get control of this situation,” King pressed. “Senseless violence is no way to launch your dream of a free Africa. It just confirms what everyone already says; that you are savages.”

The young Ethiopian’s eyes were like daggers. King knew his harsh words had struck the right nerve, but he also knew that they were probably already past the point where Moses might be able to reason with his confederates.

As if to underscore King’s suspicion, one of the men abruptly grabbed Felice’s arm and dragged her away like chattel. King’s muscles bunched, reflexively struggling against his bonds, but as he started after Felice’s abductor, another of the rebels rammed the wooden stock of an AK into his gut. King saw the blow coming and managed to turn his body just enough to avoid serious injury, but the assault doubled him over and put him on his knees.

Moses seemed paralyzed by the sudden violence, but as Felice began struggling in her captor’s grip, he overcame his shock and leapt to her rescue. He got a hand on the man’s shoulder before the rebel who had clubbed King went after him, thrusting him aside disdainfully. The other two rebels cheered their comrade on, covering both Moses and King with their rifles.