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  Pawn’s Gambit

  The Pawn Stratagem Book I

  Darin Kennedy

  Contents

  1. Corners

  2. Baptism

  3. Jaunt

  4. Grey

  5. Pawn

  6. Stone

  7. Destiny

  8. Dragonfly

  9. Emilio

  10. Barrel

  11. En Passant

  12. Phalanx

  13. Crucible

  14. Tide

  15. Lance

  16. Interlude

  17. Door

  18. Rocinante

  19. Audrey

  20. Flight

  21. Queen

  22. Faith

  23. Archie

  24. Miracle

  25. Shift

  26. Home

  27. Square

  28. Tower

  29. Rook

  30. Crown

  31. Pieces

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Darin Kennedy

  Falstaff Books

  To Dad, who taught me a lot more than just chess.

  The chess board is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the universe,

  the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature.

  The player on the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play

  is always fair, just, and patient. But we also know, to our cost,

  that he never overlooks a mistake,

  or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance.

  Thomas Henry Huxley

  The Pawn is the soul of Chess.

  François-André Danican Philidor

  Tenuous king, slanting bishop, fierce queen,

  straightforward tower and cunning pawn

  Over the checkered black and white terrain,

  they seek out and enjoin their armed campaign.

  They do not know that the scarred hand

  of the player governs their destiny,

  They do not know that an adamantine fate

  controls their will and their journey.

  Jorge Luis Borges

  1

  Corners

  Steven Bauer sat with his back to the bar, his gaze wandering across the crowd of humanity occupying the checkered dance floor. The last sip of his whiskey sour did little to banish the headache pulsing behind his right eye in time with the thumping house music. He turned back to the bar to order another as the man to his right nearly fell off his barstool.

  “One too many?” Steven shouted over the music.

  “No such thing.” The man, at least twenty years Steven’s senior, steadied himself and shot him an inebriated grin. “What’re you drinking?” His breath smelled like a distillery.

  Backlit by the enormous aquarium looming behind her, a cute bartender with blue eyes and a blonde bob leaned across the bar and retrieved the man’s empty glass. “Before you start offering to buy rounds, you might want to settle up first.”

  The man pulled out his wallet and dropped a ten on the bar. “That’s all she wrote today,” he said, doing his best to stay atop his barstool. “Now, how about a shot for me and my new friend here?”

  Steven rested a hand on the man’s back. “Thanks, pal, but I think we’d better call you a cab.” He slipped the bartender a pair of twenties. “That cover his tab?”

  “Right at it.”

  “Good. Get this guy home.” Behind a forced smile, Steven gritted his teeth. “He’s in no shape to drive.”

  A quizzical look flashed across the bartender’s face. “You even know this guy?”

  Steven tilted his head to one side. “Just sowing some good karma.”

  Seconds later, a bouncer Steven didn’t recognize escorted the man out, leaving him alone at the bar. He downed another whiskey sour as quiet words from the past echoed in his mind.

  “Character is what you do when no one is looking.”

  Even after eighteen months, Katherine’s voice was as clear as if she’d just left his side.

  And if keeping a drunk driver off the road was the worst thing he did tonight…

  The headache flared again and Steven held the drink to his brow. His eyes slid shut as he offered a silent prayer an angel would come and take the pain.

  “A kind heart,” came an unfamiliar voice, low and sultry. “Not too common these days.”

  Steven’s downturned eyes opened on a pair of graceful ankles in black stiletto heels. His gaze trailed up the woman’s form. Her black dress slit to mid thigh, its plunging neckline threatened to hold his stare. Lustrous dark hair spilled past her shoulders, framing a face that belonged on a magazine cover. Her green eyes burned through him like an emerald flame.

  “Care for some company?” The woman placed her black sequined clutch on the bar, her mouth turning up in a questioning smile. “Unless, of course, you’re waiting for someone.”

  Steven glanced at his phone. “No text. No call. Doesn’t look like she’s going to show.”

  The woman took the recently vacated stool and leaned in close. “Her loss.” Unlike the stool’s previous occupant, her breath smelled of raspberries.

  “Thanks.” Steven took a sip of his drink. “I’m guessing you’re meeting someone.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was meeting you.”

  “Oh.” His pulse raced as he took her offered hand. “I’m Steven. And yours?”

  Smiling, she ignored the question and motioned to his glass. “What’s your poison?”

  Steven’s brow crinkled. “Whiskey sour.”

  “Delightful.” She signaled the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.” Her accent hard to place, a hint of Irish lilt colored her words. “So, what’s a good-looking guy like you doing on this end of a broken date?”

  “No idea.” Steven let out a chuckle. “No offense, but if you’re looking for me to explain the inner workings of the female mind, I’m afraid I’m fresh out of insight.”

  The woman laughed, her wide smile sending Steven’s heart racing. “Fair enough.”

  “My first time out to Corners during business hours,” Steven said. “Not bad for an old mill, eh? Amazing what you can do with a few million dollars.”

  “It’s certainly different than I remember.”

  “Oh. You saw it before the big renovation. You live in the area?”

  “Not for a few years. I’m in town on business. Flew in this evening.” Her wistful look suggested an untold story. “It’s been far too long since I’ve visited the Windy City.”

  More than a few stares came in their direction, surprisingly more from women than men. Though Steven guessed it wasn’t him they were watching, his simple button-down shirt and slacks suddenly seemed inadequate. He brushed a lock of brown hair from his eyes and offered the woman his best smile. “So, what business brings you to Chicago?”

  “Acquisitions. My employer sent me to pick up a little something he needs for a project he’s working on.” The bartender rested a glass before her and the woman downed the drink in a single gulp. “He’d rather I keep it all official, but I figured there’d be no problem having a little fun while I’m in town.”

  “And how long is that going to be?”

  “Tonight.” Her gaze meandered around the room. “I’m heading east in the morning for another job.”

  “You staying nearby?”

  Her tongue ran across her mouthful of even teeth. “Why do you ask?”

  Heat rose in Steven’s cheeks. “Just making conversation.”

  The woman smiled. “I like your accent. I’m guessing… southeast?”

  “I grew up in Virginia. Moved here from the D.C. area about a year and a half ago.”

  “Change of scenery?”

>   “You could say that.” Steven had left Georgetown less than a month after Katherine’s funeral. He had no desire to go back.

  “Sorry. Seems I hit a nerve.” She brushed his wrist with her fingertips. “So, what do you do around here for fun?”

  “When I’m not working, I’m usually out pounding the pavement. I’m training for the Chicago Marathon this October.” Steven leaned in, intoxicated by the woman’s dancing eyes. “Do you run?”

  “Only if someone’s chasing me.” She twirled a lock of dark hair around a well-manicured finger. “A marathon, huh? You must have some serious endurance.”

  “It’s my first one, but I’m getting there. Trying my best not to overtrain.”

  “And what is it you do?”

  “I’m a consultant at an employment agency. You might have seen our ads: ‘Winds of Change. Where finding a job is a breeze’.”

  “How… clever.” Her forced laugh left Steven wishing the words back into his mouth.

  “I’ve been with the company a little over a year. Even helped a few of the staff here land their jobs. Otherwise, I doubt I’d have gotten past the rope tonight.”

  “Well, we’re both here now.” Her gaze flicked out to the mob of gyrating forms to their rear. “Are we going to sit at the bar all night?”

  “Oh.” Steven’s heart leaped up into his throat. “Want to hit the dance floor?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Steven slid from his barstool and took the woman’s hand. “Fair warning. It’s Retro Night. Most of what they’ve been playing is a bit before our time.”

  Her lips curled into a wicked smile. “Speak for yourself.”

  She pulled Steven into the crowd and led him to a dark corner where even the flashing lights above their heads seemed afraid to shine. Their bodies moved in concert to the techno beat roaring from the speakers. Seconds later, the music downshifted into a slow R&B groove and the woman drew even closer. The rhythm took possession of her, her supple hips shifting with every passing beat. The scent of her, like sweet lavender, filled his senses, and for a moment, Steven forgot about his headache, the eighteen months of hell, even Katherine.

  The woman wrapped her lithe arms about his neck and pulled him in tight to her well-toned body. The warm moisture of her breath a promise, she whispered, “If you’re interested, my hotel room is only two blocks away.” He half-believed he’d imagined the words, but the lust in her eyes left little doubt.

  “But I don’t even know your name.”

  “Does it matter?” She took his hand and pulled him toward the exit, only to be blocked halfway across the dance floor by a dark mountain of a man in a purple suit and black turtleneck.

  “Hey, Jonas.” Steven didn’t like the look on the bouncer’s face. “What’s up?”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but some taxi driver out front says he needs to talk to you. A friend of yours just puked all over the inside of his cab.”

  “Friend?” Steven asked.

  Another of Katherine’s favorite sayings echoed through Steven’s mind: “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “Well?” Jonas said. “You coming?”

  “If it’s that guy from the bar, I don’t even know him.” Steven raised his hands in mock surrender. “I was just trying to help him out before he made a mess of himself.”

  Jonas let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, he’s made a mess, all right.”

  “And that’s my responsibility?” Steven’s voice rose a decibel or two.

  Jonas shook his head. “Look, he’s already complained to the manager. I stood up for you, and now the boss is pissed at me. Cabbie’s refusing to leave till somebody pays up.”

  “I’m guessing that means me.” Steven’s brow furrowed. “What does this guy look like?”

  “Late forties, maybe. Weird accent.”

  Steven laughed. “You just described half the taxi drivers in Chicago.”

  “Wait a minute.” The woman, silent to that point, took Steven’s hand. Her fingers felt hot, almost feverish. “The Good Samaritan thing was cute before, but you’re not seriously going to cough up your hard-earned cash because a complete stranger can’t hold his liquor, are you?” She squeezed his fingers. “Stay here with me and let your friend do his job.” Her gaze dropped to the bouncer’s nametag. “Unless this is the best you can do for patrons who actually pay for their drinks, Mr. Turo.”

  Jonas bristled. “Now, hold on a minute. I’m—”

  Steven raised a hand. “Don’t worry, Jonas. I’ve got this. In for a penny and all that.” He pulled close enough to whisper in the woman’s ear. “Five minutes?”

  “Sure.” Cold frustration flashed across the woman’s features. “I needed to make a call anyway.” Without another word, she stalked in the direction of the ladies lounge and disappeared around a corner.

  “What the hell is her problem?” Jonas rested a firm hand on Steven’s shoulder. “Nobody talks to me like that.”

  “I have no idea.” Steven scanned the room for the mysterious woman. “I’ve known her for all of ten minutes.”

  “I’d watch yourself, man. She’s got a mean streak, that one.” Jonas chuckled. “I’d hate for you to wake up tomorrow in a bathtub of ice missing a kidney or something.”

  Steven shot him a withering stare. “Thanks a lot.”

  “No sweat.” Jonas turned toward the front of the club. “Come on. I’ll get you out of the front door quick so you can get back to business.”

  Steven followed Jonas, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as the bouncer strode toward the door. A few seconds later, they stepped out into the warm night air. He clasped Jonas’ shoulder. “Hey. Thanks again for getting me in tonight.”

  “No sweat.” Jonas motioned for the other bouncer to go inside and took his position at the rope. “Just to let you know, I hope I’m wrong about your lady friend.”

  “That makes two of us.” Steven peered out at the busy street. “So, where is this guy?”

  “He was parked across the street a minute ago.” Jonas raised the rope, allowing passage to a pair of women in dresses that left little to the imagination. “It’s funny. I haven’t seen a ride like that in years.”

  “Keep an eye out.” Steven stepped toward the street. “If I’m not back in five, call 911.”

  “Give him hell.” Jonas’ gold-toothed smile faded into purposeful indifference as he turned back to face the mob of hopefuls stranded at the velvet rope.

  At first, Steven didn’t see it. The street was littered with the usual hodgepodge of motorcycles, cars and SUV’s. A stretch Hummer filled with college students in tuxes and formal dresses sat parked at the curb. As the eight of them disembarked and their land yacht pulled away, the object of Steven’s search came into view.

  A holdover from a different age, the red-and-white-checkered taxi was a product of late-seventies Detroit and had clearly seen better days. Its battered bumper hung slightly lower on the driver’s side, the grille was fractured, and only three of its four headlights worked. Steven remembered reading an article in the late nineties about the retirement of the last checker cab in New York City and couldn’t recall ever seeing such a vehicle on the streets of Chicago. He waited for an ebb in traffic and jogged across the street. Strangely nervous, he knocked on the driver’s side window. A few seconds passed before the window opened a crack.

  “Pardon, sir, but I’m off duty.” The driver’s accent was strange on Steven’s ear, blending the crispness of the Queen’s English with the smooth diction of French or Italian.

  “I don’t need a cab.” Steven peered through the driver’s side window, but could only make out the man’s fedora and a hint of facial hair through the tinted glass. Otherwise, as best he could tell, the cab was empty. “I’m here to settle up for the guy who puked in your back seat.”

  “Ah, it’s you.” The driver chuckled, as if waking from a pleasant dream. “My sincerest apologies, but that fabrication was a necessary evil. I needed to speak with
you away from the noise of the discotheque.”

  “Discotheque?” Steven murmured under his breath. “Look, pal. I’m not sure what kind of shit you’re trying to pull here, but—”

  “Quiet. We can argue semantics later if you like, but for the moment, there is simply no time.” A quiet anger colored the man’s words. “Now, get in the cab.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Steven’s hands flew in the air. “I’m not going anywhere, especially not in this wreck.” He pointed back at the door to the club. “Things were just getting interesting in there when you yanked Jonas’ chain and tricked me into coming out here.”

  “Interesting, eh?” The driver let out a sarcastic chuckle. “You have no idea. Know one thing, young man. The woman who waits for you inside? She is not who she seems.”

  The words sent a chill through Steven’s midsection. “Who the hell are you?”

  “A friend.” The driver turned his gaze to meet Steven’s. The lights of a passing car illuminated his pair of slate-grey eyes, just visible above the cracked window.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Steven whispered. “Are you stalking her?”

  “Though I know many things about the woman in black, understand I am not here for her.” The back door of the cab opened as if by remote control. “I am here for you.”

  “Screw this.” Steven turned and headed for the club. “I’m not ending up on the ten o’clock news tonight.”

  “Do not walk away from me, Steven Bauer.” The driver opened his door and set one foot on the pavement. “You are not safe here.”