The Chess Player

by Andrew Parker

  The Chess Player

  A short story by Andrew Parker.

  © copyright 2003 by Andy Parker

  © Copyright 2004 Andrew Parker. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

  Note for Librarians: a cataloguing record for this book that includes Dewey Classification and US Library of Congress numbers is available from the National Library of Canada. The complete cataloguing record can be obtained from the National Library’s online database at: www.nlc-bnc.ca/amicus/index-e.html

  ISBN 1-4120-2100-6

  ISBN 978-1-4122-2101-6 (ebook)

  This book was published on-demand in cooperation with Trafford Publishing. On-demand publishing is a unique process and service of making a book available for retail sale to the public taking advantage of on-demand manufacturing and Internet marketing. On-demand publishing includes promotions, retail sales, manufacturing, order fulfilment, accounting and collecting royalties on behalf of the author.

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  Contents

  About the Author:

  Prologue

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22

  EPILOGUE

  Dedicated to my Nan. The lady who got me into theBook worm habit

  For all my family and friends, hopeYou enjoy my first attempt. EspeciallyMy wife Jo.

  With special thanks to Nicky Donovan &Pauline Groves my Proof readers’ and Editors’.

  About the Author:

  I was born in 1966, and at time of going into publication with this book, I had just turned 37 years old. This is a dream come true, seeing an idea floating in my head turned into black and white print and now published as a paper back novel.

  Unfortunately back in 1985, I had a serious car accident that left me wheelchair bound and I contemplated then, maybe I should write a book. But in Stoke Mandeville Hospital, I struggled to pick up a pen, never ever thought I would write or type with one.

  With the strong support of my family and friends I did manage to get stronger and believe in myself. Even returning to full time employment. Then in March 2001, I had the best day of my life, when I married a beautiful woman who gave me more impetus to accomplish things. Water skiing, even appearing on TV in my favourite cookery show.

  So this my first novelmaybe my last, only you the

  public will tell me if Chief Inspector Howcroft will

  return for more investigations?but it’s another

  achievement to tick off in my life.

  Prologue

  His footsteps began to get quicker, as he moved across the hard frosty grass. A twig snapped under his foot showing how brittle it was on this bitterly cold morning.

  As he drew closer to the crime scene ahead, he couldn’t help remembering the warm, deep sleep he was in before it was abruptly shattered by the sound of Williams’ voice on the other end of the phone.

  Six-thirty am, looking at the dock before he headed out into the cold. ‘Six Woody thirty’, he grumbled to himsell

  ‘Over here Guv!’ a voice shouted, bringing him out of his own selfish confine.

  ‘Morning Guv’, it was Williams his Detective Sergeant.

  The Chief Inspector nodded his head in acknowledgement, then blew into his hands in a vain attempt to keep warm. ‘So why have I been called out, at this God forsaken time of day?’.

  ‘Dead body Guv’ was the snappy response from Williams.

  The Chief Inspector realised he wouldn’t be called out for no reason and in his own apologetic way snapped back ‘It’s early!’

  He knew too, that one day Detective Sergeant John Williams would be Inspector. He was an inteHigent copper with looks that defied his age, he looked more like a Stock Broker than a policeman.

  ‘So what’s the score so far? Chief Inspector George Howcroft asked in a softer tone, knowing Williams was being his efficient self and couldn’t help what time of the day it was.

  ‘The boys are cordoning off the area and searching for any dues, and I’ve taken a statement from the chap over there he found the body’ Williams said, pleased with his efforts so far.

  Howcroft turned to see a figure that was so well wrapped up, he couldn’t even see his face, and sitting next to him was an Alsatian who was obviously wondering why his master had kept him out all this time.

  Howcroft turned back to face Williams, who continued ‘While he was out walking with his dog, he came across the body in the ditch’ Williams had noted down.

  ‘He must be Woody mad walking his dog this time of the day’ Howcroft quipped ruing the thought.

  ‘He works nights Guv, gets in, takes the dog out’.

  ‘Wdl you best send him home, Ill see him later if need be’, Chief Inspector Howcroft paused, started looking around and then asked ‘Is Doc here yet?’

  ‘He’s with the body Guv’ was the quick response from Williams.

  The chief Inspector smiled to himself as he began to walk over to the crime scene, he wondered whether Williams would be so efficient and enthusiastic after being in the job forty years?

  There was the first glimmer of sunlight breaking through dismissing the cold black start that he awoke to this morning, it was evident how harsh the frost was this morning with the grass and hedgerow all envetoped in a sparkling white coat.

  Chief Inspector George Howcroft ducked under the

  yeHow tape cordoning off the crime scenehe could now

  see the ditch that was partially covered by a hedgerow and long stiff grass. He turned around to gain his bearings and covered his eyes with his hand as the sun shone strongly now, bouncing brilliantly of the white desert before him. He noted the car park a few hundred yards away to his left where he’d parked, the rest of the park was grass and trees for miles lit up with a hazy golden tinge.

  ‘George’ boomed a loud voice. It was Doc, ‘George how are you this lovefy crisp morning’

  ‘It depends on what you’re going to tell me?’ George remarked sarcastically.

  George was pleased it was Doc, as he was affectionate^ known. They had worked together for the last twenty years. He must be approaching sixty now Howcroft thought, as he could see the grey sides and bald-head. A wry smile appeared on Howcroft’s face as he looked at Doc, he was a lot fuller in the face weH all over his body, all those pints of Directors and steak and kidney pies.

  ‘A mature naked woman …strangledalso marks

  round her wrists, estimated time of death between midni
ght-2am, obviously know a lot more when we get her back to the lab’ Doc responded.

  ‘All my questions answered before I’ve asked them’. George looked down at the body, which looked in a ghost like state, dead and white he thought. He could see that she was an attractive lady, with a very beautiful figure, around about her forties.

  Is that a wedding ring I can see on her finger?’ George Howcroft suddenly noticed from drifting out off admiring what once was a beautiful woman.

  ‘I do believe sohopefully making identification

  easier for you George’.

  ‘Williams!’ Howcroft suddenly shouted in a manner that said it was time to get down to business.

  ‘Yes Guv’ responded Williams, surprisingly startled by his boss’ sudden outburst.

  ‘Check with the station for any reported missing persons from midnight. If I had returned home and my wife wasn’t there or if she hadn’t come home that night, I would have reported her missing after 20 minute’s’ Chief Inspector Howcroft retorted with an obvious admiration knowing that she was a high class lady.

  ‘Yes Guv’ Williams looked at Doc with eyebrows

  raised.

  Chapter 1.

  The Rain Forests cascaded down the Colombian mountain range like a green velvet blanket, it went on as far as the eye could see. These deep green forests concealed some of the biggest drug making empires in the world.

  The Rojas Brothers, Family body-guards and field operatives gathered on the veranda of the superb mountain top villa. They overlooked the vast green forest treetops, with spectacular views of the surrounding countryside.

  A shriek of laughter lifted over the rest of the groups combined laughter. The news headlines in the paper he was reading ‘Drug Cartel Leader Escapes From

  Prison.’ ‘Listen to thisas he tried to control his

  laughter and shoulders from jerking….Rojas escape brought more criticism to the Colombian President Ernesto Santacruz, who is being accused of accepting a $6 million bribe from the Rooas Cartel.’

  ‘They can’t touch me, they can’t touch me at all!’ Jose Luis Rooas stated with an air of invincibility.

  Jose Luis Rooas had been held in a Colombian prison known as “The Cathedral” on charges of conspiracy, murder and illicit enrichment. Yet again he owed a great debt to his elder brother in arranging his escape. He knew his brother had a lot of high ranking officials on the pay-roll, including the Chairman of the Colombian Joint Chiefs of Staff, but he knew escape was getting more difficult; to arrange and bribe.

  The national police service announced a $2 million reward for information leading to his capture. The Escobar family were keen to take over his brothers empire and Jose knew they had Police Chiefs in their pockets, and

  capture and arrest would not be in their interests but that a shootout in trying to kill him would be the more like!y outcome.

  The laughter subsided, his brother walked in, there was a presence that surrounded him, he wouldn’t utter a word but everyone knew what he wanted.

  ‘Jose’was the word that greeted him, with a big

  hearty hug and slap on the back. ‘The car was quick

  enough then?’ they both laughed as did everybody

  else and they hugged once again.

  Rafael Rojas or as the Washington Post once nicknamed him ‘The Chess Player’, it was an article where the Central InteHigence Agency Director Jim.A. Styes refused to meet with the Colombian Defence Minister, because of his possible ties to money laundering and drug organisations. He stated they were just pawns in Rafael’s Game.

  Rafael took his brother to one side, to a corner of the veranda. High pitched laughter and running footsteps burst onto the veranda, it was the children. A little boy ran andjumped into his father’s arms. ‘Are you coming to play baseball?’ Rafael grinned and kissed his son on the head.’

  SoonI just need to talk to your Unce’. He put his

  son down, who ran off shouting and hollering with the

  rest of the children, as quick as they were therethey

  were gone.

  ‘Jose’Rafael said in a low soft voice, ‘We need

  London again’.

  ‘Okay’, replied Jose ‘Ill use Freddy’.

  ‘Good, make sure this time she’s silent’ He whispered tightening his grip around his brothers head.

  They retreated back from the noise and joviality, ce!ebrating Jose’s escape from prison. Rafael reclined in his chair behind his desk in the study. Gathered in the room were his brother Jose, his main Director of Operations El Gordo or The Fat One! and his main Field Operative, Freddy Morales.

  Rafael was concerned with the money laundering operation in London. He was hearing noises that it was going to be Mown wide open. Rafael thumped his fists on the desk with a loud thud! ‘I don’t need this problem at the moment’.

  His rivals and number one enemy the Escobars, are turning up the heat. They were responsible for the assassination of Arizabaleta the Presidents right hand man, not only that but they had destroyed one of the coca fields that bdonged to Rafael, as weH as dismembering the workers with chain-saws.

  ‘El Gordo’ Rafael shouted.

  The Fat One shuddered in fearful obeyance, he was a very large man who ate food for fun, but was brilliant at his job and would look forward to acting out retribution on the Escobars.

  Rafael looked at El Gordo and continued ‘Arayuz is on their pay roll, so that’s who we target’.

  Arayuz was Chief of Police in Bogota with a command of two hundred police.

  ‘Fucking WOW the bastards sky high’ Rafael commanded. They all broke out into laughter.

  ‘Jose’ Rafael barked, bringing them back to the reality of their problems. ‘Are we sure she is the one hurting us in London?’

  ‘Yes’ Jose responded with a complacent shrug of the shoulders.

  Rafael lumped to his feet and walked slowly over to his brother. Rafael was a tall man with a threatening appearance. ‘I need to know’ he said in a softening tone. ‘London is good for us, I need to be sure’ Rafael said as he gently slapped Jose on the face. He was still staring into his brother’s eyes when he gave Freddy Morales the command. ‘Freddy you know what to do’.

  Chapter 2.

  Freddy Morales was temporarily blinded by a sudden flash of brilliant sunshine that streamed through the Air-crafts window, and he pulled the shutter half way down. Freddy was in deep thought about how cracks were beginning to appear in the money laundering operation, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he got the go ahead

  A faint sound of the drink’s trolley being wheeled down the aisle brought him back to the matter in hand. ‘Drink Sir?’ a peasant voice made him look up, a beautiful brunette was smiling down at him.

  It was Tuesday 2nd December and an overcast day at Heathrow airport, with a bitterly cold wind bowing. Freddy Morales stepped through the automatic door and grimaced with the sudden chill that greeted him.

  ‘Taxi’ Freddy flagged down a traditional black cab and jumped into the back as though he couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. He placed his suitcase next to him and looked up to see the taxi driver.

  ‘Where to mate?’ the eyes rebounding off the car mirror asked.

  ‘Knightsbridge, the Beaufort Hotel pease’.

  ‘Nice, lovefy hotel. On business or what?’ the taxi driver asked with a typical cockney accent.

  ‘Holiday, just for a few days’ Freddy polite^ replied.

  ‘Holiday uh, great shops, Harrods, Harvey Nic’s, buying something for the wife or will ya be meeting up with the girlfriend’ he quipped.

  Freddy put on a false smile and hoped the traffic would be kind to him in reaching his destination quickly. As they turned into the cul-de-sac, the road was a quiet tree-lined square. The Beaufort
was two converted Victorian houses, laying claim to being the quintessential town house Hotel.

  The taxi rolled to a standstill, Freddy jumped out of the taxi and looked up at the sky. There was the feel of snowflakes in the air. The hotel was only a hundred yards from the hustle and bustle of the main street, but he noticed how peaceful and calm it seemed. Freddy moved around to the driver’s window, noticing out of the corner of his eye the porter bounding over in his usual exuberant way.

  ‘That’s thirty five pound pease’ the taxi driver requested. Freddy opened his wallet, and pulled out a fifty-pound note from the wad that thickened it.

  ‘Keep the change’ Freddy responded.

  ‘HeUo sir, so good to see you again, let me take your case’ the porter said eager to pease. ‘Goodjourney sir?’

  Freddy nodded remembering the stewardess that brightened up his journey. They skipped up the steps and entered the hotel, Freddy was glad to get inside for the warmth, he was given his own front door key and shown to his room.

  The room had a large comfy bed, squashy chairs, a luxurious bathroom, subtle wallpapers and original English Floral water colours. Freddy looked out of his apartment window, which overlooked the beautiful London Plane trees.

  Freddy walked over and took one of the mints that were there to greet him on the coffee table. He sat down on the bed and made a call from the tdephone, which was

  sitting on the bedside cabinet. ‘Steveit’s Freddy

  Morales’, there was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. ‘We must meet, three o’c!ock same place’. The tdephone line went dead, Freddy had put his finger on the receiver, knowing it would provoke a reaction and Stephen Tarling wouldn’t be late.

  ‘Good afternoon sir, let me take your coat and scarf the porter we!comed. Stephen Tarling shook off the snowflakes and passed his coat and scarf to the porter. ‘Very cold isn’t it sir, maybe it will be a white Christmas? the porter light-heartedly remarked.