The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (35 page)

Jack studied Wells. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Wells. I believe you...”

Did he feel bad for betraying them? In truth, maybe a little. You don’t spend years with someone and not gain some sort of attachment. But in the end, it
was
just a job, and he had gotten a better offer. And if he were a gambling man, he would place his bets with Tony Calzone and Scorcher. He could feel the reins of power slipping from Jack’s grasp, despite outward appearances. Like a supergiant star, growing bigger and bigger while burning through all of its resources...until finally destroying itself. Jack was a smart man, but he liked to give people the benefit of the doubt.
He was too trusting
. He could not afford such a flaw in this line of work. Zerneck Wells knew this.
 

***

Tuesday, December 7th, 1999

A lone woman was seated at a table inside a seedy bar. On her table was a bottle of wine and a half-empty wine glass. She picked up the glass, slowly swirling the drink in her hand. She took a long sip, then set the glass back down
.
She was waiting for someone
.
 

Ulysses Frost and Hachiuma walked into the bar. The intimidation factor of their combined presence turned several heads.

“Point her out to me,” Hachiuma instructed.

Frost’s eyes scanned through the dingy lighting. His gaze stopped on the lone woman. He pointed his finger. “Her.”

Hachiuma nodded. “I’ll take it from here.” Frost stood by the door with his arms folded in front of him while Hachiuma walked over to the woman. He pulled out the empty chair opposite the woman and sat down at her table. Hachiuma watched her and waited until she looked up at him to acknowledge his presence. “You are Corey’s mother...”

She nodded solemnly. Her long dark hair fell over her face. “Is my son coming here?”

Hachiuma shook his head. “No. But rest assured, he is quite safe. If he remains that way is entirely up you. Tell me your name.”

The women stared at him with a mixture of fear and anger. She picked up her wine glass and drained it. She then placed the empty glass on the table and relaxed. “Lorna.”

“Lorna...” Hachiuma smiled. He lifted the wine bottle and refilled her glass. “Lorna...
Kasparov
. Do you know what your son does for a living?”

“He’s involved with the mob.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Every mother’s dream.”

“He’s not quite there yet. He’s part of a street gang. A lowly gang-banger—a grunt.
He’s nothing.
This street gang your son is affiliated with is within our sphere of control. From the moment he joined it, his life became ours to do with as we please. Do you understand this, Lorna?” She was staring down into her glass. “
Look at me
.” She forced herself to look into Hachiuma’s soulless eyes. “He won’t escape...
He can’t
.”

“What do you want?”

“Information. Tell me about Bruce Kasparov.”

Lorna scoffed. “There’s nothing to tell. I have nothing to do with him. That part of my life is over.”

“Yes, you two separated many years ago. But during the time you were with him, he was with the Legion...am I correct?”

“From the time I knew him, he was always a part of that. First and foremost.”

“Did you two live together?”

“Briefly.”

“Where?”

“In a mansion...” She shook her head bitterly. “What more could a woman ask for? But even that came from the Legion. It was our house, but it was never a home.”

Hachiuma licked his lips. His eagerness was welling inside him and sparked a glow in his eyes. He stared hungrily at her. He was very close to what he wanted—he could almost
taste
it. “Where?” Lorna eyed Hachiuma, puzzled. “The location of the Legion manor. Where is it
located
?”

She hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”

“You know what I am. You
know
why I want to know. Now tell me.”

Lorna bit her lip. “I-I can’t.” She shook her head while looking at Hachiuma, almost as if pleading with him. “
I
can’t
.”

Hachiuma opened and closed his right hand on the table. His expression was intense.
Very
intense
. “Do you love your son Corey?”

Lorna’s eyes were watering. “Y-yes.”

“Then you do not have a choice in this matter. Tell me what I want to know.”

She involuntarily swallowed as her trepidation mounted—her heart was racing. Hachiuma leaned across the table, his face right next to hers. He waited...until finally, she leaned in and whispered into Hachiuma’s ear. His eyes glowed. He stood up and pushed the chair in. “It goes without saying, that you tell no one about what was discussed here. If you try to contact Bruce, we’ll know. I hope for your sake and your son’s, that we never have to meet again.” Hachiuma stopped by the door to briefly talk with Ulysses, then they both set off into the night.

Lorna sat in her seat alone, her shaking hand clasping the empty wine glass. As much as she learned to hate Bruce over the years, you can never really erase or forget feelings—only bury them with new ones. And to her sorrow, she found these old feelings being unearthed. This was a man in another life that she cared about deeply. A man she once loved. And then it all turned poisonous. She looked down into her empty glass as a tear rolled down her cheek.
I’m sorry, Bruce... I never was as
strong as you
. She buried her face in her hands and broke down.

***

Wednesday, December 8th, 1999

“
I’m surprised to find you both sitting here,” Santos stated.
 

“And what’s surprising about it?” Bruce asked. “By the way, Alex, you can’t castle through check.”

“What? Oh right, your annoying bishop.” Alex returned his king and rook to their original positions. The three of them were seated in the living room—father and son engaged in a game of chess, with Santos spectating.

 “Usually on a weekday evening, you two are barricaded down in the gym,” Santos replied.

“True. But Alex has been through the wringer the last few weeks. I thought this would allow for a nice break.”

Alex scoffed. “Yeah, instead of being trounced in training, it’s now on a chessboard.” He hesitantly moved a pawn forward to attack Bruce’s bishop.

“Oh ho-ho, that was a mistake.” Bruce retreated his bishop, simultaneously moving it to a protected square and launching a counterattack. “Opened yourself up for a nice little skewer.”

Alex squinted at the board and took a second to grasp the perilous situation he was in. “Can I take my move back?”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh c’mon, this isn’t even fair. At least give me a chance, I’m still learning the game!”

“Nope-nope-nope, there shall be no chance!” Bruce smirked. “Now, if I go easy on you, how are you going to get better, hmm?”

Alex sighed. “Fine.” Alex moved his queen to safety, but gave up his knight. “I hate this game.”

“Don’t get discouraged, Alex. Just keep playing. Learn from your mistakes and you’ll improve,” Santos advised optimistically.

“You want to play him next game, Mr. Santos? Are you better than my dad?”

Santos scratched his chin. “Well, it’s hard to say. I mean, we both learned the game from your Uncle Charlie when we were kids. I think I could put up a decent fight.”

“Yeah,
right
.” Bruce continued to smirk. “I could beat you back then, I could beat you now.”

Alex rubbed his hands together. “Sounds like fighting words to me! I want to see a good show.”

Santos raised a hand. “Mind you, Alex, I’d
like to think we’re good players—but only by amateur standards.”
 

“Good players by amateur standards...” Alex scratched his head. “So where does that put me?”

Bruce laughed. “You can fill in
that
blank, Alex.”

“Well, whatever, let’s just scrap this game—you two can have at it,” Alex insisted.

“Hold that thought, Alex. You two finish.” Santos held up his cell phone. “I got a call.”

 Santos stepped into the kitchen and answered his phone. As he listened to what the man on the other end had to say, Santos’ pleasant mood was suddenly overtaken by shock. A feeling of complete and utter shock. “Uh-huh. Okay—thank you...” The conversation ended. Santos looked down at his cell phone in disbelief.

“Hey, Santos, just look at this board position!” Bruce laughed hysterically.

Alex shook his head and grinned. “You really are the worst winner I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh Alex...Alex-Alex-Alex. You could’ve
easily
avoided this.” Bruce stopped laughing upon seeing the expression on Santos’ face. “What is it?”

Santos’ mouth hung slightly open for a moment. “That was Uecker’s executor. He left his money to me.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Really? How much?”

“All of it. Nearly three million.”

It was Bruce’s turn to go slack-jawed. “Uecker?”

Santos rubbed his forehead. “He was a venture capitalist, and he had a long history of playing the stocks. I didn’t realize he did that well or had that much money saved up... I don’t believe this...”

Alex looked at Santos in amazement. “Holy...that’s ridiculous!”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Bruce remarked. “With that kind of money, why wasn’t he living like a baller instead of a grumpy old
fart?”
 

“I think he had other plans for his money.”

Alex smirked. “Other plans such as leaving all of his money solely to you?”

Santos shook his head. “No, not to me—to the Legion. This was meant for the Legion.” He looked from Bruce to Alex, with inspired zeal. “We’re going to make sure this money goes where it’s needed most. To the people that need it most.” Santos looked to Bruce for his input.

Bruce nodded his approval and gave him a thumbs-up. “Well, the evening is still young. This calls for a celebration of thanks. I say we go out for dinner...the fanciest dinner New York has to offer!” Santos raised an eyebrow. Bruce stood up and put an arm around Santos. “Only kidding. But seriously, let’s go out for dinner. Us three, right now—and toast to Uecker’s honor and generosity. He was a good man.”

“Yeah—he was.” Santos smiled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Alex nodded. “I’m in; I got no pressing school work.”

The three of them put on their coats and stepped outside in high spirits. Santos locked the front
door and smiled to himself.
Thank you, Uecker. You will be missed, but not forgotten. I’ll make sure
everyone knows of your generosity and good heart.
 

Unbeknownst to the three of them, some distance away, a pair of binoculars was trained on Kasparov Manor. The binoculars followed Bruce out of the brownstone mansion and watched him walk down the sidewalk. On a nearby rooftop, Freddy Vickers lowered his binoculars and smiled to himself. “
I
see
you
...”

***

Chital Co. Tower, Manhattan

Tony Calzone banged on Scorcher’s office door urgently. “Scorcher. Scorcher! Big news!
Scorcher
!!”

Scorcher opened the door, smiling ghoulishly. “A-yeees?”

 “I got the call from Freddy. Scorcher—it’s confirmed.”

“Good. Now
get
out,” said Scorcher, slamming the door in Tony’s face. Hachiuma was already in the office, sitting in Scorcher’s chair. Scorcher pointed at him. “Put him through.” Hachiuma pressed a combination of buttons on the desk panel, then waited as the intercom buzzed. Scorcher anxiously opened and closed his fist.

“I’m here.” The gravelly voice of their master greeted them through the intercom.

“Master, I’m here with Hachiuma. We have the information. Kasparov resides in a brownstone mansion in Greenwich Village, Manhattan. We have the address.”

“A mansion, you say? It must be a Legion outpost. Unlikely that he’s the only Legion member residing at those premises. It makes little difference either way.”

“Should we organize an attack on the manor, Master?” Hachiuma asked.

“No, not yet. Hachiuma, you can go back.”

“Go back?”

“To Thailand. This is not your fight.”

“As you wish, Master.”

“This battle will be won by Scorcher’s hand alone. Or at least, that is how it will appear. I’m coming there.”

Hachiuma’s eyes grew wide. “Master, you’re coming to New York?”

“Yes. It is early December...the details will come.” There was a pause and then static from the intercom. “Yes, the end of December will be the time. For you see, I am not without mercy. I’ll give Bruce Kasparov one last moment to be with his friends, his family—whatever he wants to do. But whence come the toll of the bells...the fireworks ringing in the new year—the new millennium...I will swoop down upon him—
and
extinguish his life
.”

***

Dubrava Prison, Kosovo

“Hello, Ristani.”

Zamir opened his eyes.
Could it be?
He stumbled out of bed.
Was he imagining things?
No, he
wasn’t. “Thank God you’re here, Akira!” He could feel himself being overcome with emotion. “It’s Christmas come early!” Akira watched him, amused. In the few months he had been confined to prison, Zamir had wasted away to a shell of his former self. He had lost weight, his beard was thick and scraggly, and it was clear he had suffered many injuries during
his stay.
“Akira...you have to get me out of here!”

Akira studied Zamir. “I’m surprised you’ve survived here this long. You’re resilient, Ristani. Perhaps if you had arrived here in May, you could have enjoyed the thrill of lining up in the prison yard and being executed with the masses.”

Ristani gripped the bars tightly and focused on Akira with gaunt, unblinking eyes. “It’s time though, right? That’s why you’re here? To free me?”