Callsign: Queen (Zelda Baker) (Chess Team, #2)

Queen answered her sat phone on the first ring without bothering to check the identity of the caller. She already knew who was on the other end of the line. “I suppose I’m about to learn why my flight has been diverted.”


The plan had been for her to land in Siberia where she would begin her search for Rook. Queen tensed as she thought about Rook, who’d gone missing in Siberia on his last mission. She’d become close to him, closer than a teammate should, but the big lug had worked his way past her defenses and now she found herself unable to focus on much beyond locating him. If she found him alive, he’d have to answer for his silence. If she found him dead...she’d get his body home and bury him properly. His parents and sisters deserved as much. “The last time I checked, the Ukraine was not on the itinerary.”

“Sorry Queen,” Deep Blue replied. “If there was any other way…” A former Army Ranger and United States President, Duncan had resigned his office, but continued to serve as Deep Blue, the guiding force behind Chess Team, a Black Ops Delta squad culled from the ranks of the Joint Special Operations command of the United States military. The team was tasked with the defense of the nation and even the world, against the kinds of threats that most military leaders would refuse to believe even existed. Their call signs were taken from chess: Their leader, Jack Sigler, was “King.” Erik Somers, a mountain of a man, was “Bishop.” Shin Dae-Jung was “Knight,” while Stan Tremblay answered to “Rook.”

Rook… She felt a pinch in the back of her throat at the thought of him missing in action, possibly dead, in Siberia. She forced down the brief flicker of emotion with a shake of her head.

“I know, boss. I know.” She trusted Deep Blue implicitly and while she didn’t appreciate the change in plans, if the team’s resident strategic guru thought there was a good reason to divert her flight, and mission, then she wasn’t about to argue the point.

“Something came up a couple of hours ago.” Deep Blue said. “I know finding Rook is important to you. It’s important to all of us. You’ll be back on his trail in the morning. Scout’s honor. But right now, there’s a job that needs doing, and you just happen to be in the neighborhood. Make that, above the neighborhood.”

“Not anymore,” Queen said as the plane hit the runway and bounced a few times before setting down. “We just touched down.”

“You do know you are supposed to turn off all electronic devices during takeoffs and landings?”

“Right. How often do I fly commercial?” For a myriad of reasons, not the least of which was the United States’ touchy political relations with Russia and the nations in her sphere of influence, it had been decided that Queen would go in quietly and keep a low profile as she conducted her investigation into Rook’s disappearance. She had to admire the fact that, despite no longer being a sitting president, Deep Blue could pull enough strings to divert an international flight on a few hours notice. “On that note, you had a contact lined up for me in Tomsk. How am I supposed to get outfitted? I couldn’t exactly check my MK 23 in my cosmetics bag.”

Deep Blue laughed, a rarity for him over the past several months as he dealt with the end of his presidency and began planning to get the team’s new headquarters up and running. “I’ve made similar arrangements in Kiev. The pickings will be slim, but I am assured your weapon of choice is in stock.”

“My weapon of choice is always with me,” Queen said, looking down at her hand as she flexed it. Queen preferred to get up close and personal with her enemies. Guns came in handy, but her hands never jammed, and they were easier to clean if they got a little blood on them.

When she looked up, Queen noted the old woman sitting across the aisle peeking over the top of her enormous handbag. The woman’s wide eyes bounced back and forth between Queen’s hands and her face. Queen gave the woman a serious look and watched her slowly ducked down behind her bag. The woman no doubt remembered the days of the KGB and knew well enough to keep quiet about such conversations.

“Right,” Deep Blue said. “In case you come across something your hands can’t handle—”

Queen fought a grin. She knew Deep Blue would never say that to her face.

“—pick up anything you think you might need. I’ll handle the tab. The proprietor will equip you and assist you with your exit strategy.”

“Will do.” The plane rolled up to the gate, and confused passengers began whispered conversations, speculating about the reason for the diversion of their flight. “So tell me about this assignment.”