Robert Tanenbaum - Counterplay

Marlene had known better than to argue with him-though in her younger, self-righteous years she’d done plenty of that, as her mother, Concetta, clucked around, asking her to not rile your father. Later, she’d discovered the benefit of keeping her mouth shut on matters of religion, especially as it intersected secular issues like abortion rights. But as she’d grown older, she’d also found comfort in the steadfast, unbending, principles of her church.

In things secular, Mariano was a patriot. Even if he didn’t vote for him, the president of the United States was to be respected-at least the office, if not the man. But in things spiritual, the Pope was infallible. So she was surprised when he turned down the offer to see the pontiff in person.

Nah, it’s too much trouble, he said. I’m going to stay here with your mother.

Mom’s gone, Pops, Marlene said gently.

I know that, the old man scowled. I meant with her…memory. I think maybe she’d be jealous if I got to go see the Pope without her.

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, Marlene said. Come on, I’ll stop by and help you get ready and you can sit with Lucy and-

No! I don’t want to go, Mariano said, standing up out of his easy chair, suddenly angry, or panicked, she couldn’t tell. I don’t deserve to go without your mother.

Okay. Okay, calm down, Marlene said, taking him by his shaking shoulders and easing him back into the chair. It’s going to be on television anyway. You’ll probably see more.

Yeah, yeah, we’ll be more comfortable here, Mariano said. He’d settled down then, but as she turned to leave, he’d grabbed her by the hand, which he kissed and held next to his cheek. Please, if you get the chance to speak to him privately, would you ask him to say a prayer for your mother…and for me.

She leaned over and kissed him on top of his head. Yeah, sure, Pops. A special prayer for Mariano and Concetta Ciampi…a special place for them to be together in heaven.

Mariano had laughed at the image. A small home in Queens with your mother when she and I were young, and all of you were babies…that’s what I’d call heaven.

Marlene managed to get to her car before she broke down and started crying. Recalling the discussion the next afternoon, she had to catch herself to prevent the tears from falling again. She turned back to the television where a reporter was describing all the extra-ordinary security precautions-helicopters overhead, police officers on horseback, plainclothes police officers working the crowds around the barricades, metal detectors for anyone going into the cathedral. “Even Russian president Vladimir Putin’s appearance at the United Nations later next week won’t be seeing this kind of attention,” the reporter gushed as he turned to a tall priest with a pitted, scarred face while the camera followed.

“I’m speaking with Father Aidan Clary, who is normally responsible for securing St. Patrick’s,” the reporter said. “A little different scenario today, eh, Father?”

The priest looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to look in the camera. “I’m really not supposed to talk about it, but yes, it’s different. Today will be different.”

Today will be different. Something about the way the man said it made Marlene take notice. The scarred face. Tall. Wasn’t that the description of the killer priest who’d murdered Fey and Flanagan?

Her mind raced ahead. So the plan is to kill Butch and me at the cathedral? The white king and white queen. She thought about calling her husband or Jaxon. But what? Tell them a priest who’d once had bad acne as a teenager and now spent his life as the custodian of a cathedral might be an assassin? Even if he was-and maybe whatever Kane or Azzam had planned was already in place-her daughter was in St. Patrick’s, and if something went down, Marlene was going to be there.

She picked up the telephone and dialed a number. “I need to talk to him,” was all she said to the man who answered.

A half hour later, the Homeland Security agent on the landing stood up as Marlene appeared at the door with her dog. “I know I’m not supposed to go outside until my husband arrives to take me to the cathedral, so would you mind giving Gilgamesh a quick walk before his bladder bursts?”

The agent looked at the dog like he’d just been asked to handle a rattlesnake. He was a big man, and well armed, but it was the biggest canine he’d ever seen in his life. Damn thing could take my arm off with one chomp, he thought.

Marlene noticed the hesitation and smiled. “Don’t worry, he’s well trained and really just a big baby. Come on, give him a pet.”

Nervously, the agent put out his hand and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. Gilgamesh responded by leaning against the agent and moaning with pleasure.

Marlene smiled sweetly. “Please.”

“Sure, why not,” the agent said taking the leash. “Come on, boy, let’s go for a walk.”

As soon as the agent got on the elevator and it started down, Marlene rapped lightly on the door with a spoon. A moment later the door sprang open, a hanging ladder appeared, and then Tran pulled himself up onto the landing, followed by Yvgeny. Someone on the floor below removed the ladder as the three quickly slipped into the loft and shut the door.

Tran had formerly owned the Chinese restaurant food and equipment store on the first floor of the loft building, as well as the space on the second, third, and fourth floors. He’d used it as both a front for some of his nefarious activities, but more as a way of keeping an eye on his friends in the loft. He still owned the building but had moved in a new tenant on the bottom floor, an import company that did very little importing-at least nothing much that was reported to U.S. Customs. It came in handy when he wanted to use a secret way into the building from the basement and then up to the fourth floor below the loft.

After the twins had greeted the “guests,” Marlene had sent them grumbling back to their room. Then she explained to Tran and Yvgeny why she’d suddenly focused on the ceremony at the cathedral as the most likely time for an assassin to try to kill Butch and herself. “It might not be more than a woman’s intuition, but I want to get inside but stay in the background until I can figure out what’s going on…. I know it’s asking a lot, but I’d like some company if I can arrange this.”

Tran smiled. “I didn’t have anything better to do today.” He shrugged. It was the unspoken truth that he had a crush on Marlene and would have walked into the fires of hell if she was going.

Yvgeny nodded, too. “I have-how do you put it-a dog in this fight, too,” he said. “However, I have been troubled by how Kane was playing his game, and you might not be correct on who they plan to target.”

“What do you mean?” Marlene asked.

“Andrew Kane is supposed to be something of a chess master, no?” he began. “He buys elaborate chess sets and prides himself on his game.”

“Yeah, so?” Marlene said.

“Well, I was asking myself recently, Why is he playing like such a rank amateur game?”

“You’re losing me,” Tran said.

“Let me explain. Chess is not about how many of your opponent’s pieces you can take,” Yvgeny said. “The object is to place the other’s king in checkmate in as few moves as possible. Great players take pride in piercing to the heart of the enemy’s defenses without making it a war of attrition. And for the truly great players, taking your opponent’s king when the other side did not see you coming is an even more satisfying achievement.”