Chess Players: Atlantis and the Mockingbird

by DeVaughn, A. P.

  The humanoid boy races toward the course and, with the greatest of ease, begins navigating the intricately placed obstacles, finishing the course with blazing speed and finesse.

  “Wonderful job, Titus!” Bui says, proudly clapping. “You have improved drastically. Your father is proud of you. That is all for now, Titus. There is a treat waiting for you in your feeding cage.”

  “You’ve impressed me beyond belief,” Lued says, placing his hand onto Bui’s shoulder.

  “Thank you, my friend,” he replies. They walk toward the door. “We’ve clocked them at thirty-five miles per hour in the open field, a vertical leap of fifteen feet, and they can lift above their heads three times their weight. They can also communicate in infrasound or low frequency wavelengths and are totally obedient. They will kill themselves without the slightest hesitation if commanded to do so. We’ve also installed a fail-safe termination switch inside all of them, using our research with the Trident. Also, their attitudes can be controlled with specific sounds.”

  “How is Trident coming along, by the way?” asks Lued.

  “It’s coming along well. Test trials are prepared to take place within two months. I’ve imprinted the fail-safe into the DNA of Lucrea’us and into two zygotes. Without the imprint, the last sequence cannot be initiated. I’ve coupled the imprint into these three amulets. The amulets must be paired with the correct DNA imprint to initiate the last sequence.”

  “And Cerberus?” Lued asks.

  “Well, that’s a little more complicated,” says Bui. “The energy needed to implant the memories of our forefather’s into the last two zygotes is much more than we expected. We will need to find the Missing to complete the transfer.”

  “No worries.” Lued nods. “Our father is pleased with our efforts. But he is ailing. We’ve increased his serum dosage to critical levels, and his body is beginning to reject it. A compatible vessel will be needed very soon. I believe, with your help, one can be provided. We’re counting on you. The future of our race depends on your expertise. You’ve done very well, and now Mockingbird will prove to be our weapon to the new age of Atlantis.”

  “I will get on it right away,” replies Bui.

  They walk off in different directions, Lord Lued out of the laboratory and Lord Bui through a security door where an office building is located.

  Bui takes a seat in his office and goes through notes. Then he picks up the phone. He flips through the notes and stops on a sheet, studies it, and then starts swiping at the dial on a rotary phone.

  “Your presence is needed at the base,” he says to the other person on the phone. “Don’t ask questions! I’m going to send two officers to come and get you. You now have a chance to make it up to him. You will have the chance to bear his child and bring in our future leader. I’ve appointed our top bodyguard, Magnus, to protect you during this mission. Now, pack your things. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter 24: Sharks and Halibut

  “Did you see the Mets game yesterday? Yeah, I know, that pitcher sucked. Is your car still in the shop? Good. How’s your mother doing? Fantastic. Talk to you soon, Mako.”

  Now that we’re trying to rob the world, we talk in code on each phone conversation.

  When we talk about sports, it’s code for if their situation is safe to communicate. If it’s anything about a vehicle, then it’s about the health of their situation that they’re in, and if a relative is mentioned, then it’s about Halibut. Something bad with the relative, then there’s something wrong with the plan, and if the relative is fine, then everything is going as planned.

  Every few weeks for the past three years, I’ve been in touch with Steve, code-named Mako, and Kim, code-named Tiger Shark. My code name is Great White. Ron, code-named Hammerhead, has been “dark” for reasons of his high priority mission. No need to screw up something that is on the cusp of working, just to say hi.

  I even got in touch with David and brought him into the fold after we got back from the Middle East. He’s cleaned himself up quite nicely. He moved out of Oak County and is working as a teller at a bank, which is perfect, since he will also have access to accounts and transfer data. I proposed the plan to him, and he said that he would do anything for me. Says I saved his life. The day I approached him in the yard was the day that he said he was going to kill himself. Just to think when I was there, I thought of taking my own life as well. But, my friends kept me sane, along with that magic bottle that has now turned into a staple diet of three different types of opiates.

  I’ve nestled myself in the outskirts of a predominantly Mexican town in Texas, right near the border, to keep a low profile after we returned from deployment. It’s a perfect spot to fill in my part of the plan, which is to take out three priority contacts, who are people in positions where my buddies were supposed to be. I never knew murder would be my mission, but sacrificial lambs are in the grand scheme of things. I guess it makes me feel better that each of the lambs is an awful person. But what scares me is that I’m good at killing.

  The war we were sent to wasn’t really a war at all. It turned out to be a rescue mission. After the US Air Force came in and wiped out the armor and strongholds of the Iraqi fighters, they surrendered, and we basically came in and helped the Kuwaiti citizens with rations and medical support.

  Barcode, unfortunately, was hit in the leg when we encountered an ambush by a rebel group of soldiers. It wasn’t his fault. I sent him into a flanking position. Steve and Ron were supposed to lay down covering fire, but they were arguing about who had the most kills when Barcode was hit. He didn’t even complain. He dragged himself out of the way and made it to his flanking position. He was medevaced out, and we haven’t heard from him since.

  As for Ron, I break silence to inform him that it’s time to make his move.

  “It’s been three years, man!” Ron rants. “Three lousy years, and not a peep from you until now. You’ve left me stuck in a library, holding my wanker and flogging it to fiction and nonfiction! No email, telegram, smoke signal, carrier pigeon, nothing!”

  “Hammer, maintain protocol, please,” I say.

  “Protocol, my ass. The Rockies are fantastic, and my mom and my car are just fine, all right!”

  “Good, start her up and see if you can sell it, and tell your mom I said hi,” I say.

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  Now all Ron has to do is infiltrate the building where the woman that he’s been dating works. She is a homely, fat woman who works for a worldwide software company called Mango, where there is an important computer that has a direct link to multiple high-profile networks.

  Ron played his part and played it well. She said that she was going to wait until marriage to have sex with him. He proposed to her soon after our phone conversation ended to solidify his infiltration. A few weeks after the wedding and honeymoon is over, he’ll do his work. Soon after he gets the codes, he disappears—skydiving accident or something real easy that will let her down as soft as possible. Her house has a safe in it that her parents gave her, and it holds passcodes for the bank that has access to the multiple banks that we need to download our program. It may take Ron a little while to sneak around and get into the bank, but he’s a sly fox and he’s good at what he does.

  Steve and Kim already have their ducks in a row and have been waiting on my signal.

  I get the call from Ron, and he’s all set, a day earlier than I’ve expected. Good old Ron. The accounts have been set up, the program is ready, and now Steve just has to hack into the bank’s system to place the syphon worm that we’ve named Halibut. Steve tells me it will take a month to download the gigabytes of information.

  A month and a half later, Halibut worked, and the accounts started to fill up. Over the period of a year, Halibut will fill the accounts to a certain amount of dollars and then will terminate itself, leaving no trace of its existence.

  A few weeks after Halibut starts to work, we all meet up with Kim in Vegas.

&n
bsp; “You bastard,” Ron says as he sees me enter the hotel bar. “We did it. We freaking did it. Have I ever told you how much I loved you, man? I believed in you since day one,” he says as he puts his arm around my neck and attempts to kiss me.

  “Hey, take it easy, you pervert,” I playfully say. “This is who I want to kiss, right here,” I say as I grab Lara’s arm and pull her toward me, giving her a long and sensual kiss.

  “Get a room,” Steve says.

  “No matter how many times I see that, I almost piss me pants,” says Ron.

  Kim just grins and drinks. “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” he says, pointing at David.

  “This is David,” I reply. “Don’t you remember him from the Rose? He helped us out after we had our meeting. Helped us with the Dead End, too. He was the one who planted the gun on them for me.”

  “Yeah, I remember him,” Steve says as David smiles. “The scrawny kid from the playground.”

  “Yup, that’s him,” I say. “A brand new millionaire.”

  “As long as he doesn’t get any of my share, he’s all right with me,” Ron says.

  “Don’t worry, he’s covered by me,” I say, putting my arm around David. “Gentleman, it has been a long road, but, unbelievably, we are right where we want to be. No more answering to anyone. No more worries, no more detention. Well, I learned to love detention. And no more military and no more school, ever.”

  We were young, we were rich, we were talented, and we felt like we were on top of the world. Everyone talked about the hardships of past times and joked about the shitty lives we’ve had. I’d kill a dozen people to have this moment for my buddies. The sleepless nights, the beatings, the nightmares—no more. I haven’t even told Bill or Mire about this, and I never will. I’ll just make sure that I take care of them when the time comes.

  We drink well into the night. Ron found a woman to wander off with. Kim played wingman for the ugly friend that Ron’s woman had, and Steve was on the phone all night and then snuck off, probably hitting the craps tables or something. He’s rich and still thinks about money. I guess some things never change.

  “So, we’re finally alone,” Lara whispers in my ear.

  “Yes we are. It’s been a while, Mrs. Biel,” I whisper back.

  We head off to the elevator, and before the doors can close I’m all over her, my hand up her shirt and my lips all over her neck. “Well, someone has gotten some confidence,” she says as I pin her up against the wall of the elevator. The doors open and an elderly couple is standing there, looking at us. Lara and I look right back at them with my hand still buried up her shirt.

  “We’ll just take the next one,” the old man says. We get back to the room and I tear her clothes off of her body, throwing my clothes off as well. Throwing her on the bed, I climb on top of her and prop her legs onto my shoulders, grabbing a fistful of her hair, I gently slide myself inside of her as she exhales and bites her lip.

  We carry on for hours, much longer than the two minutes of our first encounter.

  “So, what now?” she asks as we lay in bed. She strokes my stomach while I run my fingers through her hair.

  “I don’t know,” I say, kissing her forehead. “There are still some loose ends that need to be tied. But, for now, I’m going to relax and take a load off. It’s been a long journey.”

  My love for this woman grows with every breath I take. Every beat that my heart squeezes is for her. It feels as if we’ve been together for eternity and our souls just change form. Maybe we were once butterflies who met on a leaf in a forest where no man has set foot, or maybe she was my lioness and I her king as we strolled the great grasslands of Africa, or maybe we were just two filthy flies who met on a pile of dog crap. Whatever this is, I never want it to end. She’s done a marvelous job with supporting us through this and helping make this happen. Her husband is still clueless about his play in this. He’ll never know he helped a bunch of orphans steal fifty-three million dollars, each, from Russia, England, China, and Japan.

  I knew that this wasn’t a vacation for me, but I couldn’t worry Lara anymore. She’s been through a lot with me as well. My father, these nightmares, and what the VP told me still fester in my mind.

  The next morning, I decide to let Lara sleep in, and I go for an early breakfast.

  I stroll down the hall to David’s room to see if he’s up so that we can catch up after so many years of not seeing each other. I can hear the shower running as I knock at the door. “Yo, Dave.” But no answer. I twist the knob, and, strangely, the door is open. Maybe he left it open for room service to come in and clean while he was showering, or he had some lady company and she left.

  “Dave, I’m going to grab some food. How long will you be?” I say, knocking on the bathroom door. Still no reply. I open the door, and steam hits me in the face as I walk in. “Dave, you’ve always been quiet, but damn, man, learn to—” My mouth is held still. I quickly run back to the room’s door and lock it. Then I check the windows and make sure that they are locked as well. Walking back to the bathroom, I cut the shower off. I kneel down and check my friend’s body for vital signs—nothing. My friend is dead, and, by the looks of things, this was no accident.

  The kill was clean. A common thief or a bookie didn’t do this. This was professional work. No gunshot wounds. No signs of forced entry. Just marks around his wrist as if he had been tied. I check around his body and find a small lesion behind his ear covered up with makeup. Someone must have tied him up and questioned him before they poisoned him with an injection behind the ear, probably a high dose of sodium pentothal to get him to talk, and then a heavy shot of potassium to stop the heart. I guess he didn’t talk, since I’m still breathing. I don’t know if it was his past that got him killed or the fact that he just pulled off one of the biggest heists in history and someone is angry. I wipe the room down wherever I thought I touched something and make a hasty retreat.

  I rush back to my room to check on Lara. She’s safe, still sound asleep. I wake her and explain what happened, then tell her to get dressed and pack immediately. Room service is just minutes from finding the body and causing a ruckus throughout the hotel. No sense in staying for any of that.

  Grabbing the phone, I dial all of the guys. Everyone is safe. After I tell them David has been killed, I instruct them all to meet Lara and me at a safe location to discuss the next move.

  At a diner not too far from the strip, I start asking questions.

  “What time did everyone get to their rooms?” I ask.

  “I was asleep by eleven,” Kim says.

  “Well, I stayed up until around two. Had to hit some tables and break even,” says Steve.

  “I’ve been up all night, man,” Ron yawns. “It was literally a conveyor belt of long-legged bitches. I’m spent. However, I did notice a man leaving Steve’s room around twoish when I went to get ice for my penis, I-I mean my drink.”

  We look at Steve for an answer. “Well,” he says as he hesitates to speak, “I had to pay the loan shark off for fronting me when I pissed away my ten-k marker. Wasn’t bad—ten points. He got his money back. I broke even and paid back my marker. Everyone is happy.”

  Everyone loses suspicion after we hear each other’s stories. This doesn’t add up. All of our tracks were covered. Aliases, fake identification, social security cards—our past lives were wiped. Halibut was flawless. I don’t get it.

  We are all targets now. I tell them to book flights and to get to one of our safe houses by nightfall. Lara is furious at me for telling her to leave, but I think that she is safer with her husband.

  For me, I have something I have to take care of, and it’s been eating at me ever since I left that diner. That name that the VP gave me flashes in my vision constantly. I cross-reference the name and the other numbers from the note that VP Khol gave me with the book from the library back in Rosy Oaks. My calculations prove correct, and it’s a perfect match. “Isaac Herring” it reads. Two sets of numbers are l
atitude and longitude, and another is a date that is coming up in two weeks. The coordinates line up in a rural valley surrounded by mountainous in North Dakota.

  I’m pretty sure I’ll have a lot of new footprints to cover up now that our cover is blown. Maybe this Herring character will know the answer to who’s on to us. I’m thinking it’s some international bankers that got wind of us and are trying to get their money back. Those were the same people who killed Kennedy, so to take out a few overzealous thieves would be a walk in the park.

  Chapter 25: Halibut and Herring

  After taking two planes, the second one the size of a crop duster, I arrive at a small airport about 100 miles from the coordinates that VP Kohl game me.

  There’s a bus station connected to the airport, which is just a building and a couple of hangars. One road and nothing but hills and plateaus surround me. There’s a Golden Plains sign barely standing with a red arrow painted on it pointing east. The beat-up wooden bus station and two lonely buses point in opposite directions.

  Seems like this is the only way into town. I purchase my one-way ticket into Golden Plains from a teller woman who has more nostrils than teeth and board the bus, and, surprisingly, I seem to be the only passenger.

  After a two-hour ride, the bus pulls up and lets me off at a bus stop right next to a diner.

  As I get off the bus and look around, the place looks ancient, like a Wild West movie that never tore down the set. Horses with wagons were tied down outside of every store. Dirt roads stretched out of the town as far as the eye can see. There were only a few buildings. Windblown shrubs line the roads and lean to one side. The shrubs seem to catch all of the tumbleweeds that journey into town. Dust-filled wind stings my skin as I walk toward the diner.

  “Hi, may I help you?” the middle-aged, pudgy waitress asks. Her tattered pink apron with white floral designs means the sanitary conditions here aren’t that great. Her hairnet has hair pouring out of holes. Her inch-thick makeup mask is capped off with bright colors painted on her eyelids. She pinches a cigarette in the corner of her mouth while stacking dishes.