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He squints, narrowing his eyes into slits.
“Uncle Mark promised it to you. Then reneged.”Show empathy, Sophia. “I get it.”
He’s unmovable.
“I was a pawn in an elaborate plan for you to capture the CEO title. What happened to me… that was all,” my gaze travels to the cracked, stained ceiling, “let’s call it collateral damage. The smuggling operation, guns, and drugs… maybe humans… that was a chess piece in someone else’s game. I’ve thought a lot about it.”
His lips shift for the briefest of seconds, offering a glimpse of stained enamel.
“My uncle yielded to shareholder pressure for sales growth. That’s why he did it.” I snap my fingers. “But he wasn’t the orchestra conductor. He participated, sure, but he wasn’t the ringleader. He was one piece on a complex chess board. I want to know who the invisible chess players are. The queen. The king. The rook.”
“Honey, if these invisible men exist, I can promise you, you don’t want to find them.”
CHAPTER1
TWO YEARS LATER
“The lone fisherman returns. You catch any fish?”
“You win the lottery?” Frankie tilts his head back and laughs. He’s a heavy-set man, but the thick coat and scarf around his neck adds girth. A sure sign it’s a chilly day, he’s wearing a dark cable-knit hat instead of his standard New York Yankees ball cap. The man’s lived in Virginia for the better part of two decades, but he’s still faithful to his hometown team.
A newsstand customer approaches him, and I throw a two-finger salute Frankie’s way before pushing open the entrance door to the lobby of my apartment building.
My mail from the last two months fills the thick white plastic bin the United States Postal Service collected it in, so there’s no need to stop at the bank of mail slots.
Back in my apartment, I flick on C-SPAN, set it to mute, and dump the mail. Other than a notification of a change in credit card terms, it’s one hundred percent junk. I dump it all back in the bin for recycling.
The only items in my refrigerator are butter, ketchup, mustard, and electrolyte water bottles. Hardly appetizing. Grocery shopping is a top priority. Thanks to the once-a-month cleaning service, there’s no dust on the counters, and the sink gleams.
After I down a bottle of water, I head to the shower. Hot water pours over me. When I close my eyes, I glimpse the past. The market. The dirt paths. Smiles. The roar of a motorcycle. Gunfire. The stream of blood down the cheekbone and the collapse of knees.
That’s enough of that. I turn the water off, shake my head like a dog, step out, and dry off.
First day back from an extended mission in Mexico, and I’ve got a load of reports to write. Technically, today is a day off, but after I buy food, there’s nothing else on the agenda. Might as well login and get some HQ drivel done.
My cell rings, and the intrusive sound has me staring at the device. I rub the back of my neck, breathe deeply, and answer.
“Hola.”
“Fisher? It’s Bauer. I know it’s your day off, but can you come in? If you’re up for it, I’ve got a quick project. Shouldn’t take long. Week or two tops.”
Outside the double-hung apartment window, a deceptive blue sky shines and tempts like a summer day. Deceptive visuals aside, the bone-numbing February chill forced my morning workout indoors.
I’m due time off, but if the company needs me, I’ll push through. “What time?”
“You had lunch yet?”
“No.”
“Will you pick something up on your way in? I’ll brief you over lunch. One?”
“Sure.”
There’s just enough time for me to drop off laundry, fight any remnant DC traffic, pick up the requested lunch, and meet with my boss.
Ninety-two minutes later, I pass through security without a single nod of recognition. But then again, I’m part of a select crew that spends little time on-site. It’s amusing that the newsstand guy on my block is the only one who acknowledges my absence.
The redheaded woman behind the desk outside Bauer’s office appraises me as I approach.
