Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

“If I can get your attention please,” he said to the others. “We’re going to skip the standard pre-flight briefing—”

“Good,” chortled Tremblay. “I think we all know that our seat cushions will do fuck-all in the event of a water landing.”

King nodded, but kept talking. “I do have a couple of administrative announcements that might be of interest to you. As you know, in about ninety minutes, we’ll be invading a sovereign nation—one that would very much like to tangle with us, if only to show the rest of the world that they’ve got the balls for it. If all goes as planned, we’ll do what we need to do and beat feet out of there without anyone being the wiser. But you all know how quickly things can go FUBAR, so we need to be ready for anything.

“Each of you should now have an AN-M14 TH3 incendiary grenade. You have this for one reason only. If you are killed in action, one of your teammates will use it to cremate your remains and completely destroy all your equipment. There can be no evidence whatsoever connecting us and what we are about to do, with the government of the United States of America. Is that clear?”

There was a scattering of somber nods.

“If you are about to be overrun or captured, you will use your incendiary device to ensure that no evidence remains. Do I need to repeat that?”

He didn’t.

“One last thing. We all kind of got thrown together without any preparation; it sucks, I know, but we’re all professionals. The only constant is change, and you either roll with it or get rolled over. Here’s the latest order.” He made a purposeful decision not to look at Parker. “We have a new team designation, and each of you will have a new operational callsign. Tremblay, you will be called ‘Rook.’ Shin, you are now ‘Knight.’ Somers, henceforth, you will be ‘Bishop.’ Baker, you’re ‘Queen.’ I will continue to use the callsign: ‘King.’ And just in case it’s not already clear—Tremblay, pay attention, this is for you—those are all chess pieces.

“Kids, we are now the Chess Team.”





INDIVISIBLE





THIRTY-SIX


Maragheh, Iran



The Chess Team dropped from the sky like avenging angels descending from the heavens, but no one took note of their arrival. They were silent wraiths, moving through the darkness, like their namesake pieces on a game board, maneuvering for maximum strategic effect, preparing and pre-positioning for the battles that would surely come.

Their LZ was just north of the bulbous white temporary structure that had been erected over the ruins of the Maragheh Observatory. Ironically, their ultimate destination also happened to be the best place to land their parachutes, well away from the orchards and vineyards that lined the outskirts of the city. While it was possible that they might have escaped notice in the agricultural fields, it was equally likely that they might spook a dog or do something else to wake up the occupants of the nearby farmhouses.

Working quickly, they established two concealed over-watch positions, each about a hundred yards from the white dome. Dawn was lightening the sky as they finished this task, and they hastily retreated into the camouflaged dugout blinds. King crowded into one with Knight and Bishop, while Queen and Rook took the other.

As the day passed, they studied the exterior of the observatory, following the movements of the archaeologists and researchers who came and went without ever suspecting that there were never less than two gun barrels trained on them at any given time. The observers took careful notes, assigning a number—and in some cases, a nickname—to each person they saw.

King’s greatest fear was that Rainer would show up during the day, when the team didn’t dare move from concealment, but that did not happen. Most of the people who visited the site exhibited a familiarity that could only indicate that they were employed there.

Dusk fell, and activity at the site dwindled to nothing, but the team remained where they were for two hours more. King would have preferred to wait until well after midnight, but time was a critical variable. He keyed his mic. “Queen, meet me at the door.”

“Roger. Moving.”

In the display of his night-vision device, he saw her, a bright human shape rising from the grass like some kind of spirit emerging from out of the ground, but in the near total darkness, she was virtually invisible to the unassisted eye. She stayed low to the ground, but hastened toward the dome.

King also rose from hiding. “Bishop, you’re with me.”