The Chess Pieces

by Joshua Landeros

  As much as it would please Kearney to sing an ear-shattering symphony into the man’s ear, he intended to preserve a calm image of himself. He wouldn’t let his own turbulence interfere with his work.

  “It’s quite all right. Just get more champagne and wine out there, please.”

  “Right away, sir, right way.”

  At the snap of a finger, two servers carried out platters topped with fine glasses. Kearney allowed them to exit through the doorway before he, too, entered the living room. It was here the enormous number of guests were being entertained.

  The wooden cathedral-like ceiling was as high as thirty feet in the middle of the large room with a stunning crystalline chandelier for all to gawk at. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the stone fireplace and gave a view of the river close by. Kearney wandered through the crowd of chattering people, one arm behind his back. He met greetings with mere nods and possible conversations with simple excuses of preoccupation. He reached the fireplace and stood close to its golden warmth, staring into the fire.

  “Kearney, I haven’t seen you since Carl and I arrived.”

  The man turned to see Janet Venloran wearing an exuberant dress. The sight was seldom, usually seeing her in one of her businesslike suits, and it caused his processing some back log. Beside her was also another woman of similar age, pale in color but with marvelous blue eyes.

  “Mrs. Venloran, Mrs. Johnson,” he said with a weak smile, “enjoying yourselves?”

  “Well, aren’t we especially formal tonight?” Jessica commented.

  “Jessica’s right. You’ve been running around all night.”

  “Business is business,” he coolly responded.

  “Nonsense, this is a much-needed lifting of spirits and you’re doing the same old thing.”

  Kearney placed a hand in his pocket.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Then you won’t mind taking this,” Jessica offered. Kearney looked at her hand, barely noticing she held two glasses of wine.

  “Go on, I know you,” Janet teased.

  He gave in with little fight, and the moment he did both women raised their glasses.

  “To having a long and prosperous life,” Jessica toasted.

  The three each took a gulp of their drinks, the two ladies downing theirs in an impressive finish. Seeing the half-full glass, Janet laughed.

  “You lost your touch?”

  “Slow and steady, just this one time.”

  “Speaking of which, when are we meeting this fiancé of yours?”

  Kearney took another drink before answering, a nice slow one.

  “He won’t be coming tonight.”

  ***

  Oswald placed his drink on top of the canoe-shaped coffee table, right next to a vase of dried hydrangea. A mixture of blue-violet, they were a splendid sight. He placed one leg over the other as he sat back on the cinnamon-colored futon. Venloran devoured the last of his assorted crackers, also placing his plate on the table. In a matter of seconds, a server swooped by and picked it up.

  “Would you like another helping, sir?”

  “I’ve had more than enough, thank you.”

  The server bowed before departing, leaving the two to themselves. Oswald’s eyes were still on the luscious bouquet, noting how the fragile treasures retained their beauty even in death.

  “This really is a substantial get-together, Venloran,” he commented, “and a hell of a house.”

  “Just a summer home, really. Housekeepers spend more time here than I do.”

  “Still, I’m puzzled as to why you decided to throw this thing.”

  “On the day of our memorial, yes, I’m aware.”

  “There’ve been rumors circulating in the media pools.”

  “Trust me, I already know. I myself vetoed the stories.”

  Oswald knew whatever territory the conversation veered into, his Chancellor would be the one power. But he knew Venloran well enough to know the man never imposed a natural-born “sovereignty” in his arguments. Self-assured as he was, he was still by no means a claimer of omniscience.

  “So, I can only assume that this renegade cyborg is still out there.”

  “And we’re on the hunt as we speak. That attempt to smear the name of this country will not go unpunished. At the same time, people tend to panic easily. There’s nothing worse than citizens who don’t feel safe in their own homes.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s fear the people are feeling right now.”

  “What then?”

  “Personally, I think anger and anxiety. Our Chancellor prevailed in catching most of those prisoners, but critical ones got away. Their faith in the Super Soldier Forces has been shaken. They’re expecting you to lead us through this tribulation as you have many times before. They’d be lost without you.”

  Venloran felt those words hit him, finding himself rather quiet.

  The Major refilled his glass right to the rim, his being more of a goblet in contrast to everyone else’s. The red liquid churned before settling; a deep, dark red. As he hounded some of it down, it occurred to him he was in mid-conversation with a fellow.

  “…and our researchers are working day and night as we speak, so the product will hit the market sooner than you think.”

  It came back to him: a Wall Street smooth talker. The man’s features weren’t important, neither was his suit, but the topic roused Avery. Weapon contracts were always a fascinating tangent. Normally he’d be all ears, but at the moment, Johnson had had his fill of business propositions.

  “Sorry to cut you off like this, but you mind telling me who it is you’re representing again?”

  “Certainly, sir, I’m here on behalf of Leslie Moore, Primetech Industries.”

  “Leslie Moore, huh, the name is definitely familiar…”

  “Yes, you’ve done business with her before. Let me just say that it is an honor for me to be here speaking with you: a member of the UNR Cabinet.”

  “I’m close to the Big Man, that is true.”

  The man was put off by Johnson’s subtle accusation of opportunism.

  “Sir, I—”

  “You must be new, working off the clock to impress your boss with a juicy deal. Allow me to acquaint you with the reality of our relationship.”

  “Yes, sir, absolutely.”

  “Now I’m aware of the size of your company, I am. However tantalizing your deal is, though, no matter how big or small the investment, if we are interested we will come to you. If your work hasn’t popped up on our radar, it’s not because you can surprise us. It’s because we’re not interested.”

  The man looked rather trampled upon. Johnson saw this and added on a more positive note, “At least not yet.”

  Finally undisturbed, Johnson headed for the cedar staircase. As he began to go up the stairs, the pianist finished up a vivacious playing of Wagner’s Ritt der Walküren. Moving from that energetic piece, the man began to play a slower tune. Avery turned in the direction of the music, not quite sure what was playing for a second. It opened bombastically enough for a piano’s keys, but he could not place it.

  He bypassed the loft and entered the dark hallway. He leaned against the wall, his drink in one hand, the other in his pocket. He had a fine-tuned ear for music, so he would not let the mystery defeat him. About three minutes in, the measure slowed down to a more romantic pace, and Johnson felt his felt his mind become an open sea. It had come to him, and he knew why it had baffled him as long as it had.

  The piece dated back to 1950, a century old but not as far back reaching as Mozart or Beethoven. The excerpt was from the ballet Fire of Prometheus, the first part “Prologue” being what he was hearing right now. It was a moving ten-minute piece, and this was just the opening. He knew an old friend of his was a real aficionado of the composer, probably even more so than Johnson himself.

  Despite appearing casual, he was still ever-attentive. He heard the footsteps approaching his direction, an unhurried pace. Whether it
was another mere server or corporation lackey, he straightened himself. He was glad he had.

  “I’ve instructed Mr. Katsaris to play all four acts,” Venloran said as he walked over.

  “Even the finale?”

  “I suppose that makes a total of five more songs, but I’m sure everyone here will appreciate the Ifukube piece in its entirety.”

  “Good show,” commented Johnson.

  Venloran was eyeing the goblet his comrade held. Johnson wondered if there was something there he himself hadn’t noticed.

  “The flight is scheduled around noon just in case you go overboard tonight,” Venloran kidded.

  “How I’m tempted,” Johnson laughed, “but when it comes down to business I want to be at one hundred percent.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s only a simple meeting.”

  “And a very important one at that. You seem to have left that out.”

  “True, but all work and no play makes for a dull life, don’t you think?”

  “Cheers, then…”

  Johnson looked down at his glass for a drink. However, the goblet was home to but a single drop or two. He’d either spilled it coming up the stairs or finished the cup without even realizing it. His hopes leaned toward the first possibility.

  “It’s funny,” he said, “Kane never did like these things. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind missing this one.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Venloran remarked as the conversation grew stale.

  “Well, old pal, Jessica and I will be headed home now. I’ve had enough of the public for one day. You don’t mind if a bottle or two leave with me?”

  Venloran smiled. “Feel free, and travel safely.”

  ***

  Johnson and his beloved walked out arm in arm and rather quickly he dismissed the notion that he'd had too much to drink. His wife wasn’t necessarily drunk, but not far from it. They headed down the steps of the house, Avery holding onto the bag as well as her. A worker saw them approaching the end of the stretch of concrete and quickly motioned over.

  “Major Johnson, sir?”

  “I’ll be on my way, please.”

  “Yes, right away, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Johnson replied, though the servant hardly seemed to notice.

  He was busy heading down the dirt road, sticking close to the trees. The major couldn’t help but feel it was somewhat pointless having the boy walk fifteen minutes into the cold woods on that dirt road just to bring the cars to their owners. After all, he could do it himself, no problem, but he as well as Venloran knew how much it pleased the CEOs and socialites that they come all the way out to a lake house to avoid getting their Louis Vuitton and Norvegese shoes a little scuffled.

  “Damn it…” Jessica said angrily.

  “What is it?”

  She was fumbling through her purse.

  “I think I left my phone inside. I don’t know, maybe the bathroom.”

  “Are you trying to make my day or something?”

  “Really, Avery?”

  The inner kid within Johnson laughed.

  “I’m sorry; you knew you walked right into that one,” he smiled, “but I’ll go get it.”

  “No, no, it’ll be quicker if I go get it. I’ll be just a minute.”

  She leaned in for a kiss on the cheek as if her antics were those of an adorable child. The man felt an aura of déjà vu, and she felt it as well. He planted the kiss she desired.

  “I’ll be right here.”

  She headed back up the steps, just as their Mercedes was arriving. The valet driver handed the keys to the major, and he stepped into the car. Inside, the car was certainly cold, the boy having not even dared touch his heating system. He pressed the activation key on the dashboard mainframe.

  “Usual desired temperature, sir?” the machine asked.

  “Yes.”

  With that a gust of warm air came over him. He placed the bag of bottles in the back seat, the leather cushions making fine pillows. It was as he turned around he noticed the envelope on top of his dashboard.

  It was sealed all right, nothing extravagant about the paper itself, only that it had no addresses on it. No names, no postal codes, nothing. Avery assumed it was a complimentary “thank you for coming” letter, something Kearney was prone to doing on these occasions. He considered tossing it in the back as well, but remembered how worked up the bastard had been all night. Fair’s fair.

  Johnson decided to amuse Kearney by taking what little time it took to open the letter. Once opened, though, his palms began to sweat.

  Chapter 4 - Impartiality

  October 7, 2065 - Annapolis, Maryland

  Avery lay in his bed awake next to his dozing wife. He’d found himself quite amorous upon returning home and his beloved had been more than willing to fall into his clutches. The time that had gone by during it all had sapped nearly all his strength, but it had been worth every drop of sweat. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her breath, and had felt it in both their bodies. Now he clung to her as she lay on her side, his arms wrapped around her perspiring waist. In his exhaustion, however, there was restlessness. He relinquished his grip on her, and for a moment in panic he watched her shift. To his great joy, she did not rise.

  Avery rolled over to stare at his bedside nightstand’s clock. The digital numbers read 1:25. He stared at those numbers for what could have been hours. Jessica didn’t know it, but her husband placed a heartfelt kiss on her cheek before rising from the large bed. On the backboard were their robes, and Avery put his on.

  He walked along his wooden floor without so much a creak, having forgotten how good it felt to stroll on it barefoot. Within his desk drawer, under home-rolled cigarettes, he found what he craved: his trio of BBMF cigars.

  He wasted no time leaving his study, bypassing his kitchen and all the leftover candles from earlier. A few were still burning quite beautifully. He didn’t mind them, though, and stepped out onto his balcony. Normally, he’d at least shut the screen door, but tonight he didn’t bother.

  The night air was somewhat warm, though a passing gust of wind made him glad he’d worn the robe. He couldn’t withstand the urge to take an inhale of its grandeur odor. Using not a lighter but a match, he finally lit the monstrous treasure. He’d been saving these for a different occasion, one that had been denied to him, but he settled. Avery checked his watch: 1:35. Only half-finished with his cigar, he refused to throw it out and brought it in with him. He finally shut the sliding door, walking into his living room again. As smooth as the treat was, he nearly gagged on the smoke for a second.

  “Right on time,” Avery whispered.

  The soldier stood next to the glass coffee table, motionless. The glow of a candle was close to him.

  “I always keep my appointments.”

  “What about Jessica?”

  “Sleeping peacefully.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “She didn’t catch my interest. That would be beneath me.”

  Avery nodded with relief.

  “Can’t say the same for the guards you had surrounding the place.”

  As quick as the relief came, it was gone.

  “I suppose you want some answers before the deed is done.”

  “Only those of sentimental value actually. I’m here solely on the events of the past.”

  “Oh, you don’t want the great Major Johnson to go out as a rat. How thoughtful.”

  “Avery, all I want to know is how you could just go on like it never happened. All the missions we finished and yet not so much as a single word.”

  “There’s not much I can say to that, Will. Your family was an anomaly, yes, but the law could not be molded for the sake of one. Equality in the justice system.”

  Will’s face seemed to twitch at that.

  “Order was maintained, and you believed I was spared my remorse.”

  “When that bomb went off all that time ago, Venloran escaped without a scratch. At the same time, are you aware of how
many civilians were killed in that failed attempt?”

  “I read the record: forty-three.”

  “Those families demanded impartiality on our part. I’m just sorry it had to be you.”

  “Fate’s funny that way.”

  Johnson went over to his kitchen counter, putting out the cigar in an ashtray. He watched the embers glow briefly before they died out.

  “It’s odd,” he said, his back to Will. “I always wondered what it was like to hold a child. We considered adoption, but we both felt it wasn’t the same. How could it be?”

  “You didn’t qualify for childbearing?”

  “We didn’t know we were Tay Sachs carriers. Few weeks into the pregnancy, though, tests confirmed it. After the first one, we gave up. Legality aside, there would be no point.”

  “Not like the major to give up.”

  “Nor you. He’s the last one left, yet you hesitate to ask.”

  “I’m scared of what I might find.”

  “Don’t let fear stop you. You’ve come this far, might as well bring it full circle, Will.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  In the darkness, Avery caught the glimmer of a sword.

  “Luis?”

  “No, Valerie’s.”

  Chapter 5 - The Cherries

  June 11, 2032 – San Bernardino, California

  The small yellow ball rolled amongst the undergrowth like a mischievous and evasive rodent, eventually stopping against the rusted spokes of a lonesome bike wheel. Following close behind was the hunter, peering between a clump of tall weeds as if it were adventurous long grass of the Serengeti.

  The little boy was cautious as he approached, sticking close to the fence next to him. As he treaded closer to it, he kicked up dirt, but it hardly mattered. His playful t-shirt was plenty roughed up, his shorts caked with dust. School clothes or not, nothing stopped him from expelling his energy.

  However, today he’d met his match: the ball seemed plenty fine, but he only now noticed the sparkling silk strung between the wheel’s spokes. It appeared to be freshly spun, though the cavalcade of unfortunate insects within the mess seemed to prove otherwise. Just a Daddy Long Legs…

  “Maurizo, get away from there before you get bit by something.”