Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

His first shot caught the frankenstein full in the chest, the .50 caliber round staggering the creature back like a battering ram. For most living things, it would have been a lethal shot—it probably was for the chemical-crazed frankenstein as well, but Rook didn’t take chances. He fought the massive pistol’s recoil with a two-handed grip, brought it level and fired again. This time, there was no uncertainty about the outcome; the bullet tore off the top of the abomination’s skull.

King swung his barrel back toward Rainer, but the rogue Delta commander and his men were zigzagging back into the tree line, returning fire blindly to cover their escape. King got off a few shots before the running men disappeared into the boughs.

“Rook, Queen, go after them.”

King wanted to give chase as well—hunt the rabid Rainer down and personally put him out of everyone’s misery once and for all—but first he had to make sure that Parker and Sasha were okay. He had used them, dangled them in front of Rainer like bait, played them like pawns in his own private chess game, and even though everything seemed to have gone according to plan, if anything happened to them, it would be on his head.

He keyed his microphone. “Irish, this is King. I’m coming to you.”

Parker had known the risks. When he’d come to King in Turkey and asked for permission to take Sasha on some kind of treasure hunt, King had seized on it as an opportunity not only to lure Rainer into the open but also perhaps to smoke out any security leaks at CIA and JSOC. Nevertheless, he had been forthright with respect to the dangers he and Sasha would be facing.

“It will have to look absolutely real,” he had told Parker. “You’ll be unarmed, no support, the CIA will be hunting for you. We’ll try to stay one step ahead of you, but if Rainer makes his move and we’re not ready...”

Parker had obviously been concerned about putting Sasha at risk, but he understood what was at stake. “Make sure that doesn’t happen.”

It had been a close thing, but the plan had worked. Thanks to Parker’s stealthy radio calls, the team had finally gotten ahead of Rainer and been waiting to spring the trap. Now King just had to make sure that Parker and Sasha were okay.

“Danno!”

Parker raised his head just a little, mindful of the fact that bullets were still flying not far away. “Cut it pretty close, Jack.”

King breathed a sigh of relief. Sasha looked a little freaked out—when didn’t she?—but both were unhurt.

“Come on. Let’s get you guys out of here.”

Sasha’s head came up. Her gaze flitted between the men for a moment, then her eyes locked on Parker. “This was a setup?”

Parker gave a heavy sigh. “Sasha, I’m so sorry. We had to flush Rainer out. It was the only way.”

She kept staring at him with such intensity that King feared his friend might melt, figuratively at least, from the rage she was putting out. He wondered if this was a risk Parker had considered when he’d agreed to the plan.

Sasha abruptly dropped her gaze and looked around furtively. Then, moving quicker than King had ever seen her move, she grabbed her computer and hurled herself toward the looming rock wall…

And vanished.

King’s mind refused to accept what he had just seen.

Parker however reacted instantly. “Sasha!”

He too bolted right at the wall, and this time, King knew that his eyes had not deceived him. Parker had not ducked behind a bush or slipped into an unseen crevice in the cliff face. He reached the wall and kept right on going, as if it were no more substantial than smoke.

Disbelief hit King like a physical blow, leaving him numb all over.

You saw what you saw, he told himself. It’s a trick—smoke and mirrors—nothing more.

But if it was a trick, it was a damned good one.

“Okay, Danno,” he said. “How’d you do that?”

He took a step toward the place where the others had disappeared. He extended a hand. Where he expected to feel solid rock beneath his fingertips, he felt only the barest of resistance, like the push of air from an electric fan.

“Smoke and mirrors, my ass,” he muttered, and with a deep breath to fortify his courage, King took another step forward.





FIFTY-ONE


Rook saw movement in the trees and followed it with the business end of his XM8. The Desert Eagles were great for putting down those inhuman freakshows but not very accurate past about thirty meters.

The right tool for the right job, as Grandpa Tremblay always used to say.

A head appeared from behind a trunk—one of the rogue Night Stalkers—and Rook squeezed the trigger.

“That was for Houston, motherfucker,” he muttered as the distant figure slumped to the ground. He searched for another target but saw nothing.

“Let’s go!” Queen urged.

Rook gave a terse nod. There were still two more debts to collect on the balance sheet for Alpha team. Rainer owed a lot of other men for the pain he’d caused, but unfortunately, they would be able to kill him only once.

They crept into the woods, moving quickly but cautiously, and emerged at the edge of a small vineyard. Rook glimpsed movement in the rows of vines, but the running figure stayed low, depriving him of a target.

Rook stared at the perfectly straight parallel rows of vines, seeing them for the trap they were. “We go in there, and we’ll be easy pickings.”