Knight's Game
Contents
First published in Great Britain in year of 2013 by
Quercus Editions Ltd
55 Baker Street
7th Floor, South Block
London
W1U 8EW
Copyright © 2013 CC Gibbs
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The moral right of CC Gibbs to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 78206 293 6
EBOOK ISBN 978 1 78206 294 3
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
You can find this and many other great books at:
www.quercusbooks.co.uk
CC Gibbs was born and lives in the USA.
Knight’s Game
is the second in a trilogy.
ALSO BY CC GIBBS
Knight’s Mistress
CHAPTER 1
Paris, February
Dominic Knight glanced out the car window and half smiled. Even on a grey winter day, even with the cluster-fuck going on in his head, Paris made him feel as though life might be worth living. Of all the cities in the world, only this one offered pleasure with an urbane practicality: suave, cultured, rowdy, risqué, money-making, or money-spending. Whatever got you up in the morning or kept you up at night.
There weren’t a lot of rules of the road here.
Unfortunately, even the
thought
of pleasure suddenly dredged up a flood of treacherous memories, needle sharp, frozen in time, beautiful, and a fresh, raw sense of deprivation twisted his gut. Uttering an almost soundless sigh, Dominic slid down lower on his spine, grim-faced and moody once again. Christ, how the hell long would this misery last?
An amateur when it came to personalizing emotion, he didn’t have a clue.
Which pretty much characterized his entire relationship with Katherine Hart. Right out of MIT, she’d signed on for an IT consulting contract at Knight Enterprises and in a brief two weeks had completely fucked up his life. Prior to Katherine, his relationships with women had fallen into a well-established pattern: you meet a woman, you want her, you screw her, you politely say goodbye.
All perfectly normal.
Then you screw someone like Katherine more or less continuously for a week. That’s seven whole days.
Definitely not normal.
You leave said female.
Back to normal.
But you can’t get her out of your mind. Can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Booze is suddenly your best friend.
That’s where it gets crazy.
That’s where the norm completely goes to hell.
Where the fucking misery quotient spikes into the stratosphere.
‘You’re thinking too much,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Stop thinking about it.
Do
something.’
And
what the fuck
was always a useful game plan.
Tired as hell of debating the issue, he pulled his cell phone from his T-shirt pocket, slid up in the back seat of the black Mercedes and scrolled through his directory. But he hesitated a fraction of a second more because he knew
this call might reopen doors better left closed. A quick breath, a last moment of doubt … then he thumbed the name.
When his contact in London picked up, Dominic said, ‘Nick here. Got a minute?’
‘What the hell do you want?’ The accent was wise-ass Brooklyn.
‘Your wife, but she keeps saying no,’ Dominic answered with a faint smile in his voice.
‘That’s because your track record with women is crap. Where are you?’
‘I’m on my way into Paris from the airport. Just came in from Hong Kong. I need a favour.’
‘Since I owe you a couple of dozen, ask away. Dominic had introduced Justin Parducci to his wife, which was reason enough to help him. But the business deals Dominic had moved through Justin’s investment division at CX Capital had made him a fortune.
‘This is for your ears only,’ Dominic cautioned. ‘I’m not involved in any way.’
‘Christ, did you kill someone?’
‘If I had, I wouldn’t be calling you.’
‘Speaking of which – how’s Max?’
‘Steeped in domestic life in Hong Kong at the moment.’
Justin whistled softly. ‘Who would’ve thought?’
‘You should talk. I hear another one’s on the way. You’re keeping Amanda busy.’
‘She wants four. I have no idea why, but—’
‘You’re willing to help out,’ Dominic said drolly.
‘I’m more than willing. Thanks, by the way, for bringing her over at George’s wedding reception. At the risk of sounding maudlin, we’re over-the-moon happy.’
‘Good to hear,’ Dominic said, keeping his voice neutral with effort, the nihilistic state of his own life oppressive.
‘It’s even better living the dream,’ Justin cheerfully noted, inattentive to the nuances of Dominic’s tone. ‘I’m beginning to think of London as home now that I have a wife and kid and another on the way. How about you? Are you in Paris long or just passing through?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
That
Justin noticed – the terse reply was more than Nick’s usual reserve. Not that he was about to ask for an explanation from a man like Dominic Knight, whose personal life was hermetically sealed. ‘So what can I do for you?’
Dominic explained what he needed: someone who could offer Katherine Hart a consulting contract; someone in IT who was in charge of their own budget and hiring. Someone who could keep their mouth shut. ‘Know anyone like that?’
‘IT’s a little out of my bailiwick. Lemme think …’
‘Ask around if you have to. Give me a call back.’
‘Wait, wait … I think Bill might be your guy. Tight-lipped, indifferent to the herd instinct, accommodating. He’s at CX Capital Singapore, VP of Security now, used to be their head tech guru. He’d be happy to help me for past favours rendered.’
‘Perfect,’ Dominic said. ‘I’ll pay all the expenses: food, lodging, transportation, salary, flowers … she should have fresh flowers in her suite every day. Have your man at CX Capital send the charges to me through you. And Miss Hart is to be paid
well
– not your well, mine,’ Dominic specified. ‘After the recent scandals at CX Capital Singapore, I should think they’d be in the market for someone with her skills anyway. As for a plausible story, have your guy—’
‘Bill McCormick,’ Justin interjected. ‘He’s Boy Scout dependable.’
‘He’d better be. Have McCormick tell Miss Hart that he heard about her from the bankers at Sander Global who were crying in their drinks at the Racket Club. Dominic went on to explain his twenty-million dispute with the bank. How the money had been siphoned from his factory in Bucharest, moved circuitously through hidden wire transfers before finally reaching the Singapore bank. With her expertise, Kate had tracked down the money, and her explanation to the bankers, along with his more potent threats, had seen the money returned. ‘McCormick can name his price for his cooperation; let me know the amount. But McCormick’s pitch has to be convincing. I can’t stress that enough. If Miss Hart finds out I had anything to do with this, I’ll personally cut off your balls.’
‘OK, OK, got it. This babe must be special.’ Since women didn’t count as personal with Nick, the subject was fair game.
‘She’s not just a babe. She’s smart – one of the best
forensic accountants in her field. I want her to make some money.’
‘Whatever you say,’ Justin remarked smoothly, figuring the lady had also been smart enough to play hard to get. ‘Why won’t she take money from you?’
‘Fuck if I know.’
‘Losing your touch, Nick?’
‘Yeah, along with every other fucking thing.’
Holy shit.
If that wasn’t a bottomless pit of sullen. And over a goddamn woman. ‘I’ll get right on it,’ Justin immediately said, thinking he had to give Dominic’s ex-MI-6 ADC, upper class blue blood and all around fixer, Max, a call and get the story on this babe who’d made Nick reconsider his view of women as little more than entertainment. ‘As soon as the set-up’s in place, I’ll get back to you. Quick question. What if she says no to McCormick?’
‘The guy’s not an idiot, is he? See that he makes her an offer she can’t refuse. And keep me posted,’ Dominic said briskly. ‘Daily.’
*
Two days later, Kate’s phone rang. She was lying in bed, her Boston apartment dark with the curtains drawn, the samurai movie she was watching even darker in mood, and when she pulled her cell phone from under the Dunkin Donuts bag and pile of cheeseburger wrappers, she had to squint to see the display. Department of Accounting, MIT? Really? Was she up to being polite when she’d been engaged in a one-person pity party since leaving Hong Kong?
Saner counsel prevailed. She picked up.
The head of the department, no less, was calling with a job offer. He’d been contacted by a banker who was interested in her forensic skills. Could she fly out to Singapore for an interview? Or accept a call?
She’d take a call, although she was immediately suspicious. Puppet master that he was, Dominic was probably involved.
But when she spoke to William McCormick he seemed authentic. He’d heard of her from the bankers at Sander Global in Singapore who were friends of his. The bank had been pissed about having to write off the twenty million, of course, but impressed with her expertise. And CX Capital Singapore needed someone to run a thorough security check on their major investment accounts. Their IT watchdogs had given them a clean bill of health, but after the scandal two weeks ago when access to their accounts had been shut down for an entire day, they wanted a second opinion, particularly on possible inroads into their monetary funds.
After a few probing questions, Kate was ninety-nine percent sure that William McCormick had never met Dominic. Didn’t know him. Other than what he’d heard from his friends at Sander Global.
He mentioned that both Sander Global bankers involved in the scandal had personal security now.
If McCormick was looking for gossip, she was the wrong person to ask. Kate explained that a good deal of the conversation
with the bankers in Singapore had been in Mandarin and had been meaningless to her. And honestly, since she didn’t know what Dominic had said to threaten the men, she couldn’t have told him anyway.
William McCormick went on to offer her a hefty fee for the project. He also said he’d have a first-class ticket emailed to her if she was willing to take on the assignment.
‘May I think about it overnight?’
‘Certainly.’
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ she said politely.
After she hung up, she lay back on her pillows, stared at the ceiling and weighed, digested and reviewed every word of the conversation, trying to decide if there was any possible way Dominic had a hand in the offer.