Queen's Gambit (A James Maguire Novel Book 2) Read online

  Queen’s Gambit

  ANDREW G. NELSON

  Huntzman Enterprises

  Queen’s Gambit

  Copyright © 2014 by Andrew G. Nelson

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales, businesses, products, establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Huntzman Enterprises

  Second e-Book Edition: September 2014

  ISBN-10: 0991129733

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9911297-3-7

  PUBLISHED BY

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Other books by Andrew G. Nelson

  JAMES MAGUIRE SERIES

  PERFECT PAWN

  QUEEN’S GAMBIT

  ALEX TAYLOR SERIES

  SMALL TOWN SECRETS

  DEDICATION

  To my wife Nancy; without your love, support and constant

  encouragement this book would never have been possible.

  Thank you for always believing in me.

  And to God, through whom all things are possible.

  Romans 8:28.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The book you hold in your hand would not have been possible without the influence of some very special people. Each left a marked impression on me and I am forever grateful.

  To: Dennis, Richie, Teddy, & Tony –

  Thank you for your influence, support and friendship.

  To the Sheepdogs –

  The men and women who don their uniforms, each and every day, to protect the flock from the wolves of the world.

  Fidelis Ad Mortem

  Love is like a game of Chess.

  A boy plays and he is always afraid of losing his Queen.

  A girl plays and she is willing to risk everything just to protect her King.

  - Author: Unknown

  CHAPTER ONE

  Northeast New Hampshire

  Tuesday, October 16th, 2012 – 12:14 p.m.

  Hunting Keith Banning was like trying to catch a ghost.

  It had been nearly six months since the two men had battled it out with each other. The fight had effectively ended in a draw, with Banning fleeing, a knife wound to his leg, and Maguire racing to defuse the explosive vest Banning had strapped to Melody Anderson’s chest. Since then, Maguire had dedicated every resource at his disposal to pursuing the man.

  He crouched down on the rocky outcropping and peered out into the valley below him. Anticipation and frustration seemed to be Maguire’s constant traveling companions lately.

  In the beginning, the New York State Police investigators assigned to the Banning Task Force had been reluctant to share the information they had compiled. Maguire understood their apprehension, even if he didn’t agree with it. They had lost two of their own and didn’t want to risk anything jeopardizing their investigation. However, as the leads began to dry up they reluctantly came to accept that the case had gone cold. At that point, it didn’t seem as if they had anything to lose.

  Maguire brought a wealth of investigative experience to the mix, along with certain financial assets, which gave him a lot more resources at his disposal. He also wasn’t encumbered by the same jurisdictional restrictions that they were.

  A gentleman’s agreement was reached that dictated if Maguire uncovered anything; he would not take any action without notifying the state police, unless there was an imminent threat to Maguire, Tricia Browning or any innocent bystander.

  While Maguire had agreed to the conditions, he certainly had no intention of complying with them.

  In the end, Keith Banning was a killer, living in a twisted fantasy world where he viewed the conflict between himself and Maguire as part of some deranged chess game. It was a game that Banning would never quit playing until one of them was dead.

  Maguire fully intended to provide that closure to him via a well-placed shot to Banning’s head.

  It might have sounded cold and ruthless to some, but the reality was that Banning had long ago crossed a line from which there was no coming back. Maguire had seen it before; some people just developed a blood lust. During the fight at Melody’s house he had seen that same look in Banning’s eyes; the absence of any compassion or empathy. People had ceased to exist to him. They had devolved into nothing more than game pieces to be used, moved, and sacrificed for nothing more than his enjoyment.

  There would be no rehabilitation for him. A prison cell simply held no meaning. For Keith Banning it would be a place to plan his next move, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Maguire could not accept that risk. As long as Banning breathed air he was a threat to the people Maguire loved.

  Banning had already been linked to the deaths of five people, including Maguire’s parents, and he was considered the prime suspect in the deaths of at least a dozen others. Tricia Browning, Maguire’s old high school girlfriend, still had not been found and it was unclear whether she was alive or dead.

  The investigation had proven to be both physically and mentally exhausting.

  While they all still referred to him as Keith Banning, for the sake of investigative consistency, it seemed that no one knew who Banning really was. In all, they had uncovered at least seventeen different identities, but the vast majority proved to be nothing more than wild goose chases. As if the personas he had created were designed, not for his benefit, but to sidetrack anyone looking for him.

  The state police had gone to great lengths to plaster Banning’s photograph all throughout the North Country. In the beginning the leads came in droves. He had been seen from Canada to D.C. and as far west as Indiana. In each case investigators were sent, but it was either a case of mistaken identity or they arrived too late. It had become readily apparent to those on the task force that Banning was toying with them.

  The latest sighting had brought Maguire up to this remote hunting cabin in northeast New Hampshire.

  He had slipped in under a waning crescent moon, taking advantage of the minimal ambient light, and set up an observation post about three-quarters of a mile from the cabin. The cool weather helped to create a nice contrast for the thermal imaging goggles. He had kept it under observation for two days, but there had been no movement in or around the place. When he was sure that there was no one watching him, he made his way slowly down the mountainside to the small rustic cabin.

  An examination of the building’s interior, and the surrounding area, revealed indications that someone had been there recently, but nothing that would specifically link it to Banning. It was either a case of mistaken identity or just another game of cat and mouse that he was playing.

  Maguire reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving his cell phone and calling the now all too familiar number.

  “Please tell me you found something, anything,” said the voice that answered.

  “Empty.”

  “Fuck.”

  Lieutenant Dennis Monahan sat at his desk, at the New York State Police, Troop B Substation in Keenseville, New York and clasped his forehead with his hand.

  “There are signs that someone has been here, but nothing that indicates it was Banning,” Maguire replied. “I’m guessing it was just someone who may have taken a wrong turn.”

  The lead had sounded promising when it had first come in. A local resident had been
out mowing his lawn and observed an old pickup truck with New York plates heading up the mountain. He thought it was suspicious because there were only two other houses farther up the road, one of which he knew was supposed to be vacant.

  Maguire had been in Nashua, New Hampshire conducting some re-interviews when the call had come in. Being so close he had offered to do a quick sneak and peek. Given his background as a former U.S. Navy Seal, he certainly had the capability to do it covertly. No one had wanted to generate any more attention than absolutely necessary in order to avoid the risk of possibly spooking Banning.

  Monahan rubbed his weary eyes.

  How much longer will this go on? he wondered. Something had to give eventually, didn’t it?

  “What’s happening on your end?” asked Maguire.

  “Nothing. Everything has pretty much dried up. In fact I’m beginning to get pressure from Albany to start releasing personnel back to their units. The feds pretty much pulled all of their people out after the TV cameras left. In fact, all I’ve got left now is a U.S. Border Patrol agent to act as an intermediary with DHS.”

  “Not to sound too pessimistic, but he’ll probably be gone after the first week in November.”

  Monahan grimaced on the other end, because he knew Maguire was right. Everyone did the right thing when their political reputation was on the line, but once the votes were cast next month things would go back to normal soon enough.

  “What are you going to do now?” Monahan asked.

  “I’ll take a second look around the perimeter and see if I can pick up anything,” Maguire said. “Then I’ll do a follow-up interview with the witness. Maybe he can remember a bit more of what he saw.”

  “Ok, well call me if you find out anything else.”

  “I will,” Maguire replied and ended the call.

  He sat looking out over the picturesque valley in front of him. Below him a crystal clear blue lake sat nestled in among the trees, reflecting back the image of the white clouds that hung in the sky, above the water. The fall colors were beginning to take hold with splotches of red, orange and yellow mixed-in with the green leaves. It was like an autumn painter’s pallet. In just a few short weeks it would all be gone, replaced with a blanket of snow that would last until spring.

  He felt a sense of weariness now as he looked out at the foliage. The beauty he saw belied the truth, which was that death was coming soon. Somewhere, Keith Banning was waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Would he be ready for the coming battle?

  “Not like this,” he said out loud.

  The hunt had been taking its toll on him lately. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been back home or the last time he had felt the warmth of her skin on his.

  He looked down at the phone, selected a number and waited for it to connect.

  “Hey, cowboy,” Melody said when she answered. “When are you coming home?”

  “I was just thinking about that.”

  “Don’t think about it too long, I need you back here in my arms.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Maryland right now,” she replied. “I couldn’t take being cooped up in that fortress you have created for me, not knowing when my brave knight was going to come rescue me.”

  Maguire had not wasted any time after the attack at Melody’s house. He had overseen the complete overhaul of the security arrangements. In addition to the physical security changes at the home, there was now a twenty-four / seven protection detail that accompanied Melody and her executive assistant, Genevieve Gordon, wherever they went.

  At first Melody pushed back on the increased security, but Maguire held his ground and she ultimately relented. Well that wasn’t exactly accurate. After the incident she had purchased the land on the other side of Meadow Lane and had a pier constructed. She conceded the new security arrangements on the condition that Maguire relocate his houseboat from the other side of the Shinnecock Bay to the new dock.

  Maguire protested, but they both knew it was only a token attempt. It still afforded him a certain level of autonomy, at least for now. Plus he also enjoyed being closer to her.

  “It’s not that bad,” he replied. “Is it?”

  “We’ve reached a modified agreement,” Melody said.

  “Like how modified?”

  “The bedrooms are off limits, along with the gym.”

  Maguire thought about that for a moment. He knew just how intrusive a protection detail could be, but at the same time there was a very good reason for having them there. Melody and Genevieve were two very strong willed personalities. He knew that it was best to pick and choose which battles he fought with them.

  “That’s fine,” Maguire said. “What’s left for you to do down in Maryland?”

  “Nothing, it’s just a pit stop actually. Gen and I went to the R&D facility in Montana for a visit. I left her out there for a few extra days while I came back to do some paperwork and a bit of lobbying in D.C.,” she replied. “I’m just waiting for her to get back here and then we will fly back to Long Island together. We should be home tomorrow afternoon. What about you?”

  “I’m finishing up here and coming home.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep, as much as you have missed me being in your arms, I’ve missed holding you in mine as well, angel.”

  Melody leaned back in the burgundy leather wingback chair, swiveling in it until she was staring out the panoramic window in her office at the rolling hills of eastern Maryland in the distance. She found herself biting her lip at the image that was playing in her mind.

  “For how long?” she asked.

  “Well if you’re kicking the security people out of certain parts of the house, I guess you’re going to need someone to keep a closer eye on you for a while.”

  “Then again, you’re the kind of bodyguard a girl could get used to.”

  “My place or yours?” he asked.

  “You sound tired, James,” she said. “Come over to the house when you get back. Let me watch after you for a while.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you when I get into the city.”

  “Be careful, cowboy.”

  “Always, angel,” he replied.

  Maguire stood up and walked back toward the cabin. He would take one last look around and call it a day.

  Fifty feet away, and mounted about half way up the trunk of one of the innumerable red spruce trees, a camouflaged wireless security camera sat nestled among the branches. Like a silent sentinel, it sent its signal to a transmitter which then broadcast the feed through the airwaves.

  A little over one hundred miles away, the man, known simply as Keith Banning, sat in front of laptop computer watching the image in real time. It was the first time since that fateful evening in May that he had laid eyes on his adversary. In a way he felt a sense of relief. He had begun to worry that the state cops had shut him out.

  He reached down and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the desk. Banning withdrew one, lighting it up and inhaled deeply.

  He had toyed with the cops for months hoping to instigate a response. Finally, he saw a glimmer of hope that their game could begin anew.

  It’s good to see you again old friend, he thought.

  Banning leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk, and looked out the window of the cabin. He took a drag on the cigarette and tapped it on the ashtray that sat on the desk.

  Maguire had finally initiated the first move in their latest game. Now it was his turn to repay the favor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Manhattan, New York City

  Tuesday, November 6th, 2012 – 9:45 p.m.

  New York State Senator Alan McMasters sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin pressed against his clasped hands, as he watched the television set in front of him. Beside him, sat his wife Jill, a former sports reporter for ESPN, whom he had first met at a charity golf outing fifteen years earlier.

  Tonight the two of them
sat on the couch and watched as the local election races began to get called. Behind them was his inner circle, the key members of his campaign team that had worked tirelessly to get him to this point. In addition, there were also those individuals who would make up his transition team, should the need arise.

  Twenty floors below them, in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria, over a thousand friends, campaign staffers, and supporters had gathered to watch the returns coming in on the large projection screen above the stage.

  On the television screen in front of them, McMasters and his wife watched as a perky twenty-something reporter began reading off the latest numbers along with the projections. “…and in the New York City’s mayoral race, with sixty-three percent of the vote in, we are projecting that State Senator Alan McMasters will win.”

  Around him the room erupted in cheers.

  Jill McMasters leaned over and wrapped her arms around her husband who continued to stare at the screen in disbelief.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Mayor-elect,” she whispered in his ear and gave him a kiss.

  For the last few weeks the pundits had all been reporting on the growing surge of popularity for him. Despite the platitudes from the press he had forced himself to remain grounded. Politics was not for the faint of heart and he knew that bigger careers than his had been crushed on the jagged rocks of reality by simply choosing the wrong word at the wrong time.

  As he continued to stare at the television screen, he felt like a marathon runner who had just crossed the finish line in first place.

  He dropped his head into his hands and said a silent prayer.