by S. C. Abbey
Our game isn’t over.
He folded his arms and stood still, closing his eyes to keep focus.
Our game isn’t over…
Chapter 53
IT WAS TWO years ago when he last saw Louis. Harvey had just arrived back in New York from Oslo, from the Nobel Prize ceremony he’d attended along with Bertram. Bertram had scooted away the moment they were home, claiming he had some business to settle and would be back in a couple of days. A short while after he had left the house, the doorbell rang and Harvey thought that perhaps Bertram had forgotten his keys or something. However, he was surprised when he found Louis speaking into the intercom system instead.
“Let me in, will ya,” Louis said. Harvey was standing at the door when Louis approached in his McLaren.
“You’ve got to show me that medal,” he shouted from the driveway as he exited the car. “Do they really cast it in gold?”
“Would you take it off my hands? I’ll let it go at a fair price.” Harvey chuckled.
“I expect your hospitality when I’m in town.”
“It’s given.”
They had then retreated to the Glasshouse, a glass-enclosed patio at the back of the house, as the weather was warm and pleasant, and it was time for tea. A chessboard was set up at the concrete dining table, where they absentmindedly started a game while locked in conversation. Louis sipped his over-sweetened tea with too much milk.
“Ah—” he sighed in content, “now I know why you don’t plan to move out of this place.” He lifted his feet and placed them on the bench. “But seriously, you’re like what, past thirty? You should have a place of your own, man. This isn’t cool.”
“Look at this place, Louis,” Harvey said, “it’s so huge I hardly see Bertram! Besides, I do plan to move out, I’ve just been procrastinating for years, that’s all—”
Louis eyed Harvey suspiciously. “But why New York City? I mean Columbia’s great, but—”
“It’s home,” said Harvey, staring at the chessboard, “I grew up here.”
“It’s too urbanized for me. I prefer somewhere rural, less crowded.”
“Don’t forget, you grew up here as well. Bishop to G7.”
“Just half my childhood, I consider myself only half a New Yorker.” Louis added more milk to his tea, causing Harvey to frown at the concoction. “Have you ever thought of heading back to Britain, where you were born?”
Harvey shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me there.”
Louis gave a slow nod and a side glance. “Where’s Bertram by the way?”
“He just zipped off to D.C, didn’t you see him on your way in?”
“Oh, what for?”
“Who knows? He’s pretty free these days, enjoying his retirement—not that he needed to work in the first place. He mentioned some consulting work on an ad hoc basis.” Harvey looked up but his eyes weren't focusing. He then shrugged after a while. “He’ll be back in a couple days.”
“Consulting? Private?” Louis shifted his pawn. “Careful, dude, I have this game in the bag.”
“Government, I heard, not sure what—rook to G7.”
“Got you! Check!”
Harvey smiled at the chessboard. “Looks like we have to call it a draw, King to G7. Oh well, it’s just two Kings left. Not that it’s a fair game since you’re white. Next time, I’ll go first, then you—” Louis had cracked such a wide smile…
HARVEY OPENED HIS eyes and he was back in the dark, abandoned shipyard. He narrowed them and peered up. It was at that moment when he experienced the full emotion of losing his best buddy. Growing up wasn’t easy for Harvey, especially when one had a strange accent. He had since lost the accent, but the nasty memories of being that one foreign nerd everybody chose to pick on would probably stick with him for life. Louis was one of the very few who was weird enough to be stuck with him, and that made going through high school so much easier.
Harvey sighed as he turned and strolled back to his companions. Katie and Rachel were speaking, while Spector was busy studying every nook and cranny of his gun. Their eyes all fell on Harvey as he approached Rachel.
“The case,” he said.
Next time, I’ll go first…
Rachel handed it to him. He held the case with his left hand while he adjusted the combination with his right. “G-7—”
…then you—
“E-5.” He squeezed the catch and the lid popped open.
Rachel and Katie stared at Harvey. “You managed to open it,” muttered Rachel.
“Jesus, it’s opened!” said Katie a little louder. “How did you figure it out?”
“The very last chess game we played, it was a drawn game. The combination was the final positions of our Kings.”
“You can remember them?” said Katie in a surprised tone.
“It was only two years ago…I have a rather good memory,” said Harvey.
“So did Louis,” said Rachel, “he could always remember the minutest details—”
Harvey lifted the lid and reached in to grab a glass vial. He took out the pinkish purple tube—one of six that lay within the case.
“So, this is what everybody’s after,” commented Katie.
“This is what Louis got killed for,” said Harvey. He lifted it a little higher where the light caught it.
Thud!
Harvey quickly lowered the vial, surprised by the sound. They turned to face where Martin stood earlier, only to find him lying on the floor, unconscious. Spector, in his signature smirk, had his gun pointed at them.
“Good job, Harvey. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it off your hands now…”
Chapter 54
“DAD!” CRIED HARVEY. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, my boy, I—”
Katie took the chance to draw her pistol and point it at Spector, who in turn directed his aim at her.
“I have to take this back to Britain,” announced Spector. “If OUBO has really created the weapon they said they did, we have to find a way to reverse-engineer the compound to produce an antidote—”
“I don’t disagree with you, Mr. Spector,” replied Katie, tightening her grip on the gun. “But shouldn’t something so detrimental be left in the hands of a more neutral party, such as Interpol, instead of a single nation? I say let us handle this.”
“And it would be buried in bureaucracy so deep, it will never see the light of day,” rebutted Spector. “Besides, you’re American. I wouldn’t consider you absolutely impartial—”
“You can count on me to—”
“That’s enough! The both of you!” Harvey took a step forward, standing between Katie and his father. “If any of you wish to shoot anyone, that bullet will have to go through me! Otherwise put down your guns!”
Spector could see Harvey’s knuckles white from gripping too hard but didn’t lower his gun. He knew this would probably not go down well for him, no matter whether he got the vials or not. Both ways, he’d lose.
“Katie? Dad?”
Sigh. Spector lowered his aim but kept eye contact with the Interpol agent. Katie took a few seconds longer, but eventually, she reciprocated.
“For God’s sake, the both of you. No more guns till we have a solution we can agree on, okay?” admonished Harvey. “I say we send this to the World Health Organization.”
“What?” cried Spector and Katie in unison.
“That’s the most logical solution.” Harvey blinked innocently.
“Send this to Geneva?” said Katie.
“Hell no!” exclaimed Spector.
“Why not—?”
“You got to be kidding me!”
“That’s the worst idea ever—”
“I think it’s brilliant!”
“You might as well hand it to the Russians—”
“What have the Russians got to do with this—?”
Tap tap—
By the time Spector had h
eard the footsteps and raised his gun, it was too late.
“That shit isn’t going anywhere with you,” said a man’s voice, forcing a gun barrel against the back of Katie’s head. “It’s coming with me.”
“Katie!” Harvey held his hand out. Katie gazed at Harvey with a scowl but didn’t dare move a muscle.
Not again—
“It’s you,” said Spector in an intentionally annoyed tone.
Maksim stepped a little closer to Katie’s back, allowing his face to be caught by the light.
“Who the hell is that?” said Harvey in an exasperated manner.
“The man who attacked me in the motel room, and the one who killed Delphina,” revealed Spector.
Katie’s eyes grew wide while Maksim snorted. “I believe it was you who sneaked up on me at that rundown piece of shit—”
“Where you killed Louis Tanner,” continued Spector. “Am I right?”
Rachel seemed to come alive at the recognition of the accusation. “You killed my brother?” She began to lunge forward but was stopped in her tracks by Harvey. “YOU MONSTER—!”
Maksim emphasized his gun by pushing the barrel against the back of Katie’s head once more, causing her head to jerk forward. “Tanner was already dead when I got there,” he said to Rachel, before facing Spector again. “You tug too many useless people around. Who’re you?”
“Spector, MI6.” Spector didn’t see the need to keep that from a man he was about to kill.
“The Senior Citizen Faction?” he chuckled. “I’m Maksim Trzebuchowska.”
“I don’t need to know a dead man’s name,” replied Spector. “Your accent—are you a Russian spy?”
“I’m Polish, you idiot.”
“Cool. I didn’t know the Russians employed Polish agents—”
“Go on, one more snarky remark from that smart gap of yours and she dies.”
Spector caught Katie’s eyes and gave her a small nod. Katie’s eyes narrowed as Spector maintained eye contact with her. She soon returned the nod.
“Did you come here to get your ass whipped like a kid again?” she said.
“What?!” Maksim said.
Good—
“You heard me. Last I heard, that old man over there kicked your butt—”
A little more—
“For the record, I’m really not that old—”
“Shut up!” said Maksim.
Spector smirked and thought, now one last hit—
“So you chose to sneak behind a lady and shoot her from the back? Bravo, tough guy—” continued Katie.
Maksim’s increasingly loud breathing reflected his state of mind.
Perfect—
“Fight me,” declared Spector.
Maksim’s eyes narrowed.
Come on—
“I said fight me like a man,” taunted Spector, lowering his pistol.
Maksim continued to stare at him. Just when Spector thought his plan might fail, the Polish assassin lowered his weapon and shoved Katie forward. Harvey rushed to wrap his arms around the Interpol agent.
Spector lazily holstered his gun and stood in a wide stance, squeezing his shoulders back, all the while staring at Maksim with a look of nonchalance. Maksim holstered his weapon, but drew a long knife, and stood in a tensed boxing stance.
Spector smiled. “Ready to die?” He drew his favorite serrated blade and lunged into action. He quickly reached a couple of feet away from Maksim and swung the blade in a forward-grip toward his face. Maksim deflected the blow easily with the back of his knife and countered with a forward stab. Spector leaped back and twisted his hips, driving his feet into the other man’s ribcage. Maksim brought his elbow down just in time to hit the boot away before finding Spector too close for comfort—he lifted a foot in a forward thrust, forcing the man to back off.
But Spector wasn’t done with him. He immediately closed the gap again, this time aiming for Maksim’s neck, but didn’t expect the left fist to come so quickly at him. He waved his blade arm outward, his forearm colliding with the larger man’s wrist. It was a mistake. Maksim’s knife came below in a horizontal slash. Spector retracted his midsection as fast as he could.
Spector looked up to find Maksim snickering. He then peered down to find the front folds of his blazer slashed. He applied pressure on the damage and found some blood seeping through his shirt. It wasn’t deep enough to hurt, just deep enough to piss him off. He raised his head.
“This was a new suit,” he said in a glare. “Now I’m going to have to make you beg to be killed.”
Maksim didn’t reply. He simply flexed the fingers holding onto the knife and waited.
Spector changed to a reverse-grip and sprang forward again. He went low but flicked his blade at the last minute to kiss Maksim’s wrist, which had shot out to stop his. Maksim’s knife slipped from his fingers. Spector continued forward, diving lower into a kneeling stance by the side of the man, bringing his blade across the side of his thighs, drawing blood. He then spun and continued the motion around the back of Maksim’s knees—completing the semicircle arc around Maksim. Maksim fell to his knees and then rolled on the ground as Spector stood.
Spector could hear Harvey sigh when he approached them. His expression was still serious but was quickly replaced by the jester’s mask he always had on. “That wasn’t too bad—”
Maksim slowly pushed himself off the ground as he reached for his blade on the floor. He struggled upon his feet.
“Dad! Behind you!” cried Harvey.
Spector spun and threw his blade at the large man. It hit his chest, the blade buried halfway in. Maksim fell to his knees for the second time, his eyes wide in terror. But this time, he no longer got up again.
“Tough bastard,” claimed Spector. “Not many can still stand after a severed tendon.” He took a minute to catch his breath. Spector then walked to Harvey and dug his hand into the metallic case, coming up with all six vials. “Hmm—what are we going to do with these now?” He gently rolled them in his palm, before an unfamiliar voice made itself known.
“Drop them!”
Chapter 55
LINARD AND MICHEL stood to face them, with their guns pointed squarely at Harvey and Katie. But the voice didn’t come from either of them. It came from the man who was standing between them, pointing his weapon at Spector.
“‘And when the almighty Zeus conjured a flood to destroy all of humanity, Prometheus warned the fruit of his loins, Deucalion, about the coming calamity, and advised him to build a large boat,’” said the man in the middle. “Familiar tale, isn’t it—the story of Pandora’s Box. And just like Pandora, Tanner should have never placed his hands on that box.” The man smirked. “You know, you should have believed our Russian friend. He was telling the truth.”
Harvey stared at the men. He recognized Linard and his partner from the news, but not the third man. But he thought he had a good idea who he was.
“He’s Polish, you idiot,” said Spector. “Weren’t you listening?”
The man just laughed.
“Who the hell are you?” said Katie.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it,” said Harvey. “He’s Agent Ambrose Contos.”
“And you must be the professor I’ve heard all about—Professor Nolan?” said Agent Contos. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Cut the crap, what is it you want?”
Contos pointed at the vials Spector held. “Why do people always ask the obvious—?”
“You were the one I saw from the dead alley,” said Spector. “Where have you been? A vacation?”
“I’ve been hiding in the shadows.”
“Why?” asked Harvey.
“Because I wanted to surface only after the vials appeared—too many people, too many eyes and ears.”
“How did you end up losing the box in the first place?” asked Katie.
“I didn’t lose it! Louis Tanner stole it from me!” Contos
gritted his teeth.
“What? You let a spoilt American trust fund kid steal from you?” Spector chuckled. “You guys are worse than I’d imagined.”
“He drugged me,” growled Contos. “He somehow managed to find out that I frequented Pixi Palace and got someone there to slip something in my drink. That bastard then took my cell phone and texted Damalitis Panayiotis to move the meeting to an earlier time—at which he impersonated me and stole the box. He covered his tracks well. By the time I had found out, he’d already removed the contents.”
“Pixi Palace? Isn’t that the strip club Delphina—” said Katie.
Harvey nodded. “Panayiotis didn’t know—”
“Panayiotis was a moron who didn’t even bother verifying his contact’s identity when Tanner used his own cell phone to call him. I couldn’t care to approach him after, since he was of no more use to me—”
“Maksim Trzebuchowska didn’t kill Louis,” said Harvey, his knuckles white from the tight grip. “You did!”
“That’s hardly a surprise—”
“You asshole—” Harvey began to stomp forward.
“Move,” Contos tilted his gun up and down, “and I’ll shoot.”
Harvey stopped in his tracks.
“All this still doesn’t explain how Tanner knew about the deal,” interrupted Spector.
“And I don’t give a shit about that anymore,” snapped Contos. “Now drop the vials, I won’t say it again.”
Spector took a slow step back but raised his hands. He then shifted his attention to the other two men. “Mr. Linard, right? And you must be…?”
“Michel.”
“Of course you are, nice to meet you, Spector here. Just wondering, I’m assuming you boys know what’s in these vials?”
The men each gave a slight nod.
“Good. Then be reasonable and run along—take your crazy friend with you, Britain doesn’t have a quarrel with Greece—”