Queen's Gambit (A James Maguire Novel Book 2) by Andrew G. Nelson

Author:Andrew G. Nelson [Nelson, Andrew G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Huntzman Enterprises
Published: 2014-03-22T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Southampton, Suffolk County, N.Y.

Tuesday, January 29th, 2013 – 7:54 p.m.

Genevieve walked into the salon zipping up her fleece coat.

“Where are you heading off to?” Melody asked.

“I’m just going over to spend some time with Gregor,” Gen replied. “He had to work late, so I figured I go over there and watch his beloved Fussball with him. His hometown team is playing tonight.”

“And you’re wearing only that little jacket?”

“I’m only walking out to the car, Mom, I’ll be fine. What are you going to do?”

“Probably read for a bit and then go to bed early. James is working late so he is going to stay in Manhattan tonight.”

“Want me to cancel?”

“Are you serious? I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. Besides I should probably get to sleep early, anyway. We have that meeting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I won’t be too late. Having him only a few doors down does have its advantages.”

“Go have fun,” Mel said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh I will,” Gen said with a wink.

She made her way out the front door and into the cold. The wind had picked up, and it was one of the few times she was happy about the security arrangements. As she climbed into the back seat of the waiting car, she was hit by a blast of hot air.

“Are you still going to Mr. Ritter’s house?” the driver/security man asked.

“Yes, Mark,” Gen replied.

A few moments later the car pulled up to the gate outside Peter Bart’s house. The driver lowered the window on the Mercedes and pressed the intercom button.

“Yes?” a voice, with a heavy Nordic accent, asked.

“Ms. Gordon to see Mr. Ritter,” the driver replied.

“Wait for the gate to open fully before proceeding. Follow the lighted pathway.”

Once the gates opened and the bollards in the roadway ahead of them lowered, the car made its way up the driveway. Other bollards remained in place preventing the vehicle from traveling anywhere else on the property. Despite the frigid temperatures outside, she could still see the security patrols walking along the perimeter of the building.

As the car pulled up, the front door opened. A man stepped outside and opened the car door for her.

“Good evening, Ms. Gordon,” the man said, extending his hand to help her out.

“Guten Abend, Kurt,” she replied.

“Ah, your German improves with each day.”

“I have a good teacher.”

The man laughed. “He’s from south Germany, he speaks like a farmer.”

Like Gregor, Kurt Schiller was a former policeman who had served with the Berlin Spezialeinsatzkommando, the German capital’s police SWAT team.

When the team members weren’t needling each other as to who the best operator was, they picked apart one another’s nationality, agency, favorite drink or sports team. It was like a frat house filled with stone cold killers.

Once inside the house, Genevieve took off her jacket to reveal the red sports jersey she was wearing with the large 1FCK on the front, the logo of the 1. Kaiserslautern Fussball Club.

“Ach du lieber, Gott im Himmel,” the man cried out. “I cannot believe he has corrupted such a fine young woman.

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